A Prude Awakening

Repatriation. That's what they call it when you move back to your home country after a long absence, after a stint as a working resident, or an expat, in a foreign country. 2012 is our own Brady-Watts year of repatriation, re-immersion, even re-introduction back into American life, and it is almost as complicated as it sounds. And though we are anxious to fill out this next chapter of ours, the questions keep on coming as to what we miss, and what we were sad to leave behind us in the United Arab Emirates. The land of Sheikhs and camels and oil and the tallest building in the world.  And the guilty truth I am afraid, goes like this.

We will miss our winter weekends on the beaches of the Arabian Gulf. Cheap air tickets to Turkey and India and a daily dose of culture, foreign intrigue and all those folks un-American. We'll miss the wonderful maids. Our office coffee cup cleaners and mall bathroom attendants. The chai guys at the rental car office and gas pumpers in 122 degree weather (and don't forget cheap gas). And the ever so smiley and grateful  live-in nannies, efficient bus boys in deluxe food courts and the best most beautiful malls in the world. 

But at this very moment, I must coordinate our complicated multi-national move.  Our Dubai stuff, which arrived by ship, train and truck to Chicago, is now en route to our new Virginia house, while I sit watching our Colorado stuff get loaded for the trek to Virginia into a massive long-haul truck.  All while turning over the to-do list in my mind for enrolling the kids in new schools.  As my brother pointed out when we were shifting houses within Dubai, we now had too much junk in too many countries, and now it's in too many states. Whatever.  We are a family of five who has travelled the world and accumulated some stuff. Can someone please explain this to my husband?  

But our junk aside, after a seven month transition in Chicago, during which we found Billy an exciting DC consulting job, a lovely yellow Virginia house, and while the kids famously are about to change schools for the second time this year, we are excited about our prospects while still adjusting to our American life. 

But it has not been without some surprises and uncomfortable discoveries.  Though I hated self-censoring my blog in Dubai and the blacked out magazines on the racks in book shops, I did enjoy worry-free (blocked) Internet where the kids would never come across inappropriate YouTube, and clean, drug and alcohol-free radio.  I appreciate now,  not having to field questions about a massive condom ad across from the pediatrician's window as I did upon our return to Chicago.  So you see, a little gentle oppression of democratic freedoms does have its puritanical  advantages. It makes one become a prude. 

Love it and Leave it

Having one day left in Dubai, and on the second day of a partial inexplicable power outage, with extension cords jerry-rigged around the place so that our maid's room and TV room have power,  I need to pause 'n ponder what it is I will miss and what I can't wait to leave behind.  With three and a half years in the Middle-east under our belts, and after completing a 3-year contract with the government colleges, I leave the place with mixed feelings;  those of great excitement (and trepidation) for what is next, as well as a certain sadness (and relief) over what we leave behind.

I will certainly miss the wonderful diversity of the children's schools - the European moms in skinny jeans, Arab moms in headscarves and veils, British school principals, Zimbabwean teachers, and the American moms who stand out for their volunteerism and a tendency to talk way too loud.  Never have I with such quickness found people to be friends with among both neighbors and colleagues.

I will definitely miss the fabulous winter weather, all the gorgeous places for al fresco dining, and the night time January BBQs.  But I will be happy not to suffer ever again through the oppressive 125-degree months, and the fear that your own skin is cooking when you find yourself unprepared in the summer sun.

I will surely miss the hotel pools where the burkini and string bikini sit side by side and where the smiley East-Asian staff will clean your sunglasses and bring you tiny bits of melon on a stick.  But what I will not miss, and yet I feel so sorry about, are the labor camps where thousands and thousands of toiling construction workers live in such poor cramped conditions while they build for Dubai its next 7-star hotel and the world's tallest most luxurious residences.

I will categorically (yet slightly shamefully) miss having a full-time housekeeper and the freedom to read the paper while someone is cooking our dinner, having someone to sweep up broken glass, wash nasty lunch boxes, iron Billy's shirts (and undershirts) and to wash dishes so I can help the kids with their homework.  All with a smile.  Chamry, Nazrin and Dilani.  We will miss you.

I will sweetly miss teaching the Emirati college gals, those crazy, decked out, emotional, teacher-dependent students, who taught me how to wear my make up, and how to trust in Allah when nothing else makes sense.  But I will not miss the rigid and chaotic and oppressive management of my place of employment.  I don't work there any more so I can be ever so slightly more candid in this space now.  Can you hear my great sigh of relief?

I will most absolutely and positively miss the proximity to the exotic places you can fly to from Dubai.  We've managed Jordan, India, Turkey, Oman, Italy and Croatia during our time here, and I only regret having not yet made it to Egypt and Sri Lanka and Cyprus.

What I am so truly happy to kiss goodbye are the reckless driving, irrational road rage, institutional classism, limited freedom of speech, the fact that it's illegal to curse and use your middle finger in public (some close calls for sure), the illogical and sporadically enforced modesty laws, the fabulous inefficacy of the phone company, the internet provider, the power company, the immigration office and the truly unbelievable landlords.

Now heading off to a good spell in Chicago, we are sure to get back to our American roots, while we fondly remember our Emirates Adventure.  Yalla!