Vodka Saves, and So Does Jesus

September 28

I'm dead in the water as far as internet service goes right now. I moved into my apartment in Al Ain yesterday. I spent the night in my own bed last night and I swear it was more of a coma than actual sleep.  It's been a difficult week.  Such a  difficult one that that when I was talking to Dear Husband on the phone the other night I started blubbering and crying. I was so exhausted and overwhelmed by all that has happened in the past five weeks. I was hanging by a thread, and then my computer wouldn't power back on after work and I thought it had crashed, (ended up that I only had to take out the battery and reinsert it.).  Thinking my computer had crashed meant no more skyping with husband, no more emails- it meant I was virtually cut off and truly alone. It was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Poor Dear Husband took the brunt of it, although I did try to control myself a bit, for his sake. I mean, I knew there was nothing he could do about the computer or my stress, but when I heard his voice, I just cracked. At least it took my thinking my computer has crashed to push me over the edge. One new teacher recently fell apart because her stapler broke.

My days have consisted of getting up at 5:30 a.m, running down to the hotel restaurant and grabbing muffin to go with my hot tea, picking up another teacher who rides with me, driving fifty minutes to school, teaching amidst a severe language barrier, driving home around 2:30 p.m, phoning the internet company (I hate the internet company... simply hate them) , meeting delivery people at the apartment, rushing around from store to store buying all the items I need to set up housekeeping, washing my clothes by hand, trying to scrounge up dinner. I am finally able to get off the merry-go-round around eleven at night, and I fall into bed exhausted. I love to shop but it has gotten old real quick. I have bought everything from a bed, couch, refrigerator, washing machine, office desk and chair to soap, coffee cups, wooden cooking spoons, and clothes pins.  Just when I think I have everything I realize I need something else, and it's back to the mall.  Today I realized I needed a printer and a GPS. The GPS is a must have as I am tired of getting hopelessly lost, driving in circles, while crying and cussing.

The GPS is a necessity since there is no real addresses system. Addresses are a vague, rumored concept. You can't just tell someone, "I live at 566 Broad Street" and expect them to find you. House numbers or business numbers simply do not exist.. The directions here are more like this: "Go to the Twan Roundabout, turn at the Abela grocery store, go down about four blocks and it's the orange building with the brown car shades" and then you give them the plot number (I still haven't figured that one out, so I won't even try and explain) which consists of about thirty five numbers.   Seriously, that is how I give delivery men directions. And the amazing thing is that they actually find my apartment after about six or seven phone calls. in which they ask me over and over again to repeat the directions.  .]

MORE ON THE DELIVERY ISSUE (as promised):
 The delivery men, as good as they are at delivering and setting up furniture, can be quite frustrating with the six or seven phone call thing. I bought some furnishings last week and I arranged for it all to be delivered yesterday. I told the salesman at the store that I wouldn't be home from work until after three thirty and to hold delivery until then.  At one thirty p.m I received a phone call on my cell at school. It was the delivery man. In a thick Indian accent he told me he was on his way to my apartment and then he kept asking me something else.  I could barely understand him and had to ask him four or five times to repeat himself. I felt bad for him, but I honestly could not decipher what he was saying. I finally figured out that he was asking me to verify directions and then he said, "I come now", quite matter of factly. I told him I couldn't possibly be at the apartment until at least three thirty. He called me back three more times before I left work and two times while I was on the road in heavy traffic. Each time I told him "After three thirty". The last time he phoned I was so frustrated I just hung up on him. Then the Carrefour delivery men with the washing machine kept phoning also.  I hung up on the Carrefour man the third time he called. When I arrived at the apartment the furniture delivery men were waiting by my door amidst a wall of boxes. One of my neighbors said they had been waiting for hours. They came into my apartment carrying the boxes, pulled out all kind of tools, and went to work. While they were working away the Carrefour men came in with my washing machine, so I had six men working in my apartment at one time. I finally just grabbed a book, settled onto the couch, and tried to stay out of their way.  In about an hour and a half I magically had furniture and could wash clothes, and the men hauled the boxes away.

And then yesterday I bought a bottle of vodka and a Jesus.....

Kiera, my neighbor and a fellow teacher, asked if I wanted ride with her to try and locate a place called Spinney's. Spinney's is known for catering to Westerners in brand name foods from American, Ireland, and Britain. It is also known for its pork room where non Muslims can buy actual bacon and pork chops.  But, Spinney's is best known for its alcohol sales. Yes, alcohol, as in liquor. And although I have never been a big drinker, after some of the stresses I have experienced since arriving in the UAE, having a bottle of a little "something something" tucked safely away on a top kitchen shelf  is almost like basking in the well cocooned security that comes with having dental insurance right before biting into a sticky, hard candy coated apple. I needed a bottle of security within easy reach in my apartment, especially attractive when you know having such bottle is frowned upon and difficult to acquire.  So, Kiara and I went out in search of Spinney's. Thanks to her GPS, it was pretty easy to locate the building, but locating the store itself was a bit of challenge. There is no sign above Liquor Spinney's. Nothing to mark it as Spinney's.

      Kiera parked the car and we started noticing quite a few people coming in and out of a little unassuming side door. Each person who came out of the little door was carrying a small thick plastic black bag and looking very furtive and shiftless in the way people have when they think they are pulling the wool over someone's eyes. Kiera and I both agreed that that little door must lead to liquor. When we entered I felt as if I had been thrust back into America's 1920's Prohibition Era. Everyone in thee store seem to glance up and cast a discerning eye towards us, but then dismissed us and quickly went back to the task of scanning the fully stocked shelves. The bottles gleamed like jewels. Whiskeys were grouped together on a wall that consisted of five shelves. The same for vodkas, wines, rums. There was Russian vodka, Italian and South African wines, American whiskey's. Irish Ciders and beers. I browsed every shelf and read almost every label before picking out a blue bottle of Skyy raspberry vodka.  Kiera picked out a bottle of wine and a bottle of whiskey.

We approached the counter cradling our "contraband".  I had a sudden and swift feeling of being whisked back  to the summer of my sixteenth year when I tried to buy beer at a convenience store. I was summarily turned away with a brief reprimand and a derisive sneer from the convenience store sales clerk that summer. That humiliation has stayed with me to this day and haunts me when insecurity snags my sleeve. Anyway, I approached the checkout counter at the liquor store, and the male cashier  didn't even  glance at me. He rang up my purchase and I paid, half expecting any second to be asked for my alcohol purchasing license (that all persons are supposed to have in order to purchase alcohol). I don;t have one, by the way.  I was prepared to say, "Damn, I left it in the car" and exit quickly, but the cashier never asked. I paid, waited for Keira to pay, and we walked away with our own thick plastic black bags in hand, glancing furtively and sheepishly at patrons entering as we exited.

We stowed the precious alcohol in the car and then headed to a discount home furnishing store. I still need a chest of drawer to stow my clothes in. I didn't find the drawers,  but I did find a Jesus refrigerator magnet. His arms are outstretched in acceptance and love, and  the yellow halo around his head sparkles with glitter.  I bought him. I mean, I had to. He was calling to me. So, now I have a security blanket bottle of Skyy vodka resting on my kitchen shelf and a Jesus magnet watching over me (for a while anyway.. I have a friend who needs Jesus more than I do right now). And I bought both in one night in a Middle Eastern Muslim country. I am quite smug about it. 

And I haven't even opened the bottle.. yet.

Stealing Internet to Update This Blog. You're Welcome!

September 25

Today has been a good day because I have been busy at work. The first four classes of the day were my periods to teach (it changes daily according to some random schedule that I am unable to figure out) so there was no sitting around in the teacher's lounge waiting for classes to begin. That is what I am used to. In my previous twelve years of teaching I hit the ground running around 7 a.m and didn't stop until around 3 p.m- in fact I barely had time to choke down a sandwich. Here, I only teach four classes a day out of nine. I leave work between 1:45and 2:30 p.m.  I am in my last class of the day right now and the girls are writing an essay to the prompt: "How do you  imagine your life will be in five years, Inshallah". I want to increase their writing skills, but I want them to ponder about their existence, their meaning, their hopes and dreams.  

 Today, Jamilla, one of my students, attempted to teach me some of the Arabic alphabet. She wrote Arabic letters on the white board and then instructed me to copy them. They didn't  turn out as fine lined and fluid as hers. She then told me to copy the first three letters of the Arabic alphabet onto a sheet of paper and she sternly told me that I must study. It is a beautifully written language, more like visual  art than a written language. Jamilla recited a poem about a man and river. There was a song quality to her recitation. Her voice rose and fell, and her endearing shyness disappeared in the song. 

While walking to my eleventh grade class the other day I discovered that the English Medium Teacher's room had been dismantled. This is the room where the English speaking teachers could congregate, have meetings, store supplies, and have quiet planning time. The desks and teaching supplies have all vanished. There are now cushions and pillows lining the perimeter of the room, otherwise it is empty. When I asked why these items were there I was told that the room is now a  "rest place" for the Arabic administrators and teachers.  I have never "rested" at work before.

What a concept.

September 26

The day started off with my going to the tenth grade classroom to drop off my Mary Poppins' bag before assembly. I walked into the room and Klaitham, one of my students, was sitting in the dark in tears while two of the other girls attempted to comfort her. She doesn't speak much English, and anyway the situation didn't warrant my asking her what was wrong- it only warranted "teacher" hugging her, patting her back, and handing her a tissue. If this situation had happened back in the states I would have immediately thought "boy problems", but not here, They aren't allowed to interact with any males outside of their immediate family.

     I went out to assembly, leaving the other girls to their task of helping Klaitham feel better. Right before assembly Klaitham walked out of the classrrom,, eyes puffed, nose red, but emotions under control. She lined up with her classmates. I asked the Tunisian EMT if the girl was going to be all right, She shrugged and said, "Maybe family problems".

     Klaitham is now in class taking her assessment exam along with the other girls. She was laughing before I handed out the test booklets, so I guess whatever happened is something she can handle. I don't know what is acceptable and expected in this school and culture of a teacher in this type of situation. In the states I would have been able to determine what was wrong with the student, make an assessment of the need to report the situation to a school counselor. But not here. No one else seems the least bit concerned about my crying student this morning. and I don't know what to do.

     The office lady just came in to take attendance. She speaks no English and can be very demanding and gruff. She shoves a piece of paper into my face. It is covered in Arabic writing. She points to lines on the paper and tells me to write something. It takes me a minute to realize she is asking that I write the names of the absent students on the line. Then I point to the number twelve and ask her where I write the number that indicates the students present. After more pointing and re-asking the question in virtual sign language, I finally figure out  where to write the number. The attendance lady only comes around maybe twice a week. 

    The concept of Western education and pedagogy coupled with Western accountability do not cross over well into Middle Eastern culture. Neither does Western time. My students seldom go to bed before midnight.

In the short time I have been here I have discovered that "Inshallah" is a way of life. Everything is left up to the will of Allah. No one here will tell a person, "No", if they cannot do something. To do so would be rude. So they might tell you that a task will be done today or tomorrow, Inshallah, and if it doesn't get done then it simply was not the will of Allah and therefore not the fault of the person. I am starting to truly integrtae this concept and apply it when anyone tells they will do something "Inshallah" (they mean it is likely that whatever you are asking for will NOT happen). Another confusing concept for Westerners is that if we happen to ask "WHEN" a task or deadline will be met,  we are met with a vague "soon". Western absolutes, timeliness, and holding to verbal contracts do not exist in the realm of Middle Eastern thinking. That is the first lesson that any Western expat moving to this region must be prepared for. And there is really no way to be prepared for it.

Just checked the weather for today.. a balmy 42 C (108 F).

My girls have been wonderful today. my tenth graders completed an assessment exam with no complaints, and my eleventh grade girls started work on collages about healthy living and completed half of their assessments exams. These are, by far, the easiest bunch of students I have ever had the pleasure of teaching (*disclaimer*: this could change tomorrow).  The eleventh grade girls just left and they gave me permission to stay in their classroom to complete my work and writing.

I was able to talk to Jim on my cell phone last night for exactly fifteen minutes.  I used up all the international minutes I had on my phone. I'm going to try and skype with him tonight as I have to be out of the hotel tomorrow and my internet is still not hooked up per Etisalat's continued promises.

Just received a phone call from the Carrefour  delivery man. I bought a washing machine from them the other day. I have a huge problem understanding thick Indian dialects and that seems to be the only delivery people that the UAE employs. It took me a good two minutes to even decipher what the guy was trying to say/ask.. I'm still not sure, but I think they are delivering my washing machine today at 3:30.  More about this later, I am sure...

Weekend Update

Good news: We received our furnishing allowance money yesterday and can now start moving out of the hotel!

 Bad News: my account has a block on it and I can't access my money because some moron at the bank branch seemingly misplaced the copies of my passport and stamped visa (I'm not the only one this happened to- there are other equally pissed off teachers in the hotel). I was told I had to take the copies to the Al Ain Mall branch last night. The service rep at the bank made copies of my copies and then told me, "Inshallah, you will have block removed tonight". Block is still there, so don't give me anymore "Inshallah" doublespeak. I have four days to get out of hotel and have no access to my money.

Internet/cable guy still hasn't been out to the apartment to complete the installation of services.. maybe tomorrow afternoon?

Am bracing myself to place a call into the dentist's office and try to get another appointment (although at this point maybe I should just leave the tooth alone, be very gentle with it for the next twelve weeks or so, and just have it fixed in December when I go home for a visit).

Last night at Applebee's it took fifteen minutes for a waitress to even take our order, forty-five minutes for the food to arrive, then they threw out my leftovers that I had asked them to put in a go tray, then it took thirty minutes before they got the check to us. They didn't get a tip

Seeing a pattern here?

I am taking out my own twisted, ill thought revenge by blasting "Big Balls" on the CD player as I drive around. I don't know what kind of revenge it is; it just makes me feel happy to sing, "But we've got the biggest balls of them all" at the top of my lungs.

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A friend and I are going to The Rugby Club tonight for a drink and to socialize with some other expat teachers. I am leaving the Go Cart car at the hotel and we are taking a taxi. I am predicting a cherry vodka and Sprite in my future. I spent part of the day sleeping trying to keep Arthur under control, and I had some really weird dreams.  

Observation: Night arrives early here  By six thirty or so it almost completely dark- then Al Ain comes to life. People all over the mall last night at almost 9:30 p.m.

Another Observation: there is a skating rink in the Al Ain Mall..  so very surreal to walk into the mall from 108 degree weather and see pre-teen and teen girls skating around on the ice pretending they are in some kind of Disney on Ice show, while Ariel's singing mermaid voice blasts over the speaker system.

Another Another Observation: I really need a pedicure...

P.S Went down to the lobby to meet a friend and decided to check the ATM.. I can now access the money! Went to the mall and bought some towels, bath mats, and soap. Tomorrow I go order my mattress. One step closer to getting out of this hotel.

P.S.S Sorry I was so complainy and bitchy and just a really not nice person. I'm happier now. Funny what a little certainty and people doing what they say they are going to do can do to improve your overall outlook on life.

They're Coming to Take Me Away.. AHA!!

     Written Sept 18, 2012

I am not fit to be around other humans beings.  Before I got back to the hotel after work today, I went by my still empty apartment to meet the internet/cable guy so he could get everything turned on. Before he left, he told me, "It work tomorrow. Meet me here tomorrow same time" . Okay.. He gets in his car. I walk out of the building and some other American teachers ask me what he said. I told them, and they rolled their eyes and laughingly said, but I didn't think it was funny at all, "Don't believe him. You won't see him for a week". They gave me a phone number and told me to call it TONIGHT and let the cable/internet provider know that the guy did not finish the work and how he promised to be back tomorrow.

     Then the dentist's office phoned (I so chipped one of my bottom teeth last week, while flossing, for God's sake) and a lady who could not speak very good English (after all I am not in America or Kansas a.k.a Middle Georgia anymore) and informed me that my appointment was "cancel" this Friday. No reason given- just "cancel", and that I needed to make "other"  appointment with "other" dentist in same office.  I tried to explain to her that my Blue Cross insurance had made the appointment and that the dentist I had the appointment with was the only one my Blue Cross insurance covered. I did not use the words "y'all" or "reckon" or the phrase "fixin' to" at all. I promise.  She told me, "You no understand. Make appointment with other dentist here". I again explained the situation sssslllooowwwlllyyy and with no trace of a Southern accent, and she again insisted I make an appointment with another dentist in the office. Again, I explained even more SSSSSLLLLLOOOOOWWWWWLLLLLYYYYY that Blue Cross would NOT cover to pay another dentist, and she got all quiet and said, "Insurance no cover?"  BINGO! We have a winner! Then she got all quiet on me. I thought she had hung up. I said, "Hello?" and she abruptly and briskly commanded,  "Call next week and make other appointment".

     Fine, my tooth is still chipped and I am scared to bite into anything harder than yogurt for fear of shearing my poor little tooth the rest of the way off.  However, every cloud has a silver, (or somewhat sparkly, if slightly tarnished), lining and the happy news is that I have stopped chewing mindlessly on my cuticles; a habit that drove Dear Husband insane.  I might have to go get a manicure now that I don't have to be embarrassed about my poor tattered cuticles. Sort of like cleaning the house before the maid comes over, but I've never had a maid, so I don't know how that feels.

    After the visit with the cable/internet guy and the pleasant chat with the dentist's receptionist, I headed to the hotel. On the drive back, while pushing my little Go Cart rental like a demon possessed through rush hour traffic, blasting AC/DC the whole way and screaming/singing at the top of my lungs, "In the beginning, back in 1965. Man didn't know about rock and roll show and all that jive..."  something just snapped..

     Everyone in the next two lanes tried to figure out what in the hell was up with the middle aged (I am not old yet), obviously bottle blonde lady in the pretend Chevy, who was head banging, and taking corners like her ass was on fire.  I merely smiled and pretended  I was Bon Scott (before he died in his own vomit in a car. I don't think he drove too much after died..), cruised on in my own little AC/DC world, parked the car in the hotel parking lot, cocooned myself  in my little room, and nuked a can of soup in the microwave (I took it out of the can first... the soup, not the microwave. ). I found the soup at Abela market yesterday (Heinz Winter Garden.. yummy) and I highly recommend it to all new teachers going through vegetable withdrawal.  

After I ate, I sat down to check Face book and saw where one of the other teachers had posted that the rest of the new teachers needed to check our ADEC emails because some of us have to go back and have our medical checks done again (We had to have medical checks when we first arrived in Abu Dhabi to make sure we don't have TB or Bubonic Plague or something like that) .

     I think I might be one of those people who might have failed the medical test thing. I probably have an email waiting for me right now, but I can't get into my ADEC email. It probably all started when the nurse at the medical check asked me if I were pregnant and I looked at her in horror, raised one menopausal eyebrow as best I could (never could pull off that Spock thing, but always wanted to), and said, "I hope to hell not". In the UAE. In a Muslim country. While they had my passport. Good thinking, idiot self.

     Anyway, I have been telling everyone for years now that I have some rare, incurable disease, other than "Arthur", but no one will listen to me and I'll bet they all end up feeling really stupid when I have to have my medical check repeated because it turns out I have the rarest disease in the world and they all get jealous because the AMA writes a super long, in depth article about me and I (Female, Aged 50, case number 46733920885372) become famous. And everyone will be BEGGING for my autograph and I will have to hire huge seven foot tall security men to protect me from all of the salivating paparazzi.

See why I didn't go out again after I got back to the hotel room this afternoon? I cannot be trusted around other human beings, at least not within the next twelve hours.  The voices in my head won't shut the hell up and now I have a Bon Scott complex and am probably dying from a rare incurable deadly toe fungus or hair cancer. And my tooth is still chipped.

Just Another Manic Sunday (?)

Really difficult to watch the news and see protestors burning the American flag in Egypt, Yemen, and other countries.  Four Americans dead, and who knows how many others. So sad and so indicative of the evil and harm that misdirected and misguided zealots can impose. 

There's an informative NPR article interview with President Mohammed el-Megarif of Libya who called the attack preplanned by Al-Qaeda.  He insists that the outrage over anti Prophet Mohammed film was nothing more than a "red herring" used to cover the fact that the American Embassy attack in Libya was preplanned.

http://www.npr.org/2012/09/16/161228170/consulate-attack-preplanned-libya-s-president-says

On a personal note:

Felt a little strange going to work on a Sunday today, but then again I am no longer able to keep up with the days of the week well.

Today went well with the girls. There is one tenth grader I am going to have to get firm with. She pulled out her laptop during break and was blasting music (American pop). Took me by such surprise and shock that I didn't know what to say to her. Tomorrow nice "Miss" goes away and firm "Miss"  rears her head. I thought I had to deal with kids sneaking music into class only in the States..

Every morning we gather for a morning assembly at 7:45 a.m. All of the staff and girls (K-12)  meet under a huge awning in the courtyard. The girls line up by their respective grades, a staff member reads aloud to them, they all chant something (I don't know what they are saying)  in unison, their national anthem is played, and then one of the girls reads a verse from the Qur'an. I enjoy the time and think it's a good way to jump into the school day.

Lining up in the morning 

I did teach the girls how to do The Hokey Pokey today because, as we all know The  Hokey Pokey IS what it's all about! They laughed and giggled and had a great time. By the end of the song they were singing all the way through.

Here's one of  my classrooms. The teachers change classes- not the students. This is the tenth grade room.

 We have two breaks every day for about fifteen to twenty minutes each. On the first break the girls grab a tiny sandwich and drink from the small canteen on campus and they sit in the shade and visit. It's not lunch; just a midday snack. They eat lunch at home around two or three p.m.

Today's' first break:

Leaving campus today as I stood by my parked car (that must have been 135 degrees inside) I too this photo of the view from the school. Beautiful, but desolate and haunting.. the colors in the sand seem to shift colors from deep red to orange to beige.

 On the way home I stopped off at the Abela grocery store and found a Marie Callender's chicken pot pie. My heart almost skipped a beat!! I picked it up to make sure it was real, and then took it immediately to the checkout line. I brought the frozen pie back to the hotel, popped it in the microwave, and six minutes later PRESTO!  It comforted me immensely.  Then I took a nap.

The nap was a giving in to "Arthur". He has been trying to bite my ass again and I won't let him. I am sure I have just physically worn myself out these past three weeks, in addition to the mental stresses of trying to get used to a new culture, food, school, co-workers. I feel as if the entire underside of my ribcage is inflamed and it hurts to take a deep breathe. A good night's sleep will help a great deal.  I have twelve years experience in dealing with "Arthur", so I'll get through this flare. Just a thing!!

I really miss My Jim.

News From The Oblivious American

Kind of disconcerting to log onto CNN news and see all the protests and violence being carried out in various locales in the Middle East and not be a little apprehensive. I mean, I feel safe. I drove all around Al Ain today, shopped, walked all over the hotel and no one acted or behaved any differently towards me, but I do have to admit that being an American here makes me feel a bit like Hester Prynne with a great big "A" emblazoned across my chest. "A" for American, not adultery (had to make that clear!). I am going to start telling everyone that I am Canadian.  Canadians have a shit load of fresh water in their country (the next great resource in the world after all the oil runs out) and they don't piss anyone off by invading other countries or getting heavily involved in foreign policy. No one remembers that they even exist. They just sit up there in the north quietly minding their own business while the rest of the world uses up all the oil and water gets scarcer and scarcer. They are the next world super power, mark my words. Fresh water will rule in about thirty years. That is why I am trying my damnedest to befriend as many Canadians as possible while I am here. I drink A LOT of water. But I digress...

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If I didn't make it a point to read the news daily I would have no idea of the existence of the protests. But, to be fair to my little ignorant self, people here could be talking about anything within earshot of me and I would just happily skip along, oblivious in my own little world. I only understand a few Arabic words. I mean, I even have a difficult time adjusting my ear to the accents of the wonderfully charming Irish teachers here, so a totally different language is just going to confound me even further.  Someone could be standing right behind me in line at the Carrefour talking about the little blonde American  woman who looks a little clueless, and how wouldn't it be cool to kidnap her and hold her hostage for a Twinkie ransom (they do not have Twinkies here.. I looked) , and I would just smile at them and offer to let them cut in front of me because they only have three items to my ten.  

I just read on CNN where a Kentucky Fried Chicken was torched today in Lebanon. I don't think it had anything do with protests.. It is bad, yucky, disgusting tasting chicken. KFC here sucks.. It was probably set on fire because The Colonel didn't reveal the secret recipe when the owner bought into the franchise and everyone is pissed off that they can't get the REAL stuff. 

KFC in Abu Dhabi. I ate here. Never again.

Did I mention that it is HOT AS HELL here? And I mean that in every sense of the word. It is no longer just a concept to me. I actually know what "hotter than hell" feels like now. It's hot, take my word for it. It was 108 today.. in the shade. Driving home from work yesterday, squinting across the endless  red sand dunes while the sun blazed a hot searing white heat, my eyes started watering and the landscape started taking on a dull haze. I had sunglasses on, but I guess Dollar Tree sunglasses don't cut it in this environment. By the time I reached the hotel I was certain that the sun had burnt out my retinas. I took out my contacts and my eyes watered and stung all night. Today I bought a relatively good pair of sunglasses. They aren't Ray Bans, but they're better than what I had. Sunglasses here are not just fashion statements. They are as necessary as the ever present bottle of water everyone has by their side constantly.

 New sunglasses

 And today I conquered driving on round abouts!! I am victorious. I am woman. I am super UAE driver. The little Chevy I rented doesn't have much power though. I really need a Masarati. I don't think Dear Husband would agree, but wouldn't I look cool as shit driving around in a candy apple red Masarati, taking on all those Al Ain round abouts, peeling rubber on two wheels,  whipping that beautiful hunk of metal across three lanes and cutting off all those little wuss 1.4 liter go-carts that masquerade as cars? Hell, yeah.

This is the little pizza place I have come to love. It in the middle right with the red circle sign.. Only about three blocks from the hotel, but that three block walk can feel like ten when it's 108 degrees and climbing..

 

 It is almost ten p.m and I just remembered that I forgot to take my dirty work clothes downstairs to the little laundry. Almost every business and store stays open until eleven or twelve here every night. Takes some getting used to, but I like it.

And how cool is it that I am sitting here in the UAE and I am jamming out to Aerosmith's "One Way Street"?

Signing off from Al Ain......

A Quick Update and Check In

I AM SAFE

Just a note to say that with the world chaos going on that I and the other teachers are very safe in the UAE. Work day was normal. Taught my girls, had a few items delivered to my apartment, then came back to the hotel and had a nice microwave dinner (Chef Boyardee spaghetti I brought from Georgia).

I haven't heard anyone mention one word about current Middle East happenings, and I work with teachers from Syria, Egypt, Jordan, etc.

DRIVING IN THE UAE

I did drive in Al Ain for the first time last night and that was scarier than the reports on CNN. Drove ten minutes from the hotel and it took me two hours to find my way back. I hate Round Abouts and no left hand turns. I am still traumatized. I think my poor hapless passenger/victim now hates me (sorry Suzanne, and also sorry to Kathy who was my passenger/victim today..).

THINGS I MISS OR HAVEN'T FOUND HERE YET:

Brown gravy mix in envelopes

sweet pickle relish

regular loaf of bread (they have something called "milk" bread here... WTH?)

And I need to buy a pair of GOOD sunglasses. These cheap ones I have aren't cutting it; the sun is too intense and I feel like my retinas are scorched.

And I chipped my bottom tooth and have an appointment to get it fixed with a dentist in NMC Medical on the 21st (appointment was made by my United States Blue Cross Insurance and the dentist is conveniently located next door to my hotel) The entire chipping the tooth was another "WTH?" moment because when it occurred, I was flossing. I was doing what the dentist told me to do...

Yay!

My girls at school are lovely, sweet, polite, endearing, and eager to learn. I love them already. They are the highlight of my day.

It is Thursday night now, and time to start my weekend (our weekend is Friday and Saturdays)! Sounds exciting to be half way around the world in an exotic locale on a weekend, huh? But, the truth of the matter is that about all I am going to do is sleep.  Yep, that's me.. the party animal.

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS

Adjustment issues are starting to rear their ugly heads  Believe me, culture shock is REAL. Fortunate in that I am in the hotel with some great teachers/people from all over..

Had dad on my mind a lot lately.

Aloha, y'all.

P.S Love you, Daddy...

A Mostly Photo Entry with Commentary.

 Nothing much to do yesterday so I went to the Mushrif Mall with a friend and her son. This fish tank kicks the hell out of any fish tank at Bass Pro Shop!!

After the mall, it was back to the hotel for pool happy hour. Hanging out eating almonds and sipping a mint vodka for a bit, then all I wanted to do was lounge on the beach, listen to music, and read..

So, that's what I did.....

After awhile the sun started slanting dipping gold on the horizon.... time to go back to the room.

Leaving the beach: the view from the beach to the hotel

the scenery from inside the glass elevator going up to my floor...

Another day in Abu Dhabi.. waiting to be moved to Al Ain, waiting on furnishing allowance so I can purchase stuff for new apartment and arrange delivery.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. I am getting quite good at this. I figure that waiting in a five star hotel and doing jackshit are pretty closely related. And I do jackshit quite well.

Meetings, Meetings, Meetings, and Still in the Hotel in Abu Dhabi

September 5, 2012

Arrived at the second day of new teacher orientation at a model school in Abu Dhabi today. The school is indeed beautiful, well supplied, clean, airy, and sunny.

School where had orientation and where we stopped up the toilets..

 As soon as we were seated in the auditorium, all of us western teachers immediately received instructions on where to dispose of toilet paper (and it’s not in the toilets) and instructions on how to use the “butt sprayer”.

Seems the influx of Western teachers yesterday stopped up the toilets in the school with our strange habit of flushing t.p.   The UAE doesn’t have the necessary underground sewage system to handle flushed toilet paper, so after people take care of business, so to speak, they squirt their behinds and other “parts” with a small sprayer affixed to the wall next to the toilet.  Then they pat dry and dispose of the t.p in a small t.p receptacle/trashcan next to the toilet.  We received rather detailed step-by-step instructions on the fine nuances and skills it takes to actually use a butt sprayer. My friend, Suzanne, insists that her past experience in yoga has assisted her greatly in perfecting the butt sprayer technique. 

First time I attempted the technique today I missed a bit and ended up spraying my leg because I was holding up my to-the-floor skirt with one hand (the stall floor was wet from the sprayer) and trying to position said sprayer with the other.. Kind of hit and miss (literally), but I shall practice and I shall persevere. I am going to sign up of for yoga classes once I am moved to Al Ain.

example of a butt sprayer

At 4 p.m, when the orientation session was over, I, along with more than a few other teachers, rushed outside into the 105 F temps. The school air conditioner was so cold that my feet were starting to turn blue. The scorching heat outside hitting my skin was almost a blessed relief. I didn’t know that an air conditioner could be set on such low temps.

Tomorrow morning we are meeting in the lobby at 6:15 a.m so we can board buses for the hour and forty-five minute ride into Al Ain to attend a regional meeting, and hopefully have a chance to see our schools.  The other teachers and I are keeping our fingers crossed for the furnishing allowance to arrive in the next day or two and for ADEC to move us into hotels in the cities where we will be teaching.

This entire experience is indeed a “process” and does much to help teach patience, or drive one insane. I am still waiting to see which will claim me…

P.S Look at the huge figs I found at the grocery store!!!

September 6, 2012

I tried to post the above entry last night but the internet at the hotel kept going down. We did not receive our furnishing allowance today and I wasn’t able to visit my school.  Maybe the furniture allowance will be in Saturday. Insha ‘Allah.

Went to regional meeting in Al Ain today by bus. A long, hot, dusty ride in which I passed the time chatting with other teachers and gazing out at sand dunes, sand dunes, and more sand dunes. Saw more than a few camels on the way.

The camels..

All of the Al Ain teachers (including me) at the hotel still don’t know when we are being moved to Al Ain, and that was just reinforced today at the meeting. School starts Sunday and we were told that we might be in Al Ain by then, but if we aren't, then that information would be relayed to our principals and we would not be required to report to our schools. Who knows? I could be in Abu Dhabi one more day or for five more days.  I don’t have any control over this.

 It was still a productive day at the regional meeting in that I was able to meet a few other teachers who live in the same apartment building as I will be living, and I was introduced to the other EMT (English Medium teacher) who is at my school.  She is young, enthusiastic, and seems full of energy. After lunch there were a lot of us who ventured outside to get warm.. This school was cold too, although not as cold as the one the previous day.

Western teachers trying to warm up from the cold school.. it was 104 F at this time.

So now it is six p.m and I am back in the hotel in Abu Dhabi. I am exhausted, but I have tomorrow to sleep late, watch movies, and do nothing, because Friday is the holy day in the UAE, much like the United States Sunday. Now I just have to decide if I want potato chips for dinner, eat in one of the hotel restaurants, or actually want to get a cab and make my way to one of the malls and hit a food court.

 Yes, they have The Colonel. He just forgot to give them the secret recipe.

 Subway is here too!

 Sidenote and observation: Just because a person keeps insisting over and over again, “I am culturally sensitive”, does not make it true.