Sunday, November 22, 2009

National Day




























































































This week, the women at our college are celebrating National Day, and the country's 38th birthday, draping Emirati Flags over the doors, and wearing Sheikh Zayed-inspired buttons, sashes and even black, red and green nail polish. The atmosphere is so festive (green eye-shadow anyone? or gumballs with royal faces on them?) that it's been hard to accomplish anything serious in our classes.



Yesterday, to top off the festivities, we sojourned out the college gates on a 28-bus police-escorted convoy. The stated goal was to inspire national pride in the emirate's 'cultural and Islamic gems'. The highlight of this trip though, was an audience with His Highness (HH) Sheikh Sultan bin Mohammed Al Qasimi, Crown Prince and Deputy Ruler of Sharjah, and his entourage. This royal personage and his escorts are not much older than our students. He is handsome, well groomed, and fashionable (see Ray Ban shades in picture). And though most of the students do not consent to being photographed themselves, not one of them was without a camera to capture the arrival of the Prince.



You can see that hundreds of students joined this trip, but what you don't see are the students left behind. A small number of our students, who are 18-23 years old, are still tightly controlled by their guardians (brothers, husbands and fathers) and were not allowed on the excursion due to the 'improper' amount of time being spent 'in public'. There are days when elements of this culture do send me scratching my head (or worse). But then something always reminds me that 30 years ago, when this country had just been founded, the situation was even more archaic. Colleges didn't accept women, girls were married off at 14, and females did not drive. So in the grand scheme of things, the fact that most of our students were allowed a fun day out, with their pals, their Blackberries and triple-hued makeup, I'd say progress is being made, one National Day at a time.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Desert Commute




































Since we moved from Sharjah into Dubai I've been enjoying my desert commute to work. We live on the edge of Dubai and the college is on the edge of Sharjah. So to avoid traffic, I head out onto a desert road and over the dunes into the neighboring emirate's outskirts. Though it doesn't compare to the colors of my San Francisco commute over the Golden Gate Bridge, or the gorgeous drop into Boulder on Highway 36, there is an elegance to the desert scenes, the camels, the sand, the mosques and the palms. Here are a few pics from a recent evening ride home.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Mosque TV or MTV?

After a year of workouts at the college, it was time to shell out the bucks for a fancy Dubai gym membership. It's not that I didn't give working out at the office a try. Our college gym, shared by the men's and women's campuses, does have a 50 meter pool (closed for repair since February) as well as a half dozen 1990's treadmills. But with my gym-junkie history, a facility with limited hours and dated equipment was just not doing it for me. My mental and physical fitness needs were not being met.

So I joined Fitness First, a gulf-wide chain of health clubs, with dozens of classes each week, the newest equipment, chilled outdoor pools, coffee bar, spinning studio and the perkiest fitness trainers from Egypt, India and the Phillipines. And as with many of our UAE adventures, the gym experience has been full of things that don't quite make sense.

In the ladies locker room are multilingual signs suggesting that we preserve our modesty, by changing behind curtains and covering our bodies with towels. But then there are the massive banks of TV monitors in exercise areas, where every fifth wide-screen is tuned into MTV World, where you're sure to see Madonna in crude gyration mode, or Shakira in flesh colored leotard, writhing as if having an exotic (erotic) dream.

Now I'm all for modesty and respecting the local norms, and I will admit that when the kids are not around, Billy and I tune into the old MTV to see how far behind we've fallen in our pop-culture hole. But I'd like to ask the gym managers if they don't think it's a little much to directly request our compliance with modesty code while showing the most immodest of offerings from satellite TV?

And if that's not enough, there's mid-day Friday - holy time for Muslims, when the route to the gym is clogged with mosque-goers rushing to make the holy hour and parking illegally all over the roads, roundabouts and medians. The gym is indeed a little quieter at this time. But what I just discovered is that if you do hop onto a treadmill, your TV options include not only the indecent videos of MTV, but also the Mosque TV channel, with bowing and praying traditionally-dressed Muslims in the mosque, directly next to the barely dressed dancers of MTV.

How funny and irreverent and religious and multicultural can the UAE manage to be?

I need only tear my eyes away from the the mosque TV and the MTV and direct them to the treadmill on my one side with a Muslim woman running with her hightech dry-fit headscarf, to the stinky German engineer on my other side with his hairy chest spilling out of a tank top. Maybe it's best to just stare out into space..

Thursday, October 22, 2009

"You are Naughty Madam"

Someone saw me moaning on Facebook last week about my fatigue, and our sick kids and Billy travelling for work, and they said to me, 'Don't you have a helper?'

The embarrassing thing is that yes, I do have a helper, a fantastic young smiley Sri Lankan helper who lives with us, packs lunch boxes, looks after our kids, does laundry, buys groceries, cooks our dinners and pulls the weeds from our tiny garden without being asked. She even said to me one recent Saturday morning, her day off, 'You are naughty madam', when she awoke to find I had washed the morning dishes. How dare me!

I honestly don't know what I'll do when I get back to America one day, where a nanny costs double-digits per hour, cleaning ladies are a true luxury and gardeners are deemed an indulgence. Seriously, the stress I feel at my college, which is basically an arm of the Islamic government, and the rage I often feel on the reckless and dangerous roads is real, warranted, and a veritable cause for lost sleep and many a new fine line on my face.

But the reality is, I do have good help and when it's time for bed-time stories with the kids, I can totally sink into the pillows with kids and books, and give myself completely to that coziest of parental tasks, knowing that the kitchen is being tidied and laundry getting put away. How totally lucky am I.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

No One to Walk With

Health and wellness are hot topics here in the UAE, where obesity is out of control and the country's reputation is growing as the Gulf's Diabetes capital . For the Muslim population the situation is complicated, with the separation of the sexes and the women's need to cover, creating barriers to the pursuit of active lifestyles. And then there's the Lebanese pastry counter at the supermarket, with all form of pistachio and honeyed sweet to mess with any attachment you might have to whole-grain living.

At home we think we're doing ok with our kids, who eat cheese and fruit after school and take brown bread in their lunch boxes. But we get sabotaged by school-sanctioned birthday celebrations which include not only cakes in the school, but candy bags sent home to mess with our delicate hard-won snack regime. And then our neighbor's housekeeper seems to love giving Rosie chocolates. But what can you do? Fortunately 9-year-old Brady knows how to read labels for sugars and fats, and even 5-year-old Rosie knows that 100% juice is the good kind. Woohoo for Boulder-inspired parental badgering!!!

But public health initiatives are behind the times in the UAE, and local moms are often young and inexperieced in the ways of healthy living. This week in class we discussed the topic of transport, and walking was listed as one of the many methods of getting around. We discussed the pros and cons of cars, donkeys, subways, bicycles, and yes, walking as ways to get from place to place. But when the idea of walking was presented as an option, loads of excuses were given as to why it is simply not done here, including bad weather 6 months out of 12, non-existent sidewalks and reckless drivers.

But the crux of the problem is actually rather sad and culturally difficult to get around. One of my students says she loves to walk and every so often she convinces a brother to take her to the mall to walk a few laps, with him. But when I asked her why she doesn't simply take a walk in the neighborhood before school in the morning, or after dinner while it is still light outside, she said 'No Miss. It is not allowed for girls to be alone. I am not allowed to walk outside our house by myself, and no one will go with me'. So in a culture where even a most basic part of living healthy is not allowed, what are these women to do?

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Going Local





























I just realized that I did, in fact, average a weekly post during my first year in the UAE. Thanks to those of you who read, replied, and sent your positive vibes our way.

What you notice though, after a summer's absence, is how well you've settled, and adjusted to the new surroundings. First of all, you get braver. You get braver on the roads, and at the same time, less outraged at the recklessness, and more likely to go the wrong way (on purpose) up the exit ramps, and circumnavigate blocked intersections during power outages by hopping medians and staring down semi-truck drivers in your way.

You also get detached from your safe and beloved brands. Hertz rent-a-car, for example, was the only name I recognized (or trusted) when I needed a long-term rental last August. This year, however, with visitors coming and the need for another car, I asked around the office and secured a reservation at 'Orient Trading'. I didn't even sigh when I received in an email the basically hand-drawn scanned map to the location of Orient Trading, on a rock-strewn sand road in the ugliest and most industrial part of Sharjah. Who can complain when it comes at half the cost and the same coverage? To top it off, the lovely Indian Keralites in the rental office insisted I stay for tea, provided by their sweet-faced 16-year-old Chai Guy. And seriously, this was the best chai..

Finally, if you check out my 2-week-old Hyundai you'll see the seats are still sporting the plastic factory seat-covers, to preserve my sand and dust-free seats as long as possible. I couldn't help but grin when the Pakistani dealer guy asked if I'd like them removed and I said, 'Nope, I think I'm going local'.








Monday, July 13, 2009

A Visit to our Things

I planned to take a break from non-family obligations this summer, to reconnect with my kids, my husband, the daily news, and life in the Western Hemisphere. But after a relaxing European vacation, and a week with Uncle Bern and old friends in Colorado, I'm feeling the urge to get back blogging. Go figure.

What sent me back into the blogosphere was a trip to the dusty self-store, where the bulk of our worldly belongings (two 20 x 20 storage units to be precise), now resides. We left our things there almost a year ago, re-planted ourselves in the middle east, and used my modest faculty furnture allowance to re-acquire family essentials, including beds, dining table, tv, sofa, rugs, lamps, toys and cheap local art. Funny thing is, we thought we were living light, acquiring only what we needed, and patted ourselves on the back for changing our lifestyle for the better. But when the end of the academic year came, the first of my three-year contract, we realized we were just kidding ourselves. As the movers packed us up to move to a better Dubai location, and they had to send for a second and then a third truck, I posted the disappointing news to facebook, where my brother quickly replied:

"Wow, now you have too much stuff in 2 countries."

So we rolled up to the self-store in a borrowed car, for a quick visit with our stuff, with the intention of extracting the following: kids books, camping gear, and photos. But now we know you cannot expect to simply show up, unlock, locate stuff, and head out again. At the sight of our things, boxed and labeled and stacked to the cieling, I was stricken speechless and sad, impressed and overwhelmed. It seems almost absurd, that we would choose this lifestyle, where you lovingly acquire books, bedspreads and art, and then pack them up for safe-keeping, only to decamp, relocate and start all over again. I can't really describe the turning-stomach feeling I had as I half-heartedly handled our boxes of stuff while our kids frolicked among their sleds, stuffed animals and outgrown carseats.

But eventually I got busy, shook off the dust, rifled through to find the target items, locked back up, and carried a trunk full of treasured objects back to our temporary digs here in Colorado. The kids are thrilled to have their old books, I've got plans to camp in the famous Oman Oasise and Billy can hold those childhood pictures near to his heart as we traipse into our second year abroad.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Paid Holiday

Not quite sure what to do with myself now. I've just finished my first intense year (on a 3-year contract) at the Higher Colleges of Technology in the UAE.

How shall I sum it up?

Well, I'm worn out for starters. A full-time job in higher education in this country is more than a 40-hour work week. And there is a lot of pressure to please (and quickly educate) the students.

I do understand Islam more now. How could I not, living in conservative Sharjah, with the mosque speakers right in our back yard? In short, it appears to me that even for those who drink Corona at Dubai's hotel bars, Islam is still a way of life, with Fridays reserved for family and prayer, Allah to thank for all that is good (and bad), and traditional clothing a symbol of the deeply rooted Islamic tradition of the region.

As for the women of Islam, at least the 18-22-year-olds I've had access to, some willingly wear the shayla over their hair and happily have drivers and avoid doing things that are manly, because they find them distasteful, and because they interpret the Q'ran as such. Other women though are watched by their fathers and brothers and are only allowed outings to the mall with their mothers, and sometimes can't even pick out their own handbags (or husbands). And yet others are shedding the traditional robes and shaylas, in favour of flashy head-scarves and clingy (but all-covering) western clothes for outings to Lebanese restaurants, Victoria's Secret and coffee bars in European hotels. Some of our students pray between classes while others send text messages to forbidden boys. For many of our students, the daily commute to college is the most freedom they'll get in life, yet for others, it's a path to modern jobs side-by-side with men and people from Christian nations. For me it has been a daily challenge to understand the conflicts without balking or being disrepectful with my questions.

The country is advancing at break-neck speed in terms of tourism, high-speed transit, modern roads, awe-inspiring architecture and so on. But the state of foreign laborers and the servant class is sometimes appalling and jarringly different from that of the expats like us and the native well-to-do Emiratis. Imagine 8 taxi drivers from Pakistan sharing an 8 by 8 room in a compound with 800 others, working 70 hours per week for 400 dollars per month. And then imagine the average Emirati household income of 275,000 dollars per year (that's an average), and the average number of full-time servants per household is 5.

Overall, the year has been an invaluable experience for me and my family, despite the stress, the workload, the obvious class issues and oh, did I mention Dubai and Sharjah's traffic? I hope you'll stay with us as we move through the next two years, get deeper into the Gulf lifestyle and travel more widely around this part of the world. Thanks for reading!

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Salty Water Parks and Geckos

For much of the month of May, we'd been not doing much on the weekends, mostly because we're so worn ragged from the work weeks here, but also because we joined the local dusty swimming club, where we can wear our (my) immodest swimwear without police intervention, and even order beers at the poolside.

But when we realized we only had a few weeks left till summer break, we got re-inspired to explore around town again, and tick a few more destinations off our list. We started with a trip to the rural emirate of RAK, where we discovered a golf club that actually has a bar (still not sure how these out-of-sight places get permissions in this Muslim land), and a friend from the college was playing in the band. Seeing my normally buttoned up colleague kick his shoes off and jam on his bass guitar, as well as traditionally-dressed Emiratis with Coronas in buckets, were yet a few more cultural experiences to add to this blog.

Also unexpected has been the invasion all at once by two chubby lizards (and one baby) in our villa. Back in October we had a visit from pest control, and exactly six months later, as predicted by the professionals, the little pesky lizards have re-invaded, and they continue to cause me great distress (and Liam fantastic entertainment) when they hop out from the curtains every morning and every night. (pictures coming soon to my facebook page)

Finally, we took the kids to Wild Wadi, the world's most 'totally awesome' water park (Brady's words). Perched at the foot of Dubai's famous Sail-shaped Hotel, the Burj Al Arab, and right on the gulf, the views from anywhere in the park are amazing, and the surprisingly salty water in the attractions adds a special flavour to the terrifying rides.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Shamal

We're having Shamal, a special windy weather system that cools things down a bit, and so the temps are lower than normal. See here:

105° Fri

110° Sat

111° Sun

112° Mon

And since the weather is not too hot, we'll be visiting another one of Dubai's water parks this weekend, Wild Wadi. The Emirate prides itself on its water attractions, and according to Brady, every 3rd grader has been to Wild Wadi at least a dozen times already. So we'll be finally catching up with the Jones's (or the Ibrahims). And enjoying the cool weekend..

Friday, May 22, 2009

Staying out of Trouble, Mostly...

Mid-East Police, Part II

I knew there was a reason we hardly set foot on Sharjah's beaches, even though they're only ten minutes from home. We've settled in to a routine of heading to beaches in Dubai instead, as those beaches are a lot cleaner and I've managed not to have any run-ins with the Dubai police because of my style of swimwear.

But I had a lapse in judgement this morning, when I agreed to meet up with Svetlana, Brady's friend's mom at the long stretch of public beach in Sharjah next to the exclusive Sharjah Ladies Club. If we didn't have our boy children with us, we could have checked into the ladies club, where the beach is immaculate, secluded, and yes, all-female. However, I not only had the boys along, but Billy as well and I thought hey, if Brady's pal's family hangs out there, it can't be that bad. So we located our friends at the beach, a gorgeous Russian women in a bikini with her brood (It should be noted that because of her American husband who looks a lot like mine, brown and mysteriously ethnic, her kids might pass for locals, as mine do if they simply don't speak).

It didn't take me long though to notice that all the other beach-goers were Muslim families or modest East Asian families. I know you're thinking, not for the first time, 'Shame on you Yuppie Expat flouting local traditions', but seriously, it was over 100 degrees, the water was at least 85 and beckoning, and hey, this Emirate is more than 50% immigrant anyway. But as I said, I was having a big episode of poor judgement, and maybe even experiencing a little bit of peer pressure. So as the kids ran towards the water, I dropped our gear and peeled off my sundress to reveal what I feel is a fairly modest Speedo bathing suit, and then, as if on cue, the Sharjah Police Landcruiser rolled up, its windows rolled down, with Emirati Police Guys inside shouting 'NOT ALLOWED, LADIES COVER UP'. They rolled to a stop, and patiently waited, and watched, as we peeled our sundresses back on.

Svetlana, who's been here longer than I have, grumbled 'stupid Sharjah, stupid stupid sharjah' (in her Ukranian accent), while I, coming back to my senses said, look, it is their country after all, this is Sharjah, we know the deal, we know the rules, shame on us really.

Of course this set the tone for the rest of our beach visit. But as I said, it was over 100 degrees and the kids had no reason to be annoyed with our plight, and so we settled in, and swam as the locals do, in our clothes.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Desert Drumming

We thought we'd left mountain sports behind us, but last weekend rode some beat-up snowboards down the sand dunes in the desert.

We actually went out to play drums at a desert camp to the light of a full moon. But when we got there, the bowl of dunes surrounding the camp was swarming with kids and snowboards - called 'sandboards' if you're in the desert. Brady and Liam tuned into this immediately and roped Billy and me into helping them haul these heavy rickety boards to the top, so they could slip down the dune, followed by us on foot (or bottoms), only to head right back up to the top. Rosie was in on the action too, following us up, then rolling or sliding down on her own, no board required.

So although we could beat the drums along with the African & Arab drummers, ride on camels, get henna tattoos, smoke shisha, and best of all, cruise the desert dinner buffet, we spent the greater part of the evening riding on (and dragging up) these barely waxed snow-sand-boards up and down the slippery dunes.

We did manage to enjoy some grilled mutton and chicken, taboule and beet salads, a variety of hummous and garbanzo beans, an Arabic-style bread pudding with cardemon seeds and of course Arabic coffee, as well as a bit of drumming and camel rides, but ultimately we gave in to the allure of playing in the sand.

For pictures, check out:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=81587&id=536358651&l=e82c714852

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Mid-East Police

We've had numerous occasions for visits with the police already, and if we keep it up at this rate, we'll have six or seven more before the end of my contract in 2011. Let's cross our fingers I am wrong on this, since the general theme of these encounters is less than uplifting.

Since August, both Billy and I have dented up our insured rental cars, and had to file reports with police. Funnily enough, both of us, in our separate cars, rammed our tires into medians, damaging only our cars (and nobody else) in the process. The main problem in my case was that the multiple officers I got on the phone could not figure out where I was, even though I was at the intersection of two major roads (Emirates Road and Univercity City). An hour and a half after my initial call, the officer finally arrived, saw the exact spot where I rammed the curb, filled in a report, fined me 200 dirhams and actually apologized for making me pay.

Billy's incident was similar, but the police were far less nice, and actually accused him of drinking at the time of the accident, and not calling the police till the next day, to avoid jail. He also was fined 200 dirhams for damaging city property. We wonder if it might help to be a blue-eyed female in this country.

The details of our third police-worthy incident we'll share later. Just bear in mind that none of our family were physically hurt, only Brady witnessed something violent. While we waited to give our statement at the police station, we sat in a narrow corridor directly next to a steel padlocked door labeled 'DETENTION'. After sitting a short while, we could hear a faint knock on it from the other side, like a pencil tapping on a car. It came and went and eventually it was accompanied by some moaning and mumbling in Arabic, followed by the door being noisily shaken from the inside. Every time the noise started up again, Brady gave me a look with an uneasy grin and a shake of his head. Maybe he needs the bathroom, we thought. Finally a police officer came along with a Barney Fife-style ring of keyes, unlocked the door, escorted the dusty, tattered AND SHACKLED prisoner off to one of the ante-rooms adjacent to our seating area. We never heard from this man again.

A while later, another guy with a huge sturdy plastic sack was led in by an officer, who unlocked the little peep-door near the top of the steel door, where he peered in and sent food through the hole, prisoner by prisoner. At first we assumed this was the routine catering provided by the police. But as we had nothing better to do than to carefully watch this transaction, we realized that for each 'schwarma pack' being sent through, a fee in dirhams was being collected by 'the caterer'.

Finally, on another evening when I was at the police alone, finalizing our report, I was sitting at an officer's desk and right across from me was another tattered-dusty but FEMALE detainee, handcuffed to her chair. She wore a muslim headscarf, was barefoot, and appeared to be from Asia. She sat quitely in front of an empty desk, only to weep and shake her head when an officer occasionally came in to interrogate her, getting right in her face and screaming what were apparently accuastions. The only word in Arabic I understood was 'La' or 'No' which she cried over and over again as the police got back into her face. I do hope this was my last visit to the station.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Easter in a Muslim Country































Another Christian holiday has come and gone for us here in the UAE, where the laws and supermarkets and work schedules are all governed by Islam. What this means for us and our celebration of Easter is digging deep into our pockets to purchase forbidden holiday sundry items such as ham and champagne, going out of our way to the Dubai Choithrams market whose holiday aisle includes chocolate bunnies, and the most strange thing is pretending it’s Easter when it’s actually Good Friday, since Sunday is a work day.

On Good Friday, we had 35 people join us for brunch, where we served leg of lamb as well as a large chunk of expensive French ham, along with quiche, mimosas, bunny cake and various salads and sides brought by our friends and colleagues. Our friend Heather even brought freshly risen dough and baked Challah in our uneven, hot-on-the-bottom Egyptian oven. Mini egg-shaped cupcakes were decorated by all the kids with our helper Chamry and her sister Ishara, and Billy and his Frisbee pals escaped for a half-hour of tossing the disc on the sandy roads around our house.

Holy Saturday was a special work day for me, and I spent half the day proctoring the local equivalent of the SAT exam. Though I was sulky about working on the weekend, the kids and Billy barely noticed my absence, and they spent the day eating chocolate and party leftovers.

Easter Sunday was a regular work day for me, but Billy’s company lets their people choose any religion and celebrate its holidays, so he was off work with kids while I tromped grumpily off to the office, again. It turned out to be a perfect day for swimming, so they made a day of it and went to Mamzar Beach Park, where they spent hours in the pools and at the beach on the Arabian Gulf (known as the Persian Gulf in America).

Finally, I made it home by 3:30 on Easter, just in time to help the kids shake off the sand, put on fresh Easter clothes (sent by Grandma) and head off to St. Michael’s Catholic Church in Sharjah, where just like at home, mobs of extra people (mostly Indian and Phillipino) showed up for Easter Sunday mass. Once again, as I’ve posted before, St. Joseph’s is an exultant experience, with loud and earnest singing, a pious Indian priest and a truly joyous observance of the most important Christian holiday.