I am starting to incorporate the calls to prayer into my daily thinking
patterns. I find myself thinking, "Man, that afternoon went by fast.. there's
the call to prayer again". Or I will step outside to go run an errand late
afternoon, hear the call echoing, and see all the white dishdash wearing men
making their way to the mosque that sits two blocks down and think, "I'd better make this quick 'cause
soon everyone will be on the roads and traffic is going to be crazy". Afternoons start around five p.m when everyone
comes out, blinking, like half blinded moles venturing out after dusk. The desert climate
controls the day-to-day activities of practically the entire country. Middle Eastern desert countries do not run on a Western time table. Late afternoon is when the temperatures cool down
and going outside is at least tolerable, so activities shift from day to night. Even my students at school tell me that they don't eat dinner until around ten p.m and don't go to bed until midnight or later. It is almost mid November now and the day time
temps are still ranging around 85 F . The nighttime temps are starting to dip
into the 70's though.
I just took the trash out to the dumpster across the street and
realized it was a little before four p.m and if I want to go anywhere or do anything
and not have to wrestle with traffic, I'd better get going within the next
thirty minutes or just give it up. I think I' ll just stay in and give it up.
Green trash dumpster across the street where I deposit my garbage
By
the way, the best times to go shopping are daily between about one p.m and four
p.m, Wednesdays two pm to six pm, or Fridays from eleven a.m to three p.m, Early
Friday afternoons I sometimes have the roads
and malls practically all to myself. Talk
about heaven. Those are the brief times I don't have to fight other drivers on
the roundabouts over lanes. I don't have to cuss like a Marine Corp drill instructor.
I don't have to arrive home with my voice box gravelly from exertion. Honestly, I didn't
know my cursing vocabulary was so extensive or that I could be so creative in stringing
words like "shit" and "asshole" together into various run
on sentences.
Tomorrow is a work day (our work week is Sunday through
Thursday) and I have a cottage pie cooking in the toaster oven. I have met different
people from different countries since I arrived, and the cottage pie recipe is compliments of an Irish friend
who loves to cook. Not only did she give me the recipe, she came to my apartment
and helped me prepare it step by step the first time. I feel like an old cottage pie pro now. And
it smells so good filling the apartment with its bubbling richness. If I turn down
the air conditioner low and snuggle up
in the old sweater I brought with me from Georgia, I can almost pretend it is
Fall back home.
mmmmmm.... good.
with the mashed potatoes on top ready for oven:
I sure do miss the riotous leave color changes; the dogwoods
shifting to red before erupting into oranges and yellows, the cherry blossom tree
leaves kissing themselves into scarlet. The cool crisp smells of autumn. I have thirty five days until I go home for
the holidays. I hope Georgia graces me with cold temps and that frost dances on
the grass early mornings.
My apartment is starting to feel like mine. I don't go to
sleep every night now with an overpowering sensation of being in the wrong
place. I read in bed before I go to sleep, set my alarms (I always needed more
than one), then cuddle down under my comforter. I get up in the mornings, eager
to see my students (the highlights of my days), teach, make the forty-five minute
drive back home, go grocery shopping, cook dinner, skype with my husband and
mom, go to bed and then the next morning do it all over again.
One thing that has made my life easier is that I have resigned
myself to the fact that nothing works here like it does in America. Seems like every week or so I have to battle
the bank, ADEC, the internet company...and it's just the beginning. We were
informed the day before yesterday that we have to go to the electric company
"soon" and transfer the accounts into our names. Didn't give a date,
just "soon". If we don't, then services will be disconnected. There isn't
even a date on the letter. There is a date on the attached bill, however since
the bill is all in Arabic I don't know if the date on the bill is the date payment
is due, the date the meter was read, or what. So, this situation has the potential to turn
into another goat rope or it might go smoothly. There is no in-between in this country.
It's either FUBAR or it isn't, but now
that I have accustomed myself to that fact and always expect the worse, I am better
able to cope.
The letter:
The bill:
My new found attitude is what allowed me to not to completely
lose my mind last week when the bank locked my account and I couldn't access my
money. I found out the account was locked when I tried to use the card the previous
night at a grocery store. From other experiences of this type in the UAE, I knew that phoning the bank
would be a dead end street; I had to go to the bank in person. So, after a long
day at work, I drove to the bank in Al Ain Mall, took a number and waited
to talk to someone. Finally, I was next, and the bank rep insisted I hadn't brought
in my passport and residency visa. I insisted I had: over two weeks ago. I was told
to come back in thirty minutes and, "Inshallah, it will be straightened
out today". I asked the lady waiting on me if she needed my passport and residency
visa to make another copy and she said, "No, we have it". (WTF??). So
I went and exchanged a shirt, window shopped, and went back to the bank thirty minutes
later. They were closed for prayer. The bank reopened thirty minutes later, and
after taking another number and waiting, I ended up sitting at another service
rep's desk for two hours while he tried to get my account unblocked. Thank
goodness I had brought a book. A very thick book. I refused to budge or go
anywhere until I could access my money. Finally after the rep recopied my visa and
residency visa, scanned them and faxed both to the main branch in Abu Dhabi, sent
four emails to the main branch, and made numerous phone calls, my account was unlocked.
I didn't blow up. I didn't get angry. I
was persistent and calm. Admittedly when I walked out of the bank I blew
my top and started cussing about the situation, but I didn't blow my cool inside the
bank, which is a step in the right direction. And there were other teachers waiting in the bank going through the
same thing. I wasn't the only one they had messed up. That kind of laid my persecution
fears to rest a bit.
Most surreal thing I have done in the UAE? Walking through Global
Village in Dubai and hearing the song Bohemian
Rhapsody blasting over the loud speakers. But that wasn't the surreal part. My two friends and I started
singing along loudly, playing air guitar while the locals stared at us as if we had
lost the last vestiges of our minds.Think Garth...
CROSSED OFF MY BUCKET LIST: "Playing air guitar and singing
to Bohemian Rhapsody in public in a
Middle Eastern country". May Allah bless Freddy Mercury!
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