Yesterday I was doing some work and I got a text from Ireland saying she was leaving a 1 year old's birthday party and coming to the merid, and did I want to meet her out? I agreed, and an hour later I was sitting in this british bar called the captain's table with two of her friends.
I didn't want to sit inside, so Ireland's friend L said "I'll find us a table outside". She left and came back in 5 minutes, not saying anything. An hour later this woman came in, wearing a really short leopard skirt, and told us we could have her table. I was like who was that and L said "oh, it's just a random". People from UK here are always talking to each other and being best friends even though the only thing they have in common is an accent. L calls them randoms. She had walked through all the outside tables until she heard a british accent, and then asked the people if we could have their table when they were done.
We went out to the table, and the people hadn't left yet. Much joking about us having to take the tab with the table. It was two older couples and a guy around my age, who decided to flirt with me. He's in construction, so I told him that I watch the cranes on the buildings going up on the island across from my hotel room. He looked at me and said "That's really stupid. Why don't you just watch tv?"
Then, as they were getting ready to leave after paying the bill, a guy at the table next to us, who was very inebriated, tripped and fell head first into a 3 foot concrete wall surrounding the patio we were sitting on. Ireland said "Oh bless!" There was blood everywhere. His friends tried to get him some ice, but the waiters told them to leave. Broken head guy stumbled off into the dark with a lot of blood pouring out of his nose and his forehead. His friends stayed at the table and kept drinking.
L was telling a bunch of stories about snogging. Ireland's other friend left to meet some guy. Catty conversation ensued about the girl who left. I was bored and watching for Macavity. He didn't come, but another cat did. These two prostitutes who were sitting on the aforementioned concrete wall with their, um, employer, picked up the cat and started trying to pet it. The cat was crying. I gave one of the prostitutes a packet of cat food and, seriously, she put it in her purse. I got mad and was like "dude, that prostitute is stealing food from the cat" and Ireland said "stop assuming she's going to eat it later".
Then one of the women from the party whose table we took came over and said "we're going to energy, come join us". I was like I really don't want to go to another bar, but then discovered that energy (actually NRG) is right next door to the captain's table. We joined the two couples and the construction guy. I'll just call him jug ears. Jug ears started telling me some scaffolding story but it was too hard to follow because he was drunk. When he found out how old I was he ignored me and started hitting on Ireland and L.
I turned to talk to the woman who had invited us over to NRG. Her name was Effy. She was definitely the piss queen, but so entertaining. She showed me some tattoos she had that were in places I really didn't need to see. Then she asked where I was from. I said "nowhere really" because the list was too long of where I've lived. She turned to her husband and said "Honey, guess what. This is a nomad." (though, it took me a few minutes to figure out she was saying "nomad")
Effy and her husband are well known here in Dhabi. They're super rich. Effy invited me to their summer house in Italy. I started talking to the husband of the other couple about skiing in Colorado (he goes to Aspen every year, and was leaving in a week for his trip). Effy got upset because she couldn't contribute to the conversation, so she patted me on the hand and said "but dear, you can go skiing at our summer cottage".
More brits came by the table. Effy was ordering champagne two bottles at a time. She would introduce me to who ever, and then said "And she's a nomad". She was smoking really skinny cigarettes and her makeup was kind of crazy. She kept pinching my cheeks and saying "You. Look. So. Healthy! I just want to pinch you!"
At some point there were about 20 people sitting at or milling around the table drinking free champagne. Effy decided, since we had every aspect of UK covered except for Scotland at our table, that I would have to be scottish. She taught me some expression which was apparently a very bad thing to say in scottish. Then she started introducing me to people as a scot. They would say "You don't have a scottish accent" and then Effy would say "that's because she's a nomad darling".
Like that explains everything.
Around 2 am I decided to leave because things were getting a little too insane, and there was now food involved. Effy's husband ordered food from somewhere and had them deliver it to our table. They were talking about going dancing after eating their snacks.
I got a text from Ireland at 1 pm today, saying she wished she had left when I did. She was just waking up.
Ah yes, to be old and responsible...
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
new expressions
Here in Abu Dhabi we've been making up our own expressions. Some of my favorites:
taking the number 11 bus - This was an invention of the Texas kid. It means walking (he says that legs look like the number 11). This expression is used to make fun of me because I walk everywhere. If someone offers me a ride, TK usually says "no, she's taking the number 11 bus". Then we both laugh, because no one knows what we're talking about.
pull my elbow - TK, again. It's an enhancement of sorts to the expression "pull my finger", which TK finds funny. You use this expression when you are about to dump a really crap job on someone, or when someone has dumped a crap job on you. For example:
me: TK, I need you to go to the printers and get a bunch of training material copied
TK: pull my elbow
posh totty - This is the invention of Ireland. It refers to the british women who hang out in bars dressed to the nines. You think they are going to be super classy, but then you start talking to them and they end up being trashy. Besides a person, a thing can be posh totty. For example, when M served us pink champagne, we said it was posh totty because pink champagne is trashy, yet expensive here
piss queen - This was mine, referring to the person who is the most inebriated at whatever social event we are attending.
divine cheese sandwich - At 530 one morning, as TK, Ireland and I were driving to Dubai for a customer engagement, we stopped at an Adnoc gas station to get food (the customer was in a remote location with no food nearby). I don't think eating gas station food is a good idea because it just seems gross. TK and Ireland got chicken sandwiches, and I got a cheese sandwich, which, on further inspection in the car, turned out to be white bread (like wonder bread) with one slice of orange processed cheese on it. And that's it (for the record, the sandwich only cost 60 cents). As I went off on a tirade about how disappointed I was, Ireland said "I'm sure it will be a divine cheese sandwich" which doesn't look that funny in print, but is very funny when said by someone with a thick Irish brogue. Now, we use the expression to describe situations or things:
Ireland: How was that white paper they gave you so you could figure out how that software integration is going to happen?
Me: It was a divine cheese sandwich (meaning, there was no useful information in the paper)
Paul - Once Ireland stayed with 3 of her friends in the Burg Al Arab. When you stay there, you get your own butler. Their butler was named Paul. They sent Paul off to do all sorts of silly errands for them. Now, when we want to send each other on joke errands, we'll call each other Paul:
TK: Paul, will you go make me some freshly squeezed orange juice without pips?
Me: Paul, my flip flops need a good scrubbing.
I know. We're having way too much fun here.
taking the number 11 bus - This was an invention of the Texas kid. It means walking (he says that legs look like the number 11). This expression is used to make fun of me because I walk everywhere. If someone offers me a ride, TK usually says "no, she's taking the number 11 bus". Then we both laugh, because no one knows what we're talking about.
pull my elbow - TK, again. It's an enhancement of sorts to the expression "pull my finger", which TK finds funny. You use this expression when you are about to dump a really crap job on someone, or when someone has dumped a crap job on you. For example:
me: TK, I need you to go to the printers and get a bunch of training material copied
TK: pull my elbow
posh totty - This is the invention of Ireland. It refers to the british women who hang out in bars dressed to the nines. You think they are going to be super classy, but then you start talking to them and they end up being trashy. Besides a person, a thing can be posh totty. For example, when M served us pink champagne, we said it was posh totty because pink champagne is trashy, yet expensive here
piss queen - This was mine, referring to the person who is the most inebriated at whatever social event we are attending.
divine cheese sandwich - At 530 one morning, as TK, Ireland and I were driving to Dubai for a customer engagement, we stopped at an Adnoc gas station to get food (the customer was in a remote location with no food nearby). I don't think eating gas station food is a good idea because it just seems gross. TK and Ireland got chicken sandwiches, and I got a cheese sandwich, which, on further inspection in the car, turned out to be white bread (like wonder bread) with one slice of orange processed cheese on it. And that's it (for the record, the sandwich only cost 60 cents). As I went off on a tirade about how disappointed I was, Ireland said "I'm sure it will be a divine cheese sandwich" which doesn't look that funny in print, but is very funny when said by someone with a thick Irish brogue. Now, we use the expression to describe situations or things:
Ireland: How was that white paper they gave you so you could figure out how that software integration is going to happen?
Me: It was a divine cheese sandwich (meaning, there was no useful information in the paper)
Paul - Once Ireland stayed with 3 of her friends in the Burg Al Arab. When you stay there, you get your own butler. Their butler was named Paul. They sent Paul off to do all sorts of silly errands for them. Now, when we want to send each other on joke errands, we'll call each other Paul:
TK: Paul, will you go make me some freshly squeezed orange juice without pips?
Me: Paul, my flip flops need a good scrubbing.
I know. We're having way too much fun here.
Monday, January 4, 2010
smurfs aren't sexy
I now understand why guys always get upset when women change their hair.
There I was yesterday, on the dreadmill, minding my own business, trying to avoid eye contact with the trainer. I kept seeing these white legs walking back and forth behind me in the mirror. I thought it might be someone upset that I way over extended my allotted time on the dreadmill.
But then suddenly, I was like I know those legs.
After I finished running I made my usual graceless exit off the tread, and came face to face with hot guy. I guess he was upset that I've ignored his presence for the past few weeks (I have other things to worry about these days) and he had been pacing behind me, trying to make eye contact. I was going to look at him and smile when suddenly I noticed his hair.
The nice grey with a few streaks of black had been transformed into what, under the fluorescent lights, looked like that weird coloring old ladies get when they are trying to make their grey hair more shiny.
I was like seriously, does hot guy have blue hair?
I should have looked at him, smiled, and thought to myself it doesn't matter what color your hair is honey. But all I could think is hot guy looks like a smurf.
Smurfs aren't sexy.
There I was yesterday, on the dreadmill, minding my own business, trying to avoid eye contact with the trainer. I kept seeing these white legs walking back and forth behind me in the mirror. I thought it might be someone upset that I way over extended my allotted time on the dreadmill.
But then suddenly, I was like I know those legs.
After I finished running I made my usual graceless exit off the tread, and came face to face with hot guy. I guess he was upset that I've ignored his presence for the past few weeks (I have other things to worry about these days) and he had been pacing behind me, trying to make eye contact. I was going to look at him and smile when suddenly I noticed his hair.
The nice grey with a few streaks of black had been transformed into what, under the fluorescent lights, looked like that weird coloring old ladies get when they are trying to make their grey hair more shiny.
I was like seriously, does hot guy have blue hair?
I should have looked at him, smiled, and thought to myself it doesn't matter what color your hair is honey. But all I could think is hot guy looks like a smurf.
Smurfs aren't sexy.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
new year, new chapters
I've spent the weekend working on my book. I put in extra hours last week at work so I wouldn't have to do anything except focus on writing some chapters.
If anyone is interested in reading, let me know. I have a bunch of new stuff that has only been read by me, and I'm not sure if it sucks or not.
I should also come up with some new year's resolutions. And plan my trip to Muscat so I can go diving with dolphins. I'm going to try to do that in the next few weeks.
If anyone is interested in reading, let me know. I have a bunch of new stuff that has only been read by me, and I'm not sure if it sucks or not.
I should also come up with some new year's resolutions. And plan my trip to Muscat so I can go diving with dolphins. I'm going to try to do that in the next few weeks.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
so much for the beach
Just got done with work. I'm not going to Dubai. I'll probably spend the evening writing and try not to fall asleep before midnight.
bondi beach bash
Somehow, I've managed to get talked into attending the Australian new year's party this evening in Dubai. It's called the Bondi Beach Bash.
I hope I survive.
I hope I survive.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
snippy, sticky
I called feline friends today, in accordance with the email I received Christmas Eve. I reached a rather snippy brit who informed me that Macavity is not a candidate for adoption because he's "well fed and taken care of" at the Meridien.
I was like dude, you can't be serious. He's getting beat up every day by this cat I've named lady marmalade. He doesn't have a shelter. He's always hungry. And he is pretty darn cute. Someone would definitely take him. She gave me some blah blah argument about resources, which is not a point of discussion since I said I would pay for his room and board until someone took him in. She said "I have other cats that actually NEED our services!" and then she hung up on me.
Ech. So now I'm trying to spread the word about him in the hopes someone here might take him. Annoying.
And at the end of the day today I was so bored I did something bad. My mom sent me, for reasons that aren't totally clear, a half eaten bag of gummi bears. I brought it into the office but no one can eat them because they're made with gelatin. So, I was trying to figure out what to do with them, when suddenly it seemed like a good idea to stick them on A's cactus.
Then Texas Kid encouraged me to do something else, so I licked one and stuck it on the map of Dubai, he looks like he's going to the emirates palace, and then I put one on our white board. I wonder if anyone is going to notice.
Texas Kid and I are the only consultants in the office, so we've been causing trouble. We are playing an elaborate joke on our manager Dr. T. We keep sending each other emails about a "top secret" project we are working on. TK named it "project SPOCK". Dr. T is a bit of a control freak who likes to know everything that's going on. He's on vacation now, though, and neither of us will tell him what the project is (there is a project, which is going to be so cool when it's finished).
TK and I keep sending each other cryptic emails about what we are doing. For example, today I sent TK an email, and cc:ed Dr. T, that said "after you finish the thing, do the other thing we talked about, and then tomorrow we'll bring the things together, so we can move on to phase 3". TK sent me an email that said "Shall I secure the project with 256 bit AES encryption? Also when I'm done with my half of the work perhaps we'll do a merge before I go on holiday next week? Be sure to select "mark as confidential" and "encrypt" any emails regarding this project to prevent anyone from downloading any data we work on."
I know the second Dr. T gets back from vacation he's going to come into the office and demand to know what project SPOCK is. I've created a bunch of meaningless design diagrams on a white board to keep him guessing. Hee.
I was like dude, you can't be serious. He's getting beat up every day by this cat I've named lady marmalade. He doesn't have a shelter. He's always hungry. And he is pretty darn cute. Someone would definitely take him. She gave me some blah blah argument about resources, which is not a point of discussion since I said I would pay for his room and board until someone took him in. She said "I have other cats that actually NEED our services!" and then she hung up on me.
Ech. So now I'm trying to spread the word about him in the hopes someone here might take him. Annoying.
And at the end of the day today I was so bored I did something bad. My mom sent me, for reasons that aren't totally clear, a half eaten bag of gummi bears. I brought it into the office but no one can eat them because they're made with gelatin. So, I was trying to figure out what to do with them, when suddenly it seemed like a good idea to stick them on A's cactus.
Then Texas Kid encouraged me to do something else, so I licked one and stuck it on the map of Dubai, he looks like he's going to the emirates palace, and then I put one on our white board. I wonder if anyone is going to notice.
Texas Kid and I are the only consultants in the office, so we've been causing trouble. We are playing an elaborate joke on our manager Dr. T. We keep sending each other emails about a "top secret" project we are working on. TK named it "project SPOCK". Dr. T is a bit of a control freak who likes to know everything that's going on. He's on vacation now, though, and neither of us will tell him what the project is (there is a project, which is going to be so cool when it's finished).
TK and I keep sending each other cryptic emails about what we are doing. For example, today I sent TK an email, and cc:ed Dr. T, that said "after you finish the thing, do the other thing we talked about, and then tomorrow we'll bring the things together, so we can move on to phase 3". TK sent me an email that said "Shall I secure the project with 256 bit AES encryption? Also when I'm done with my half of the work perhaps we'll do a merge before I go on holiday next week? Be sure to select "mark as confidential" and "encrypt" any emails regarding this project to prevent anyone from downloading any data we work on."
I know the second Dr. T gets back from vacation he's going to come into the office and demand to know what project SPOCK is. I've created a bunch of meaningless design diagrams on a white board to keep him guessing. Hee.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
dolphins
Last night I dreamed that I was in the antarctic studying great white sharks. I kept thinking that I wouldn't see any sharks because it was too cold. I was in a submarine under this huge shelf of ice and I saw some great whites. I was like "what are you guys doing here? what are you eating?" One of the great whites tossed a dead seal towards the submarine, and I started laughing, even though I felt bad for the poor seal. I was like "but don't you get cold?" and one of the great whites swam by the front of the submarine and made his extensible jaw teeth chatter. I started laughing. Great whites have the best sense of humor in my dreams.
Then I decided I needed to go home, and somehow as the submarine was surfacing I ended up in the swimming pool at the meridien, except that it had an island in the middle of it, and all these dolphins swimming around. I wanted to get into the water with the dolphins, but I was wearing normal clothes, and it was my only outfit, so I took this yellow inflatable kayak from the submarine to the edge of the pool. The dolphins were bouncing around the boat and they were like "come in the water and play with us!" and I was like "dudes, I have to change first, this is my only outfit and I can't get it dirty". Then I got to the edge of the pool and stepped out of the kayak, and the dolphins popped it and dragged it way down underwater. One of the dolphins was like "you have to come get your boat!"
So I went to this hallway that had bleachers in it to change into my diving suit. I was standing there in a 3mm dive suit when I looked down the hallway and realized Paul McCartney and his daughter were walking towards me. I was really embarrassed for some reason, I guess because I was standing there in my dive suit. Paul came up to me and shook my hand and said "I know you from somewhere. Did we meet when we invaded the moon?" which I guess was a reference to my diving suit. I realized his daughter was a kid I had always played with in the pool without knowing who she was. I asked if he wanted to bring his daughter to the pool so we could dive with dolphins but Paul said they had a plane to catch and walked away.
I went back to the pool and jumped in. All these dolphins came up to me and said "we just bit the shit out of your boat and it's totally sunk, do you want to dive to the bottom of the pool with us to go get it?" I looked into the water and it was very murky. I realized it was night and only the top part of the pool was lit up and it was so deep I couldn't see the bottom. I was like "I'm not sure that would be safe" and the dolphins said "don't worry, we'll stay with you". They surrounded me in this dolphin pod and we started swimming towards the bottom of the pool.
Then I woke up.
Then I decided I needed to go home, and somehow as the submarine was surfacing I ended up in the swimming pool at the meridien, except that it had an island in the middle of it, and all these dolphins swimming around. I wanted to get into the water with the dolphins, but I was wearing normal clothes, and it was my only outfit, so I took this yellow inflatable kayak from the submarine to the edge of the pool. The dolphins were bouncing around the boat and they were like "come in the water and play with us!" and I was like "dudes, I have to change first, this is my only outfit and I can't get it dirty". Then I got to the edge of the pool and stepped out of the kayak, and the dolphins popped it and dragged it way down underwater. One of the dolphins was like "you have to come get your boat!"
So I went to this hallway that had bleachers in it to change into my diving suit. I was standing there in a 3mm dive suit when I looked down the hallway and realized Paul McCartney and his daughter were walking towards me. I was really embarrassed for some reason, I guess because I was standing there in my dive suit. Paul came up to me and shook my hand and said "I know you from somewhere. Did we meet when we invaded the moon?" which I guess was a reference to my diving suit. I realized his daughter was a kid I had always played with in the pool without knowing who she was. I asked if he wanted to bring his daughter to the pool so we could dive with dolphins but Paul said they had a plane to catch and walked away.
I went back to the pool and jumped in. All these dolphins came up to me and said "we just bit the shit out of your boat and it's totally sunk, do you want to dive to the bottom of the pool with us to go get it?" I looked into the water and it was very murky. I realized it was night and only the top part of the pool was lit up and it was so deep I couldn't see the bottom. I was like "I'm not sure that would be safe" and the dolphins said "don't worry, we'll stay with you". They surrounded me in this dolphin pod and we started swimming towards the bottom of the pool.
Then I woke up.
local talk
Yesterday I had my first conversation with a local emirati woman.
I was at this lebanese pizza place getting pizza for dinner. I'd never been there on the weekend, and usually go there pretty late in the evening (I rarely start thinking about dinner until around 8 pm). The place was packed with locals.
I placed my order and then tried to find somewhere out of the way to stand while I waited. There are two benches in the front of the restaurant but they were both full. Then an emirati couple vacated one of the benches and went to look at the buffet (they serve a buffet of Lebanese food in addition to making pizza). After a few minutes of them looking at the buffet food I assumed that they were going to sit at a table so I took a seat on their bench.
I started reading my book, and an egyptian woman came over and sat practically in my lap (she wasn't small) and pulled her daughter up on the bench too. She said excuse me in French because I guess she assumed I was french. They figured out their order and got up. Then the emirati woman came over and sat back down on the bench. Her husband was making a fuss about something, I assumed because I was sitting in his seat. He was not being quiet about whatever it was he was bitching about, even though the emirati woman kept telling him to calm down.
I put my book mark in my book, and indicated to her that I would go stand somewhere so her husband could have his seat back. She put her hand on my forearm, which was shocking because no one ever touches you here, and then said "No, he can stand. You stay here and read your book." Most of the locals I run into are not polite in the western sense, partially because of the culture, and partially because they resent westerners doing stupid stuff in their country. I was touched in a way that is hard to explain that she did that.
Then, even more surprising, she said "What is this book you are reading?" I showed her the cover, which is dark except for a lighted arch with a robed monk standing in the middle of the arch. "It's called Ananthem" I said. "Oh, it's a very nice book" she responded, even though I'm thinking Neal Stephenson doesn't sell many books here.
"It's about math" I said, lest she think I was reading some kind of weird subversive religious literature. "Events that happen in the book are used to illustrate mathematical principles and the solving of equations". I showed here the calcas, as the math problems are called in the book. The first one is about how to cut a square into 8 pieces that are of equal size given that the square is measured by a spatula that you have to use to make the cuts. The first iteration, you can cut the square into four even pieces (the square is two pieces long by two pieces wide). The second iteration, you can cut the square into 16 even pieces (each of the four pieces in the previous example is cut again into four pieces, squaring the square, with 4 squared equalling 16). So that's why the 8 piece problem is hard. The solution is to cut the square into triangles, if you were wondering.
Anyway, it was hard to tell what she made of my book, though she did seem to be listening to my explanation about the squares. I could only see her eyes, but not even much of those because she would look down every time I made eye contact with her. Then her order was ready and she wished me a good evening and left.
I wonder what she was thinking on the car ride home. Probably "note to self: never talk to westerners reading books".
I was at this lebanese pizza place getting pizza for dinner. I'd never been there on the weekend, and usually go there pretty late in the evening (I rarely start thinking about dinner until around 8 pm). The place was packed with locals.
I placed my order and then tried to find somewhere out of the way to stand while I waited. There are two benches in the front of the restaurant but they were both full. Then an emirati couple vacated one of the benches and went to look at the buffet (they serve a buffet of Lebanese food in addition to making pizza). After a few minutes of them looking at the buffet food I assumed that they were going to sit at a table so I took a seat on their bench.
I started reading my book, and an egyptian woman came over and sat practically in my lap (she wasn't small) and pulled her daughter up on the bench too. She said excuse me in French because I guess she assumed I was french. They figured out their order and got up. Then the emirati woman came over and sat back down on the bench. Her husband was making a fuss about something, I assumed because I was sitting in his seat. He was not being quiet about whatever it was he was bitching about, even though the emirati woman kept telling him to calm down.
I put my book mark in my book, and indicated to her that I would go stand somewhere so her husband could have his seat back. She put her hand on my forearm, which was shocking because no one ever touches you here, and then said "No, he can stand. You stay here and read your book." Most of the locals I run into are not polite in the western sense, partially because of the culture, and partially because they resent westerners doing stupid stuff in their country. I was touched in a way that is hard to explain that she did that.
Then, even more surprising, she said "What is this book you are reading?" I showed her the cover, which is dark except for a lighted arch with a robed monk standing in the middle of the arch. "It's called Ananthem" I said. "Oh, it's a very nice book" she responded, even though I'm thinking Neal Stephenson doesn't sell many books here.
"It's about math" I said, lest she think I was reading some kind of weird subversive religious literature. "Events that happen in the book are used to illustrate mathematical principles and the solving of equations". I showed here the calcas, as the math problems are called in the book. The first one is about how to cut a square into 8 pieces that are of equal size given that the square is measured by a spatula that you have to use to make the cuts. The first iteration, you can cut the square into four even pieces (the square is two pieces long by two pieces wide). The second iteration, you can cut the square into 16 even pieces (each of the four pieces in the previous example is cut again into four pieces, squaring the square, with 4 squared equalling 16). So that's why the 8 piece problem is hard. The solution is to cut the square into triangles, if you were wondering.
Anyway, it was hard to tell what she made of my book, though she did seem to be listening to my explanation about the squares. I could only see her eyes, but not even much of those because she would look down every time I made eye contact with her. Then her order was ready and she wished me a good evening and left.
I wonder what she was thinking on the car ride home. Probably "note to self: never talk to westerners reading books".
Friday, December 25, 2009
a christmas cleaning calamity
This morning I woke up early, with the thought that I would do my laundry in Ireland's apartment, eat some eggs that M gave to Ireland before she went back to France, and then, after I hung my laundry up, go to the beach. Seemed like a nice way to spend Christmas.
Except.
I got to Ireland's apartment after getting a bit lost (last time I walked there it was dark and I could see the bank sign on her building from a mile away because it was lit up) and put my laundry in the washing machine. I was confronted with an array of buttons that weren't labeled. I couldn't remember which one I was supposed to press to turn the machine on. So, I kept pressing different buttons until the thing started making noise.
Figuring I had an hour to kill, I wandered into the kitchen and took out the eggs. I got a pan out, and tried to figure out how to turn on the gas stove. I could smell the gas coming out as I twisted the different knobs, but I couldn't get a burner to light. Giving up on that, I made the incredibly stupid decision, since I had already broken two eggs open, to cook them in the microwave. Explosion. Chaos. Bad smells. No breakfast.
I settled in on the sofa, hungry, figuring I would read my book Ananthem until my clothes were done. An hour later I was still reading. Two hours later, the washing machine seemed to have stopped. I went to pull out my clothes so I could go to the beach, but the door wouldn't open. I tried pressing buttons. Nothing. I unplugged the thing. Still nothing. I sent a text message to the Texas Kid that said "Say, do you know anything about washing machines?" I smoked a few cigarettes, checking the machine every few minutes. It was definitely stopped, and the door was definitely not opening.
F this, I thought to myself, copying down the model number. I decided to go back to the hotel, a 45 minute walk, run some errands, look up directions for the washer on line, and then walk back to Ireland's.
When I got back to the hotel, Texas Kid had called. He ridiculed me for my ineptness and said that it explained why I'm still single. He tried to find a manual for the washer online, but couldn't. He made fun of me to his wife, who was sitting next to him, and I could hear her laughing. I was like dude, are you telling the whole world my clothes are stuck in Ireland's washer? Ech.
A few hours later, errands complete, I headed back to Ireland's. I was sure some christmas miracle would have occurred, and that my clothes would be free. It was an unfortunate choice I had made to put all my normal, non-work clothes in the washer. If I couldn't get them out, I'd have nothing to wear until Ireland got home. I imagined my running clothes as a moldy mess since she won't be back for at least 7 days.
When I arrived back at the apartment, I sang a little song in the elevator about the washing machine opening. It didn't. I got pissed. I poked buttons. I spun the dial. I cursed and yanked on the door with all my strength.
Suddenly the door opened. I couldn't remember what combination of buttons I had pressed, though. I started taking my clothes out, but they were soaking wet. Water was getting all over the marble tiled floor, causing me to slide and almost fall over the washing machine plug. My white shirts had turned grey. There were weird spots on everything.
Against my better judgment, I closed the door again after I had removed half my clothes, to see if I could get the water to drain. I spun the dial, pressed some buttons, and the machine started again. I hung all my sopping wet stuff I had taken out already on the drying rack.
M called me from France. I told her what had happened. She laughed and said I should have taken up her offer to come home with her for the holidays (south of France, million dollar chateau, yeah, why DIDN'T I do that???). She said I needed someone to take care of me, and that she would be back to Abu Dhabi soon and make me something nice to eat that wasn't an egg in the microwave.
By the time we rang off, the washing machine had stopped again. I was able to open the door, and the clothes were in a state of more dryness than the previous batch. I hung them up too, and decided the best course of action would be not to watch a movie on Ireland's dvd (at that point, I was afraid to try to do anything else in that apartment), as previously planned, but to return to the hotel and not think about my laundry until Sunday morning when I would hopefully return to Ireland's apartment to find my laundry dry.
And not dirty from sand blowing on it since I had to leave it out on the balcony because it was so wet I was afraid it would never dry otherwise.
On a positive note, the hotel gave me a huge chocolate christmas tree to eat. It has weird blobs at the base of it, which may be children opening presents, or may be panda bears trying to eat the tree.
I need a glass of wine. And, maybe room service...I don't think I should leave my hotel room again for the rest of the night, and not just because I have nothing to wear.
Except.
I got to Ireland's apartment after getting a bit lost (last time I walked there it was dark and I could see the bank sign on her building from a mile away because it was lit up) and put my laundry in the washing machine. I was confronted with an array of buttons that weren't labeled. I couldn't remember which one I was supposed to press to turn the machine on. So, I kept pressing different buttons until the thing started making noise.
Figuring I had an hour to kill, I wandered into the kitchen and took out the eggs. I got a pan out, and tried to figure out how to turn on the gas stove. I could smell the gas coming out as I twisted the different knobs, but I couldn't get a burner to light. Giving up on that, I made the incredibly stupid decision, since I had already broken two eggs open, to cook them in the microwave. Explosion. Chaos. Bad smells. No breakfast.
I settled in on the sofa, hungry, figuring I would read my book Ananthem until my clothes were done. An hour later I was still reading. Two hours later, the washing machine seemed to have stopped. I went to pull out my clothes so I could go to the beach, but the door wouldn't open. I tried pressing buttons. Nothing. I unplugged the thing. Still nothing. I sent a text message to the Texas Kid that said "Say, do you know anything about washing machines?" I smoked a few cigarettes, checking the machine every few minutes. It was definitely stopped, and the door was definitely not opening.
F this, I thought to myself, copying down the model number. I decided to go back to the hotel, a 45 minute walk, run some errands, look up directions for the washer on line, and then walk back to Ireland's.
When I got back to the hotel, Texas Kid had called. He ridiculed me for my ineptness and said that it explained why I'm still single. He tried to find a manual for the washer online, but couldn't. He made fun of me to his wife, who was sitting next to him, and I could hear her laughing. I was like dude, are you telling the whole world my clothes are stuck in Ireland's washer? Ech.
A few hours later, errands complete, I headed back to Ireland's. I was sure some christmas miracle would have occurred, and that my clothes would be free. It was an unfortunate choice I had made to put all my normal, non-work clothes in the washer. If I couldn't get them out, I'd have nothing to wear until Ireland got home. I imagined my running clothes as a moldy mess since she won't be back for at least 7 days.
When I arrived back at the apartment, I sang a little song in the elevator about the washing machine opening. It didn't. I got pissed. I poked buttons. I spun the dial. I cursed and yanked on the door with all my strength.
Suddenly the door opened. I couldn't remember what combination of buttons I had pressed, though. I started taking my clothes out, but they were soaking wet. Water was getting all over the marble tiled floor, causing me to slide and almost fall over the washing machine plug. My white shirts had turned grey. There were weird spots on everything.
Against my better judgment, I closed the door again after I had removed half my clothes, to see if I could get the water to drain. I spun the dial, pressed some buttons, and the machine started again. I hung all my sopping wet stuff I had taken out already on the drying rack.
M called me from France. I told her what had happened. She laughed and said I should have taken up her offer to come home with her for the holidays (south of France, million dollar chateau, yeah, why DIDN'T I do that???). She said I needed someone to take care of me, and that she would be back to Abu Dhabi soon and make me something nice to eat that wasn't an egg in the microwave.
By the time we rang off, the washing machine had stopped again. I was able to open the door, and the clothes were in a state of more dryness than the previous batch. I hung them up too, and decided the best course of action would be not to watch a movie on Ireland's dvd (at that point, I was afraid to try to do anything else in that apartment), as previously planned, but to return to the hotel and not think about my laundry until Sunday morning when I would hopefully return to Ireland's apartment to find my laundry dry.
And not dirty from sand blowing on it since I had to leave it out on the balcony because it was so wet I was afraid it would never dry otherwise.
On a positive note, the hotel gave me a huge chocolate christmas tree to eat. It has weird blobs at the base of it, which may be children opening presents, or may be panda bears trying to eat the tree.
I need a glass of wine. And, maybe room service...I don't think I should leave my hotel room again for the rest of the night, and not just because I have nothing to wear.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
macavity
Since Lancelot seems to have disappeared, I've adopted a new cat, Macavity. He's super friendly and much more tame than Lance. I am pretty sure he was abandoned after being some one's pet (happens here a lot - nice job ex pats!).
Cav has bad fighting skills, doesn't like food that isn't cat food, and he can't really take care of himself. His little ear is all beat up from this other cat that is twice his size. I don't like that other cat at all.
I missed feeding Cav the other night because I had dinner with Ireland and M (both left for holidays so it was a going away thing). Then when I got home yesterday, and went out on my balcony, I heard this little meow. I looked out on the roof and saw Cav's head poking up so just his ears were showing.
I was like "Dude, what are you doing? Come here!" Cav came running over to the building but he was a floor below me.
I threw him some cheese, since I was out of cat food, but he didn't want it (unlike Lance, he's not a fan of laughing cow). I told him I would get him some food and be right back. He started crying, and then running around trying to find a way to climb up to my balcony. It was so cute, but made me feel bad (in this pic you can barely see his little body and tail as he tried to climb up a pipe).
I got him some food but by the time I got back from the co-op (15 minutes, I was running) he was gone. I didn't get to see him because I had to go over to Ireland's house to pick up my shoes.
I decided this morning that I have to find Cav a home. I emailed feline friends, and organization here that rescues abandoned animals. Here's the response I got:
"Thanks for your email.
Does that cat have a V cut in one of his ears? If so, it might be a cat we have already sterilised. There was a whole little black and white colony there, that we sterilised.
I cannot really tell from the pic.
Please call me on my personal mobile [] after the 26th of Dec. as I will be away from the 24th to the 26th.HOping to hear from you after the 26th of Dec."
So maybe, hopefully, I'll be able to get Cav into a nice home or shelter. I wish I could sneak him into my room, but if I get caught they're definitely going to throw me out of the hotel...
Sunday, December 20, 2009
security sneak
Today I went to a government base to do a briefing for some high level government people. I'm always paranoid that something will happen to my presentation, so I normally copy it on to two USBs (no single point of failure).
But today Dr. T decided I should also bring my laptop as a back up. I was like, hm, secure facility, that seems like a really bad idea, but he insisted.
We got half way to the building where Dr. T thought we were doing the presentation. It turned out, we were expected in a different building half way across town. We got to the base in a rush, and Dr. T attempted to drive right in. Another bad idea. Three guys with machine guns got very excited. Then, to make matters worse, Dr. T opened his car door (his electrical system isn't working and he can't roll down the windows). More yelling. We made a U turn and parked outside the base, then went in to get our badges. As we were leaving the guy noticed my computer bag and asked if I had a computer. I pretended I had no idea what was going on, as first my colleagues tried to pretend I didn't have a computer. But I was busted.
Meanwhile, the presentation was supposed to start in 10 minutes, and we were not even close to being able to get on the base. We were detained at the gate while they tried to figure out what to do with my laptop. I offered to give the bag to the guard, but that agitated him to the point that he stood right outside my car window with the barrel of his gun pointing in my direction. I noticed the safety was off. I wanted to slide out of the way, but I was trapped by children's car seats.
Finally our gov sponsor came out of the base in his car, accompanied by two other high ranking officers. We made a U turn again, drove down to the end of the street, pulled over, and I gave them my computer bag. Then we all went back to the base. This time, because we were following high ranking officers, they let us through the gate. We noticed a car of 4 american military guys who had been sitting at the base check point for over a half hour. They didn't look happy at all. As we drove by them Dr. T said "are you trying to bring a lap top in?" I don't think they found that funny.
The presentation went well, and after it was over we again followed the officers off the base, to the end of the street, and they gave my laptop bag back. The one who had taken it made a joke that he hoped nothing was missing (no one ever steals anything in this country, even if it's something valuable that you leave out in public, like a wallet). And I was happy that almost all of the officers shook my hand as we were leaving.
But next time, I'm going to tell Dr. T to take his computer.
But today Dr. T decided I should also bring my laptop as a back up. I was like, hm, secure facility, that seems like a really bad idea, but he insisted.
We got half way to the building where Dr. T thought we were doing the presentation. It turned out, we were expected in a different building half way across town. We got to the base in a rush, and Dr. T attempted to drive right in. Another bad idea. Three guys with machine guns got very excited. Then, to make matters worse, Dr. T opened his car door (his electrical system isn't working and he can't roll down the windows). More yelling. We made a U turn and parked outside the base, then went in to get our badges. As we were leaving the guy noticed my computer bag and asked if I had a computer. I pretended I had no idea what was going on, as first my colleagues tried to pretend I didn't have a computer. But I was busted.
Meanwhile, the presentation was supposed to start in 10 minutes, and we were not even close to being able to get on the base. We were detained at the gate while they tried to figure out what to do with my laptop. I offered to give the bag to the guard, but that agitated him to the point that he stood right outside my car window with the barrel of his gun pointing in my direction. I noticed the safety was off. I wanted to slide out of the way, but I was trapped by children's car seats.
Finally our gov sponsor came out of the base in his car, accompanied by two other high ranking officers. We made a U turn again, drove down to the end of the street, pulled over, and I gave them my computer bag. Then we all went back to the base. This time, because we were following high ranking officers, they let us through the gate. We noticed a car of 4 american military guys who had been sitting at the base check point for over a half hour. They didn't look happy at all. As we drove by them Dr. T said "are you trying to bring a lap top in?" I don't think they found that funny.
The presentation went well, and after it was over we again followed the officers off the base, to the end of the street, and they gave my laptop bag back. The one who had taken it made a joke that he hoped nothing was missing (no one ever steals anything in this country, even if it's something valuable that you leave out in public, like a wallet). And I was happy that almost all of the officers shook my hand as we were leaving.
But next time, I'm going to tell Dr. T to take his computer.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
dinner at M's
On Thursday night Ireland and I went over to M's flat for dinner. Unlike me, when she visits the UAE she takes a flat.
We were late, as usual, but M didn't mind because I brought her a box of Patchi chocolates. I'm not sure who makes them, but they are the best chocolates ever. Even I occasionally eat them, even though I'm not a huge fan of chocolate.
M made a salad that had a little baked goat cheese pie in the center. Then we had tuna, wasabi mashed potatoes, and asparagus. I got some looks from M and Ireland when I picked up an asparagus spear. I said "It's a finger food, you can look on the web" and M said "Someone needs to teach you americans how to eat properly".
Then we had a bottle of pink champagne. While it was good at the time, I woke up the next morning with a headache. We sat on the sofa and started planning our travel for next year. Ireland is going to take me to Ireland. And we are going to go to Stockholm to visit the Bouncer and his family.
I was telling them that I wanted to take surfing lessons for my birthday. M devised a plan where I would fly to Italy, and she and Ireland would hang out on the beach having wine while I surfed. I expressed some doubts that there is surfing in Italy, but M assured me there was. So, hopefully, that's what I'll be doing for my birthday next year.
Ireland fell asleep on the sofa, but M and I kept talking. Finally Ireland woke up, and we realized it was 2.30 in the morning. We took a taxi home, and I decided to stay in bed the next day until 11 am, then came into the office to get some work done. I spent the rest of the weekend in the office, and only spent 2 hours working on my book.
Hopefully my schedule will lighten up in the new year...
We were late, as usual, but M didn't mind because I brought her a box of Patchi chocolates. I'm not sure who makes them, but they are the best chocolates ever. Even I occasionally eat them, even though I'm not a huge fan of chocolate.
M made a salad that had a little baked goat cheese pie in the center. Then we had tuna, wasabi mashed potatoes, and asparagus. I got some looks from M and Ireland when I picked up an asparagus spear. I said "It's a finger food, you can look on the web" and M said "Someone needs to teach you americans how to eat properly".
Then we had a bottle of pink champagne. While it was good at the time, I woke up the next morning with a headache. We sat on the sofa and started planning our travel for next year. Ireland is going to take me to Ireland. And we are going to go to Stockholm to visit the Bouncer and his family.
I was telling them that I wanted to take surfing lessons for my birthday. M devised a plan where I would fly to Italy, and she and Ireland would hang out on the beach having wine while I surfed. I expressed some doubts that there is surfing in Italy, but M assured me there was. So, hopefully, that's what I'll be doing for my birthday next year.
Ireland fell asleep on the sofa, but M and I kept talking. Finally Ireland woke up, and we realized it was 2.30 in the morning. We took a taxi home, and I decided to stay in bed the next day until 11 am, then came into the office to get some work done. I spent the rest of the weekend in the office, and only spent 2 hours working on my book.
Hopefully my schedule will lighten up in the new year...
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
egyptian, the sequel
There are a lot of idiots in the world. Somehow, they always seem to be attracted to me.
Today I had a very long day at work, and went to the gym as soon as I got home. I ran for a while, and then headed back to my room. I had to walk through this outdoor courtyard where some insane christmas festival thing was going on. Wall to wall kids carrying cotton candy and screaming. I left my MP3 player on to block out the sound of the band mangling christmas carols.
And, who should stop me as I was dodging some woman attempting to run me over with a humvee style stroller? The egyptian H. He grabbed my arm from behind, and I turned around ready to punch someone. Then I was like, are you [bad word] kidding me. Ech.
He said "Do you remember my name?" and I was like "Yes, H". I want him to know I know his name in case he does something bad. Then he said "Why did I no see you for a long time?" I was like dude, I just saw you on Saturday, and that visit was enough for the month. I tried to walk away from him, but he grabbed me again.
"I want to send flowers, and a fruit basket to your room. Where is your room?" Someone on the staff told him I was staying at the Meridien. If I find out who it was, I'll break his legs. I was like "I am not going to tell you where my room is. Please stop touching me." He said "Let's go for breakfast tomorrow or come by for a free drink in the evening". As if I don't have a job, and as if I would spend my free time with him.
Giving him a few pity points because, I don't know, maybe he didn't get enough nutrition as a child causing his obvious lack of brain power, I explained that I wouldn't be going to breakfast with him tomorrow morning, or ever. I patiently reiterated that I didn't want a fruit basket, flowers, or a free drink from him.
He said "I'm glad, because I don't like you when you're drinking. You're mean." I asked him how he came to that assumption (I am actually quite happy when I'm buzzed) and he said "You were being mean the other night (when I told him to f off)". I pointed out to him that I wasn't drunk that night, said I had to leave, and tried to walk away again, except I was blocked from making much progress because of all the kids with cotton candy milling around the sidewalk.
H said "Why don't you give me your room number?" and I said "Because I don't trust you". He said "If you can't trust me, who can you trust?" I didn't have time to make a list for him, so I left instead.
I hope H doesn't make the mistake of following me around the hotel for the next few months. Because I'll have to get one of my special forces guys to chat with him. Or get the Bouncer to come back. No one messes with the Bouncer.
Today I had a very long day at work, and went to the gym as soon as I got home. I ran for a while, and then headed back to my room. I had to walk through this outdoor courtyard where some insane christmas festival thing was going on. Wall to wall kids carrying cotton candy and screaming. I left my MP3 player on to block out the sound of the band mangling christmas carols.
And, who should stop me as I was dodging some woman attempting to run me over with a humvee style stroller? The egyptian H. He grabbed my arm from behind, and I turned around ready to punch someone. Then I was like, are you [bad word] kidding me. Ech.
He said "Do you remember my name?" and I was like "Yes, H". I want him to know I know his name in case he does something bad. Then he said "Why did I no see you for a long time?" I was like dude, I just saw you on Saturday, and that visit was enough for the month. I tried to walk away from him, but he grabbed me again.
"I want to send flowers, and a fruit basket to your room. Where is your room?" Someone on the staff told him I was staying at the Meridien. If I find out who it was, I'll break his legs. I was like "I am not going to tell you where my room is. Please stop touching me." He said "Let's go for breakfast tomorrow or come by for a free drink in the evening". As if I don't have a job, and as if I would spend my free time with him.
Giving him a few pity points because, I don't know, maybe he didn't get enough nutrition as a child causing his obvious lack of brain power, I explained that I wouldn't be going to breakfast with him tomorrow morning, or ever. I patiently reiterated that I didn't want a fruit basket, flowers, or a free drink from him.
He said "I'm glad, because I don't like you when you're drinking. You're mean." I asked him how he came to that assumption (I am actually quite happy when I'm buzzed) and he said "You were being mean the other night (when I told him to f off)". I pointed out to him that I wasn't drunk that night, said I had to leave, and tried to walk away again, except I was blocked from making much progress because of all the kids with cotton candy milling around the sidewalk.
H said "Why don't you give me your room number?" and I said "Because I don't trust you". He said "If you can't trust me, who can you trust?" I didn't have time to make a list for him, so I left instead.
I hope H doesn't make the mistake of following me around the hotel for the next few months. Because I'll have to get one of my special forces guys to chat with him. Or get the Bouncer to come back. No one messes with the Bouncer.
tigers
I've been having a philosophical discussion with myself the past few days because of the whole Tiger scandal. Not that I usually care about shit like that, but, it's been better than reading about all the unrest happening in my neighboring countries...
I heard two interesting things, both said by women. And, I'm not sure they're true. The first thing was about what attracts people to each other. It was along the lines of "half of the attraction to someone is that they're attracted to you and interested in you, so that makes them attractive". The second thing was a snarky comment "If everything is fine in your relationship, you aren't looking around".
While I think both of these things apply to WOMEN, I don't believe that they apply to men. But, I may be wrong.
In the first instance, I think men are just as attracted to people who aren't attracted to them. I see this all the time at work with these nimrods who will do things that even becoming physically threatening to me just to get my attention. It's not that I think they have some great interest in me, but rather that they hate that I am not interested in them. Once I show interest the problem usually goes away.
In the second instance, I think men are ALWAYS looking around. They aren't doing it for the same reason as women. Women are looking around to see if they can find a better guy. Men are looking around because they're worried they'll miss the opportunity to fuck someone who might want to fuck them. Most of the time guys who cheat, at least the ones I've known, are not looking for a new girlfriend, they're just looking for a new piece of ass. And when they're done, they'll dismiss that piece of ass without a second thought. Women, on the other hand, usually want to keep the new piece of ass around, preferably to replace the old piece of ass.
I may be wrong. Or maybe I just know some fucked up people. But this is what my experience has shown. I know plenty of married guys who mess around behind their partners' backs, not because they are unhappy with their partner but because they can. That might be why men and women have so many problems. Someone in the media was speculating that Tiger loved one of the girls that he was fucking. I thought that was a preposterous assumption. He did it to feed his ego, not because he cared about any of the girls, even if he was telling them otherwise.
Lesson learned, the hard way. Just because a guy says he loves you and is attracted to you, if he isn't with you, then what he's saying is bullshit. Sure, he might "love" you; but he really loves the person he stays with.
Also, just because a guy screws around on you, you can't assume he doesn't love you. Maybe he just loves himself more. He isn't cheating on you because he loves the person he cheated with. He did it to make himself feel better and to build up his ego, at the expense of yours. So it's not necessarily the right thing to leave him, because most guys will put themselves before you.
Until women start doing the same, we'll keep getting screwed in this game.
I heard two interesting things, both said by women. And, I'm not sure they're true. The first thing was about what attracts people to each other. It was along the lines of "half of the attraction to someone is that they're attracted to you and interested in you, so that makes them attractive". The second thing was a snarky comment "If everything is fine in your relationship, you aren't looking around".
While I think both of these things apply to WOMEN, I don't believe that they apply to men. But, I may be wrong.
In the first instance, I think men are just as attracted to people who aren't attracted to them. I see this all the time at work with these nimrods who will do things that even becoming physically threatening to me just to get my attention. It's not that I think they have some great interest in me, but rather that they hate that I am not interested in them. Once I show interest the problem usually goes away.
In the second instance, I think men are ALWAYS looking around. They aren't doing it for the same reason as women. Women are looking around to see if they can find a better guy. Men are looking around because they're worried they'll miss the opportunity to fuck someone who might want to fuck them. Most of the time guys who cheat, at least the ones I've known, are not looking for a new girlfriend, they're just looking for a new piece of ass. And when they're done, they'll dismiss that piece of ass without a second thought. Women, on the other hand, usually want to keep the new piece of ass around, preferably to replace the old piece of ass.
I may be wrong. Or maybe I just know some fucked up people. But this is what my experience has shown. I know plenty of married guys who mess around behind their partners' backs, not because they are unhappy with their partner but because they can. That might be why men and women have so many problems. Someone in the media was speculating that Tiger loved one of the girls that he was fucking. I thought that was a preposterous assumption. He did it to feed his ego, not because he cared about any of the girls, even if he was telling them otherwise.
Lesson learned, the hard way. Just because a guy says he loves you and is attracted to you, if he isn't with you, then what he's saying is bullshit. Sure, he might "love" you; but he really loves the person he stays with.
Also, just because a guy screws around on you, you can't assume he doesn't love you. Maybe he just loves himself more. He isn't cheating on you because he loves the person he cheated with. He did it to make himself feel better and to build up his ego, at the expense of yours. So it's not necessarily the right thing to leave him, because most guys will put themselves before you.
Until women start doing the same, we'll keep getting screwed in this game.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
talk like an egyptian
Friday was Bouncer's last day, and his flight left at 2 am Saturday morning (that's normal for this area of the world) so Ireland and I met him for a glass of wine at Wakatua (which I've been mistakenly calling Chi Chi's all this time). Then we had dinner at an Italian restaurant.
While we were at the restaurant the egyptian manager, H, came over and said hi to Ireland. They've known each other for 4 years. Then Ireland introduced me to H. He grabbed my hand, and then dropped it and said "your hand is too cold to shake". He asked if I had a hot heart because people with cold hands have a hot heart. And then he felt my forehead to see if I had a fever, but my face was red because I was blushing because I was embarrassed that I was being hassled by a maniac egyptian guy. I didn't respond to anything he said to me and stared at my bread plate until he walked away.
Undeterred, H brought a three string roaming band over to our table and had them play John Lennin's "woman" while he stood on the balcony above our table and stared at me. The romance of the gesture was somewhat marred by the filipino band's english, resulting in lines like "the little child in spite of a man" and "please remember my life is in the band". I thought it was weird, but decided to ignore it.
The Bouncer left and then M, Ireland's friend, showed up. We got our check and decided to sit at the restaurant outside the italian place to have another glass of wine. H came over and sat down on the bench next to me, and put his arm around me. Again, I thought it was strange but didn't want to piss off Ireland by being mean to her friend. Ireland told H he needed to upgrade me to the suite the Bouncer had. H said there was a nicer suite and told me he had a key for it. He said that he could give me a 20 minute tour of the suite.
That really pissed me off. I know exactly what he was implying. So I looked at him and said "Can you please not touch me?" He looked offended, but I was just getting started. I said "What exactly do you mean you're going to give me a 20 minute tour of the suite? Do you honestly think that I would go anywhere with you? And would you talk to an Eastern woman like that?"
H obviously didn't know what to say. He got up from the bench and said he was sorry. I was like "You're damn right you should be sorry. You assume just because I'm a western woman that you can just come up to me and put your arm around me and proposition me? What the [bad word] is WRONG with you?"
H apologized again and walked away. Ireland and M and I were talking about what a creep he was. Even if what he said was meant as a joke, he didn't know me well enough to say things like that. And frankly, I am tired of guys in this area of the world treating every woman like she's nothing but a prostitute. Of course, H positioned himself right outside the Italian restaurant and kept staring at our table.
About 20 minutes later I went in to the ladies and when I came out H walked up to me and apologized again. He said he had seen me hanging out in Wakatua with the Bouncer and that he liked me. I was like WHATEVER dude. He asked me to come by the restaurant some time to see him so he could talk to me. I said "Let me think about that for a second. Um, no."
I went back to the table and told Ireland and M what happened. I was tired anyway so we decided to leave. The stupid waiter brought our bill, and then, after I paid it with cash, told me I owed him an extra 100 dirhams. I thought that I might have put in the wrong cash because I'm always getting the money here confused (a lot of bills look alike, and it was kind of dark outside). As we were walking away from the table H came running up to me and told me the waiter had ripped me off, and gave me my 100 dirhams back.
Needless to say, I won't be going back to any of those places again. I really can't tolerate that kind of behavior anymore. I hate having to be distrustful of people because they think they can rip me off because I'm a western woman. I'm tired of guys coming up to me and acting like I should be happy they are paying attention to me.
Some times I wonder if this place is for real...
While we were at the restaurant the egyptian manager, H, came over and said hi to Ireland. They've known each other for 4 years. Then Ireland introduced me to H. He grabbed my hand, and then dropped it and said "your hand is too cold to shake". He asked if I had a hot heart because people with cold hands have a hot heart. And then he felt my forehead to see if I had a fever, but my face was red because I was blushing because I was embarrassed that I was being hassled by a maniac egyptian guy. I didn't respond to anything he said to me and stared at my bread plate until he walked away.
Undeterred, H brought a three string roaming band over to our table and had them play John Lennin's "woman" while he stood on the balcony above our table and stared at me. The romance of the gesture was somewhat marred by the filipino band's english, resulting in lines like "the little child in spite of a man" and "please remember my life is in the band". I thought it was weird, but decided to ignore it.
The Bouncer left and then M, Ireland's friend, showed up. We got our check and decided to sit at the restaurant outside the italian place to have another glass of wine. H came over and sat down on the bench next to me, and put his arm around me. Again, I thought it was strange but didn't want to piss off Ireland by being mean to her friend. Ireland told H he needed to upgrade me to the suite the Bouncer had. H said there was a nicer suite and told me he had a key for it. He said that he could give me a 20 minute tour of the suite.
That really pissed me off. I know exactly what he was implying. So I looked at him and said "Can you please not touch me?" He looked offended, but I was just getting started. I said "What exactly do you mean you're going to give me a 20 minute tour of the suite? Do you honestly think that I would go anywhere with you? And would you talk to an Eastern woman like that?"
H obviously didn't know what to say. He got up from the bench and said he was sorry. I was like "You're damn right you should be sorry. You assume just because I'm a western woman that you can just come up to me and put your arm around me and proposition me? What the [bad word] is WRONG with you?"
H apologized again and walked away. Ireland and M and I were talking about what a creep he was. Even if what he said was meant as a joke, he didn't know me well enough to say things like that. And frankly, I am tired of guys in this area of the world treating every woman like she's nothing but a prostitute. Of course, H positioned himself right outside the Italian restaurant and kept staring at our table.
About 20 minutes later I went in to the ladies and when I came out H walked up to me and apologized again. He said he had seen me hanging out in Wakatua with the Bouncer and that he liked me. I was like WHATEVER dude. He asked me to come by the restaurant some time to see him so he could talk to me. I said "Let me think about that for a second. Um, no."
I went back to the table and told Ireland and M what happened. I was tired anyway so we decided to leave. The stupid waiter brought our bill, and then, after I paid it with cash, told me I owed him an extra 100 dirhams. I thought that I might have put in the wrong cash because I'm always getting the money here confused (a lot of bills look alike, and it was kind of dark outside). As we were walking away from the table H came running up to me and told me the waiter had ripped me off, and gave me my 100 dirhams back.
Needless to say, I won't be going back to any of those places again. I really can't tolerate that kind of behavior anymore. I hate having to be distrustful of people because they think they can rip me off because I'm a western woman. I'm tired of guys coming up to me and acting like I should be happy they are paying attention to me.
Some times I wonder if this place is for real...
project close out
This past week has been insanely busy. It was my last week on a contract I've been supporting and since I was in Banff for 3 weeks I had a lot of work to do to get ready for the project close out.
Thursday night the project team got together for a celebration that went really, really late. We started out on the Bouncer's balcony with a bottle of champagne. The Bouncer got upgraded to the second nicest suite in the hotel, which included fresh floral arrangements and a platter of fruit every night. His balcony was larger than my hotel room. A band started playing below us and A was singing along, and he can sing really well, so I kept making him and Ireland sing along with the band (you could hear the music really clearly). I was like "We are starting a band and I'm the manager. I want you to practice!"
A got up and started dancing, including doing the moon walk. I was laughing so hard I was in tears. Then everyone got up and started dancing on the balcony. At one point A and I were doing chorus kicks. Unfortunately, Ireland took a picture of that. Then A and I threw rose petals off the balcony and they landed on people walking through the restaurant below the Bouncer's room.
The Bouncer gave Ireland and I all of his toiletries that came free with the room because they were from Hermes. I got a box of soap. It was so nice I kept taking it out of my bag and smelling it. Ireland was given some soap and shampoo and conditioner. We were joking with the Bouncer that I was going to move into his suite when he left because my room is crap in comparison.
We decided to go to the restaurant and the Bouncer, still in his suit, and A, wearing a suit coat, put roses in their lapels from a different floral arrangement than the one that A and I threw off the balcony. A guy came over to our table while we were having another bottle of champagne and made a comment about the Bouncer's suit and rose in lapel. Without missing a beat the Bouncer said "I was supposed to get married today, but the bride didn't show up". I said I was supposed to be the maid of honor. We kept the story going for the rest of the night. The guy felt really bad for making a comment to the Bouncer. Ha ha. The Bouncer later said "I never go into bars and do things like that". Ireland says I'm corrupting the team.
Then we met some helicopter pilots. One was very nice but the one who was sitting next to me was really creepy. I made the Bouncer switch seats with me. At one point we all decided to climb under the table and take a picture for Ireland's friend, who sent her a text saying that we should party so much we ended up under the table.
A ended up leaving early, and then I left about an hour later because I was totally exhausted. Ireland and the Bouncer kept going until 4 in the morning. I woke up the next day and was so tired I didn't do much of anything. I think I'm a little burned out...
Thursday night the project team got together for a celebration that went really, really late. We started out on the Bouncer's balcony with a bottle of champagne. The Bouncer got upgraded to the second nicest suite in the hotel, which included fresh floral arrangements and a platter of fruit every night. His balcony was larger than my hotel room. A band started playing below us and A was singing along, and he can sing really well, so I kept making him and Ireland sing along with the band (you could hear the music really clearly). I was like "We are starting a band and I'm the manager. I want you to practice!"
A got up and started dancing, including doing the moon walk. I was laughing so hard I was in tears. Then everyone got up and started dancing on the balcony. At one point A and I were doing chorus kicks. Unfortunately, Ireland took a picture of that. Then A and I threw rose petals off the balcony and they landed on people walking through the restaurant below the Bouncer's room.
The Bouncer gave Ireland and I all of his toiletries that came free with the room because they were from Hermes. I got a box of soap. It was so nice I kept taking it out of my bag and smelling it. Ireland was given some soap and shampoo and conditioner. We were joking with the Bouncer that I was going to move into his suite when he left because my room is crap in comparison.
We decided to go to the restaurant and the Bouncer, still in his suit, and A, wearing a suit coat, put roses in their lapels from a different floral arrangement than the one that A and I threw off the balcony. A guy came over to our table while we were having another bottle of champagne and made a comment about the Bouncer's suit and rose in lapel. Without missing a beat the Bouncer said "I was supposed to get married today, but the bride didn't show up". I said I was supposed to be the maid of honor. We kept the story going for the rest of the night. The guy felt really bad for making a comment to the Bouncer. Ha ha. The Bouncer later said "I never go into bars and do things like that". Ireland says I'm corrupting the team.
Then we met some helicopter pilots. One was very nice but the one who was sitting next to me was really creepy. I made the Bouncer switch seats with me. At one point we all decided to climb under the table and take a picture for Ireland's friend, who sent her a text saying that we should party so much we ended up under the table.
A ended up leaving early, and then I left about an hour later because I was totally exhausted. Ireland and the Bouncer kept going until 4 in the morning. I woke up the next day and was so tired I didn't do much of anything. I think I'm a little burned out...
don't see THAT too often in the desert
It's been raining here for two days straight. Which is weird because it usually rains here just a few days during the year in February, and it normally only rains for a few minutes (this is what the locals tell me anyway). Apparently last year they got so little rain that planes had to seed the clouds over the ocean to get a sprinkle in Abu Dhabi.
Well, the drought is over. Yesterday I went for a walk around 2 pm and got drenched by the rain. When I got back to the hotel it had started lightning and thundering. Same thing when I woke up this morning. The roof of my hotel is flooded. The roads are flooded. All the street signals went out in the tourist club area of Abu Dhabi so traffic was a mess. It was like experiencing a bad snow storm in the US. But worse.
Only two people came into the office today because of the weather. I left early because it had started raining again and I was getting worried the streets would be impassible going back to the hotel. Because I'm right on the beach all of the streets near my hotel are filled with water. This street next to my hotel is so flooded cars can't drive down it anymore.
Wishing I had a rain jacket and sweat shirt. It's chilly here too. I'm guessing Ireland and I won't be going to the beach next weekend if this weather keeps up.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
my fake oatmeal injury
WARNING: kind of gross picture of my injury at the bottom of this blog
Today I sustained my worst UAE injury since I tripped over those tiles and cut up the top of my foot (I still have scars). I was injured by fake oatmeal.
I went to the co-op yesterday to buy some breakfast cereal since the breakfast here at the Meridien is crap (except for the coconut cupcakes). I bought what I thought was a can of oatmeal. The picture on the can sure looks like oats. And it had a name "Virginia", the only english writing on the can. Isn't Virginia a farm state? Isn't it very possible they grow oats there? They have lots of horse in VA too, and don't horses eat oats?
The "cereal" came in a tin with a metal seal on it (like a can of pringles). I started opening the metal seal thingy and somehow managed to gash my thumb with it as I was pulling the last part off. It hurt. A lot. Then my thumb started bleeding and wouldn't stop. I didn't have any bandaids so I took some packing tape and taped a kleenex over the cut. But, not before getting blood on the floor. I guess it kind of blends in with the carpet.
The worst part is, what ever is in that tin is NOT oatmeal. I poured boiling water over the "oats" and after 3 minutes, during which the oatmeal was supposed to be cooking, I looked inside my coffee mug expecting to see oatmeal. Instead there was this gelatinous goo with a few "oat balls" floating in it. I tried stirring to see if that would help but the balls just kept sticking to my spoon. I tried to eat it, but it was way too disgusting. It tasted like sand, actually.
I left what ever it is in the coffee mug and figured the maid would clean it when he did my room. Ha. The only thing he seems to spend time on in my room is going through my clothes. I had a meeting with Ireland, and when I got back to my hotel room 3 hours later I saw that the oat stuff had turned to sludge in a mug. Gross. I can't wait to find out at work on Sunday what this stuff is.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
the wrong mercure
I'm back in Abu Dhabi after 3 1/2 weeks in Banff, Canada and a half week in Denver with my parents. The writing workshop I went to was the best thing I've ever done, and I would encourage any aspiring writer to apply for it (www.banffcentre.ca).
As usual, though, something weird happened on my trip from the states. Flying to Canada from UAE I ended up having a 30 hour layover in Frankfurt. I didn't realize I had such a long layover until I got to Frankfurt, so I called my company's travel desk and they booked me into a Mercure hotel close to the airport. I went to the airport info desk after I got the address and they told me there was a free shuttle to the hotel. Perfect. I got there, walked around the very nice village where the Mercure was located, had some great food from a street vendor stand, and made it to Denver even though there was a huge snowstorm.
On the way back to UAE, I had a 24 hour layover. I contacted the travel desk and asked them to put me in the Mercure again. I left pretty late on Friday night, and was exhausted by the time I got to Frankfurt because this terrorist kid (guessing age 3 or 4) screamed, no, not cried, screamed the entire flight. Yes, all 10 1/2 hours. It was so bad that people on the plane were yelling at the parents to shut the kid up. But, they were busy watching a movie, and did nothing.
Anyway, I went to the hotel shuttle station and got the shuttle. I was so happy that, in 30 minutes, I was going to be in a bed, sleeping. We pulled up to a hotel. Sure, it had the Mercure sign. But, it looked different. I got to the front desk and found out not only did I not have a reservation there, but the price of the room was 3 times what my company would pay. The woman that I would have to take a taxi to the Mercure hotel where I had a reservation. I said I would just take the shuttle back to the airport and catch the other Mercure shuttle to the right hotel. The woman and shuttle driver BOTH insisted there was no "other Mercure shuttle". I said "But I just stayed there a month ago and took the shuttle". The woman patted me on the arm and said I looked really tired.
I got a taxi and he took me to a Mercure hotel. But it was not the hotel I had stayed at. I asked him to wait while I went inside but he took off as soon as my suitcase was out of his trunk. I went in and found out, no surprise, that I didn't have a reservation there either. The check in desk told me there are three Mercure hotels in Frankfurt and that this confusion happens all the time.
Great. I stood in the rain for 20 minutes waiting for a taxi. Thankfully he spoke english. He promised me he could have me to the hotel in 15 minutes because by then I was ready to pass out from exhaustion. I fell asleep in his cab. I woke up when we got to the hotel and...it was NOT the hotel I had stayed in. I was like aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! wrong hotel again!!!!!!!! and begged the taxi driver not to leave me until I found the right hotel. I went in and it turns out it was the hotel where I had a reservation. But it was definitely NOT the hotel I had stayed in before. As the woman was checking me in I asked her about the fourth Mercure hotel and she also insisted it didn't exist, there were only 3 Mercures in Frankfurt, and that the expensive Mercure I went to first was the only hotel that had a shuttle from the airport.
I thought maybe I was tired and going crazy. But then when I got up to my room I looked in my computer bag and sure enough, there was my Mercure hotel key from my previous stay. Then, because I'm obsessive compulsive, I did a web search to find the other hotel I stayed at. It didn't list in the results for Mercures within a certain distance from the Frankfurt airport.
Crazy. I wonder if I was staying in the twilight zone...
So, on deck for the rest of the week. Tomorrow's a holiday (National day, which means people driving their cars around at crazy speeds, and fireworks), then this weekend I promised Ireland I would go with her to rugby 7s. I may regret that. She said, after I promised to go, and I quote "It's so great! You get to sit in the stands with all these crazy rugby fans spilling beer all over you!"
Uh. Yeah.
As usual, though, something weird happened on my trip from the states. Flying to Canada from UAE I ended up having a 30 hour layover in Frankfurt. I didn't realize I had such a long layover until I got to Frankfurt, so I called my company's travel desk and they booked me into a Mercure hotel close to the airport. I went to the airport info desk after I got the address and they told me there was a free shuttle to the hotel. Perfect. I got there, walked around the very nice village where the Mercure was located, had some great food from a street vendor stand, and made it to Denver even though there was a huge snowstorm.
On the way back to UAE, I had a 24 hour layover. I contacted the travel desk and asked them to put me in the Mercure again. I left pretty late on Friday night, and was exhausted by the time I got to Frankfurt because this terrorist kid (guessing age 3 or 4) screamed, no, not cried, screamed the entire flight. Yes, all 10 1/2 hours. It was so bad that people on the plane were yelling at the parents to shut the kid up. But, they were busy watching a movie, and did nothing.
Anyway, I went to the hotel shuttle station and got the shuttle. I was so happy that, in 30 minutes, I was going to be in a bed, sleeping. We pulled up to a hotel. Sure, it had the Mercure sign. But, it looked different. I got to the front desk and found out not only did I not have a reservation there, but the price of the room was 3 times what my company would pay. The woman that I would have to take a taxi to the Mercure hotel where I had a reservation. I said I would just take the shuttle back to the airport and catch the other Mercure shuttle to the right hotel. The woman and shuttle driver BOTH insisted there was no "other Mercure shuttle". I said "But I just stayed there a month ago and took the shuttle". The woman patted me on the arm and said I looked really tired.
I got a taxi and he took me to a Mercure hotel. But it was not the hotel I had stayed at. I asked him to wait while I went inside but he took off as soon as my suitcase was out of his trunk. I went in and found out, no surprise, that I didn't have a reservation there either. The check in desk told me there are three Mercure hotels in Frankfurt and that this confusion happens all the time.
Great. I stood in the rain for 20 minutes waiting for a taxi. Thankfully he spoke english. He promised me he could have me to the hotel in 15 minutes because by then I was ready to pass out from exhaustion. I fell asleep in his cab. I woke up when we got to the hotel and...it was NOT the hotel I had stayed in. I was like aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! wrong hotel again!!!!!!!! and begged the taxi driver not to leave me until I found the right hotel. I went in and it turns out it was the hotel where I had a reservation. But it was definitely NOT the hotel I had stayed in before. As the woman was checking me in I asked her about the fourth Mercure hotel and she also insisted it didn't exist, there were only 3 Mercures in Frankfurt, and that the expensive Mercure I went to first was the only hotel that had a shuttle from the airport.
I thought maybe I was tired and going crazy. But then when I got up to my room I looked in my computer bag and sure enough, there was my Mercure hotel key from my previous stay. Then, because I'm obsessive compulsive, I did a web search to find the other hotel I stayed at. It didn't list in the results for Mercures within a certain distance from the Frankfurt airport.
Crazy. I wonder if I was staying in the twilight zone...
So, on deck for the rest of the week. Tomorrow's a holiday (National day, which means people driving their cars around at crazy speeds, and fireworks), then this weekend I promised Ireland I would go with her to rugby 7s. I may regret that. She said, after I promised to go, and I quote "It's so great! You get to sit in the stands with all these crazy rugby fans spilling beer all over you!"
Uh. Yeah.
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