wonder if the taliban will try to recruit me

I just got back from shooting at the officer's club.

I almost didn't make it there. I got into a taxi at the intercon, and the driver drove aimlessly for 10 minutes before saying "I don't know where is this officer's club. You have a map?" I was like "you're the driver, don't YOU have a map?" He pulled out a cartoon map they hand out in the tourist club area. The officer's club is not in Abu Dhabi so it obviously wasn't on the map.

"You get out of my cab now" he said. I was like "WHAT?" It was unbelievably hot outside, and I needed to get to the officer's club in 20 minutes or I would be late. He said "my friend, he will come pick you".

So I sat on the side of the road fuming for 5 minutes and then the friend showed up. He took me to the officer's club hotel and said the shooting range was there. It wasn't. I started the kilometer slog in the hot sun to the range and then luckily ran into one of my co-workers, who gave me a lift.

The COO of the company I'm consulting for was there. He sat next to me in this theater style area (imagine a movie theater with only 30 seats, 10 in each tier) and we chatted for a half hour while we waited for our range time (the theater area is about 5 feet away from bullet proof glass that looks onto the range so you can watch people shoot). He's a super nice Jordanian guy who studied in the US, and he's always coming out with these crazy expressions. Today he said "holy toledo!" when he looked at my target, because I got a bull's eye (I admit that I had a lot of bad shots too). It always makes me laugh when he says stuff like that, and I think he does it on purpose. 


The COO had never shot before so he decided we would go together. There are 6 lanes at the range, but two were taken up by the sheik's kids, so only two of us were allowed to go in at a time (even though we had the range reserved, the sheik takes priority), with two empty stalls between us and the kids. A guy stood right behind me at all times to make sure I couldn't face any direction except forward with my gun. Then, when I was done shooting, he told me to put my hands up and back away from the gun before he reloaded my clip.


Then they left and some seriously terrorist looking guys came in. I don't know what the guy next to me was doing, but his casings kept flying over the divider into my stall. For those of you who have never shot before, the casing is HOT. My work colleagues were watching this and laughing as I would flinch every time a casing hit me on the head or shoulder. Then two of the guys that work for me that came decided it would be fun to sing "it's raining bullets" to the tune of "it's raining men", with the Texas Kid doing this little dance of me jumping around when a casing hit me. Ha ha ha.

The guy who manages the range is Paki, retired army, and not only did he find pink ear protectors for me, but he also let me load my own gun after I finished my first two clips and he let me shoot a fourth clip for free. As they say, you get what you pay for.

He thought he could instruct me to be a better shot. He stood behind me, holding the gun, and putting his finger over my finger to show me how to squeeze the trigger "more slow" as he kept saying. The problem was he was 3 inches shorter than me and I have gorilla arms. So I had to kind of fold up my arms so he could reach the trigger. Out of 15 bullets only 4 hit the target at all, and only two were in the black. Everyone from my project was watching behind me in the theater and laughing. When I was finished I held my target up to the bullet proof glass so everyone could see how bad it was.


I would like to take this opportunity to mention that the Texas Kid is a damn good shot. He wanted a casing so I took off my sandals and picked one up with my toes. After I gave it to him I said "I picked that up with my foot" and he said "you are so disgusting". Then he went to the bathroom and washed his hands and the casing.


While driving home Texas Kid was still laughing about the Paki giving me a "shooting lesson". I was like dude, you're people are retarded and he said that the guy just really wanted to touch my hands because it's a big deal for a man to touch a woman's hands.

Which may or may not be true. It's the middle east, so it's hard to tell what's real and what isn't.

some pictures

The view straight out my window. This traffic circle is where I get killed almost every day while I'm walking to get groceries or my laundry. It's not too busy now. Imagine three rows of cars going around that circle, with everyone headed in a different direction and cutting off cars to take their exit.

Scary. The pic is looking out towards the meridien, about 6 miles away. Notice the haze in the air - that's sand blowing around in the air.

Everything is under construction in this country, even the exit ramp out of the Intercon. It makes life interesting.

This is the "sand bridge", built to the sand bar you see in front of the beach. Why did they build this sand bridge and fake sand island? So they could build stuff on it. What, I don't know. It's spoiled the beach and the view. Normally the sand island has tents set up on it for the construction workers doing what ever it is they are doing with the fake island.

This is the view of the beach. Those little umbrellas are the ones made out of palm fronds. You'll notice, hopefully, the wall that blocks this little water area off from the real ocean. The water in this blocked off area is about 20 feet at its deepest.

And that's how the water gets so hot. The sand from the fake sand island blow into our little water area too, which is annoying.

gun club

Apropos of nothing I could think of, one of the guys I work for today, in the middle of a meeting, asked me "Have you ever shot anyone?"

"Not that I know of" I responded jauntily. Too bad I didn't read my horoscope today before I answered. It was "unless you're with like-minded people, your dry wit will be misinterpreted". Seriously!

There was dead silence around the table, so I clarified that I was just joking.

For some reason everyone is getting nervous about going shooting with me on Friday. The guy who arranged the trip (the same one who asked if I had ever shot someone) has arranged for everyone to have private instructors. The club where we're going has seats above the range so people can watch while you're shooting. I've been forbidden to watch anyone until they fire "practice rounds". I was also told that the targets would not be moved past a certain distance (the distance is so close a blind person could hit it).

Funny that these guys thought they were going to intimidate me by taking me to a gun club, and they're all officers or retired officers, and now they are the ones intimidated. It's like when I invited them to go jet skiing (which we were supposed to do tomorrow). They were all enthusiastic but eventually every one of them came up with an excuse of why they couldn't go. I asked one of the Lebanese guys I work with if they were mad at me and he was like "dude, none of them know how to swim". Oh. Duh. But, wait a minute. They live on an ISLAND. I also pointed out we have to wear those floaty vests. He said "that's fine, until a shark eats you".

If there are any sharks in the water, they must be half cooked by now. It was 129 degrees today. The water temperature logged in at 118 degrees. Last night I walked a mile and a half to get my laundry, at 10 pm. It felt like someone was following behind me with a hair dryer, blasting me with hot air, assuming also that the hair dryer was full of sand (we're still in sand storm season). When I got home I had sand in my ears. Gross.

colloquial

I've been teaching my customer some colloquial expressions. Here's a story to illustrate. No, this really didn't happen to me today. Really. I mean, why wouldn't this story be made up because it couldn't happen on a real project...

The first expression is "thrown under the bus". For example, if my customer is having difficulties with someone else in his organization who is blocking our project, and tells me on Thursday he's going to have the guy fired, and I think he in the end agrees with me to just let things work their course, and then he calls the CEO on Friday and says "this guy should be fired and Franki agreed with me", I've been thrown under the bus.

The second expression is "blow back". The CEO calls a meeting with my customer and the offending party and says one will be fired. The offending party comes to me and says "why did you say we have trouble working together?" I try to explain that I never said that, with my customer present to verify. For the record, the offending party is VERY hard to work with, going so far as to suggest my company is at fault for a quirk of the XML standard and that I should find a way to fix it. Right. After the offending party leaves I look at my customer who is saying "oh, sorry, I didn't realize what I said would effect you". I ask why he would make something up at my expense and he said that my opinion has weight with the CEO. I point out to him that he didn't consider blow back.

The third expression is "molly coddle". So I have to spend the rest of my day with the offending party to assure him that I think he's just great. And people wonder why I have an ulcer. I'll be spending the rest of my evening doing my real work that I couldn't get done because of this unscheduled babysitting gig. When my customer asks why I was spending so much time with the offending party I pointed out that, because my customer is a knucklehead, I now have to molly coddle the offending party.

The fourth expression is "a rose between two thorns". The CEO called me into his office this afternoon and apologized for getting me caught in the middle of the political war between the offending party and my customer. I explained to him that I was a rose between two thorns (though, I am originally the rose between two different thorns, if you remember Mr. Krol). He then said "and I am the shield for the rose". Uh huh. He also said the offending party might indeed be fired but he's not sure. Meaning, I have to keep up the molly coddling even though at the end of the day it will all be for naught.

The fifth expression, which I haven't taught my customer yet, is cluster fuck.

Ech. This is why I have an ulcer.

Now, I'm off to work on my ITIL study guide. I am probably going to sit for the exam on Thursday because, yeah, I have nothing better to do.

deliver me from humidity

June is now in full swing. It's got to be the most disgusting weather on the planet. And, my air conditioning isn't working.

It's about 80 degrees in my room. All of the windows of the hotel are covered in fog because it's so hot outside. The place looks like a haunted house.

I woke up this morning around 630 and couldn't sleep because of the heat. I poked my head out into the corridor around 730 to get my newspaper. Dasan was standing outside my door. "I clean your room?" he asked hopefully. "Dude, I'm not going to the beach until 10," I responded. It's my first morning to relax in weeks. Dasan fiddled with his cart. I almost felt bad for not leaving.

He's recently presented me with a new card, almost twice the size of the one he initially gave me. I hope the new card is in response to all the letters I've written about what a good job he does. He turns the right side of my bed down. He always leaves me two chocolates instead of one. And he understands my organizational system and never rearranges any of my belongings into an unacceptable configuration.

At 10 am I head down to the beach, even though it's ridiculously hot and humid. Sitting in the shade, trying to read the newspaper, is almost unbearable. The paper melts into the sand like a piece of cheese. No breeze any more to stir the pages. The paper gets so soggy the pages stick together and the ink gets all over everything. I give up and throw it away. I pull out my ITIL books and start highlighting them so I can create a study document. My highlighter is liquefied and leaks all over everything.

I decide to go for a swim. Clumps of sand and salt float on top of the water like kitty litter. It's disgusting, like a huge ship carrying styrofoam has exploded off the beach. The water is around 95 degrees. Two lebanese girls get into a screaming match with a local. They say "Just because you're from here you think you have the right to talk to me?" He responds "Call the police, they will arrest you for being drunk" (the girls are standing in waist deep water with some kind of tropical drinks).

I check out my damsels. There are even more of them today. I see 7, including one big one I've never seen before. I also discover on the wall that separates my beach from the boat inlet, 2 crabs. They climb up the wall, and when the sun hits them they scurry back down the wall into the water.

I go back to the shade and try to read, but it's too hot. To put things in perspective, I've twice hiked across the grand canyon in 128 degree heat with my dad, carrying about 40 lbs of water. This is worse, and I'm doing nothing but sitting in the shade.

I go back to my room and find 3 filipino boys cleaning it. None are over 5'4" or 90 lbs. I slice up a pink lady and offer it to them, as well as some cold water from my refrigerator. My room feels hotter than 80 degrees even though that's what the thermostat says. Two of them sit on my bed and talk. It sounds like they are saying "la de la la la la, la LA LA de la la". I sit at my computer and try to work on my ITIL guide.

One kid gets about 5 towels and tries to bring them in my room. I'm like "Stop! I only need one towel!" He puts the towels on my bed, goes back to his cart, and bring two more in. Great. Eight towels. I could have a beach party.

Dasan shows up and yells at the guys sitting on my bed. I think. He says "la la LALALA de la la!" One leaves and the other gets the vacuum. He vacuums the inside of my closet, and then my running shoes. He vacuums so close to me (I'm sitting at my desk, working on my laptop) that I'm half tempted to pretend I'm being sucked into the vacuum. Dasan picks up my ITIL books I brought to the beach and holds them while the kid vacuums the sand off of them.

I finish my study guide and call my parents in the lobby, since my phone doesn't work well in my room. I go outside and immediately feel like someone has wrapped me in a wet towel and put me in the microwave. You can see when someone has been outside. They look like they've been through a rain storm because hair, clothes, and skin are all oozing and clammy, like we're all in some kind of horror movie in the first stages of fever that will eventually lead to us all becoming flesh eating zombies.

At 7 PM I go downstairs and attempt to walk to a sandwich shop. It's too hot. I feel like I'm going to pass out. So instead I order room service.

I like to make my tray into a small piece of artwork before I put it outside my door with a theme reflecting my feelings about the dinner I've just eaten. Tonight's theme was "your pita bread sucks". Usually, I like pita bread. But here, seriously, it tastes like pita bread that's been frozen in the refrigerator for 6 months and then reheated for too long in a microwave.

I hid everything except the bread basket in the bottom of the tray. Then I made some flower petals out of the pita bread, and put the packets of butter at the center. They really did look like flowers. Then I turned the bread basket upside down and used the little mustard and mayonnaise jars as eyes on top of the basket. I took a pepper strand left over from my salad and used that as a frowny mouth on the basket. I fashioned my napkin into an arrow of sorts, pointing at the pita flowers.

I don't know if they'll get it. They'll probably think I've lost my mind due to the heat and humidity.

They may be right.

wasta

Yesterday I didn't have ITIL training, but I had a project managers' meeting with my customer. The meeting consisted of sitting around the brau haus, a german restaurant in the Beach Rotana, and having a drink and getting to know the other PMs. My customer asked me to do the meeting because he's hoping other projects will start to follow the same plan and schedule I've set up for my project.

One thing people like to do here is show you how important they are. There's a term "wasta" (pronouced "wha-sta) that means you know someone so important you could run naked through the streets screaming and not get arrested. So, for example, I mentioned to a canadian that I had briefed the general he works for. The canadian immediately called the general up and had a weird conversation with him that involved a bunch of veiled references to them apparently getting up to no good a few weekends ago when their wives were both out of town. After the canadian called his general, all the other PMs had to call their generals. I just sat there smoking cigarettes because I hadn't even brought a phone.

Because he's very competitive, my customer not only called his general, but invited him for belly dancing. It turns out I've never met his general, but his general had heard about me from work I'd done out here previously. My heart sank when my customer told me that. I knew what was coming.

I was invited to the belly dancing dinner night. Ech. The last thing I want to do in my "free" time. On top of my regular job I'm writing a white paper, preparing a web cast, and alpha testing some software. I literally do not leave my computer except to go to the gym or to get food. My disinterest must have been very apparent, even though it was bad for me to not immediately agree to go since I had already told my customer I wouldn't drink a glass of cherry schnapps with him.

"But exciting things will happen at the dinner!" my customer says. Yeah, I bet, I was thinking to myself. Then he told me a story about how he had taken a bunch of VIPs out one night for belly dancing. They weren't drinking, but the sheesha was consumed with abandon. The belly dancers aren't exactly small people, but some of the VIPs were. One of the dancers got a little too close to the head VIP, who was apparently nodding off from too much sheesha. The dancer bumped him with her hip and knocked him clean out of his chair. The story recounted here is not that funny but was very funny when it was told last night.

Anyway, I'll see how shooting with the officers goes next week, and then decide if I even want to think about a belly dancing dinner. Tourists go so it's not like it's an abnormal thing to do.

I'd just rather stay home and do something else.

idle training

The reason I haven't written anything this week is I've been taking a 2 hour class every day after work. It's so I can get ITIL certified. The class costs about $1200 in the US, but my customer is letting me take it with them for free.

Well, you get what you pay for. Here's how the evening typically goes. The class is supposed to start at 5:15, meaning I should be in a taxi, on my way home, by 7:15.

But the conference room where the training is, which can barely fit all of us students, is never open at 5:15. So we wait. I normally put my laptop on the copier outside the conference room and try to weed through my emails. Even though I don't have internet connection at the training site I can at least get the mails ready to send when I get back to my hotel.

By 5:45 the room is usually free. Then hurdle #2. Out here time is more of a suggestion than a reality. Half the students still will not be there even though training is now starting 30 minutes later than planned. We wait another 15 minutes for them to show up.

By 6 the class starts. But then Ahmed, the tea boy, sometimes forgets to order our dinner. The class is stopped while he is tracked down and told to get us food. The students then protest they can't look at one more training slide until they are fed.

By 7:30 I've already completed my exam. I've started passing the answers sneakily around the class to speed up the exam review. One student in particular will take 5 minutes to guess the answer to his question. He always seems to pick the wrong answer, and there are 5 choices, so we have to sit through him selecting 4 wrong answers before selecting the right one. On Wednesday I suggested to him that he pick what he thinks is the wrong answer and maybe he'll get a test question right. He smiled, but I wasn't joking.

By 8:00, if I'm lucky, class breaks up. Then I stand outside on Khalige Al Arabi street and hope an empty taxi comes by. I normally wait about 15 minutes, sometimes more. I let a student give me a ride back to my hotel the first night of class, but he ended up purposely driving the long way so we could "chat". I was stressing out because I had a conference call and now have decided that rides from students take longer than waiting for a taxi.

Every night this week I had a conference call. Around 9:15 or 10, depending on how long my call goes, I start to think about dinner, decide I'm too tired, and then I go to bed. I haven't even had a chance to work out a single night this week.

Training ends next Wednesday and I take my exam. After all of this, I better get that stupid certification.

cyclone

Cyclone Phet is hitting Oman now, and is said to be headed towards the UAE coast near Fujairah.

Today was overcast and there is a strong wind blowing noisily outside my hotel window. It sounds like a really bad wind storm in Denver. I went to the beach for a swim, and it was obvious something was going on.

The water here is green, and is so salty it doesn't have the usual weight of ocean water. I think it would be hard to drown in it as everything is very bouyant, though drowning is the second leading cause of death of children in the UAE, car accidents being the first. There's no current or waves to speak of, especially off the intercon beach since the water is closed in by a wall.

But today the water was different. There was poor visibility and the sand from the bottom was stirred up so badly I couldn't see more than a few inches into the water. It was as if there were a fire on the bottom of the ocean and the smoke was obscuring everything. There was also a strong current pulling everything out towards the wall dividing the swimming area from the rest of the ocean. The currents were on scale with currents I've experienced swimming off the coast of North Carolina.

I just went for a walk to get a sandwich for dinner and the air is so humid it was as if I was walking in the rain. Sand was blowing everywhere. I'm wondering if we'll have the same kind of flooding that we had in November when I had to walk home from the office in water up to my knees, and subsequently almost lost my flip flops.

Whatever happens tomorrow should be interesting. I have some snacks in my hotel room in case things get bad. I just hope the weather isn't bad on Sunday. Driving in the rain here is like driving in a blinding snow storm anywhere else in the world. And I'm going to be upset if the power is out in the gym tomorrow.

It's the first cyclone to hit the UAE in almost 50 years. Once again, bringing natural disasters where ever I go...

culture shock

I was in a meeting a week ago with a few guys and some emirati women. The building where I work has normal-ish office cubes, and then a room at the far end of the building with a door that says, simply, "women" on it. This is where the local women are housed as they aren't allowed to be out and about with all the riff raff men (having been exposed to the men myself I think in a way this isn't a bad set up, but, all joking aside, it's kind of strange).

We were talking about the incident management processes for the company. This manager guy pontificated about how it was done. I think I'm a good consultant not because of any marketing skill, but because I'm pretty good at logic. I listened to the guy, and, having some experience with incident management, suggested that the steps he had outlined to me were illogical.

There was dead silence in the room. But, I could feel some kind of response from the local women even though I couldn't judge their reaction because they are covered up. The guy started to argue with me. I argued back. It was weird. I almost felt like somehow the local women were spurring me on. I finally got the guy to admit that he perhaps didn't understand the details of the process and that I should let the local women (who do the job) tell me how it's done.

It's like I've created a monster. The women came to a meeting on Sunday, but this time they didn't cover their faces. They argued outright with their boss. At the end I think we accomplished a lot and created some processes that actually reflect the way work is done. The boss took everything in stride and seemed, if anything, bemused that I'd turned his silent workers into outspoken critics.

After the meeting we all sat around and I guess "socialized" which is an important thing here. The boss mentioned his kid's birthday party and invited everyone. Money is important here so he made sure I knew I was being invited to a party in a private compound where one of the sheiks lives. Yawn. I do not attend children's birthday parties. Then he mentioned the drunk guys hanging around during the weekend and how he doesn't let his kids go out.

I said "stop the presses - drunk guys?!?!" (and then had to explain what that expression meant). It turns out the guards at his compound let people in if they belong to certain families even if they are not technically allowed in the compound. Some of them get drunk but no cop with arrest them for fear of being deported (many of the police force are from other countries).

I was like "that is insane! you would never be allowed to do that stuff in the US (e.g. driving drunk in a private compound, making noise until all hours of the morning because you're drunk and having a party.). The local women looked at me in shock. Then one of them said "but it's okay to be drunk in the US".

I was like not really and then explained to her how bars can get sued for serving someone to drunk, how paddy wagons wait outside certain bars to arrest drunk people, and how bad the laws are for drunk driving (okay, you don't get potentially sentenced to death like here, but still). The women were shocked. It's like they thought the US was one big block party with drunk people running around every where or driving around with a fifth of tequila sticking out the sun roof.

I also told them the drinking age was 21 which surprised them because it's lower in the UK (18). They were visibly shocked about this, and then when I told them some states don't sell alcohol on Sunday, and that in some states you have to go to a special store (like here) to buy alcohol, it was like I had told them that not only do UFOs exist but I was an alien from one of the space craft.

Anyway, strangely enough, one of the women came up after the meeting and invited me into the women's room if I ever wanted to talk. I should note that I hope that invitation is not effected by my team, all men, who seem to instinctively go into the women only bathroom at every office we visit (this is a very, very bad thing, and they should all know better because they've been here for a while).

There is a 23 year old british girl in the news lately, who was picked up by a taxi driver while drunk and leaving a bar, and then she was taken to her parents' house and raped by the taxi driver outside her house (apparently he thought she would be too drunk to notice what he was doing). She was arrested for being drunk when she called the police after finally escaping the taxi. Nothing has been done to the taxi driver. Everyone is saying what happened to her was her fault for being drunk.

It's stupid, for many reasons, to get drunk in this country. But that doesn't give a guy the right to rape anyone.

I hope that some day these women I'm working with (sort of working with) will walk into a meeting and not be shocked by a woman arguing with a man. I hope they will someday not have to argue with the boss, because they will BE the boss. And I hope that they won't be silent when things happen that shouldn't.

dislike of tv runs in the family

I got this email from my brother. Kind of funny how much everyone in my family is alike...

"I just got in from Presque Isle, Maine (just south of Loring AFB)

I was staying at the Caribou Inn (seriously) for $79.95 a night. I too had a personal assistant. OK, not really, but the maid's name is Cheryl and I was the only guest at the hotel.

People in Maine are different. We were testing radio comms with our airship by parking along roads at certain distances from the base. Old guys on riding tractors kept coming up to us and asking us questions. They didn't seem to understand that we were testing an autonomous airship - they were more concerned that we might be messing up their satellite TV. They wouldn't believe us when we told them this was the first time we've turned the system on in 4 months. I guess satellite ranks on par with cable TV (it sucks)."

my tv is stalking me

It's hard to believe, but I get at least 5 emails a day from my TV.

Hard to believe because the internet connections here have really gotten bad. At the hotel it's consistent but so slow I'm transported back to 1995, and not in a good way. At work the internet connection is like a crack head in the midst of a binge. It will sometimes drop every 5 minutes. That's particularly annoying not because we are using outside internet, but because we're doing all of our work on a server that we connect to via a wireless connection.

The joys of working here just keep increasing by the day.

And then, after working in the insane customer environment, where I sometimes have to waste up to 15 minutes that I need for working trying to find a place for my team members to sit, I come home, sit down with the paper, and try to relax.

And the tv turns itself on, announcing its presence with a civilized chime. Oh, ANOTHER email? Let's see. Today's emails first apologized for a mistaken fire alarm at 2 pm. Then the tv informed me another might happen and my tv was really sorry if I was inconvenienced. Why doesn't my tv know that I'm usually not in my room until 8 o'clock at night? Then the tv was wondering if I wanted to try today's special for dinner (I'm so tired right now I can't even order room service). My tv followed that email with another saying I had a bunch of unread emails. Finally, the tv informed me that the phone was going to call me (which it did, shortly afterward) to explain how to use the hotel messaging system.

My phone called me twice and left 2 voice mails. I deleted them to turn off the annoying flashing light, then I unplugged both phones and put them in a drawer. Which is where the tv would be right now too if I could fit it in there.

Please don't leave a comment telling me to unplug it. I can't reach the plug, it's behind a very elaborate cabinet. How ever, if anyone knows how to delete emails so the little envelope light would stop flashing on the tv I would be grateful (the arrow keys on my remote don't work, and Dasan keeps removing the duct tape I put over the flashing envelope, even after I left what I thought was a strongly worded email suggesting he leave the duct tape where it is).

beach

I like to go to the beach for a few hours every weekend to at least get in a swim and to get out of the air conditioning.


The guys here are very nice, setting up my chair for me. The beach has umbrellas made out of palm tree bark that look to be over 100 years old but are probably replaced every few months. If a spark landed on one it would likely incinerate completely in seconds. The sand looks like something from a construction site (they import it from the desert) and it has all of these weird sharp things in it that end up cutting my feet, which almost burn to a crisp as I try to walk from my chair to the water. Weirdly, the beach feels like a construction site because 200 yards from the beach there IS a construction site. They've built a little island, and I'm not sure what they are doing on it, but trucks are always whizzing by carrying loads of migrant workers. The dust from their trucks eventually filters over the low wall separating our water from an inlet where boats and jet skis make a racket. There's another construction site next to the hotel and you can hear the clanging and banging on the beach.


The water has been really clear the past two days and I spotted three damsels that were surprisingly large. They are the only fish I've seen in the water here except for some clear, very boring fish that are like the non-descript guys wandering around the office.


The water is warm. Hot, actually. It's around 98 degrees now, and will only get worse as the summer kicks in to full swing and the temperature goes up to around 140. I'm trying to swim but normally it's so hot my goggles fog up and it seems that the other people on the beach like to watch me swim so they tread water right in the path where I'm trying to swim. After I give up and go back to my chair they normally do the same. As soon as I get back in the water, there they are again, swimming a perpendicular course so we almost run into each other.


I saw a very old guy with a big gut floating around with one of those noodle things. It was dark blue, in a drastic contrast to his pasty skin. He had made the unfortunate decision to straddle the noodle, and the front end of it was sticking out of the water in front of him. I laughed.


Some of the other beach goers drag plastic chairs into the water (there's no tide to speak of) and sit on them up to their waists in the water, having drinks and smoking. It's like they were having a get together and the flood waters rose but they're all too drunk now to seek higher ground.


Guys walk by as I'm trying to read the paper. They're either staring at me because I'm a female in a bathing suit or perhaps they're amused at my attempts to turn the page of my paper in the wind, which can get quite strong down on the beach.


I stay in my chair until I'm so hot it feels like my scalp is crying tears and then I get back in the water. Within minutes of leaving the water my skin is covered with a chalky residue from the salt.


It's nice to have a hotel on the beach. But, it's not exactly St. Maarten.

3 wives and I share a view

Returning from the A&E (the alcohol store) and having trekked 6 km in the hot sun (it's over 100 degrees), I walked up to the elevators in the intercon behind an emirati and his three wives. I had 2 bottles of wine in my beach bag covered up with my dry cleaning, and I was wearing a sleeveless shirt because I'm kind of over the whole cover the shoulders thing in this heat (never would have dared to go out like that 3 months ago). I was feeling a bit uncomfortable.

Emiratis don't mingle with us westerners really. Most of the time I get dirty looks in the intercon because I'm not wearing designer clothes and my hair is a mess. Most of the emirati women here are so contemptuous of me that they won't ride in the same elevator (don't blame them really, I'm normally sweating from the gym or from walking around here in the heat).

But this guy invited me into the elevator with him and his three wives. He held the elevator door until I got in. I was holding my bag really tight trying to keep the bottles from clinking too much.

It turns out they are staying on the same floor as me. As we rode up I stared at the floor and hoped they wouldn't notice the shape of the bottles through the canvas of my beach bag. I tried not to move so they wouldn't clink around, but accidentally when the elevator stopped on the floor they clinked. The emirati man was not talking to me, but he was talking to his wives in english giving them their keys (adjoining rooms, the young skinny one with him the two older ones next door). They normally don't speak english so I felt, in a way, that he was somehow, I don't know, trying to make me feel comfortable around them.

As we walked out of the elevator he saw the view of the marina from our floor, which is spectacular. He got so excited he pointed out the window and then said to me "Look! Ships!" I smiled and said "It's pretty amazing". Then he said "sandbar!" pointing to a small sandy island. "You like view? It's a very good view! With many ships in this view!"

I concurred on the view and walked to my room. The emiratis followed me and stood in the hallway outside my door looking uncertainly down the hallway. I told them that their rooms were on the other side of the elevator banks, and then walked them there. The guy asked how I knew where they were (admittedly, the room numbering scheme here is confusing) and I said "because I live here". Then he said "It's very nice for you. Very nice indeed!"

I don't know why but I was flattered he talked to me. I've only spoken with one other emirati outside of work. It made me feel good that I wasn't even following the dress code and this guy obviously wanted me to feel comfortable (not realizing, I hope, that the main source of my discomfort was the alcohol I was carrying) around him and his wives. It was nice to share the great view from our floor with them because they felt the same way I did when I first got to the hotel and came up to my floor and saw the marina at night with all the lights on the boats.

It's the little connections in life that make life bearable and even joyful.

bloody sunday

Sunday I got to my customer site at 730 and spent 1 1/2 hours arguing with the system administrator trying to get a log on to a server I need for my project. Then I sat in my "office", which is just a desk shoved in a stairwell outside my customer's door.

It's a bad location because everyone walks by. Worse some of them want to talk to me. I normally just say good morning and avoid turning around, but some guys are quite persistent, including this little indian guy who had the cheek to ask me yesterday if it's true that blond women have different pubic hair than women with black hair.

Not knowing how or wanting to respond, I went downstairs to get some tea. When I got back to my desk I discovered the office boy had stacked what is possibly all of the paper in Abu Dhabi on my desk. Which, I should mention, besides being next to the printer, is next to the shredder.

Are you goddamn kidding me I thought to myself as I tried to work through the noise and vibration of the shredder. I can't yell at the office boy though. He's very nice. Last week I bought him a pot holder because he's always carrying this metal coffee pot around and it's really hot. But, instead of using it to protect his hands, he hangs it around his neck like it's the biggest employee badge ever.

Also, I got sunglasses for the guys who clean and do work outside because they don't have any and they'll end up with cataracts and not able to work. I thought, when I gave them the glasses, I had explained that to them very clearly. But, every time I see them outside, they don't have them over their eyes. They wear them on top of their heads, like I do when I'm in the office (that's how I, um, fix my hair - wake up and pull it off my face with my shades). When I say "No, put your sunglasses on your face" they say "yes madam we wear sunglasses" and point to their heads like I'm the one who potentially has problems seeing.

There is a door out to a patio near my desk, which I was quite chuffed about since that meant I wouldn't have to walk down 3 flights of stairs and then go out a locked door to smoke (there isn't usually anyone to open the locked door so you risk a long wait in the hot sun if you go out it). But the door is broken and won't close. It's very, very hot at my desk. And I'm surrounded by 5 offices belonging to the loudest screaming arabs on the planet.

As it seems things can't get any worse about my work place, they do. Yesterday around 10 am the fire alarm went off for 5 minutes. One arab, E, started screaming "shut that fucking thing off!" as loud as the alarm. Finally I went to his door, said "as an engineer, you should know that yelling doesn't fix things" and then I slammed his door. Point taken. He later attempted to get back into my good graces by bringing me dried sugared pineapple (they taste like smarties, but better and after I eat two I feel like I'm going to vomit from the sugar overload).

The alarm went off intermittently for the rest of the day. I got back to my hotel around 7 feeling like I had a concussion, did my workout, and was getting ready to take a shower after eating the biggest pizza ever (I needed it, I've already lost 10 pounds from the heat). It was 915.

But no. I heard a muted boom, and then the power went out. I went down to the lobby in my workout clothes. They said that only a sector of the hotel lost power, and that they would send someone to my room to fix the problem. I went back and laid down on my bed, still in my work out clothes. And waited. And waited.

Soon I felt like I was going to suffocate from the heat. I wandered down to the lobby again, mostly to be in the air conditioning. It was 1130. They told me to go back to my room immediately and that someone would be coming soon. Yeah. That's middle eastern soon.

I drifted off into a light sleep around 130. At 330 all of the lights on my room came on and the air con kicked in. I was so happy suddenly that I started laughing out loud.

Or, perhaps, I was losing my mind.

In any case, 530 rolled around quickly and the day at the customer site could not have been any longer.

Tonight, inshallah, I will go to bed at 10 and the power will stay with us.

wazis, taxis

I've explained before how weird things are here with taxis. But, a refresher in case you forgot...

Gold taxis are old taxis, and they are driven by people new to UAE. That is to say, crazy indian and pakistanis. They never know where anything is, and they don't speak english.

There are silver taxis, more expensive (color coding probably designed by the same idiot who put red before orange on the airport safety scale). The drivers, though they also don't know where anything is, speak moderately bad english and usually try to carry on a conversation, which is, most times, painful.

New taxis are available for ladies only, and they are called purple taxis, though the interior is more like lilac. They are driven by women, and usually the safest.

I always seem to end up with a gold taxi. The taxi drivers then proceed to drive me around to rack up the fare, and won't listen to my directions or look at my map. It's been frustrating dealing with that.

So today, I was standing outside the intercon at 730. The patio in front of the hotel is black marble, and was radiating heat. It was already over 100 degrees and humid. A half hour went by and I'd almost decided to take an intercon sedan (which is three times the price of a taxi) when a gold taxi pulled up.

My driver was a crazy guy with bad english. He wouldn't listen to my directions and kept trying to take me the wrong way. Normally I just give in but this morning I had to get to work. I ended up having to use my marine words on him. Blanking those out, the conversation went something like this:

me: Please....stop trying to....go the wrong way and....listen to...what I'm....saying before I...lose my mind.
driver: hurhefhor keblah blah kobloblablabla ec hallah hon haralla blah blech blah blah
me: I'm...late for work...so JUST DRIVE STRAIGHT or I will.................!
driver: en haffa blah blah (I'm not sure, but I think he was cursing me)

Later, as we were nearing my building, I decided to go for some positive reinforcement so I thanked him for listening to my directions. He told me he was from Waziristan, possibly the most lawless place in the world. He was having visa problems, and hiding in his cab. He asked me "do you like taliban?" and I felt he was baiting me so I said "Actually, I am taliban (the nickname, at work, has stuck)". Weirdly, he turned around to look at me, almost sending us into a palm tree.

"You taliban?" he asked. "Only when I am at work" I admitted. He suddenly grinned at me like he had finally gotten my joke.

I gave him a big tip because it sounded like he needed it. And as we were pulling up to my office he was pointing towards the other side of the street saying something that sounded like "sha sa san". It was only when I got to the door of the office that I realized he was pointing out the sand to me.

Yeah, I haven't seen any of that before.

water slides and blood eyes

Last night I had a dream that I was visiting my parents' house, except the house was in this small town in west virginia and there was this trashy water slide theme park there. I was walking through the town wondering why my parents bought a house in the town and then somehow I was in this boys' catholic school and all the boys were running around wearing those alter robe things they wear in church. A priest was showing school pictures of children to these three alter boys.

There was a cafeteria, so I went inside looking for an apple but I couldn't find one. Then all the people in the cafeteria were talking about how this serial murderer was on the loose and he was killing children. I told everyone that I could find and kill the serial murderer, and they said they would go outside and put up signs challenging the serial murderer to meet me in the school.

I went out and stapled some signs up, but it was hot, so I went back inside the cafeteria to get a bottle of water, but they didn't have one. I went to the basement of the school, which was now surrounded by police who were clearing it in case the murderer showed up, and was drinking out of the water fountain. There was an escalator on either side of the 10 foot wall where the fountain was that went down to the basement. I had walked down them because they weren't turned on.

As I was drinking water from the fountain this asian guy walked up to me and pointed a white gun with red streaks at me.

He said "I'm the serial murderer and now I'm going to kill you" and I said "That's total bullshit because I don't have a gun. We should fight each other instead". He said "I don't want to fight you, I want to shoot you" and so I quickly pushed him and then somehow knocked him to the floor. He still had the gun.

I started struggling to get the gun away from him and I could hear people moving around on the upper floor so I shouted for help but no one came. Then the serial murderer said "what ever you do, the opposite of what you want to happen is going to happen". I noticed that every time I grabbed his right hand the gun would magically go to his left hand. Then I grabbed the gun away from him and he suddenly had two guns.

I started to get worried that with his two guns and magical powers he would kill me so I pointed the gun at his heart and said if he put his weapons down and let me tie him up I would kill him. He kept saying "the opposite will happen!" and laughing. Then he pointed his gun at my head and said "you're going to die" so I shot him in the heart.

He laughed as he was dying and red fountains of blood shot out of his eyes. He whispered "the opposite" and then I heard shouting coming from upstairs. A cop who had been in the basement ran up to me because he had heard the shooting. He said "don't shoot a gun! we haven't cleared the upstairs yet!" and I said "it's okay, I just shot the murderer" and then the cop said "well then who's shooting?" and I realized there was a lot of gun fire coming from the cafeteria area of the school. Then the escalators started moving and there were at least a 100 bodies of small dead children piled on the escalator. There were clots of blood where their eyes should have been.

I suddenly realized that the serial murderer got me to kill him because that triggered the alter boys I had seen upstairs with the priest to start shooting children. And I realized every child in the town was dead.

The cop started yelling at me "oh my god, oh my god, what have you done????"

Then I woke up

Dasan

I've been assigned a "personal assistant" at the hotel, who's name is Dasan. He's a very nice and helpful guy (he's my maid from the previous entry, today he gave me a card with his name on it).

You don't realize how ridiculously spoiled most people are here until you end up at an upscale place like the intercon. Today Dasan asked me, as he was cleaning my room (he usually cleans mine first but today was running late), why I never use the bathtub (my room has a separate bath and shower stall). I thought about that for a moment, since my tub is really big. I said "I guess because I don't have any bubble bath". A few minutes after he finished cleaning my room, he knocked on my door and handed me a bottle of bubble bath.

Then he came into my room and mentioned that the reading light on the side of the bed I don't sleep on was not working. It wasn't working because the light on the side I do sleep on had gone out and I swapped them. Having once tried for two weeks at the merid to get a light bulb replaced, finally having to go out and buy a new one, I figured it was the easiest thing to do. Dasan presented me with a light bulb in a box, as if it were a bottle of wine. I wasn't sure what to do so I peered at the box and said "very nice! my dad works for GE".

He wrinkled his brow and then said "but is the wattage alright for madam?" I said "it's fine" having paid no attention as to what it was. He said "we use this for soft light, but if madam wants to read, I will bring a different wattage". I assured him I wouldn't read on that side of the bed and he replaced the bulb. He went out to his cart AGAIN and brought me two large pillows. I have 8 pillows in my room so I wasn't sure what he was doing, and then he pointed out to me that they are more firm and I can use them when I'm propped up in bed reading instead of piling the 8 squishy pillows I have against the head board.

He stowed them under my sofa, informed me that he was taking tomorrow off, and inquired as to whether or not I would be alright. I assured him I would be and then he stood at the door. I was busy sending emails so didn't notice him until he cleared his throat. "If there is nothing else for madam I will go" he said. It was weird. Like, what am I, the queen or something? I said "There's nothing else. Enjoy your day off!" and, seriously, he bowed and exited my room.

Also, I went to the gym today right after the beach and accidentally tracked some sand in on my shoes. A cleaner in the gym was literally SWEEPING the treadmill behind me while I was running.

I need to get into a different frame of mind because I am back at work tomorrow, and I can't get anyone but the tea boy to do a damn thing.

intercon

Even though I'm not terribly excited to be back in Dhabi, at least I'm staying at the Intercontinental, which is a massive step up from the Meridien. Though, it has it's quirks. And is located on a hill in the middle of no where (residential area, though I found a grocery I can walk to in 20 minutes).

My maid introduced himself to me shortly after I checked in, and said if I had any requests I should let him know (I am living here for 4 months, which, apparently, is a record for this particular hotel). One request I made was to not change my linens or towels more often than once a week. That request was met with a pained smile. We negotiated changes every three days. At least it isn't every day...he's a very nice maid and brings me extra berry tea packets (I know it sounds hideous but it's really good).

I have this weird TV that turns itself on and sends me messages. The problem is I'm not sure how to delete the messages so after one arrives I turn the TV off and it continues to turn itself on again 3 more times before giving up hope. I'm sure there's a button or something I'm supposed to be pressing but I can't figure it out.

No one is going through my stuff here, but I have noticed that the plate covering the peep hole in my door keeps getting opened (it opens by flipping upward so, unless there is some strange gravity thing going on in my room, it's being manually opened). But I just check it when I get home every night and close it.

I've checked out the gym which has a new machine I'm going to try out called the power plate. I'm not even sure what it does so I am going to watch some YouTube videos and maybe test it out first thing in the morning when no one else is at the gym.

Everything in my room is managed with this controller thing that I failed to find the first night I was here (the maid thoughtfully plugged everything back in for me the next day and put the controller on the bed so I could find it). I can even turn on the do not disturb light outside my room from bed.

And the best part is they do yoga classes 4 days a week here. It will be nice to get back into yoga...

Tomorrow I'll report on the beach. I'm spending the weekend having some R&R since I haven't had much chance to lay around and do nothing the past few months.

flops

For this trip to the ME I decided to bring high flops and my low flops. My high flops are flip flops with a heel on them. They make me the tallest person in the room. I am wearing them to work every day. My low flops are my chacos. I use those to walk to and from texas kid's apartment. It's not so hot here that I can't walk. I'm sure that's going to change soon.

I'm staying at the Intercon. Super posh but everything is expensive, and, typical of Intercons in these types of countries, it's on a hill in the middle of nowhere. My room is about twice the size of my place at the merid (no balcony though, boo hoo). I have a huge bathroom and the shower is a rain shower.

I was surprised my hair got such a good reception. After Dr. T initially almost had a heart attack (I walked up to him and he didn't even recognize me) he's adjusted. I don't know why I ever grew my hair out in the first place. I like short hair.

I had my first project meeting today. It went poorly in the morning (utter confusion, as usual, attempts to extend the scope of the project, and complaints about the doughnuts) but the more I ramped up my performance the more the team started to respond. I found myself, this afternoon, yelling (jokingly) at one of the guys on the team "You don't need to go on vacation! This is more fun than vacation!" By the end of the day everyone was giving themselves nicknames so I could spell/pronounce their names.

I hope it goes well. It will be a lot of work. And now I'm exhausted. It's hard for me to be "on" all of the time. I sometimes feel like I'm the writer, producer, and actor of a sit com with a live audience. And I'm worried every time I do this that the show will flop.

the wrong windows

So I was still worrying about the stupid stop work order on my windows yesterday when the company that did the install called me. It turns out the dumb ass city inspector had the WRONG ADDRESS. It's a good thing he's a city inspector since he can't even find the right fucking street.

The good news is there's no problem with my windows. They passed the city inspection today.

Hopefully this will mark a turning point in the oddly bad string of luck I've had this week.

long loca story

Today the window guys showed up at 7 am to try to finish putting all of my windows in before I had to leave at 1245 to catch my shuttle.

Things were cranking along nicely, and I had gotten out of my funk and was working on something, when a cranky contractor came by and started yelling at my window installers for putting in vinyl windows.

A word on my windows. I bought the best window on the market. Vinyl, I know, has a shitty sound to it, but they actually look just like my neighbors' windows because there is so much wood around them (they replaced the wooden frame things and you can barely see any of the whatever that border thing is around the windows). And from an environmental perspective, they are better than wood windows. I should also note that I only found one contractor that could build from wood the windows for my house. He said it would take 6 weeks, and the front window priced in at $5,000. Yikes.

About a half hour later, an inspector showed up with a stop work order (still taped to my front window) and said they hadn't pulled a permit. I double checked with the office, who double checked with the city, who said that no permit was needed. My installer said in the 17 years he's been doing this he's never had that happen. Also, the city inspector gave a stop work order but told them to keep installing the windows.

I read the stop work order. It said I could get a $999 fine and 30 days in jail. Great.

My shuttle was 1/2 hour late picking me up at the airport. Then I got the security full monty because I booked a ticket to the UAE less than 24 hours before flying. Ech.

When it seemed things were finally going to be okay, even though I had to spend the entire two hour flight from Denver to Chicago sitting next to two obnoxious 10 year old girls, I started to relax.

But then, when we landed, our gate wasn't open so we had to sit on the runway for 10 minutes. The girls next to me kept standing up and the stewardess was screaming at them to put their seat belts on. We got to the gate but the jet way wouldn't extend, so we were stuck on the plane for another 20 minutes waiting for them to fix it.

Tick tock, tick tock.

As we waited I heard a woman behind me saying she was going to Dhabi. I told her I was too, and she asked me to run ahead (we only had an hour til our flight took off at this point) and tell them she was coming (she's a slow walker).

I had to take a train to the international terminal and it took forever for the train to come. Then I had to run (and I did run) to the check in desk because I didn't have a ticket (since I booked my flight less than 24 hours before take off I couldn't check in online). They were announcing the boarding as I was running to the desk.

They couldn't hold the plane, and they couldn't get our luggage off the plane (mine and the woman I met on the flight, Espie). So they booked Espie and I on tomorrow's 830 PM flight (total suck, get in at 8 pm, have to be at a meeting the next morning at 7 am). Then Espie and I were given vouchers for a hotel. We shuffled off, sans luggage, to find the free shuttle to the hotel.

We just got back from dinner, which was a nice experience. Dr. Espie (she's a phd!) and I had a lot of things in common. She is of Mexican origin and she is going to invite me to a dinner that she throws for her female emirati students and she's going to make real corn tortillas from scratch. She said she wants to read my book when it's done.

Her dad left her mom when she was young and her mom raised 6 girls by herself working even though she didn't speak english. And Espie ended up with a phd from Berkeley. She told me this story at dinner about how she was in a workshop and one of the guys said "we're all here because we've had such privileged educations". That made Dr. Espie cry because she was always put in vocational classes because people thought that because she was the child of an immigrant from mexico she must be stupid and they lived in a pretty shit part of LA. She never finished high school but then had an opportunity to go to college and then she ended up in fucking Berkeley, which, not to be biased, is one of the best universities in the world. Very cool.

I told Dr. Espie that I found her inspiring, and she laughed. She said she found it inspiring that I was writing a book about my injury and subsequent athletic adventures. Then she said "we have a word for people like you in our culture - loca".

If I'm crazy, it's because of my travel schedule, and life in general. And people wonder why I drink.

travel days

I really dislike days like today, where I'm traveling in the middle of the day. I have to leave for the airport at 1 PM and I feel like I should run around and get things done before I leave, but at the same time I don't feel like doing anything.

I started trying to weed my yard at 630 this morning (couldn't sleep) but that didn't go very well. I've been doing laundry. Trying to stay out of the way of the guys who are finishing my windows (only 3 more to go and they might even be done before I have to leave for the airport).

I can't check in on my flight and reserve a seat because I booked my ticket less than 24 hours before flying. I'm stressing, even though there's no point, because it's a 14 hour flight and I don't want to be stuck in a horrible seat. Please let there be no screaming babies on the flight.

Maybe I'll go out and try to finish my yard. Or maybe I'll just sit here. Stupid long flights. I wish it was over.

The good news is, I was texting with my friend Ireland this morning and she's booking a flights for us to go to Beirut next weekend.

private life

A friend (or should I say "friend") who lived in my house for a while came by to drop off the key and garage door opener I had given him. He's a guy I've known, or thought I knew, for the past 7 years.

I found out a few weeks ago from a mutual acquaintance that my friend was married but had recently divorced. I was shocked that he had never told me. In fact, one evening while we were having dinner I asked him about a wedding ring he was wearing and he said "it's on the wrong hand". Hm.

So yesterday we chatted for a while, and then I asked him point blank why he had never told me he was married. He said "I did tell you!" and I was like I don't think so dude. I hate it when men do that shit, like I can't remember shit. Then he said "I like to keep my personal life private".

Right, dude. You lived in my house, we used to hang out with each other, and you don't want to tell me you're married because you're protecting your privacy? That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard. Then he said he knew his marriage was going to end in divorce before it even started so there was no point in telling people he was married because then he would just have to tell them he was getting a divorce. He also said he didn't lie to me about the wedding ring, that he never wore one.

Guys like him never do. Or they wear it somewhere where it isn't obvious that it's a wedding ring. And then they ask you out on a date.

I really don't understand what the fuck is happening with people. Maybe I just know only retarded guys with no morale grounding. I was talking to my friend Neil and he said that he thinks there are no good role models for guys, so the ones from my generation and younger grow up with stupid ideas of how to act in a relationship and how to treat women. Yes there are some decent guys out there, but it seems I should know more of those types of guys than the bad types of guys. And I don't.

Oh well. I'm spending the next few months on my book and don't have time to worry about the idiot guys I know, or don't really know.

some progress on the book

I finished a final draft of my book proposal yesterday and sent it out to the editors I worked with in Banff. Hopefully I'll get some feedback and I decided to send my proposal out to literary agents from Abu Dhabi. That's got to get some attention, I don't imagine most agents get a fed ex from the middle east...

charlie's angels

On Friday Clo, Cam and I went to the Denver Art Museum to see this new photography exhibit.

Clo came to my house and we walked to Cam's work. I was feeling a bit embarrassed as we walked to the museum because Clo and Cam were wearing cute outfits and I was wearing the same stupid stuff I always wear. I was trying to remember from the movie which one of the charlie's angels was the poorly dressed geek, but actually I think there wasn't a poorly dressed geek in that movie except for Bill Murray.

We got to meet this famous photographer named Owen who had a picture in the show. He and Clo started talking about photo paper and printing pics and stuff so Cam and I walked around looking at the pictures. There were some really cool photos, my favorite being a pic taken by an Iranian woman. It's the soles of the woman's feet (which is interesting since showing the sole of your feet in Islam is considered an insult because they are unclean) with a farsi poem written over the feet. Between the feet, although it wasn't immediately obvious, was the barrel of a gun.

Then we went to the reception to have some crackers and water (the spread for this show opening was a little sparse). A guy who had been following Clo around all night finally came over to our table (it was funny watching him do five walk bys before he came over). His name is Andy and he sells windows. I had a geek moment when I told him about my new windows, and we discussed argon gas. Clo was looking at me like "oh god, make her stop". Andy even said he had never met someone so excited about new windows.

Then we talked about a bunch of things ranging from the hadron collider to how to make a candle and Clo's grandfather to motorcycle racing. I thought she had a great observation, which was about how her grandfather used to take her everywhere even though in her culture it wasn't normal for little girls to be treated like boys. She said that because of that she always thought of herself as Clo, not "a girl". That's how I feel too. I hate it when people stereotype me because I'm a female.

Andy said he had never met such an interesting and accomplished group of women. Clo pointed out that we are all in good shape and could, between us, take on any physical challenge. Then Cam said we are all so smart that we could solve any problem with the intellectual capital between the three of us. Then I said "and, we could take over any third world country we wanted". There was a pause in the conversation. I don't know how I manage to say inappropriate things as often as I do.

Andy gave Clo his card. I have to find out if she called him...

even flip flops can't help some people

The day started out with me having to take a cold shower because the water heater at my hotel is broken (shocking, I know, since I’m paying $70 a night to stay here).

But, I’m teaching a subject that is my favorite thing to talk about. And even though most of the students in my class are not that bright, they are trying. In fact, I told them the secret to being a good architect is to wear flip flops (embarrassed to say I have been wearing them since I got back from the ME dress codes be damned). The next day every one came in wearing flip flops. Hee.

Except, there's one guy in my class who is a fucking pain in the ass. He complains constantly (he is apparently unable to read directions). His boss is also in my class and described him as "not a doer". So in one exercise today he was having problems. I stood behind him and tried to verbally guide him since the step by step instructions in the student manual were beyond his comprehension.

me: click on the tools menu

idiot: I don't see that option

me: that's because you clicked on the file menu

idiot: I still don't see it

me: that's because you are clicking on a diagram INSTEAD OF THE FUCKING TOOLS MENU WHICH I HAVE TOLD YOU TO DO TWICE NOW (okay, I didn't say the caps part)

idiot: so should I click on the tools menu? where is the tools menu?

me: (at the top of the screen just like it is in EVERY OTHER FUCKING APPLICATION) let me show you

idiot: no, because if you drive then I'll never learn anything and that doesn't help me at all

me: (would it help if I kicked you in the nuts?)

Anyway, at lunch today I was working on my book proposal when idiot walked in and started screaming at me. It seems his car had been towed. He was acting as though I had personally towed it. The facts:

1. We were given an access code to get into the parking garage first by email before the class started, and then at the beginning of class Monday. The code is written on the white board literally 10 feet from idiot's face.

2. The spot where he parked was clearly marked 2 hour parking, and we were warned they tow cars.

3. Two warning messages had been left on idiot's car the previous two days for parking all day in a two hour parking space. Idiot was warned TWICE that his car would get towed.

I later talked to the guard in the lobby. He was so pissed at idiot because he had warned him that very morning not to park his car there because it would get towed. Idiot refused to move it. The guard decided to have it towed.

In any case, we got idiot's car back even though that is NOT my fucking job. I don't even WORK in the building, I'm only teaching there for 4 days. Ech.

Though, I have to admit, at the end of the day, when idiot was having problems due to his inability to not be a fucking moron every second of his life, and he asked me "why isn't this working?" and I responded (with more of an edge to my voice than I should have) "because the software doesn't like you", he actually smiled.

jesus doesn't love me

I was talking to a guy one day who told me that jesus loves me. I was like really, who exactly is jesus? The guy told me that jesus is this great guy who can do cool stuff like turn water into wine (great talent for any guy hanging around me to have) and that he helps total strangers by making their spouses not be dead anymore and stuff. Also, he's not materialistic and likes to travel. And loves his mother. And has carpenter skills, which is nice because I need to redo my downstairs bathroom. Best of all his dad is a king or something. So eventually, if I got together with jesus, I could be a queen and get to wear a diamond tiara which would be so cool.

I was like so how do I get in touch with this guy? He said just pray to him and he'll answer you. So I prayed dear jesus why don't you meet me at cafe colores on thursday night and we'll have a glass of wine. From what I heard jesus wears sandals and looks kind of like a hippy. He doesn't have a job. So it's not like I expected him to take me to dell frisco's.

I waited and waited, but he never showed up. Then I met a woman at cafe colores who said that jesus loved her too. I was like hm, really? She said that jesus had saved her from cancer and bought her a new car. I was like are you fucking kidding me? He can't meet me for happy hour but he did all this shit for you? Frankly, she wasn't very good looking.

So I said I need to get in touch with him because he was supposed to do something for me and he didn't. Do you have his cell number or something? She said I talk to him all the time but she didn't have his cell number.

Such a typical guy. Claims he loves you and is not available. Stands you up, doesn't give you his email or phone number, and then you find out he's involved with other women. I did some research on him to find out if he was married, and, even though it turns out he's single, he hangs out with a prostitute.

I went back to the guy who originally told me that jesus loved me and said that I thought jesus sucked. The guy said that I was wrong about him, that he's the best guy ever. Then he said I guess jesus doesn't love you.

So, I've decided to swear off guys for a while.

rental retards

I got into Dallas this afternoon and had to wait for 30 minutes to get my luggage, and then another 15 to get the shuttle bus to the rental cars because all of the buses that drove by were full. Annoying.

Then, I get to my car, which was a huge jeep (with 3 rows of seats). I was like fucking hell because I hate driving huge cars. I had to lift my 60 lb bag onto the back seat (I'm not a wimp but I hate doing shit like that while I'm smoking because I'm afraid I'll drop my cigarette - and, BTW, my bag was heavy because I had to bring a bunch of books, not because I overpacked).

I get to the checkout thing and the lady tells me I have the wrong car. I was like dude, it had my name hanging off the rearview, and it was in my stall. She said "no, you have to also check the license plate number". I was like I thought it was YOUR job to do that. Apparently not in Dallas. That has NEVER happened to me before.

So I back the monster up, take it back to my parking stall, and wander around for 5 minutes until I found my car. Which had a hertz employee sleeping in it. Which is why, I will assume, it was parked in the wrong place.

I woke the guy up, got my shit packed up again, and this time was able to leave the hertz parking garage. I then proceeded to get way lost because I was talking to my friend Trina who had just saved some guy's foot from being cut off, instead of reading my mapquest directions.

The good news about this little shit show of a trip is that I put a bottle of wine in my suitcase and, oddly, they don't sell wine here on Sunday. What the fuck is up with that? Oh yeah, I'm in Bush country.

skeleton

I picked up Jake the Snake today. I'm going to pretend that's his last name. My nickname for him is skeleton because he's so much lighter than Max.

I took him out for a 40 mile ride today. It was fun, and I'm definitely a lot faster on him most of the time, but I haven't figured out the gears yet. Sadly, I'm used to the visual I get when I shift Max so I'm not always sure where I'm at. And it seems to take more clicks to get the pedals loose (I like to ride with the pedals loose when my legs cramp or when I'm warming up).

Also, I'm not sure where to put my hands. I'm so used to Max's straight out handle bars that I feel like something's...missing. And skel's handle bars are flat on top, so that was kind of strange. I tried looking at another guy on a similar bike to see where he was putting his hands but he was not holding onto the handlebars at all because he was scratching his balls.

I also almost killed myself because I forgot I was on skel and I hopped off of a curb. Then I forgot the brakes are in a different place and almost ended up in oncoming traffic.

Which is kind of funny because when I picked skel up today I was looking at him smiling, and the guy who put him together said "why are you smiling like that?" and I said "because it's been a long time since I've seen a bike that hasn't had a wreck". And then he laughed and said "I was thinking the same thing!" He put skel on the trainer to adjust him and the owner of the store walked by and said "ape arms" so I said "fuck you". Then the mechanic hung these weights off of him to make sure everything was aligned, and then he said "something doesn't seem right here" hanging it over my right knee and I was like "dude, it's not the bike, it's my knee". I showed him my bone plug and he said "cool, you should get a tat on that".

Or, not.

He gave me a free portable bike pump, and a second set of pedals. I have to take skel in for a check up after 150 miles. Hopefully by then I'll learn how to shift him.

indie arsenal

Clo and I had the BEST time last night. We went to a networking event for a group called Indie Arsenal.

At first I was my usual socially retarded self, standing there playing with the zipper on my jacket because I was afraid to talk to anyone. Then a guy named Jason came up and started talking to me, and he reminded me of my friend Jamesy (in fact I showed him a pic because they looked alike down to the glasses though knowing Jamesy he has different glasses now - and, I told Jason the footprints on the dashboard story and he laughed so hard he spit out his beer - sorry Jamesy). I told him about my book idea and he said he really liked it.

Then these two women came up, sisters, Lynette and I forget her name, because they wanted to know what we were laughing about. I told them about my book and Lynette said "maybe next you should try horses" and gave me a card. Which was SO WEIRD because I just watched Australia (I will not speak badly about Baz, the movie was okay) and now I want to learn to jump horses. So Lynette sent me an email today with her friend's contact info and I'm going to go on a trail ride and see what happens from there.

Lynette is a vet technician so we talked about cats that have cancer for a while. Then Clo introduced me to this guy name Eric who is really tall. We talked about motorcycles for a while and he showed me his naked bike. But then, I think because I had a glass of wine, I accidentally started talking about the Higgs Boson particle and the particle accelerator. I wish I could have filmed the change in Eric's face as I started talking about this new theory that a physicist from Hopkins has about gravity (I just read the article and I don't know why but I found it really exciting). The thing was, Clo was excited too so we started talking about CERN and the particle accelerator. Eric had this look on his face like "me want to punch something" so I tried to gracefully end my point but Clo kept bringing up other interesting points. Afterward I said "I wish I hadn't brought up the particle accelerator" and Clo said "but it was interesting!" and I couldn't help but think, hm, maybe THAT'S why we're both single.

Clo won a hat in the raffle that has a place to put headphones. She wore it for a while but said it was itchy.

Then I met another writer. I was telling her that I'm working on 5 books at the same time and her husband started laughing. We decided that it's just the way writers are. I can't remember her name but she is published in real magazines. Impressive.

I am going to join this group, even though I'll miss a few meetings while I'm gone. It was really, really cool to talk to a group of people who are all artists and creative with interesting projects. I even talked to a guy about a children's book that I wrote (involving an alligator with bling on his spine, a kangaroo with oversized feet, and a giant man - the alligator and kangaroo get into trouble when they sneak into a potato chip truck, but then they go to Australia and give mittens to the great whites, which are subsequently stolen by an octopus, but then the giant man gets the mittens back by giving the octopus a scarf since he can't keep the mittens on his tentacles anyway) and he said maybe he could illustrate it for me. It was funny because he was asking about the spinal bling and I suddenly realized "I just told him this crazy story and rather than looking at me strangely he wants to draw the alligator".

Maybe I have found my people.

And we got invited to some cool music shows and Clo got invited to a barbecue. I even met a guy who was MOT, and he was talking in this crazy Arab voice because he works with a band called Air Dubai. He lives pretty close to me too. When I told him I eat pepperoni he said "You're going to hell! And you're going to stay there!"

Hee.

no monkey money

Today the UPS man stopped by to drop off some packages of training material for a class I'm teaching next week. He likes me to open the packages while he's there in case I've ordered anything cool (usually I only get books and movies, which he sometimes borrows).

I showed him the monkey money while I was opening the packages. He was like "you idiot, you're supposed to scratch off the dollar bills". Oops. In my defense he had to take a coin and scratch them really hard to get all of the stuff off. Then it turns out I didn't win anything. He looked at the back of the ticket and said "Shit. You had a 1 in 4 chance of winning something, and you had two tickets, but you didn't win anything."

I was like "I guess I'm just unlucky." He looked at the boxes of training material, flipping through one of the books in case it was something he wanted to learn. It's software stuff, so he definitely didn't want to read it. I said "I wrote that" and he said "this is boring", tossing the training material material on my table.

I walked him to the door before he could look through my movies (sometimes it takes him a long time to return them) and he said "Girl, you suck today" and left.

Hmm. I'm going to order something that weighs 70 pounds and make him carry it into my house. Bastard. I'm just kidding. I like my UPS man.

manic

This week I have, for some reason, been super productive. Maybe it's nervous energy from my impending departure to the middle east.

Today my favorite concrete guy, Austin, came out and looked a the hole under my patio. The bad news is that he has to cut the fucking thing up and then put in a new patio because the hole is likely caused by water leakage. I told him I didn't care as long as he fixed the hole before snakes made a burrow in there, gradually finding their way into my house. He said "Franki, I don't think there are many rattle snakes that would be living here in the city". I said "Exactly, so when they find a little home they're all going to move in". He scratched his head, but then ended up cutting the price of the job, promising "If we find any snakes under there we'll get rid of them".

Then my window guys came (getting new windows, hooray!). They put my job as a rush at the factory (which is in Loveland, local windows made for altitude). I might have them installed before I leave which would be cracktacular.

Single Track called and said they finished building Jake the Snake (not to be confused with the potential snakes under my patio). I go pick him up tomorrow. New bike!!!!!!!!!

And, last night I got an email from a work colleague who read the first two chapters of my book. I have to admit I haven't done shit on my book, and the idiot Aussies who read it in the UAE made some demoralizing comments, so I was having serious doubts about my idea. My colleague wrote:

"I'm embarrassed that it's taken me so long to get back to you. I read both chapters a few weeks after you sent them to me, and I was so blown away that I couldn't find any words to write back. Then time passed and I thought, "after all this time I have to come up with some spectacular feedback to justify how long I took looking at it." Then more time passed, and it started getting ridiculous.

But today I realized that it would be easy for you to interpret my silence as criticism, indifference, or dislike of your work, so I'm writing to set the record straight. The book is amazing: your writing is clean and personal, your story is compelling and interesting, and the combination of the writing and the story mesh beautifully so it reads as if I'm your best friend and we're catching up on the phone after being out of touch for a little while. Thank you for letting me read it."

That was some encouragement out of the blue, so last night and today I started working on my book proposal again. I mean, shit, I know at least 5 people who will buy it.

Finally, when I woke up at 6 am to sit on the most boring conference call ever, I decided to replace all of my ex-boyfriend photos. Well, I still have a photo of my ex-husband (standing in the shadows of a mosque door frame in Morocco so you can't really see him) and my ex Jonas (shooting a gun in Managua). But, as soon as I take some more pics those are gone too.

And there's a text from Clo. We're going to hang out at my house for an hour and then go to a networking event for geeks in downtown Denver. Software developers are easy for me to socialize with. Compared to them I'm a fucking social butterfly.

monkey money

Because today is my 2 year anniversary with my maid service they brought me an apple pie and two lottery tickets.

I'm not a person who celebrates anniversaries. In fact, I have a hard time remembering my birthday. But, it seemed like a nice gesture. Of course, the apple pie has honey in it, so I'll have to find someone else to give it to. And I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with these fucking lottery tickets.

They have a monkey on the front of them because the funds for the ticket go to a conservation group. That's cool. There doesn't appear to be anything to scratch off of them. There are some numbers at the bottom of them. And then this bewildering statement: "Get 3 like amounts, win that amount. Get two like amounts and a "[picture of a stack of coins]" symbol, win DOUBLE that amount".

Amount of what? There are 6 yellow circles with dollar signs on the ticket but I don't know what they mean. And I looked on the back, which had even more confusing rules about registering for a second chance after the "game launch". How do I know when the game launch is?

I went out on the web site listed on the ticket and couldn't find any reference to these stupid tickets or any lottery game called "monkey money". Then I did a google search and all that came up was an announcement that someone had won a second chance sweepstakes thing and the announcement mentioned that $2 billion dollars had been donated to this conservation group that is being supported by monkey money.

So what am I supposed to do with these fucking tickets? I'm a bit embarrassed that homeless people know how to play the lottery and I don't. I've only had one other lottery ticket, that some guy at work bought me after I was diagnosed with cancer. I accidentally wrapped my gum in it. He asked me about it a few days later and I managed to pull it apart enough for him to see the number on it. I won $20 but when he took it to where ever you go to get your money they wouldn't take my ticket because of the gum. He was so mad that when he got back to the office he said that I owed him $10 because I should have split the ticket winnings since he bought it for me. I gave him the money and threw the ticket away, deciding that the lottery was too expensive to play.

And now I have more stupid tickets. I'll probably end up owing my maids money. I would throw them into the recycling bin but they have a coating and I'm not sure they can be recycled.

I guess I should go back to working...cause it's not like I'm going to win the lottery.

mountain madness

Last night my friend Clo and I went to this stupid mountaineering gala. Four mountaineers of note were being honored. We decided to go because it was a chance to dress up, and I wanted to buy a new pair of shoes.

Unusually for me, I arrived 15 minutes late. I felt bad. I felt worse when I saw Clo. In my stilettos I'm 6'2". Clo is 5 feet before adding heels. She took one look at me and said "I hate you. You're too tall."

I was thinking Clo was going to be a social butterfly because she's from Columbia, but she's as socially retarded as me. We were by far the best looking people there. Which is not saying much. Half the people were dressed in jeans with carabiners hanging from the belt loops. Gay. Then most of the crowd consisted of old ladies, like, over 60. We were like where are the hot guys????

We went over to what we thought were snacks before the dinner. The snacks were a bowl of green olives, a big dish of crab dip, and little slices of ham and cheese mushed together. There were also those little stale bread chips. We were getting hungry and finally Clo asked a waiter when dinner would be served. He looked at her strangely and said "that is dinner". Clo was like "are you fucking kidding me?" The only thing they had to drink was wine, water, and beer. Clo doesn't drink and she really wanted a coke. You would have thought she had asked the wait staff to build her the Taj Mahal. Finally a waiter snapped "if you can wait until 745 (it was 6 PM) we're serving coffee".

A local celebrity climber showed up who gets more and more obnoxious as the years go by. He knows Clo pretty well because she used to date a friend of his. I've met him at a number of events. He wanted us to come back to his friend's house for a hot tub and weed party. We were both like "NO" at the same time. Then we both said "whatever dude!" at the exact same time after he walked away.

There was a hot guy that finally showed up. But, he was wearing a burgundy shirt with a yellow tie and a black sport jacket. Yikes. I also found out a friend of mine, who is constantly hitting on me, has been married for the past 6 years and has a baby. One of Clo's friends went to the wedding. Odd, because I dated him briefly in 2006. I decided to never, ever date a mountaineer again. They are such pieces of shit for the most part.

We finally left, but not before the woman who was running the gala stopped us at the door and asked why we were leaving. I tried to be nice and say we were tired, but Clo was like "we're leaving because it's fucking boring!" I managed to not laugh until the woman walked away. Seriously, it's hard to turn a story about a dramatic ascent of K2 into a snooze fest (one guy caught the rest of his team as they were falling off of a cliff by planting his ax in the snow - it's one of the classic mountaineering stories). I was surprised how bad and boring the speaker, who wrote one of my favorite everest books, was.

We went to a noodle place in Boulder and talked for about 3 hours. We have so much in common that Clo finally said "I feel like you have lived my life, and I've lived yours, but in different places". It turns out we were born only 4 days apart even. She was married and divorced the exact same time I was. We both run into major guy issues all the time.

On relationships, Clo said "you know, some days you're going to be fat, and somedays you are going to be skinny, and guys don't seem to be able to accept that". She wasn't really talking about weight, but how men seem to trivialize our accomplishments down to just what we look like. She also works with a company that sponsor an event called "gimps on ice" for people who are amputees that want to learn to climb. She has dated a number of athletes, and she said that her measure of the man is to see if he has enough going on that if he loses a limb he will be able to keep going. I thought that was a really smart thing to think about.

I'm hoping to see Clo again this week before I leave for DC. She's coming to Denver to pick up a strait jacket to take a picture of this climber dude who looks crazy. She also has some pictures that are going to be published in People magazine. It's inspiring me to start working on my book again.

As we were leaving the restaurant she suggested that we collaborate together on a travel article. She'll take the pictures and I'll write the article. I'm pretty excited about the idea. I'm hoping she really does come visit me when I head back to the middle east.

I think it will be the best fucking travel article ever. The two of us are definitely capable of getting into a lot of interesting trouble.

Joe tries to kill me...again

I seem to be more likely to die trying to drive to an ice climb than actually ice climbing. On Friday I drove up to Montana to visit Joe. He said there was still some ice up at Pine Creek. We took his friend's truck and headed up there Saturday morning, even though it was snowing.

I had not forgotten how scary the Pine Creek road was since I had to drive it last year after a snow. But Joe thought we would be okay in the truck. We got halfway to the parking lot and the truck was pushing snow. We didn't have a place to turn around so we drove all the way to the parking lot. Scary. Then we decided to turn around because the snow conditions were getting worse and we were worried we would get stuck at the trail head. I started making this movie as the conditions got worse.

If I sound a little nervous that's because I was. Nice driving again this year Joe!

eight arms and guns

The other night I had a dream that I was in the galley of a small boat. We were in a war. I was briefing some octopi, there must have been 20 of them, on the war situation. I was standing at a white board drawing diagrams. The octopi were being bad. One would knock something off a shelf and I would run to put it back. As soon as I got to the white board to make more notes another octopus would throw something else on the floor. They kept giggling.

Then a general came into the galley and said "you're up". We all rushed out to the deck and had to duck under the side of the boat because someone was shooting at us. I was like fuck, we're really in a war. I yelled for the octopi to ready their guns. I looked over the side of the boat and a bullet went whizzing by my head. I was like fuck, these guys are serious.

I put my back against the side of the boat and started loading a 9 mm gun (I know, why bother) with bullets. I was giving orders to the octopi, who were being obedient. I thought maybe we'll be okay.

Then I looked to my left and saw the leader of the octopi slumped down against the side of the boat right next to me. He had a scared but determined expression on his face. He was wearing a naval captain's hat. I thought to myself, wow, I didn't know he was a captain. Then I realized how ridiculous he looked in that hat, holding a gun. I thought to myself what the fuck was I thinking trying to take a bunch of octopi to fight a war? I had a sense of dread that we were about to be killed.

Then I woke up.