Quiz Question: Which one of our kids could be described as being 'Off With the Fairies'? Read below to see your answer...
In response to Jill's comment (last post), because our kids go to an Australian school (which is co-ed and very 'normal' by our standards) and because I work in one of the most conservative institutions in the area, the kids don't necessarily experience some of the really different customs that I do. You do see completely covered women all over town, often surrounded by blondes like me in short sleeves. But after no more than the first week when the kids were asking 'why do the ladies look like nuns and cover their faces?' they have settled in and the seem to 'get it', that there is another religion here making life different from home. They are adaptable little people our kids, moreso than me in fact.
Putting off Thanksgiving for a couple of weeks, for example, in order to 'celebrate right' when I have a few days off and time to linger over pie, indeed made me funky last week, but the kids could have cared less. And sitting stuck in traffic, which makes me long for Colorado roads, sits well with the kids as long as we're allowing them to play with their game boys in the back seat. (But don't y'all get excited Aunties and Uncles, Video games for the home continue to sit on our 'Banned - DO NOT BUY' list, lest we fry their brains).
Even Liam, who has shown more signs of homesickness than the others, succeeded in organizing his own play date at the park, by dragging Billy there to see his pals after school last week. Though his teacher says he is oftentimes 'off with the fairies' (read: Australian slang for 'spaced out'), she said he doesn't miss a thing and that he loves a good laugh. And to confirm that he is truly at home in the Australian school environment, he spelled snake on his Christmas list just like an Australian would say it: SNIKE
And Rosie seems least affected by our move. She soaks it up when restaurant workers try to chit chat, and her best pal at school is a local little girl named Meera.
Alas Brady continues to remind us, when we get a little goofy and yodel along with the prayer caller at the mosque behind our house, that it is not good manners to make fun of someone's religion. Irreverent parents, are we?
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Co-Ed Bluetooth
The business department where I work sponsored a conference last week with the theme of Energizing the Emirati Economy (Otherwise known as E3). We had locally well-known guest speakers, a big food sponsor with gourmet goody bags, cosmetic samples and makeover coupons, a giant Pepsi display with chilled bevs on ice, and lots of talk about Emiratis getting involved with the multi-national business going on here.
But the subtext of this event was far from business-ey. Though we are a women's college, we invited guys from the men's campus and filled the auditorium with students. The rules for these events at our conservative campus require that the guys sit at the front, the girls sit at the back, and two rows of faculty separate them.
When the girls enroll at the college, we ensure the men who act as their guardians (dads, brothers or husbands) that this is a women's zone, (male faculty aside), and that their 'women' will be looked after and shielded from unwanted male company, let alone improper advances or flirting.
But the day before the conference, we faculty escorts were given a talk about enforcing the rules on mobile phones, namely, that they must remain off and out of sight inside any campus buildings. This was especially important at this event not because the phones might go off and disturb our distinguished guests, and not because it is impolite to chat on your mobile in a business setting. The main reason is that this would be one of the few opportunities this year when our female students would be in close enough proximity to the boys that they could 'blue tooth' each other.
Up to this point, my knowledge of bluetooth technology was limited to that awkward ear piece I sometimes try to use when I drive. I did not know that you can turn it on and use it as a sort of radar, to locate other mobile numbers in the zone where you sit, and exchange info, numbers, names, etc., without ever a phone going off. Go figure.
Along these same lines, I called tech support to the classroom this week and when the jolly fellow arrived and I opened the door without hesitation he looked at me like, 'lady, you can't just let me in..', and so while I coaxed him into the room, I turned around to find three of my gals swishing around their sheilas (or headscarves) to get more covered in preparation for his presence. Though I've been here almost 4 months now, it still happens weekly that I stop in my tracks at what seem to be absurd gender roles, rules and limitations. (See posting called 'unveiling'). As much as I'd like to think I'm getting to understand the custom, I don't know if I'll ever not shake my head (inside my head) when I hear someone talking about the guardian of an articulate and educated 22 year old woman.
But the subtext of this event was far from business-ey. Though we are a women's college, we invited guys from the men's campus and filled the auditorium with students. The rules for these events at our conservative campus require that the guys sit at the front, the girls sit at the back, and two rows of faculty separate them.
When the girls enroll at the college, we ensure the men who act as their guardians (dads, brothers or husbands) that this is a women's zone, (male faculty aside), and that their 'women' will be looked after and shielded from unwanted male company, let alone improper advances or flirting.
But the day before the conference, we faculty escorts were given a talk about enforcing the rules on mobile phones, namely, that they must remain off and out of sight inside any campus buildings. This was especially important at this event not because the phones might go off and disturb our distinguished guests, and not because it is impolite to chat on your mobile in a business setting. The main reason is that this would be one of the few opportunities this year when our female students would be in close enough proximity to the boys that they could 'blue tooth' each other.
Up to this point, my knowledge of bluetooth technology was limited to that awkward ear piece I sometimes try to use when I drive. I did not know that you can turn it on and use it as a sort of radar, to locate other mobile numbers in the zone where you sit, and exchange info, numbers, names, etc., without ever a phone going off. Go figure.
Along these same lines, I called tech support to the classroom this week and when the jolly fellow arrived and I opened the door without hesitation he looked at me like, 'lady, you can't just let me in..', and so while I coaxed him into the room, I turned around to find three of my gals swishing around their sheilas (or headscarves) to get more covered in preparation for his presence. Though I've been here almost 4 months now, it still happens weekly that I stop in my tracks at what seem to be absurd gender roles, rules and limitations. (See posting called 'unveiling'). As much as I'd like to think I'm getting to understand the custom, I don't know if I'll ever not shake my head (inside my head) when I hear someone talking about the guardian of an articulate and educated 22 year old woman.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Housemaid
I try to post something here weekly, not only for my loyal readers at home, but for our kids, who might think this is a cool family archive some day. (Thank you all for reading by the way ;-)SHOUT OUT here to Jill, Ann, Connie, Michelle at the IEC, Trevor, Alicia, Mom and my sisters, and a mystery reader named Darsantre - Who are you?? )
But I've spent several days in the last week at the immigration offices in Dubai, trying to legally hire a full-time helper to live in the separate tiny quarters we have at our villa. Why isn't Billy doing this - you might ask? Billy has indeed taken charge of our cooking and food shopping (this means lots of cabbage and internet recipes from Iran), putting kids on the the school bus (picture Rosie with crooked pig tails) and watching over homework (resulting in perfect pencil renditions of the Japanese flag). But since I am the legal 'Expatriate Resident', I am the only one who can officially submit papers and sponsor a dependent employee.
This is all well and good with me, except that the language surrounding the help here seems third-world. The first time I heard 'housemaid', from a modern Swedish woman, I bristled. How old-fashioned I thought. As it turns out, 'housemaid' is the official occupation listed on the passports of people hired to be live-in help. So for the locals, the word is natural - and normal. And for those who've lived here for a while, it seems to become normal too. But as I meet more westerners and other Arab expats, I can see the struggle to use the right word, depending on the social situation where the discussion occurs. My Turkish officemate for example, uses 'helper' when talking about her housemaid to me , but she uses 'Maid' when she's talking with Europeans. Another American teacher uses the word 'nanny' mostly, because like me, I think she finds the term 'housemaid' distasteful. At any rate, full-time live-in help here is common and inexpensive, and you could say we're 'going native' as we work to hire someone ourselves.
The gal we're trying to hire is 24, married, and from Sri Lanka. She is smiley, hard-working and sending money back home. She is our friend's nanny's niece and has been coming to clean house every Friday for several weeks now.
So, after 5 visits to immigration, numerous papers which had to be professionally 'typed', sitting in wild yet bumper to bumper Dubai traffic after work, hanging out in the ladies sections of smelly crowded government offices (much like dingy U.S. government offices only with more marble decor), a $1500 deposit, and another $2000 in fees, we have officially and legally sponsored our own 'helper', who is moving in this week. As we move through the adjustment to having daily help with cleaning, ironing, after-school-care and kitchen-help, we'll let you know how our life is impacted and how our vocabulary for 'housemaid' evolves.
But I've spent several days in the last week at the immigration offices in Dubai, trying to legally hire a full-time helper to live in the separate tiny quarters we have at our villa. Why isn't Billy doing this - you might ask? Billy has indeed taken charge of our cooking and food shopping (this means lots of cabbage and internet recipes from Iran), putting kids on the the school bus (picture Rosie with crooked pig tails) and watching over homework (resulting in perfect pencil renditions of the Japanese flag). But since I am the legal 'Expatriate Resident', I am the only one who can officially submit papers and sponsor a dependent employee.
This is all well and good with me, except that the language surrounding the help here seems third-world. The first time I heard 'housemaid', from a modern Swedish woman, I bristled. How old-fashioned I thought. As it turns out, 'housemaid' is the official occupation listed on the passports of people hired to be live-in help. So for the locals, the word is natural - and normal. And for those who've lived here for a while, it seems to become normal too. But as I meet more westerners and other Arab expats, I can see the struggle to use the right word, depending on the social situation where the discussion occurs. My Turkish officemate for example, uses 'helper' when talking about her housemaid to me , but she uses 'Maid' when she's talking with Europeans. Another American teacher uses the word 'nanny' mostly, because like me, I think she finds the term 'housemaid' distasteful. At any rate, full-time live-in help here is common and inexpensive, and you could say we're 'going native' as we work to hire someone ourselves.
The gal we're trying to hire is 24, married, and from Sri Lanka. She is smiley, hard-working and sending money back home. She is our friend's nanny's niece and has been coming to clean house every Friday for several weeks now.
So, after 5 visits to immigration, numerous papers which had to be professionally 'typed', sitting in wild yet bumper to bumper Dubai traffic after work, hanging out in the ladies sections of smelly crowded government offices (much like dingy U.S. government offices only with more marble decor), a $1500 deposit, and another $2000 in fees, we have officially and legally sponsored our own 'helper', who is moving in this week. As we move through the adjustment to having daily help with cleaning, ironing, after-school-care and kitchen-help, we'll let you know how our life is impacted and how our vocabulary for 'housemaid' evolves.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
UAE Halloween
Good Americans love Halloween, and the really good Americans know where to find pumpkins, and have pumpkin carving kits in their kitchens. After paying about $30 for a smallish imported American pumpkin, I got a tip from a colleague that the fruit and veg markets have local gourds that can pass for pumpkins. With this info, Billy went out and found a two dollar and three dollar pumpkin to round out our project. This same colleague also lent us her special carving kit, complete with safe tools and stencils, so we were really able to get creative this year, without cutting off any small child's fingers.
Check out our slide show to see the kids in Japanese traditional costumes, our pumpkins and carving activities, and men and boys praying in the parking lot where we bought candy for the Halloween party. You'll also see the house of a Canadian family where we trick-or-treated all of their doors, and the kids got wild and crazy with their plastic samurai swords.
See, we haven't gone completely native..
Check out our slide show to see the kids in Japanese traditional costumes, our pumpkins and carving activities, and men and boys praying in the parking lot where we bought candy for the Halloween party. You'll also see the house of a Canadian family where we trick-or-treated all of their doors, and the kids got wild and crazy with their plastic samurai swords.
See, we haven't gone completely native..
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Indecent Expatriates
We have a lovely new Canadian babysitter named Chanel, which means later-evening outings have once again become a possiblity for Billy and me.
Less eager to explore nightlife than we were to have a social life, I organized a reservation at a Mexican restaurant in Dubai for the other new hires and their partners. Per the usual, since this is a restaurant serving alcohol, we found it on the premises of a hotel, precisely on the 8th floor. Not all of the bars are tucked away in high-rises, but many of them are, and so the evening started with the ilicit feeling of going to a secret place. Since the drinking & driving laws are harsh in this country, i.e. one drop lands you in jail, I was drinking Perrier while Billy and most of the others had margaritas and Corona Extra. Though we were tired and it was late, the single and childless folks coerced us into following them to a night spot called 'the lodge'.
Given the name The Lodge, we had fireplaces and deer heads in mind, and visions of ski lodges with warm after dinner drinks. But as we got closer to the venue and watched the folks piling out of taxis on the curb, it became clear this was to be a night of short skirts, high heels and yes > plaid school-girl outfits. At first we were thinking gosh, we must be really out of touch to NOT know that plaid jumpers had gained popularity. But as the night progressed, and we got past the underaged local boys hanging out at the velvet rope just to look and whistle, and moved through the bouncers to find our names on the VIP list and into the circular open air dance pit, we learned that this was the night's theme - '80's school girl night'.
I must admit that dancing in the middle of a taxi-filled city of highrises, in the open air and to the music of my youth proved to be so much more exhilirating than Hot Toddies by a fire would have been. But I also must admit that I wondered over the impression we were giving to the teen hangers-on at the velvet rope, guys whose sisters aren't allowed out after dark, and whose families don't wear western clothes or even dance for that matter.
But we carried on, sweaty indecent dancing expatriates, many of us dressed indecently even by western standards, and made our plans to find the off-license liquor seller the following weekend.
Less eager to explore nightlife than we were to have a social life, I organized a reservation at a Mexican restaurant in Dubai for the other new hires and their partners. Per the usual, since this is a restaurant serving alcohol, we found it on the premises of a hotel, precisely on the 8th floor. Not all of the bars are tucked away in high-rises, but many of them are, and so the evening started with the ilicit feeling of going to a secret place. Since the drinking & driving laws are harsh in this country, i.e. one drop lands you in jail, I was drinking Perrier while Billy and most of the others had margaritas and Corona Extra. Though we were tired and it was late, the single and childless folks coerced us into following them to a night spot called 'the lodge'.
Given the name The Lodge, we had fireplaces and deer heads in mind, and visions of ski lodges with warm after dinner drinks. But as we got closer to the venue and watched the folks piling out of taxis on the curb, it became clear this was to be a night of short skirts, high heels and yes > plaid school-girl outfits. At first we were thinking gosh, we must be really out of touch to NOT know that plaid jumpers had gained popularity. But as the night progressed, and we got past the underaged local boys hanging out at the velvet rope just to look and whistle, and moved through the bouncers to find our names on the VIP list and into the circular open air dance pit, we learned that this was the night's theme - '80's school girl night'.
I must admit that dancing in the middle of a taxi-filled city of highrises, in the open air and to the music of my youth proved to be so much more exhilirating than Hot Toddies by a fire would have been. But I also must admit that I wondered over the impression we were giving to the teen hangers-on at the velvet rope, guys whose sisters aren't allowed out after dark, and whose families don't wear western clothes or even dance for that matter.
But we carried on, sweaty indecent dancing expatriates, many of us dressed indecently even by western standards, and made our plans to find the off-license liquor seller the following weekend.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Unveiling
It's week seven on campus, and until now I've had two students continue to wear their veils in class. The choice to be veiled is a complicated one, and as I understand, it has more to do with family tradition than anything else, though sometimes a strong male figure is imposing the choice.
While I was handing back papers to my group of twenty, wandering between the desks and having a good 8am chat with my students, mostly about which mall everyone enjoyed over the weekend, I came to M's paper. M has been one of my veiled ones, and I've come to know her eye expressions and the clear voice she projects from beneath her veil. I'm guessing you become an articulate speaker out of necessity when you choose to be veiled. As I looked up from my stack of papers to her usual spot I became disoriented to find her unveiled face. I audibly but quietly gasped in surprise and she looked pleased, grinned and took her paper. Because I spent almost three weeks getting to know my students names, and this was complicated by the two veils in class, it's been a bit of a fixation for me, and therefore, I was completely distracted and a bit consumed by the situation and had to actually focus my thoughts to carry on. Inside (and maybe outside too) I was smiling with the satisfaction of knowing that maybe I'd created a zone comfortable enough for her to feel at ease. Or perhaps her father or brother had decided to relax a family tradition. Either way, a positive threshold had been crossed and I was there to see it.
While I was handing back papers to my group of twenty, wandering between the desks and having a good 8am chat with my students, mostly about which mall everyone enjoyed over the weekend, I came to M's paper. M has been one of my veiled ones, and I've come to know her eye expressions and the clear voice she projects from beneath her veil. I'm guessing you become an articulate speaker out of necessity when you choose to be veiled. As I looked up from my stack of papers to her usual spot I became disoriented to find her unveiled face. I audibly but quietly gasped in surprise and she looked pleased, grinned and took her paper. Because I spent almost three weeks getting to know my students names, and this was complicated by the two veils in class, it's been a bit of a fixation for me, and therefore, I was completely distracted and a bit consumed by the situation and had to actually focus my thoughts to carry on. Inside (and maybe outside too) I was smiling with the satisfaction of knowing that maybe I'd created a zone comfortable enough for her to feel at ease. Or perhaps her father or brother had decided to relax a family tradition. Either way, a positive threshold had been crossed and I was there to see it.
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