I was using a le meridien power converter, and it stopped working last night. I can't possibly be without my laptop for more than a few hours, and, rather than bother the nice people downstairs who will probably charge me for breaking their converter, I decided to buy another one (I actually need it for work). So I went to the co-op, since it's the only thing open during ramadan hours, and bought the only converter they have. It SAID on the package "works with US". It SAID "universal converter". I bet you know where this story is going.
I got back to my room, plugged in the converter, and sparks and smoke came out of the plug. I'm not sure if I got shocked or just burned from the sparks, but what ever happened, it hurt like hell and my finger has a blister on it. Huh, that's weird, I thought. I decided to try it in another plug, being careful this time to keep my fingers away from the plug by pushing the converter in with the eraser of my le meridien pencil. Same thing happened.
But, I had noticed at that point that all the power was out on that side of the room. Thinking, for who knows what reason, that another experiment was in order, since the power was out the second time I plugged in the converter, I checked a plug on the other side of the room, made sure it was working, and...this is embarrassing to admit...plugged the converter in again. Guess what happened.
So, now I was in my room with no electricity, a burnt finger, and a dead laptop battery. "F this!" I thought to myself, I'm going to the gym. Anyway, I couldn't call the front desk to report the problem because the power was out. As I was leaving my room I noticed a bunch of people gathering in the lobby on my floor, looking at me with disdain as I walked by in my running outfit (not showing knees, but showing shoulders, which are almost as bad as knees) carrying a bottle of water (big no no during fasting hours). What the hell are they doing up here? I wondered. Then I saw the signs and realized the hotel had set up a prayer room two doors down from my room. Honestly, had I known that, I would have waited until call to prayer started before leaving my room dressed in my workout clothes. Oh well.
I did my workout and then stopped by the front desk to tell them my power wasn't working. The bellhop, an annoying guy who has worked there for like a million years and who never calls a taxi for me in the morning, told me it was because I hadn't put my key in the power slot. I was like noooo, that's NOT the problem, and explained about the converter. Suddenly the woman at the front desk's eyes went huge, and she made a hurried phone call. I went to my room.
A few minutes later the power came on. A paki knocked on my door to make sure everything was okay, and I told him what happened, showed him the converter, and told him "you plug it in and see what happens". Of course, it was fine. He told me "Do not buy these local goods, they are very, very bad. And so cheap." Everyone around here is such a snob. There will never be a wal-mart in UAE. I thanked him and gave him a tip, and, as he was walking out the door he said "By the way, do not plug in cheap converters before call to prayer, because you make the electricity go out in the prayer room, and no one knows what is wrong, since you don't tell us what you did".
Oops :D
I apologized profusely, and, I swear I'm not making this up, he said "do not worry, it did not matter - it was only the women's prayer room".
Ech. Sorry sisters!
Friday, September 4, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
socks, smoking
Some people have been requesting pictures. So, here are some pictures.
These are my socks, which I just picked up from the laundry but someone else did it place, whatever you call it. Yes, the name of the place is Jeeves. Anyway, my socks were, I swear I'm not making this up, ironed, and then put in this lovely bag with a piece of tissue paper between them. It seems excessive.
These are my socks, which I just picked up from the laundry but someone else did it place, whatever you call it. Yes, the name of the place is Jeeves. Anyway, my socks were, I swear I'm not making this up, ironed, and then put in this lovely bag with a piece of tissue paper between them. It seems excessive. Laundry was so much fun to drop off here. They had no idea how to classify my western clothes so they put things like "sports abaya" for my dress I wear over my bathing suit. They called my yoga pants "pantaloons". They ironed everything, even my sports bra, which they put in a plastic bag, with a hangar, but the bag was opaque so no one could see my sports bra.
This is the balcony outside my hotel room. Or should I say "balcony" since, after you walk down that little step, it's the roof of the hotel. I feed all of my new pets here. I have a cat who looks like an orange tabby left out in the sun too long, named Lancelot (he likes fish tikka but not fish with lime, and he really likes fish and chips but they are way too disgusting - I ordered them, took a bite, and fed the rest of them to Lance - now he whines all the time when I try to get him to eat more healthy). Then I have 5 birds. The birds showed up when one night I had a temper tantrum because the coconut cookies I bought were actually saltines with coconut sprinkles, and I threw the cookies out on my balcony after stomping on the package twice. Now I feed the birds grapes, rolls, pizza crust, and these milk biscuits that I bought, opened, and then forgot to eat for two days. Anything left out for more than a day here gets stale and then it hardens up. Gross. This is also where I smoke, since it's Ramadan, and you get arrested for smoking in public. Hm, it just occurred to me...Lancelot showed up after the birds showed up...I hope he's not going to eat them.
This is my little hidey hole that the guy in the garage made for me (the pic is crap because I took it with my crackberry, but you get the idea). You can see the cardboard boxes stacked at the end there. I go here to smoke. I know, it's pretty gross. That's the garage guy's car duster. It's funny to see him walking around with it. It's almost as big as he is. Oh well, Ramadan will be over in a few weeks, and everything can get back to normal...
bunker
Today I had a meeting with the new base colonel and I did something really bad. A dress seemed in order for the occasion, so I put on my new grey dress (Joe, that was one of my new dresses I showed you), with my sandals. The dress is a business dress, would pass for uber modest in most countries, and it's grey i.e. boring.
One thing I did NOT check with said dress was what would happen if I sat down in it. I got into Dr. T's car this am to head to the base and realized that, when sitting down, the hem of my dress, which is below my knees when standing, does not cover my knees when sitting.
Women get fined here for showing their knees in public. It's considered very bad form.
My stomach started hurting and I wanted to jump out of the car but Dr. T, who realized my problem, found it amusing.
We got to the colonel's office and it was weird. He had put two chairs sideways against his desk for Dr. T and the program manager to sit in. Then he directed myself and Ireland to this other area of his office (which was quite big) where there was a sofa, two modern leather chairs, and a coffee table. It looked like the set of a talk show. Dr. T said "Franki, why don't you sit right there?" pointing at a place on the sofa directly in the line of sight of the colonel. I sat down, and immediately the colonel started staring at my knees. I couldn't tell if he was horrified or intrigued. Anyway, the meeting went poorly, I thought, because the colonel didn't say much but Dr. T thought it went just fine.
Then I went into my office and found that it has been invaded by scottish guys. Very strange. They were all sitting around arguing and reading the paper, and I had to try really hard to not laugh because they all sound like that character Bubbles on Ab Fab. The noise of their arguments was only slightly less annoying than the fighter planes right outside my window (the runway is seriously like 200 yards from the bunker where we work) that seemed to be taking off every 10 minutes. I don't mind the C-130s because they just make noise. The fighter planes shake stuff around and make this horrible screechy metal sound.
There are female fighter pilots in UAE, by the way. How cool is that? There was one that used to work in my area but she got promoted and moved. Then she crashed her plane on accident last week but ejected in time. I'm sure it was the other driver's fault.
Tomorrow I tour an "apartment" in Le Meridien to move into when my reservation is up. At least I'll (supposedly) have a refrigerator and a microwave (though, I never use microwaves because I think they're gross, unless I'm making edamame). Hope I still have a balcony. I wonder if my pets will be able to find me when I move...
One thing I did NOT check with said dress was what would happen if I sat down in it. I got into Dr. T's car this am to head to the base and realized that, when sitting down, the hem of my dress, which is below my knees when standing, does not cover my knees when sitting.
Women get fined here for showing their knees in public. It's considered very bad form.
My stomach started hurting and I wanted to jump out of the car but Dr. T, who realized my problem, found it amusing.
We got to the colonel's office and it was weird. He had put two chairs sideways against his desk for Dr. T and the program manager to sit in. Then he directed myself and Ireland to this other area of his office (which was quite big) where there was a sofa, two modern leather chairs, and a coffee table. It looked like the set of a talk show. Dr. T said "Franki, why don't you sit right there?" pointing at a place on the sofa directly in the line of sight of the colonel. I sat down, and immediately the colonel started staring at my knees. I couldn't tell if he was horrified or intrigued. Anyway, the meeting went poorly, I thought, because the colonel didn't say much but Dr. T thought it went just fine.
Then I went into my office and found that it has been invaded by scottish guys. Very strange. They were all sitting around arguing and reading the paper, and I had to try really hard to not laugh because they all sound like that character Bubbles on Ab Fab. The noise of their arguments was only slightly less annoying than the fighter planes right outside my window (the runway is seriously like 200 yards from the bunker where we work) that seemed to be taking off every 10 minutes. I don't mind the C-130s because they just make noise. The fighter planes shake stuff around and make this horrible screechy metal sound.
There are female fighter pilots in UAE, by the way. How cool is that? There was one that used to work in my area but she got promoted and moved. Then she crashed her plane on accident last week but ejected in time. I'm sure it was the other driver's fault.
Tomorrow I tour an "apartment" in Le Meridien to move into when my reservation is up. At least I'll (supposedly) have a refrigerator and a microwave (though, I never use microwaves because I think they're gross, unless I'm making edamame). Hope I still have a balcony. I wonder if my pets will be able to find me when I move...
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
stranger in a strange land
Dinner last night was an interesting experience. Everyone at the table was from UK or Ireland, except for me and the husband of one of Ireland's friends, Evan. Evan asked me where I was from and I said "I'm from the US. I didn't vote for Bush." Evan said "Bush didn't run in the last election", missing my point.
Apparently he took offense to what I said, because he ignored me until the topic of running came up. He met his wife running with the harriers in Abu Dhabi. I asked if they had a web site or something so I could join and have a group to run with. He made some comment about "husband shopping" (he met his wife in the harriers) and then said he thought the harriers might be too competitive for me. And because everyone kept teasing him about his age I asked him how old he was. He said "that is the RUDEST question anyone has ever asked me". He wasn't joking, though I find his statement hard to believe because he's retired navy.
I tried to follow the other conversations going on around the table but was lost in idiomatic expressions and the inability to understand some of the accents. There was a conversation going on that seemed really interesting until I found out it was about a tv show about housewives. Every time someone in Ireland's group goes home they bring back the latest DVDs of TV shows that people like to watch here but that aren't on the TV. They asked if I had any DVDs. I thought about mentioning my 12 disk series on chaos or maybe my lecture series done by Neil deGrasse Tyson on the universe, but then decided to just say no.
Everyone was talking about this palace which is a 7 star hotel. Ireland and her brother and his wife went there Monday night for iftar (breaking of the ramadan fast, usually happens after sun down, and involves a tent with a ton of food - people sit around at tables in the tent eating and smoking sheesha). Ireland said she wanted to get married there. The whole dream wedding conversation went on for forever. I started thinking about what it would be like to be married to Neil. I could just see us sitting at a candle lit table, and him saying "Travel to the closest star would be an amazing journey. But if anything went wrong, you would die." Or "Black holes are fascinating things to study. But if you get to close to them, you will die." I think he's one of my favorite people and not just because he could get me into the Hayden planetarium for free (for more NdGT quotes: http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/12855.Neil_deGrasse_Tyson).
I rejoined the conversation when Ireland's brother mentioned someone was attacked by a great white in Australia. I started explaining some shark stuff to him but Evan interrupted me and said "Stop talking about sharks. They're too depressing."
This morning Ireland was in a bit of a mood because she stayed out late last night. And we had the worst taxi driver ever. I got to the base and a parade of French guys kept coming by my desk while I was trying to work making loud comments. Seriously, what is wrong with the French? Though, the nationality with a bad rap here is the brits. They get arrested more than any other nationality by a factor of 3, mostly for drugs, public drunkenness, and sex related offenses. Last year a british couple was caught having sex on the beach and they were thrown out of the country. One wonders what they were thinking considering you can get arrested for holding hands in public here. No, I'm not making that up.
The day ended with me finding out I'm getting thrown to the wolves tomorrow at the base. Some meeting with some commanders for which I don't even have a presentation to present. Then I'm meeting with some guys from Pakistan next week. I'm not looking forward to traveling there. The flight to and from Islamabad leaves at 3 in the morning and you have to be there 3 hours in advance. Then you get driven everywhere. You are only allowed to go to your hotel or the customer site. And Dr. T warned me the power goes out a lot, and he was almost injured there his last trip when he was running on the treadmill and it came to an unexpected stop when the power shut off.
The good news is, there is a lot of work to do. That, of course, is also the bad news.
Apparently he took offense to what I said, because he ignored me until the topic of running came up. He met his wife running with the harriers in Abu Dhabi. I asked if they had a web site or something so I could join and have a group to run with. He made some comment about "husband shopping" (he met his wife in the harriers) and then said he thought the harriers might be too competitive for me. And because everyone kept teasing him about his age I asked him how old he was. He said "that is the RUDEST question anyone has ever asked me". He wasn't joking, though I find his statement hard to believe because he's retired navy.
I tried to follow the other conversations going on around the table but was lost in idiomatic expressions and the inability to understand some of the accents. There was a conversation going on that seemed really interesting until I found out it was about a tv show about housewives. Every time someone in Ireland's group goes home they bring back the latest DVDs of TV shows that people like to watch here but that aren't on the TV. They asked if I had any DVDs. I thought about mentioning my 12 disk series on chaos or maybe my lecture series done by Neil deGrasse Tyson on the universe, but then decided to just say no.
Everyone was talking about this palace which is a 7 star hotel. Ireland and her brother and his wife went there Monday night for iftar (breaking of the ramadan fast, usually happens after sun down, and involves a tent with a ton of food - people sit around at tables in the tent eating and smoking sheesha). Ireland said she wanted to get married there. The whole dream wedding conversation went on for forever. I started thinking about what it would be like to be married to Neil. I could just see us sitting at a candle lit table, and him saying "Travel to the closest star would be an amazing journey. But if anything went wrong, you would die." Or "Black holes are fascinating things to study. But if you get to close to them, you will die." I think he's one of my favorite people and not just because he could get me into the Hayden planetarium for free (for more NdGT quotes: http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/12855.Neil_deGrasse_Tyson).
I rejoined the conversation when Ireland's brother mentioned someone was attacked by a great white in Australia. I started explaining some shark stuff to him but Evan interrupted me and said "Stop talking about sharks. They're too depressing."
This morning Ireland was in a bit of a mood because she stayed out late last night. And we had the worst taxi driver ever. I got to the base and a parade of French guys kept coming by my desk while I was trying to work making loud comments. Seriously, what is wrong with the French? Though, the nationality with a bad rap here is the brits. They get arrested more than any other nationality by a factor of 3, mostly for drugs, public drunkenness, and sex related offenses. Last year a british couple was caught having sex on the beach and they were thrown out of the country. One wonders what they were thinking considering you can get arrested for holding hands in public here. No, I'm not making that up.
The day ended with me finding out I'm getting thrown to the wolves tomorrow at the base. Some meeting with some commanders for which I don't even have a presentation to present. Then I'm meeting with some guys from Pakistan next week. I'm not looking forward to traveling there. The flight to and from Islamabad leaves at 3 in the morning and you have to be there 3 hours in advance. Then you get driven everywhere. You are only allowed to go to your hotel or the customer site. And Dr. T warned me the power goes out a lot, and he was almost injured there his last trip when he was running on the treadmill and it came to an unexpected stop when the power shut off.
The good news is, there is a lot of work to do. That, of course, is also the bad news.
Monday, August 31, 2009
the tender trap
from a comment about an article that cited 3 warning signs that a guy is not a good guy to have a long term relationship with:
"I dont (sic) think that relationships can last unless you have both parties so wrapped up in one anothers (sic) lives that extricating themselves would be like ripping off a limb. Those relationships survive. The ones with not much invested as far as family friends and effort seem doomed to fail. I still feel that unless a man is open to falling totally in love with you right from the start your (sic) wasting your time trying to convince him. Hearts (sic) open or heart is closed. Cant (sic) make something out of nothing."
from the article "Is Sex Interesting?" by Wallace Shawn (Aug 2009, Harper's Magazine):
"Perhaps it is the power of sex that has taught us to love the meaningless and thereby turn it
into the meaningful. Amazingly, the love of what is arbitrary (which one could alternatively
describe as the love of reality) is something we human beings are capable of feeling, and perhaps
even what we call the love of the beautiful is simply a particular way of exercising this remarkable ability...Sex has always been known to be such a powerful force that fragile humanity can’t help but be terribly nervous in front of it, so powerful barriers have been devised to control it—taboos of all varieties, first of all, and then all the emotions subsumed under the concepts of jealousy and possessiveness, possessiveness being a sort of anticipatory form of jealousy. (A recent survey of married people in the United States found that when asked the question “What is very important for a successful marriage?” the quality mentioned most frequently—by 93 percent—was “faithfulness,” while “happy sexual relationship” came in
with only 70 percent. In other words, to 23 percent of the respondents, it seemed more important that they and their partner should not have sex with others than that they themselves should enjoy sex.)"
from "the once and future king", T.H. White:
"It is difficult to explain about Guenever, unless it is possible to love two people at the same time. Probably it is not possible to love two people in the same way, but there are different kinds of love...It had been a successful union, as "made" marriages generally are, and before Lancelot came on the scene the young girl had adored her famous husband...she had felt respect for him, with gratitude, kindness, love, and a sense of protection. She had felt more than this - you might say she had felt everything except the passion of romance."
"A woman can forget a lot of love in two years-or at any rate she can pack it away, and grow accustomed to it, and hardly remember it more than a businessman might remember an occasion when, by ill luck, he had failed to make an investment which would have made him a millionaire."
from an article about Neil deGrasse Tyson's book "the pluto files":
"...Disney's dog Pluto was sketched the same year the cosmic object was discovered. And Pluto was discovered by an American. So here you have a recipe for Americans falling in love with a planet that really is just a tiny ice ball...
So that was the famous Planet X. And eventually, Clyde Tombaugh in Arizona discovered a planet, which got named Pluto. Not by an American, though, because an American would never have named it after a highly advertised, highly marketed laxative of the same name that was popular then."
"I dont (sic) think that relationships can last unless you have both parties so wrapped up in one anothers (sic) lives that extricating themselves would be like ripping off a limb. Those relationships survive. The ones with not much invested as far as family friends and effort seem doomed to fail. I still feel that unless a man is open to falling totally in love with you right from the start your (sic) wasting your time trying to convince him. Hearts (sic) open or heart is closed. Cant (sic) make something out of nothing."
from the article "Is Sex Interesting?" by Wallace Shawn (Aug 2009, Harper's Magazine):
"Perhaps it is the power of sex that has taught us to love the meaningless and thereby turn it
into the meaningful. Amazingly, the love of what is arbitrary (which one could alternatively
describe as the love of reality) is something we human beings are capable of feeling, and perhaps
even what we call the love of the beautiful is simply a particular way of exercising this remarkable ability...Sex has always been known to be such a powerful force that fragile humanity can’t help but be terribly nervous in front of it, so powerful barriers have been devised to control it—taboos of all varieties, first of all, and then all the emotions subsumed under the concepts of jealousy and possessiveness, possessiveness being a sort of anticipatory form of jealousy. (A recent survey of married people in the United States found that when asked the question “What is very important for a successful marriage?” the quality mentioned most frequently—by 93 percent—was “faithfulness,” while “happy sexual relationship” came in
with only 70 percent. In other words, to 23 percent of the respondents, it seemed more important that they and their partner should not have sex with others than that they themselves should enjoy sex.)"
from "the once and future king", T.H. White:
"It is difficult to explain about Guenever, unless it is possible to love two people at the same time. Probably it is not possible to love two people in the same way, but there are different kinds of love...It had been a successful union, as "made" marriages generally are, and before Lancelot came on the scene the young girl had adored her famous husband...she had felt respect for him, with gratitude, kindness, love, and a sense of protection. She had felt more than this - you might say she had felt everything except the passion of romance."
"A woman can forget a lot of love in two years-or at any rate she can pack it away, and grow accustomed to it, and hardly remember it more than a businessman might remember an occasion when, by ill luck, he had failed to make an investment which would have made him a millionaire."
from an article about Neil deGrasse Tyson's book "the pluto files":
"...Disney's dog Pluto was sketched the same year the cosmic object was discovered. And Pluto was discovered by an American. So here you have a recipe for Americans falling in love with a planet that really is just a tiny ice ball...
So that was the famous Planet X. And eventually, Clyde Tombaugh in Arizona discovered a planet, which got named Pluto. Not by an American, though, because an American would never have named it after a highly advertised, highly marketed laxative of the same name that was popular then."
new kid on the block
In the taxi today, riding home with Ireland from the base in the worst traffic ever, I found out why all these weird people were stopping by my desk today. I guess word had gotten around the base that there was a new woman working there.
It's funny that when I first got here I thought I would find a bunch of people like me, and that I would have ample resources to climb and dive with. But it turns out most of the people I've met that are ex pats are out of shape married men who probably took their assignment to get away from the wife and kids.
The french guys are the most obnoxious. One guy came by my desk today and said "bon jour". I had no idea who he was so I said "good morning". He then counseled me in French to greet him in French. I told him to (insert explicative here) himself in Greek. For the rest of the day he would stop by my desk and say something in French. I answered him in Spanish, Arabic, or Greek depending on what I could remember. He finally got the message and decided to leave me alone after calling me a bad name in French (A speaks it and translated after the guy left).
Then, when A and I arrived at Ireland's building (she works on a different part of the base) to pick her up at the end of the day today, two other french guys were waiting with her. As she opened the door to the car (it's a 2 door BMW and I was sitting in the back) both guys came over to try to shake my hand or something. Then one, named Bruno (how could I make that up) actually tried to climb into the back seat of the car with me. Scary. Ireland had to push him out of the way and then A peeled out of the parking lot, though that was more to show off than because he was worried about me getting molested by a frog.
In the 15 minute drive across the 6 lanes of traffic we were laughing about most of the contractor guys we have to work with. Then we were talking about how even the muslim guys can be overly friendly, and during ramadan they use the excuse of trying to convert women to the muslim religion to hit on them. It's one of the tenets of their religion to convert people. Ireland said she would never want to convert to a religion where she would have to be one of four wives, and that she would rather have four husbands. I told her that sounded like way too much work.
On the drive back to Abu Dhabi, ramadan traffic was compounded by a bunch of construction. It's amazing how much building is going on in this city. They're building tunnels and bridges to islands that they had previously built. Then, on the islands, they're building buildings so people have a reason to go to the islands. It's all rather strange. In Abu Dhabi they're ripping down existing short (3 story) buildings and replacing them with tall skyscrapers with mirrored windows. I asked Ireland why they were ripping down what I thought was a cute little building and she said "because it isn't shiny enough".
Tonight I'm meeting Ireland, her brother, her brother's wife, her best friend and her spouse, and two americans she knows for dinner at a mexican restaurant. I finally discovered why there are no restaurants on the street. A place has to be located in a hotel to serve alcohol and most restaurants, other than lunch places and bakeries, could not survive not being able to sell alcohol. So they either open in a mall, or open in a hotel and serve alcohol.
Such is life on this side of the world...
It's funny that when I first got here I thought I would find a bunch of people like me, and that I would have ample resources to climb and dive with. But it turns out most of the people I've met that are ex pats are out of shape married men who probably took their assignment to get away from the wife and kids.
The french guys are the most obnoxious. One guy came by my desk today and said "bon jour". I had no idea who he was so I said "good morning". He then counseled me in French to greet him in French. I told him to (insert explicative here) himself in Greek. For the rest of the day he would stop by my desk and say something in French. I answered him in Spanish, Arabic, or Greek depending on what I could remember. He finally got the message and decided to leave me alone after calling me a bad name in French (A speaks it and translated after the guy left).
Then, when A and I arrived at Ireland's building (she works on a different part of the base) to pick her up at the end of the day today, two other french guys were waiting with her. As she opened the door to the car (it's a 2 door BMW and I was sitting in the back) both guys came over to try to shake my hand or something. Then one, named Bruno (how could I make that up) actually tried to climb into the back seat of the car with me. Scary. Ireland had to push him out of the way and then A peeled out of the parking lot, though that was more to show off than because he was worried about me getting molested by a frog.
In the 15 minute drive across the 6 lanes of traffic we were laughing about most of the contractor guys we have to work with. Then we were talking about how even the muslim guys can be overly friendly, and during ramadan they use the excuse of trying to convert women to the muslim religion to hit on them. It's one of the tenets of their religion to convert people. Ireland said she would never want to convert to a religion where she would have to be one of four wives, and that she would rather have four husbands. I told her that sounded like way too much work.
On the drive back to Abu Dhabi, ramadan traffic was compounded by a bunch of construction. It's amazing how much building is going on in this city. They're building tunnels and bridges to islands that they had previously built. Then, on the islands, they're building buildings so people have a reason to go to the islands. It's all rather strange. In Abu Dhabi they're ripping down existing short (3 story) buildings and replacing them with tall skyscrapers with mirrored windows. I asked Ireland why they were ripping down what I thought was a cute little building and she said "because it isn't shiny enough".
Tonight I'm meeting Ireland, her brother, her brother's wife, her best friend and her spouse, and two americans she knows for dinner at a mexican restaurant. I finally discovered why there are no restaurants on the street. A place has to be located in a hotel to serve alcohol and most restaurants, other than lunch places and bakeries, could not survive not being able to sell alcohol. So they either open in a mall, or open in a hotel and serve alcohol.
Such is life on this side of the world...
Sunday, August 30, 2009
flip flops vs. combat boots
Last week I got to meet some of the contractors I'll be working with when I did a two day training class for them. It was interesting to watch the expression on their faces when they walked in to find me as their instructor. Most of the guys took it in stride. One guy, though, was pretty militant about his views of women, and refused any help from me when he was trying to complete the exercises. Then the little bastard gave me a "good" rating on the evaluation, while rating everything else about the class "excellent".
The very important person to win over in the class liked me so the rating doesn't matter. The VIP is an ex fighter pilot, and we had some interesting discussions about the F-16 (my dad was the lead designer on the F-100 engine, so I immediately had street cred with the VIP). While at first I was worried to do my usual routine teaching class, after a few hours when they were responding to my jokes I decided to just pretend I was in the US.
I had been warned that people would fall asleep in my class and would want to leave early because of ramadan, but actually it was hard to get rid of them at the end of the day. And at one point everyone was laughing and yelling so loud the program manager came in to see what was going on (we were having a drawing race, and at the end I realized I had written all over the white board with a permanent marker - enter the tea boy to clean it with windex and a billion kleenex while the VIP gave a demonstration of "dry erase markers" and "permanent markers" in engli-arabic - I am probably glad I couldn't understand the arabic parts).
Today I went to the base to meet my customer. The base is in the middle of nowhere and is surrounded by road construction so it's pretty difficult to get to. I had to take a taxi to the supermarket across the street, where A was waiting for me. Then we drove out of the parking lot, made a u-turn, and entered the base. What's so crazy is that I could have walked across the street (it's only 6 lanes) but there are barriers up everywhere to keep people from doing that. So instead of a 5 minute walk we have to drive 10 minutes to get on base. And then, after all the drama of getting my pass so I could enter the gate, the guard didn't even ask for it. He just waved at me.
Most of the people I met today were very nice. My favorite is a captain, female. She looks like the emirati version of Angelina Jolie and her uniform is really cool. She wears a black head scarf, then has this very masculine looking square jacket with a bunch of military stuff stuck all over it, and then she has a long skirt that goes to the floor, and poking out from the hem are her black combat boots. She even has her own office.
Most of the day was spent with A trying to figure out our work schedule for the next few months. There's a lot to do. I found it funny that, at the end of the day, when I gave A a list of what I was going to work on for the rest of the week, he said "it's really weird to me that you are doing work". I sometimes wonder if I'm not really a consultant.
And, I've decided, unless something horrible happens, I'm going to Banff in November. Work is fun, but I really need to get my book published. I'll be breaking the news to Dr. T later this week.
The very important person to win over in the class liked me so the rating doesn't matter. The VIP is an ex fighter pilot, and we had some interesting discussions about the F-16 (my dad was the lead designer on the F-100 engine, so I immediately had street cred with the VIP). While at first I was worried to do my usual routine teaching class, after a few hours when they were responding to my jokes I decided to just pretend I was in the US.
I had been warned that people would fall asleep in my class and would want to leave early because of ramadan, but actually it was hard to get rid of them at the end of the day. And at one point everyone was laughing and yelling so loud the program manager came in to see what was going on (we were having a drawing race, and at the end I realized I had written all over the white board with a permanent marker - enter the tea boy to clean it with windex and a billion kleenex while the VIP gave a demonstration of "dry erase markers" and "permanent markers" in engli-arabic - I am probably glad I couldn't understand the arabic parts).
Today I went to the base to meet my customer. The base is in the middle of nowhere and is surrounded by road construction so it's pretty difficult to get to. I had to take a taxi to the supermarket across the street, where A was waiting for me. Then we drove out of the parking lot, made a u-turn, and entered the base. What's so crazy is that I could have walked across the street (it's only 6 lanes) but there are barriers up everywhere to keep people from doing that. So instead of a 5 minute walk we have to drive 10 minutes to get on base. And then, after all the drama of getting my pass so I could enter the gate, the guard didn't even ask for it. He just waved at me.
Most of the people I met today were very nice. My favorite is a captain, female. She looks like the emirati version of Angelina Jolie and her uniform is really cool. She wears a black head scarf, then has this very masculine looking square jacket with a bunch of military stuff stuck all over it, and then she has a long skirt that goes to the floor, and poking out from the hem are her black combat boots. She even has her own office.
Most of the day was spent with A trying to figure out our work schedule for the next few months. There's a lot to do. I found it funny that, at the end of the day, when I gave A a list of what I was going to work on for the rest of the week, he said "it's really weird to me that you are doing work". I sometimes wonder if I'm not really a consultant.
And, I've decided, unless something horrible happens, I'm going to Banff in November. Work is fun, but I really need to get my book published. I'll be breaking the news to Dr. T later this week.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
ramadan ruse
Today I was talking to a guy from the Dubai office and he was asking me where I sneak off to when I want to eat or drink something. I told him that I was fasting along with everyone else in the office. He started laughing and told me most of the people in the office are having lunch while I think they're saying prayers. Don't I feel like a sucker.
I read an article in the paper yesterday that was talking about ramadan. What ends up happening here is people sleep all day because it's hot and they're tired from fasting. They wake up at night and hang out in iftar tents (tents full of food) to break fast. Then they watch TV, have the last meal before sunrise, and go to sleep. It sounds more like a night club life style than a religious event, but I'm sure some people take it seriously.
Another article talked about the top 10 bad things that people do during ramadan. Eight of the 10 things were about women. Among their list of bad things they do at ramadan:
Pretending to have the curse when they don't (women with the curse don't have to fast)
Wearing too much perfume (not sure about that one)
Talking to people at the mosque instead of, and I quote, "being silent"
Cooking too much food
Spending too much time in the kitchen cooking food and making it look nice
Claiming to be tired during fasting (while taking care of the kids, no doubt)
Not encouraging pre-teens to fast
Becoming anorexic during fasting
The bad things that men do included watching too much TV and sleeping too much.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
death cab
You can always tell what the weather is like outside, A tells me, by looking at the sky. The closer the color of the sky is to the color of the desert, the hotter it's going to be.
I woke up this morning, and the sky was as blue as I've seen it. I walked outside and spent 30 minutes waiting for a cab. Just when I was thinking I would walk to the office because the weather didn't seem so bad, a cab showed up. I should note that when I got to the office everyone was talking about how it was "only 120 degrees" outside. Guess I'm getting used to the heat.
In the 30 minutes I was waiting, a cab actually did show up, but he refused to give me a ride. After the cab left I asked the bell hop why he didn't want to give me a ride, and the bell hop said "because he's Pakistani". Hm. Then I got to the office and met N, who I will be working in parallel with (he is a consultant for software that integrates with my software). It turns out N was born in Dallas, Texas but is Pakistani. When I told him what happened with the cab he laughed and said it's more likely the guy didn't want to give me a ride because I'm a woman rather than because I'm american.
N took me to get a SIM card, an arduous process involving mobs of people shoving at the phone counter and computers that kept breaking down, capped off with a lecture from a Palastinian woman about how my photocopy of my passport was "no good, no good at all". Then we found out the SIM card doesn't work in my crackberry, so I also had to buy a phone (we used to have spare phones in the office, but after my old company was taken over by my new company they got rid of the spare phones - but, they did hire a tea boy to bring everyone drinks - someone in corporate should get a huge raise for that decision).
As we were driving back to the office N told me that I was lucky to not end up in a cab with a Paki. He said they are the worst drivers in the world. I believe him after he told me that he had "only been in 2 accidents this year". Um, that's a good driving record? He was driving his mom's car because his was in the shop from his last accident. He said he was driving a little fast when "suddenly this Indian stopped rather suddenly at a red light". I was like "yeah, that happens all the time in the US too". Then I asked if, for the rest of the trip to the office, we could stop at the red lights just so we didn't get into an accident (for the record, everyone stops at red lights here, except, I guess, Pakistanis).
The guy who walks around the office parking garage cleaning cars surreptitiously made me a little hide away to smoke in by stacking up a bunch of boxes, which I found today, much to my surprise and delight (I only had two cigarettes over the course of 8 hours, so nip it). I know he's the one that did it because his cleaning supplies are in there too. As I've said before, these people are all about service. When I was asking N where I could do my laundry he looked at me as if I was right out of the trailer park and said "Do you mean, do we have laundromats like in the US? Franki, no. Here, we pay someone to do everything for us. Just send your laundry out."
N and I worked until late afternoon, and then I turned down an offer from him for a ride home, because I felt like he had already been so helpful to me (Pete, N says hi btw, you taught him DXL). I ended up in a cab with a Paki (cab drivers always tell me where they are from as soon as I get in the cab - why, I don't know) who didn't mind driving a woman around. The only problem was, he really was a bad driver.
It's the first time since being here that I actually feared for my life. He was speeding down a three lane road when suddenly traffic stopped in front of us. He slammed on the brakes and the car began turning sideways. Everyone was honking at us. Then he decided, for no reason, to cross three lanes of traffic without looking. We almost side swiped a range rover. By then I'd had enough so I yelled "HEY!" He looked in the rear view at me, and I said "You are making me VERY angry." He slowed down a little after that, and used his turn signal as he was cutting cars off. The important thing is I made it back to the hotel in one piece.
Tomorrow I'm doing my first training class for the air force here. It should be exciting, since the training material did not show up today. It will be there for class tomorrow, inshallah.
I woke up this morning, and the sky was as blue as I've seen it. I walked outside and spent 30 minutes waiting for a cab. Just when I was thinking I would walk to the office because the weather didn't seem so bad, a cab showed up. I should note that when I got to the office everyone was talking about how it was "only 120 degrees" outside. Guess I'm getting used to the heat.
In the 30 minutes I was waiting, a cab actually did show up, but he refused to give me a ride. After the cab left I asked the bell hop why he didn't want to give me a ride, and the bell hop said "because he's Pakistani". Hm. Then I got to the office and met N, who I will be working in parallel with (he is a consultant for software that integrates with my software). It turns out N was born in Dallas, Texas but is Pakistani. When I told him what happened with the cab he laughed and said it's more likely the guy didn't want to give me a ride because I'm a woman rather than because I'm american.
N took me to get a SIM card, an arduous process involving mobs of people shoving at the phone counter and computers that kept breaking down, capped off with a lecture from a Palastinian woman about how my photocopy of my passport was "no good, no good at all". Then we found out the SIM card doesn't work in my crackberry, so I also had to buy a phone (we used to have spare phones in the office, but after my old company was taken over by my new company they got rid of the spare phones - but, they did hire a tea boy to bring everyone drinks - someone in corporate should get a huge raise for that decision).
As we were driving back to the office N told me that I was lucky to not end up in a cab with a Paki. He said they are the worst drivers in the world. I believe him after he told me that he had "only been in 2 accidents this year". Um, that's a good driving record? He was driving his mom's car because his was in the shop from his last accident. He said he was driving a little fast when "suddenly this Indian stopped rather suddenly at a red light". I was like "yeah, that happens all the time in the US too". Then I asked if, for the rest of the trip to the office, we could stop at the red lights just so we didn't get into an accident (for the record, everyone stops at red lights here, except, I guess, Pakistanis).
The guy who walks around the office parking garage cleaning cars surreptitiously made me a little hide away to smoke in by stacking up a bunch of boxes, which I found today, much to my surprise and delight (I only had two cigarettes over the course of 8 hours, so nip it). I know he's the one that did it because his cleaning supplies are in there too. As I've said before, these people are all about service. When I was asking N where I could do my laundry he looked at me as if I was right out of the trailer park and said "Do you mean, do we have laundromats like in the US? Franki, no. Here, we pay someone to do everything for us. Just send your laundry out."
N and I worked until late afternoon, and then I turned down an offer from him for a ride home, because I felt like he had already been so helpful to me (Pete, N says hi btw, you taught him DXL). I ended up in a cab with a Paki (cab drivers always tell me where they are from as soon as I get in the cab - why, I don't know) who didn't mind driving a woman around. The only problem was, he really was a bad driver.
It's the first time since being here that I actually feared for my life. He was speeding down a three lane road when suddenly traffic stopped in front of us. He slammed on the brakes and the car began turning sideways. Everyone was honking at us. Then he decided, for no reason, to cross three lanes of traffic without looking. We almost side swiped a range rover. By then I'd had enough so I yelled "HEY!" He looked in the rear view at me, and I said "You are making me VERY angry." He slowed down a little after that, and used his turn signal as he was cutting cars off. The important thing is I made it back to the hotel in one piece.
Tomorrow I'm doing my first training class for the air force here. It should be exciting, since the training material did not show up today. It will be there for class tomorrow, inshallah.
Monday, August 24, 2009
quitter
The second day at work during Ramadan was really hard. I'm not surprised that, as I read in the paper, people just stop showing up to work. It took forever to get a taxi this morning (30 minutes) and the whole time we were driving I saw taxis, empty, parked on the side of the road. People are too tired to work, especially in this heat.
Even though I ate two things of oatmeal this morning, I was really hungry around lunch time. I'm sure some of my clients may be a little shocked that I wanted to eat something during the day...I guess not drinking tea and not smoking gives me an appetite. I found myself staring at the Wahoo's web site, contemplating how many fish tacos I thought I might be able to eat. It was kind of sad.
Worse, though, happened this afternoon. I was ready to knock off around 3 (our quitting time during Ramadan), head back to the hotel, chain smoke a billion cigarettes, and then work out. But N, one of my colleagues, called and asked that I stay in the office for 40 minutes and wait for him. I was like "but with this nicotine headache I might beat you up when you finally show up". Instead I said I would wait.
So, not being able to smoke on the streets (you get arrested - ask me how I know that), and not being able to go home and smoke, I decided to sneak down to the bottom floor of the building, a parking garage. As soon as I walked off the elevator I could smell smoke. I snuck off behind this huge metal structure and was happily smoking when suddenly a car started coming down the parking lot ramp. I quickly killed my cigarette and ran back over to the elevator. I was panicking that who ever was in the car was going to yell at me, but then realized that HE was smoking in the garage.
Quitting smoking, while also quitting eating and drinking, sucks.
When I got back to the office I waited 45 minutes and then N called to say he wasn't coming. Traffic was bad heading back to the hotel because everyone leaves work early during Ramadan. But I'm not mad at N, that was the lack of nicotine talking.
The good thing is the gym hasn't been crowded at all.
Even though I ate two things of oatmeal this morning, I was really hungry around lunch time. I'm sure some of my clients may be a little shocked that I wanted to eat something during the day...I guess not drinking tea and not smoking gives me an appetite. I found myself staring at the Wahoo's web site, contemplating how many fish tacos I thought I might be able to eat. It was kind of sad.
Worse, though, happened this afternoon. I was ready to knock off around 3 (our quitting time during Ramadan), head back to the hotel, chain smoke a billion cigarettes, and then work out. But N, one of my colleagues, called and asked that I stay in the office for 40 minutes and wait for him. I was like "but with this nicotine headache I might beat you up when you finally show up". Instead I said I would wait.
So, not being able to smoke on the streets (you get arrested - ask me how I know that), and not being able to go home and smoke, I decided to sneak down to the bottom floor of the building, a parking garage. As soon as I walked off the elevator I could smell smoke. I snuck off behind this huge metal structure and was happily smoking when suddenly a car started coming down the parking lot ramp. I quickly killed my cigarette and ran back over to the elevator. I was panicking that who ever was in the car was going to yell at me, but then realized that HE was smoking in the garage.
Quitting smoking, while also quitting eating and drinking, sucks.
When I got back to the office I waited 45 minutes and then N called to say he wasn't coming. Traffic was bad heading back to the hotel because everyone leaves work early during Ramadan. But I'm not mad at N, that was the lack of nicotine talking.
The good thing is the gym hasn't been crowded at all.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
UAE cacti
Here's a picture of my two cacti. The little one is the one A originally gave me. The bigger one is the one he gave me after I said I liked succulents.I think I'll name the small one Poke Istan and the tall one Ali bin Stickers.
And this is Ireland's cactus. It has fungus.
cakes, and other things I can't eat
Today is the second day of Ramadan. The whole purpose of Ramadan is to fast from sun up (around 630 am) to sun down (around 630 pm) to teach muslims patience, modesty, and spirituality. Fasting means no eating, drinking, smoking, or chewing of gum, and you aren’t supposed to have any evil thoughts. At the end of Ramadan every muslim is supposed to give a month’s worth of expenses to someone who is poor, though this distribution of charity appears to be ongoing throughout Ramadan.
It’s a lot harder than it might seem at first to go 12 hours not eating or drinking anything. It’s especially true of Ramadan this year, because it has fallen during the summer months (Ramadan falls at a different time every year because it isn’t based on the solar calendar) and it seems like it will be very easy to get dehydrated during the day.
Most muslims break fast as soon as the sun goes down, and they stay up all night eating and drinking until the sun comes up. Then they have a nap for a few hours and get up and go to work. Ramadan, as reported by my colleagues here and in the paper, is the most dangerous time to be on the road, especially in the hours before the fast is broken, as people are trying to rush home and are tired from being up all night as well as light headed from fasting.
Technically I don’t have to fast, but there’s not really a way around it. Some offices curtain off an area for non-muslims to eat or drink but we haven’t done that in our office. All the restaurants and food places are closed until sundown. There isn’t a place to sneak off and smoke. It’s considered very rude to eat or drink in front of people fasting (for obvious reasons). I think I better get up super early tomorrow and drink as much water as humanly possible. I didn’t eat anything before I left the hotel today, which was another tactical error. I’m teaching class all day Wednesday and Thursday, which could get interesting on an empty stomach.
As a side note, I read in the paper last night that there is a panic over the availability of cakes and other baked sweets in Abu Dhabi. It seems that people are buying more confections this year than last, and bakers are working over time to keep up. There was also a helpful chart in the paper on how to break fast in a healthy way (e.g. don’t eat cakes first, eat fruit).
A cake would be nice to eat right now. I have a low grade headache from lack of water and nicotine. Oh well. Only 29 more days and then fasting is over…
It’s a lot harder than it might seem at first to go 12 hours not eating or drinking anything. It’s especially true of Ramadan this year, because it has fallen during the summer months (Ramadan falls at a different time every year because it isn’t based on the solar calendar) and it seems like it will be very easy to get dehydrated during the day.
Most muslims break fast as soon as the sun goes down, and they stay up all night eating and drinking until the sun comes up. Then they have a nap for a few hours and get up and go to work. Ramadan, as reported by my colleagues here and in the paper, is the most dangerous time to be on the road, especially in the hours before the fast is broken, as people are trying to rush home and are tired from being up all night as well as light headed from fasting.
Technically I don’t have to fast, but there’s not really a way around it. Some offices curtain off an area for non-muslims to eat or drink but we haven’t done that in our office. All the restaurants and food places are closed until sundown. There isn’t a place to sneak off and smoke. It’s considered very rude to eat or drink in front of people fasting (for obvious reasons). I think I better get up super early tomorrow and drink as much water as humanly possible. I didn’t eat anything before I left the hotel today, which was another tactical error. I’m teaching class all day Wednesday and Thursday, which could get interesting on an empty stomach.
As a side note, I read in the paper last night that there is a panic over the availability of cakes and other baked sweets in Abu Dhabi. It seems that people are buying more confections this year than last, and bakers are working over time to keep up. There was also a helpful chart in the paper on how to break fast in a healthy way (e.g. don’t eat cakes first, eat fruit).
A cake would be nice to eat right now. I have a low grade headache from lack of water and nicotine. Oh well. Only 29 more days and then fasting is over…
Friday, August 21, 2009
on the eve of Ramadan
Today's corrections: my not anymore manager Chuck pointed out to me this morning that the email was sent to a different Charles that isn't him. That Charles did not see fit to inform anyone that he had received an email in error. He probably wishes he was a cool as Chuck, in fact, he might be obsessed with Chuck and pretending to be him like that guy in The Talented Mr. Ripley. Personally, I think the safest thing would be to fire him, or make him change his name.
I was a total slacker today. It's the first time since my arrival that I've slept through the morning call to prayer (430 am). When I woke up I finally got around to unpacking (discovered I forgot a few things) and had planned to do a little exploring (the weekend here is Friday and Saturday). But when I went out at 11 am the heat was so unbearable that I took a cue from the locals and went over to the mall. If you can imagine getting into your car on the hottest day of summer after it's been sitting in the sun all closed up for 6 hours, and closing the door without opening any windows and then trying to drive somewhere, you can imagine the heat here.
I returned to the co-op I went to last night and got a power adapter that actually works (unlike my current one). A very nice woman from Pakistan helped me pick out some nail polish. Then I checked out the food court in the mall proper and found an Indian place where I imagine I'll be spending a lot of time eating (fish tikka - yum). Oddly, there aren't many middle eastern restaurants, or if there are, I don't know where to find them. In Abu Dhabi most restaurants are located in hotels or malls. I thought I would find a small local place to eat at near the hotel, but that hasn't happened yet. There are McDonald's and KFCs everywhere. McDonald's sells something called a McArabia (fire the marketing person who came up with that name) which is kofta on a bun. They have signs for it everywhere.
Then I went to the gym at my hotel, which I love, love, love! They even have two rower machines. My experience so far is that the women all work out, and the guys stand around scratching themselves and watching the women work out. I ran two miles even though I told my dad I was going to ease back into running slowly and follow the workouts in the non-marathon runner's handbook, which said I was only supposed to run a half mile today (whatever!).
Finally, I went to the beach and planned to swim a mile, but that got boring really quickly. Instead I ended up sitting on a beach chair trying to read while this Greek guy on the squash court behind me made obscene noises every time he hit the ball, and 3 german kids set up camp in front of me and took turns burying each other. I assume, though I haven't verified, that the sand on the beach came from the desert, because it's super fine, like talcum powder, and it gets into everything.
I was debating going to check out a bar or club on the hotel property, but decided to stay in and read my book. Best to wait until Ireland is back in town, I think. This evening while I was at the beach I noticed that, although I took a chair in an area that was completely deserted, by the time I put my book away and decided to get dinner four of the guys who were at the beach when I got there had moved to chairs a lot closer to mine. One of the guys was so hairy that when I first glanced over at him, curled up on a chair, I thought "oh nice, someone brought their dog and it's sleeping on a lounge like a person". Gross!
Speaking of which, the coconut crackers didn't work out very well. They were literally like saltine crackers sprinkled with coconut shavings. And I found out my cherries were grown in Iran, not Turkey. I wanted to get more today but most of the fruit was sold out since Ramadan starts tomorrow.
I was a total slacker today. It's the first time since my arrival that I've slept through the morning call to prayer (430 am). When I woke up I finally got around to unpacking (discovered I forgot a few things) and had planned to do a little exploring (the weekend here is Friday and Saturday). But when I went out at 11 am the heat was so unbearable that I took a cue from the locals and went over to the mall. If you can imagine getting into your car on the hottest day of summer after it's been sitting in the sun all closed up for 6 hours, and closing the door without opening any windows and then trying to drive somewhere, you can imagine the heat here.
I returned to the co-op I went to last night and got a power adapter that actually works (unlike my current one). A very nice woman from Pakistan helped me pick out some nail polish. Then I checked out the food court in the mall proper and found an Indian place where I imagine I'll be spending a lot of time eating (fish tikka - yum). Oddly, there aren't many middle eastern restaurants, or if there are, I don't know where to find them. In Abu Dhabi most restaurants are located in hotels or malls. I thought I would find a small local place to eat at near the hotel, but that hasn't happened yet. There are McDonald's and KFCs everywhere. McDonald's sells something called a McArabia (fire the marketing person who came up with that name) which is kofta on a bun. They have signs for it everywhere.
Then I went to the gym at my hotel, which I love, love, love! They even have two rower machines. My experience so far is that the women all work out, and the guys stand around scratching themselves and watching the women work out. I ran two miles even though I told my dad I was going to ease back into running slowly and follow the workouts in the non-marathon runner's handbook, which said I was only supposed to run a half mile today (whatever!).
Finally, I went to the beach and planned to swim a mile, but that got boring really quickly. Instead I ended up sitting on a beach chair trying to read while this Greek guy on the squash court behind me made obscene noises every time he hit the ball, and 3 german kids set up camp in front of me and took turns burying each other. I assume, though I haven't verified, that the sand on the beach came from the desert, because it's super fine, like talcum powder, and it gets into everything.
I was debating going to check out a bar or club on the hotel property, but decided to stay in and read my book. Best to wait until Ireland is back in town, I think. This evening while I was at the beach I noticed that, although I took a chair in an area that was completely deserted, by the time I put my book away and decided to get dinner four of the guys who were at the beach when I got there had moved to chairs a lot closer to mine. One of the guys was so hairy that when I first glanced over at him, curled up on a chair, I thought "oh nice, someone brought their dog and it's sleeping on a lounge like a person". Gross!
Speaking of which, the coconut crackers didn't work out very well. They were literally like saltine crackers sprinkled with coconut shavings. And I found out my cherries were grown in Iran, not Turkey. I wanted to get more today but most of the fruit was sold out since Ramadan starts tomorrow.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
"welcome to the country...illegally!"
Today I was supposed to get my residence visa. Ha ha ha. Didn't happen.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking wow, the bureaucratic mess of UAE's government! You would be wrong. The problem is actually MY COMPANY.
I got to the office in Dubai after a two hour tour of the city by my colleague A, who knows everything about Dubai, including where all the sheiks live. I have to admit that Dubai is aesthetically one of the most amazing cities I've ever seen. It doesn't look real, it looks like Dubai Disney. Even the concrete overpasses are decorative, having been painted and with ornamental cement flourishes. There was no trash, anywhere (and they have recycling bins!). The city has grass, trees, and flowers everywhere. All the buildings sort of match each other.
Anyway, I was told by the HR rep who was supposed to do my residency visa that someone had failed to fill out "the initialization form" and that I was "in the country illegally". The HR rep, V, is french, very attractive, and prone to dramatic fits. In fact, what she said to me was "Welcome to the country...ILLEGALLY!" I calmly pointed out to her that I had a visa for 60 days (though, in my passport they only put 30 days, which worried me, but I was told by both V and Ireland "of course they only put 30 days in your passport" - as if I'm the one being illogical) and that only my COMPANY considered me to be in the country illegally. More wringing of hands and sighs from V. "I can do NOTHING about this situation. NOTHING!" she finally said, throwing her hands up to the heavens, perhaps to implore some higher being to remove me from her sight (I did wash my hair today, but have to admit my outfit was no where near as stylish as hers - she was wearing Jimmy Choos and this ring that I've always coveted from Tiffany's, Elsa Peretti collection).
At this point Ireland stepped in (we seem to have naturally developed a good cop/bad cop routine) and said "I swear on my heart I don't know what this "initialization" thing is. We thought we had done everything right." Even when she lies through her teeth, she sounds sincere due to her accent. More back and forth, while I stared out V's window and wondered why an HR person would have such a posh office, overlooking an oasis, when suddenly I heard V say "But I sent the email to Charles". I was like "I don't even KNOW a Charles!" when suddenly I realized she had sent the email to my manager who isn't my manager anymore, Chuck.
Everyone knows Chuck's email is a black hole. Things get sucked into his inbox and proceed towards the event horizon until they are overcome by exponentially increasing gravity, ceasing to be an email, and instead becoming a spaghettification of zeros and ones from which no sense can ever be made (and worse occurs if you get a lotus notes database link, which causes the black hole to increase in size, beyond lotus notes, to consume applications and documents standing too close). All this happens while Chuck is sitting on 6 hour conference calls. It isn't his fault.
Anyway, we have 60 days to clean up the mess. Ireland is working on the "initialization" thing tonight even though she has to leave for Pakistan on Saturday at 3 in the morning and has loads to do before then. I got the task of getting an official diploma for my master's degree to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in the US, so they can send it to UAE, because without it I won't get a residence visa (I was like can't I just get a copy of the one I have, and V, horrified, said "a COPY?" as though I were suggesting giving Audrey Hepburn a knockoff birkin or something). In the mean time, the scope of my job here is expanding rapidly. But that's a good thing.
I finished my day at the Abu Dhabi co-op, a store that's like Target, but better. The push carts are beautifully painted, there's everything in the world there, and I bought a bag of cherries that must have come straight from Malatya. I also bought a box of something that I'm really, really hoping turns out to be coconut cookies. Though, the box could contain something else. I hope it isn't a facial. I once bought what I thought was going to be a bag of dried strawberries in Greece, only to find out a week after I opened and ate the contents (which I assumed to be some kind of yogurt) that it was a facial. I found out when I brought another bag in to the office to have for breakfast during a meeting - yes, I did that in front of a customer.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking wow, the bureaucratic mess of UAE's government! You would be wrong. The problem is actually MY COMPANY.
I got to the office in Dubai after a two hour tour of the city by my colleague A, who knows everything about Dubai, including where all the sheiks live. I have to admit that Dubai is aesthetically one of the most amazing cities I've ever seen. It doesn't look real, it looks like Dubai Disney. Even the concrete overpasses are decorative, having been painted and with ornamental cement flourishes. There was no trash, anywhere (and they have recycling bins!). The city has grass, trees, and flowers everywhere. All the buildings sort of match each other.
Anyway, I was told by the HR rep who was supposed to do my residency visa that someone had failed to fill out "the initialization form" and that I was "in the country illegally". The HR rep, V, is french, very attractive, and prone to dramatic fits. In fact, what she said to me was "Welcome to the country...ILLEGALLY!" I calmly pointed out to her that I had a visa for 60 days (though, in my passport they only put 30 days, which worried me, but I was told by both V and Ireland "of course they only put 30 days in your passport" - as if I'm the one being illogical) and that only my COMPANY considered me to be in the country illegally. More wringing of hands and sighs from V. "I can do NOTHING about this situation. NOTHING!" she finally said, throwing her hands up to the heavens, perhaps to implore some higher being to remove me from her sight (I did wash my hair today, but have to admit my outfit was no where near as stylish as hers - she was wearing Jimmy Choos and this ring that I've always coveted from Tiffany's, Elsa Peretti collection).
At this point Ireland stepped in (we seem to have naturally developed a good cop/bad cop routine) and said "I swear on my heart I don't know what this "initialization" thing is. We thought we had done everything right." Even when she lies through her teeth, she sounds sincere due to her accent. More back and forth, while I stared out V's window and wondered why an HR person would have such a posh office, overlooking an oasis, when suddenly I heard V say "But I sent the email to Charles". I was like "I don't even KNOW a Charles!" when suddenly I realized she had sent the email to my manager who isn't my manager anymore, Chuck.
Everyone knows Chuck's email is a black hole. Things get sucked into his inbox and proceed towards the event horizon until they are overcome by exponentially increasing gravity, ceasing to be an email, and instead becoming a spaghettification of zeros and ones from which no sense can ever be made (and worse occurs if you get a lotus notes database link, which causes the black hole to increase in size, beyond lotus notes, to consume applications and documents standing too close). All this happens while Chuck is sitting on 6 hour conference calls. It isn't his fault.
Anyway, we have 60 days to clean up the mess. Ireland is working on the "initialization" thing tonight even though she has to leave for Pakistan on Saturday at 3 in the morning and has loads to do before then. I got the task of getting an official diploma for my master's degree to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in the US, so they can send it to UAE, because without it I won't get a residence visa (I was like can't I just get a copy of the one I have, and V, horrified, said "a COPY?" as though I were suggesting giving Audrey Hepburn a knockoff birkin or something). In the mean time, the scope of my job here is expanding rapidly. But that's a good thing.
I finished my day at the Abu Dhabi co-op, a store that's like Target, but better. The push carts are beautifully painted, there's everything in the world there, and I bought a bag of cherries that must have come straight from Malatya. I also bought a box of something that I'm really, really hoping turns out to be coconut cookies. Though, the box could contain something else. I hope it isn't a facial. I once bought what I thought was going to be a bag of dried strawberries in Greece, only to find out a week after I opened and ate the contents (which I assumed to be some kind of yogurt) that it was a facial. I found out when I brought another bag in to the office to have for breakfast during a meeting - yes, I did that in front of a customer.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
note to luggage: next time I want a post card
My lost luggage showed up today, after taking a short vacation in Brazil. I don't know how my luggage got routed to Brazil from Heathrow, but the tag was still on my bag when I picked it up from the front desk at Le M this evening. And, contrary to my dad's fears, nothing appears to be missing.
Today was a busy day at the office. Ireland was gone all morning because our idiot company first failed to copy and paste the correct text that Ireland had sent them into her visa request for Pakistan (she leaves Sunday). Then they did the copy and paste correctly, but failed to stamp the letter. She received it 20 minutes before the Pakistani embassy closed. When I saw her this evening she was in a bad mood because of her foot. The bruising is really setting in and it looks marvellous. She told me after it happened at the wedding she took one of those champagne buckets, filled it with ice, stuck her foot in it and prayed her parents wouldn't walk by and see her. It's almost like we're twins, separated at birth.
When I got in this morning I decided to move to a new desk because I didn't like the ethernet cord at my original desk (it's black, yuck, I only use the blue ones). The desk was kind of dirty so I asked the office manager where I might get some cleaning supplies. She looked at me, horrified, and said "you can't clean the desk!" I thought maybe that was for religious reasons, and decided I would sneak clean it while she was at lunch, but then I heard her telling our "office boy" to clean my desk.
The office boy is a very sweet skeletal little youngster. Yesterday he was so afraid of me that if I entered any part of the office where he was he would scamper away and hide in the supply closet. I told the office manager that I could clean my desk myself, but the office boy had already sprinted in and cleaned it for me. As I thanked him he drew in his breath and made this horrible sound. His eyes got really big. Then he gingerly lifted my water bottle, which he had placed on another desk so he could clean my desk, and placed it exactly where I had set it earlier that morning. Then he covered his ears and ran away.
Well, he'll be in the closet for at least the rest of the morning, I thought to myself. But he came by my desk at lunch to see if I wanted him to bring me some food. I said "what would you recommend I have for lunch?" I guess he didn't know what to say, because he backed away from me slowly, clutching the front of his shirt, and when he got to the door, he ran away again.
A, who is the other architect I will be working with, came in at 4 pm and wanted to talk shop. I was pretty tired, having been working since 730, but we chatted until 6. He gave me a little cactus. He gives all the architects a cactus when they start working his program. I started telling him about my cacti, currently residing with Joe (tammy faye cactus, I miss you!) and he went to his desk and brought me a bigger cactus, with a flower on it. Ireland was like "hey, how come she gets the cactus with a flower on it?" and A said "Do you even know where your cactus is?" Ireland claimed someone stole it, but then A walked over to this cabinet next to Ireland's desk, flung it open, and pulled out the saddest little yellow cactus you've ever seen. Ireland said "I wonder how it got in there?" like it had magically transported itself into the cabinet.
Tomorrow I'm going to Dubai to get my residency visa. And hopefully a new SIM card for my phone. Then Ireland is taking me to the "special" store, where one can procure wine. Important to do before Ramadan starts...
Today was a busy day at the office. Ireland was gone all morning because our idiot company first failed to copy and paste the correct text that Ireland had sent them into her visa request for Pakistan (she leaves Sunday). Then they did the copy and paste correctly, but failed to stamp the letter. She received it 20 minutes before the Pakistani embassy closed. When I saw her this evening she was in a bad mood because of her foot. The bruising is really setting in and it looks marvellous. She told me after it happened at the wedding she took one of those champagne buckets, filled it with ice, stuck her foot in it and prayed her parents wouldn't walk by and see her. It's almost like we're twins, separated at birth.
When I got in this morning I decided to move to a new desk because I didn't like the ethernet cord at my original desk (it's black, yuck, I only use the blue ones). The desk was kind of dirty so I asked the office manager where I might get some cleaning supplies. She looked at me, horrified, and said "you can't clean the desk!" I thought maybe that was for religious reasons, and decided I would sneak clean it while she was at lunch, but then I heard her telling our "office boy" to clean my desk.
The office boy is a very sweet skeletal little youngster. Yesterday he was so afraid of me that if I entered any part of the office where he was he would scamper away and hide in the supply closet. I told the office manager that I could clean my desk myself, but the office boy had already sprinted in and cleaned it for me. As I thanked him he drew in his breath and made this horrible sound. His eyes got really big. Then he gingerly lifted my water bottle, which he had placed on another desk so he could clean my desk, and placed it exactly where I had set it earlier that morning. Then he covered his ears and ran away.
Well, he'll be in the closet for at least the rest of the morning, I thought to myself. But he came by my desk at lunch to see if I wanted him to bring me some food. I said "what would you recommend I have for lunch?" I guess he didn't know what to say, because he backed away from me slowly, clutching the front of his shirt, and when he got to the door, he ran away again.
A, who is the other architect I will be working with, came in at 4 pm and wanted to talk shop. I was pretty tired, having been working since 730, but we chatted until 6. He gave me a little cactus. He gives all the architects a cactus when they start working his program. I started telling him about my cacti, currently residing with Joe (tammy faye cactus, I miss you!) and he went to his desk and brought me a bigger cactus, with a flower on it. Ireland was like "hey, how come she gets the cactus with a flower on it?" and A said "Do you even know where your cactus is?" Ireland claimed someone stole it, but then A walked over to this cabinet next to Ireland's desk, flung it open, and pulled out the saddest little yellow cactus you've ever seen. Ireland said "I wonder how it got in there?" like it had magically transported itself into the cabinet.
Tomorrow I'm going to Dubai to get my residency visa. And hopefully a new SIM card for my phone. Then Ireland is taking me to the "special" store, where one can procure wine. Important to do before Ramadan starts...
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
dude, where's my bag?
My flight from Denver to Heathrow reminded me why I never fly american carriers overseas. Besides being packed the service was horrible. If the US government is going to give money to the auto industry, why not also give the airlines a subsidy so I don't have to pay for wine on my flight?
The carrier I took to Abu Dhabi, Etihad, was ornately decorated and very, very small. I ended up in the second seat in a row of four seats, sandwiched between a guy from Pakistan who didn't really want to be sitting next to a western woman, and a woman from Iraq (I know where they were from because I saw their passports). Her husband had the other end seat. I'm not sure if they purposely don't let women sit in the aisles, but I didn't see any women with an aisle seat.
The guy from Iraq seemed a little crazy. He kept having these uncontrollable outbursts, where he would suddenly shout things like "there's a little problem here! a LITTLE problem!" in arabic. He would also lean over and tap his wife's tv screen, causing it to switch to another channel. Then they would start wrestling. Not a conducive environment for sleeping. Of course, with three little kids under the age of 8 sitting in front of me, I probably wouldn't have slept anyway. They had worked out a very efficient schedule where one would start crying as soon as one would stop. Hard to believe anyone could cry for 8 hours...
The crying started because of the Iraqi guy. One of the kids, a 3 year old red headed girl, stuck her head over her seat and looked at the Iraqi guy, prompting him to yell, in English "HI! What are you? Fine? What name you!" He then burped loudly right in her face. She started to cry. But apparently didn't learn her lesson, because she kept peeking over the seat at him and the same scene would repeat (except the burping, which appeared to be happening spontaneously throughout the flight rather than being triggered by any particular event).
Weirdly, when we were about to land, all the lights went down on the plane and then our tv screens showed footage from the plane's camera, so we could see ourselves landing. Everyone stared at the screens transfixed, including myself. It was kind of disconcerting to see the plane bouncing across the runway, but at the same time kind of cool.
After what seemed like hours I made it to the door of the plane, stepped out on the stairs, and was hit in the face with a hot wind that was so strong it blew me backwards. I knew it was going to be hot here, but didn't realize it would be so windy. Everyone was having problems getting down the stairs because of the wind.
Arriving at 1 in the morning is a good time. I breezed through customs. Everyone else was getting hassled but the guy took one look at my blond hair, smiled at me, and stamped my passport. They also did a retinal scan, which was kind of weird.
Then I got to baggage claim and realized that Etihad is arabic for "we forgot your luggage". I waited for an hour while these Etihad agents ran all around the baggage claims looking for my bags. I was told by everyone in the office lost luggage from Heathrow flying Etihad is more commonplace than having luggage that arrives. My backpack with my climbing and diving gear arrived, but unfortunately TSA forgot to rezip the zippers after searching it, so I lost all of my emergen-c and green tea. Insert explicative here.
I had to fill out a report, and by that time it was 2 in the morning. I wandered out into the main airport area only to find all of the ATMs and money changers shut down. I was like great, no money, need a cab to the airport, I'm exhausted, what the hell am I going to do? I finally talked a driver into taking me to the hotel and got the hotel to pay him. One thing is definitely true about this place...they are all about service. And incredibly kind. They even gave me an adapter, for free, at the front desk since the one I brought didn't work.
I finally got to bed at 3 in the morning, and rolled into the office a little late. Everyone I met today was extremely nice. And I can tell the Irish woman I'll be working with and I are going to get along great. First, she wears flip flops to the office (and I can too - hooray!). Second, she had her foot wrapped, and when I asked what happened she said that she was at her brother's wedding back in Ireland a few days ago, dancing barefoot, and someone stepped on her foot with a stiletto. I tried not to smile, because that sounds like an injury I would get, and she said "I had to get shots, you know". And finally, she said "thank god there's someone else in the office that drinks wine". She was disappointed that I didn't get any at the airport, but, it was 2 in the morning, and I wasn't thinking straight.
In any case, it appears I will spend my time here living out of the Le Meridien hotel. I go to Dubai on Thursday to get my residence visa, and will possibly go to the AF base first thing next week. And I have a training class scheduled for the end of next week. I have a feeling I could stay here a long time and never run out of work.
Hopefully tomorrow my bag will show up. In the mean time, I took Irish's advice and ordered dinner in. I hope to get more sleep tonight.
The carrier I took to Abu Dhabi, Etihad, was ornately decorated and very, very small. I ended up in the second seat in a row of four seats, sandwiched between a guy from Pakistan who didn't really want to be sitting next to a western woman, and a woman from Iraq (I know where they were from because I saw their passports). Her husband had the other end seat. I'm not sure if they purposely don't let women sit in the aisles, but I didn't see any women with an aisle seat.
The guy from Iraq seemed a little crazy. He kept having these uncontrollable outbursts, where he would suddenly shout things like "there's a little problem here! a LITTLE problem!" in arabic. He would also lean over and tap his wife's tv screen, causing it to switch to another channel. Then they would start wrestling. Not a conducive environment for sleeping. Of course, with three little kids under the age of 8 sitting in front of me, I probably wouldn't have slept anyway. They had worked out a very efficient schedule where one would start crying as soon as one would stop. Hard to believe anyone could cry for 8 hours...
The crying started because of the Iraqi guy. One of the kids, a 3 year old red headed girl, stuck her head over her seat and looked at the Iraqi guy, prompting him to yell, in English "HI! What are you? Fine? What name you!" He then burped loudly right in her face. She started to cry. But apparently didn't learn her lesson, because she kept peeking over the seat at him and the same scene would repeat (except the burping, which appeared to be happening spontaneously throughout the flight rather than being triggered by any particular event).
Weirdly, when we were about to land, all the lights went down on the plane and then our tv screens showed footage from the plane's camera, so we could see ourselves landing. Everyone stared at the screens transfixed, including myself. It was kind of disconcerting to see the plane bouncing across the runway, but at the same time kind of cool.
After what seemed like hours I made it to the door of the plane, stepped out on the stairs, and was hit in the face with a hot wind that was so strong it blew me backwards. I knew it was going to be hot here, but didn't realize it would be so windy. Everyone was having problems getting down the stairs because of the wind.
Arriving at 1 in the morning is a good time. I breezed through customs. Everyone else was getting hassled but the guy took one look at my blond hair, smiled at me, and stamped my passport. They also did a retinal scan, which was kind of weird.
Then I got to baggage claim and realized that Etihad is arabic for "we forgot your luggage". I waited for an hour while these Etihad agents ran all around the baggage claims looking for my bags. I was told by everyone in the office lost luggage from Heathrow flying Etihad is more commonplace than having luggage that arrives. My backpack with my climbing and diving gear arrived, but unfortunately TSA forgot to rezip the zippers after searching it, so I lost all of my emergen-c and green tea. Insert explicative here.
I had to fill out a report, and by that time it was 2 in the morning. I wandered out into the main airport area only to find all of the ATMs and money changers shut down. I was like great, no money, need a cab to the airport, I'm exhausted, what the hell am I going to do? I finally talked a driver into taking me to the hotel and got the hotel to pay him. One thing is definitely true about this place...they are all about service. And incredibly kind. They even gave me an adapter, for free, at the front desk since the one I brought didn't work.
I finally got to bed at 3 in the morning, and rolled into the office a little late. Everyone I met today was extremely nice. And I can tell the Irish woman I'll be working with and I are going to get along great. First, she wears flip flops to the office (and I can too - hooray!). Second, she had her foot wrapped, and when I asked what happened she said that she was at her brother's wedding back in Ireland a few days ago, dancing barefoot, and someone stepped on her foot with a stiletto. I tried not to smile, because that sounds like an injury I would get, and she said "I had to get shots, you know". And finally, she said "thank god there's someone else in the office that drinks wine". She was disappointed that I didn't get any at the airport, but, it was 2 in the morning, and I wasn't thinking straight.
In any case, it appears I will spend my time here living out of the Le Meridien hotel. I go to Dubai on Thursday to get my residence visa, and will possibly go to the AF base first thing next week. And I have a training class scheduled for the end of next week. I have a feeling I could stay here a long time and never run out of work.
Hopefully tomorrow my bag will show up. In the mean time, I took Irish's advice and ordered dinner in. I hope to get more sleep tonight.
Friday, August 14, 2009
because everything should taste like bacon
As a fellow seasoned traveler, I always read with interest Jeffy's suggestions on products I could use as I bounce around the globe.
There was the time, after I got leptospiriosis, that he suggested a water filter. It's a filter used by the military and it kills everything. That was a useful suggestion, but, since I already had lepto, I wasn't sure what I might do with it, except shove it up my ass and kill the bacteria post consumption.
Then, he sent me a link to a knife that looked like something OJ Simpson might cherish. Getting it through customs might have been difficult. But, some day in a sand storm, I may regret not having it, as I won't be able to saw open my camel and climb inside.
But my favorite was the recommendation today:
J&D's Bacon Lip Balm
From the makers of Baconnaise and Bacon Salt comes a bacon-flavored product that you don't even have to eat. J&D's Bacon Lip Balm ($13/4-pack) will protect your lips with beeswax, aloe vera oil, Vitamin E acetate, and other ingredients, all while offering a subtle bacon flavor both you and your partner can enjoy.
http://www.uncrate.com/men/body/skin/jds-bacon-lip-balm/
There was the time, after I got leptospiriosis, that he suggested a water filter. It's a filter used by the military and it kills everything. That was a useful suggestion, but, since I already had lepto, I wasn't sure what I might do with it, except shove it up my ass and kill the bacteria post consumption.
Then, he sent me a link to a knife that looked like something OJ Simpson might cherish. Getting it through customs might have been difficult. But, some day in a sand storm, I may regret not having it, as I won't be able to saw open my camel and climb inside.
But my favorite was the recommendation today:
J&D's Bacon Lip Balm
From the makers of Baconnaise and Bacon Salt comes a bacon-flavored product that you don't even have to eat. J&D's Bacon Lip Balm ($13/4-pack) will protect your lips with beeswax, aloe vera oil, Vitamin E acetate, and other ingredients, all while offering a subtle bacon flavor both you and your partner can enjoy.
http://www.uncrate.com/men/body/skin/jds-bacon-lip-balm/
I am really, REALLY hoping this isn't a real product. I'm picturing a guy with this shit smeared all over his lips and it makes me want to vomit.
Which, since we're talking about lip balm, reminds me of one of my pet peeves. Guys with shiny lips are a total turn off. It makes me think of two things: either, he just went down on someone, or he's wearing lip gloss.
The thing is, it's okay for guys to have chapped lips. As long as there isn't skin sticking up all over the place. It's rugged. Like calloused hands. If I ever touch a guy's hand and it's smooth I get the shudders. What kind of guy has hands like a little girl? Go do some yard work or something. Poke around in your car's engine and bloody up your knuckles. If you have hands and lips like a girl, why would I date you? I would date a girl, who hopefully has shoes I like and clothes I can borrow.
But, I wouldn't date a girl, because the bitch would probably take my favorite coach bag and get lipstick all over the inside of it. Or worse, leave a tampon in it, and I would be pulling out my ID at the airport and the tampon would come flying out.
So not cool.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
heading east and other exciting news
I finally got the go ahead for my trip to the middle east today. I'm leaving for Abu Dhabi on Sunday. I'm not sure when I'm returning, likely February. But, it may be later than that because...
I also found out today that I was accepted into the Banff mountain writing program, which starts in November. I guess when I get to AD I'll figure out whether or not it's feasible for me to go. I am hoping it is as it will give me an opportunity to get my book finished and, allah willing, published.
I have no idea why I was picked for the program. My list of publications reads more like an engineering snorefest than something "mountain" people might want to read. Maybe they liked my story submissions, or figured anyone stupid enough to do an open water swim without knowing how to swim would be good entertainment, albeit a possible insurance liability.
I also found out today that I was accepted into the Banff mountain writing program, which starts in November. I guess when I get to AD I'll figure out whether or not it's feasible for me to go. I am hoping it is as it will give me an opportunity to get my book finished and, allah willing, published.
I have no idea why I was picked for the program. My list of publications reads more like an engineering snorefest than something "mountain" people might want to read. Maybe they liked my story submissions, or figured anyone stupid enough to do an open water swim without knowing how to swim would be good entertainment, albeit a possible insurance liability.
Monday, August 10, 2009
it's sweet
I hope to spend at least a couple of weekends in Turkey while I'm over in that area of the world. It's possibly my favorite country I've ever visited. I loved the shady characters in Istanbul, the beaches, the mosques, the food (best cherries ever), and the people.
While I was there on a trip in 1999, I decided to travel to a remote area of the country to see some Roman ruins. I had been counseled not to go to that area because there were problems with the Kurds, and it was close to the Iraqi border. But I went anyway.
I hired a taxi driver to take me around for the day. I went to five sites. When I would get back to the taxi after visiting each site I would find my driver progressively more and more drunk. By the time I got to the final site I was worried he wouldn't be able to drive, but it was the site I had most wanted to see, so I told the driver I would be back in 10 minutes or less and headed off to take a picture of this really cool Medusa head.
When I returned to where I had left him, the taxi driver was gone. By then it was evening and the sun was going down. I was in a very remote area with nothing but my guide book. It would have taken hours to walk to the nearest town even if I had known what roads to take.
I walked until I found a house and knocked on the door. The guy who answered, amazingly, spoke English. He told me not to worry, that a bus would come by, and I could take it back to town. I asked where the bus stop was and he pointed to this corner of the street that was overgrown with weeds. No sign, no nothing. I was a little dubious so I asked when the bus would come. "Soon," he said. "Very soon."
Uh huh. So I stood on the corner, in the weeds, feeling like someone was playing a joke on me. As the sun sank lower I saw a car coming down the street. It was a big white sedan, and there were four men in the car. As they drove passed me the car slowed to a crawl, and all the men were staring at me, standing in my sweaty clothes looking like a scrawny and defenseless idiot. Great, I thought, here's the part of the trip where I get kidnapped by terrorists.
The car drove up to a wider part of the street and turned around, coming back towards me. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack, but I didn't move. There was no place to run to. The car stopped on the street, and the four men got out. One walked over to me, reaching into his shirt. I speculated that maybe they were going to shoot me instead kidnapping me.
To my surprise, the guy pulled out this enormous cucumber and handed it to me. We stared at each other. I suddenly wanted to cry, but instead I laughed. The man gestured at the cucumber. I laughed harder and wondered what the fuck was going on.
Finally, he took it away from me, pulled out a knife, and cut off the end of the cucumber. Then he cut a slice and handed it to me. "It's sweet" he said to me in arabic. I realized that these guys had seen me looking like a wretchedly sweaty and lost tourist, and they stopped to give me a refreshing snack to eat while I was waiting for the bus. I felt horrible for assuming the worst about them.
The bus finally came, and I eventually got back to my hotel. I ate the whole cucumber. It was sweet.
While I was there on a trip in 1999, I decided to travel to a remote area of the country to see some Roman ruins. I had been counseled not to go to that area because there were problems with the Kurds, and it was close to the Iraqi border. But I went anyway.
I hired a taxi driver to take me around for the day. I went to five sites. When I would get back to the taxi after visiting each site I would find my driver progressively more and more drunk. By the time I got to the final site I was worried he wouldn't be able to drive, but it was the site I had most wanted to see, so I told the driver I would be back in 10 minutes or less and headed off to take a picture of this really cool Medusa head.
When I returned to where I had left him, the taxi driver was gone. By then it was evening and the sun was going down. I was in a very remote area with nothing but my guide book. It would have taken hours to walk to the nearest town even if I had known what roads to take.
I walked until I found a house and knocked on the door. The guy who answered, amazingly, spoke English. He told me not to worry, that a bus would come by, and I could take it back to town. I asked where the bus stop was and he pointed to this corner of the street that was overgrown with weeds. No sign, no nothing. I was a little dubious so I asked when the bus would come. "Soon," he said. "Very soon."
Uh huh. So I stood on the corner, in the weeds, feeling like someone was playing a joke on me. As the sun sank lower I saw a car coming down the street. It was a big white sedan, and there were four men in the car. As they drove passed me the car slowed to a crawl, and all the men were staring at me, standing in my sweaty clothes looking like a scrawny and defenseless idiot. Great, I thought, here's the part of the trip where I get kidnapped by terrorists.
The car drove up to a wider part of the street and turned around, coming back towards me. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack, but I didn't move. There was no place to run to. The car stopped on the street, and the four men got out. One walked over to me, reaching into his shirt. I speculated that maybe they were going to shoot me instead kidnapping me.
To my surprise, the guy pulled out this enormous cucumber and handed it to me. We stared at each other. I suddenly wanted to cry, but instead I laughed. The man gestured at the cucumber. I laughed harder and wondered what the fuck was going on.
Finally, he took it away from me, pulled out a knife, and cut off the end of the cucumber. Then he cut a slice and handed it to me. "It's sweet" he said to me in arabic. I realized that these guys had seen me looking like a wretchedly sweaty and lost tourist, and they stopped to give me a refreshing snack to eat while I was waiting for the bus. I felt horrible for assuming the worst about them.
The bus finally came, and I eventually got back to my hotel. I ate the whole cucumber. It was sweet.
health "care"
I've always thought our health care system was stupid. For example, the fact that I had to pay for my chemo out of pocket because it wasn't covered under the plan, while this idiot woman I worked with got $45,000 worth of fertility treatments, and then needed $100,000 of treatment during the birth of her kid because she was obese and that caused complications.
And my experience this past week...I was diagnosed with shingles on Monday, but told there was no treatment for it because I had waited too long to see a doctor (my doctor said the drug treatment is only effective if taken in the first 48 hours of a breakout). Of course, the reason I didn't see a doctor right after the rash started is because I couldn't get an appointment. I told the doctor I was worried that I would have another outbreak while traveling in the middle east, and asked for a prescription that I could fill before I left.
He didn't want to write that prescription, but was more than willing to write me a 30 day prescription for any pain med I wanted. I was like you will give me oxycontin, but not a fucking antibiotic? He finally gave me the prescription, which is a good thing. I found out from another doctor that the 48 hour rule was bullshit. I took the meds and my rash and the pain cleared up within 12 hours. But, now I have to go to ME without drugs because the doctor refused to write me another prescription. Ass pipe.
Then, he gave me a prescription for a quit smoking drug, since I'm going to do that. When I went to pick it up at the pharmacy they said he should have known he would have to call in to get approval for the prescription before he gave it to me. I called the doctor's office to ask them to do that, and faxed them the information they needed. It took 2 days for them to call me back, and that was with the news that my healthcare plan doesn't cover smoking cessation. How fucking stupid is that?
I went back to the pharmacy and they said they could fill my prescription but it was going to cost me about $400. I asked if there was another, cheaper drug, and they said there was but I would have to get a new prescription from my doctor, and when they had suggested that to him he declined to give me a new prescription.
I was so pissed that I told the pharmacist "Fine, I'll just keep smoking". He sighed, and then told me to sit in the waiting area for a few minutes. Then he called my name, and gave me THE SAME prescription that they were originally going to charge me $400 for, and told me that it was now $94.40. I was like HOW is that possible? He told me that he filled it under some plan they have for people without insurance. At first I felt bad taking the meds because I didn't want to cause someone who really didn't have insurance to not be able to get the drug, but he said the system doesn't work that way. And I was really grateful to him for helping me out, so much so that I wrote a letter to the president of his company.
So now I'm wondering why I'm paying $200 a month for health insurance. I've had one doctor's visit this year ($60), and the shingles drug was so cheap I didn't have to use insurance to cover the cost. I can't get timely appointments with the doctors in my network, and the things I really need aren't covered in my plan.
Stupid.
And my experience this past week...I was diagnosed with shingles on Monday, but told there was no treatment for it because I had waited too long to see a doctor (my doctor said the drug treatment is only effective if taken in the first 48 hours of a breakout). Of course, the reason I didn't see a doctor right after the rash started is because I couldn't get an appointment. I told the doctor I was worried that I would have another outbreak while traveling in the middle east, and asked for a prescription that I could fill before I left.
He didn't want to write that prescription, but was more than willing to write me a 30 day prescription for any pain med I wanted. I was like you will give me oxycontin, but not a fucking antibiotic? He finally gave me the prescription, which is a good thing. I found out from another doctor that the 48 hour rule was bullshit. I took the meds and my rash and the pain cleared up within 12 hours. But, now I have to go to ME without drugs because the doctor refused to write me another prescription. Ass pipe.
Then, he gave me a prescription for a quit smoking drug, since I'm going to do that. When I went to pick it up at the pharmacy they said he should have known he would have to call in to get approval for the prescription before he gave it to me. I called the doctor's office to ask them to do that, and faxed them the information they needed. It took 2 days for them to call me back, and that was with the news that my healthcare plan doesn't cover smoking cessation. How fucking stupid is that?
I went back to the pharmacy and they said they could fill my prescription but it was going to cost me about $400. I asked if there was another, cheaper drug, and they said there was but I would have to get a new prescription from my doctor, and when they had suggested that to him he declined to give me a new prescription.
I was so pissed that I told the pharmacist "Fine, I'll just keep smoking". He sighed, and then told me to sit in the waiting area for a few minutes. Then he called my name, and gave me THE SAME prescription that they were originally going to charge me $400 for, and told me that it was now $94.40. I was like HOW is that possible? He told me that he filled it under some plan they have for people without insurance. At first I felt bad taking the meds because I didn't want to cause someone who really didn't have insurance to not be able to get the drug, but he said the system doesn't work that way. And I was really grateful to him for helping me out, so much so that I wrote a letter to the president of his company.
So now I'm wondering why I'm paying $200 a month for health insurance. I've had one doctor's visit this year ($60), and the shingles drug was so cheap I didn't have to use insurance to cover the cost. I can't get timely appointments with the doctors in my network, and the things I really need aren't covered in my plan.
Stupid.
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