Pros and cons

With little more than a month left in my international life, and with all of this presidential election hub-bub, I've started to think about the pros and cons of once again living in the U.S.A.

Some things to ponder...

Pro: Once again enjoy lazy Sundays, full of coffee, eggs, pancakes, and the NYT instead of working while the rest of the world is out of the office.
Con: Once again feel the brunt of what it means to 'have a case of the Mondays'.

Pro: Relish the chance to wear warm and snuggly scarves and beanies and have an excuse to drink hot chocolate in a land where precipitation exists.
Con: Leave non-stop, EVERY-SINGLE-DAY-guaranteed sunshine (albeit in a slightly overheated and sandy climate).

Pro: Have the chance to eat a real NY bagel, my grandmother's (and mother's) cooking, and not pay $10 for a bag of organic spinach.
Con: Leave a place where they have a crepe stand, a Starbucks, a Lebanese restaurant, a Thai restaurant, a Turkish restaurant, a sushi bar, a McDonald's, and a Chili's (among others) alongside the world's only indoor ski slope (the variety and eccentricity is duly noted).

Pro: Leave a land of outright racism, subjugation, and modern-day slavery all for the sake of glitz and glamour.
Con: Return to a land that has the potential to be ruled by a McCain/Palin administration.

Pro: Once again live amongst friends and family in my home base, where everyone is just a text message/free phone call away.
Con:...ain't no con to match that...

Reverse psychology works

I would not characterize myself as an activist, but I thought this video was pretty damn good. Use what you got...if it's celebrity, then so be it...apparently in the first hour, they had 10,000 people register to vote. Booya.

So you think you're smart?

I challenge you to get over 70% on this. It took me a few tries. And by few I mean over 10.

I bet you $10 that you don't do as well as you think you will.

On second thought, I'll let you keep the $10. Since America is bankrupt and all.

Kudos

Kudos, NYT...this is one of the most genuine pieces of coverage I've seen in awhile.

Read this.

AND look at the slideshow.

and wait for some cool stuff I've been working on to post on here (aka video and pictures) :)

9/11

There are a handful of Americans at my office here. Two of them were in the office today. Neither said a word about it being 9/11. Not a peep. I was surprised.

Another American called me in the early afternoon from our nearby office to ask me if anyone had said anything. He was angry that no one had said anything to him along the lines of 'my condolences'.

Either way, there was no mention of it from anyone here--can't believe it was 7 years ago.

Really? There was an earthquake?

We felt the tremors from an earthquake in Iran today. Apparently some people in the high rise towers were evacuated.

I, on the other hand, sat at my desk, thinking it was just another day when there were too many jack hammers going outside my office where they're doing construction. Or maybe, they were blasting or digging in the Dubai Pearl area, which is right across the roundabout from my building.

Whoops. I mean it had been rumbly before...but I feel so jaded. The two pregnant women in my office were all "OH MY GOD! WHAT IS THAT?! DO YOU FEEL THAT?! OH MY GOD! And then some Arabic chat which I think meant they intuitively felt they were in danger or should evacuate the building so didn't fall on them. Go figure.

What's in a name?

One of the more quirky things I've learned while living here is that most people in the Middle East are very attached to their names--or rather, their meaning.

Everyone here knows what their name means. And probably likes it. And probably talks about it. It made me realize that back 'west', we don't really know/care what our names mean, with the exception of we were named after someone or something significant to our parents/grandparents/etc. Granted, some people are very attached to their names, but it can get excessive.

So, it made me wonder about my name. I knew it was Welsh, but that was about it. Enter my Welsh friend at work, Melissa. I told her I looked up my name on a website (like this one) and that it said that my name meant 'warrior of the sea' in Welsh, but it was spelled Maredudd. She tells me that 'dd' is pronounced 'th' in Welsh. Boom. Every day is a school day.

So, then I started learning what all these Arabic names mean...

Amira = princess
Hilal = moon crescent
Kareem = joyful, happy (this month, they say 'Ramadan Kareem', as in 'Happy Ramadan')
Rabih = spring (the season)
Sherif = honorable
Marwan = honest

And the list goes on...

Even last names have meaning: marketing intern's last name is Temsah, which means crocodile.

Oh the joys of language. Name meanings notwithstanding, I still only know like 10 words in Arabic. The pronunciation can be quite challenging. Like dutch. Or Mandarin...know what I mean?

A tale of two countries

Happy Labor Day to all of you residing in the U.S. of A. Enjoy your day of sunshine, barbecues, backyard parties, and your last long weekend of summer.

Meanwhile, over here in the U.A.E. we welcomed the Holy Month of Ramadan. Yes, the official religion of the country is Islam. Ergo, according to the moon cycles, there is a month of fasting, daily from sun-up to sundown, for all practicing Muslims. The really observant ones pray 5 times a day, too--but they do that year round anyway, so no biggie.

The government sets the sunrise and sunset times, i.e. setting the parameters of the fast. Even the end of the month isn't set, as it totally depends on the moon. So, you might think your last day of fasting is September 30th, and then poof, it's really October 3rd. Rough crowd.

In other news, this translates into the official workday being 9am-3pm, even for those who aren't fasting. Too bad that's not feasible for me. Ramadan also means you cannot eat, drink, or smoke in public places of any kind, whether you're Muslim or not. Including your car. All the restaurants shut down during the day--no eating in, and only some do delivery. It's like a mandated month off for the food industry during working hours. I guess a blessing and a curse, when you think about it.

I just miss being able to sip my morning coffee/tea at my desk. I now do it standing up in the pantry kitchen, out of sight. And I can't drink water at my desk during the day. Or have a mid-afternoon snack. I even got nervous when I almost started chewing gum in my car on the way home. The policia doesn't mess around.

Mind you, most of my floor isn't fasting, but for the select few, I feel it's the classy thing to do to be respectful. I mean, if you were Jewish and had work at a bakery during passover, you'd be pissed. Or if you gave up chocolate for lent, and somehow won an all expenses trip to Hershey Park, that'd just be wrong.

Hence, I feel like it's the right thing to do to not bring any wafts of food/drink into the cubicle area. Mind you, when it hits the 4th consecutive week of this, I might not feel so neighborly...then again, at least I'm not the one having to maintain a regular work load, at back-to-school speed, while fasting. Just sayin'.

Desert genius

So, living in the desert for many many eons has not completely ruined the lives of ancient bedouins and modern day Arabs. In fact, they have invented buildings with natural air-cooling systems (via placement of hallways/windows) as well as the best clothing to protect them from the unthinkably oppressive sun.

They also seem to know how to grow plants without wasting precious water. There are these areas all around Dubai that are basically sand with these black snake-looking things coiled on the surface. When I first got here, I thought maybe it was...to prevent cars from sinking into the sand? Someone forgot their hose? A strange way to decorate the ground in lieu of grass?

In fact, it is an ingenious irrigation system. Along the hose are little mini-spigot, as you get see below.


These spigots drip water directly into the sand/ground, avoiding the evaporation and water waste that is inevitable with sprinkler systems. Eventually, with patience and the absence of sand and dust storms, you end up cute little plants.


Which is charming, though slightly disarming, since honestly, the desert is not meant for plants, except maybe the occasional palm or shrub. Especially when the Middle East is constantly in a major water-supply crisis, and Dubai uses probably a majority proportion of the water available to grow some grass and plants that will start to die immediately unless they are watered constantly. Seriously? How about all the people who need to drink water? Just a thought.

What's a heat index?

So for all of you who think I'm embellishing when I try to convey to you the heat which envelops me every time I step outside here, below is a chart to explain to you the heat by which I lose significant amounts of hydration.

Seeing as how temperatures reach about 105-110 throughout the months of July and August, you can see that we are PERMANENTLY in the red. I.E., in extreme danger of succumbing to a heat disorder. Not that I'm complaining. It's better than the rain and gloom in Brussels.

A true Gen Y-er

I'm starting to grasp the idea of video, so here's a little clip of what I see on my way home to Dubai Marina . Oh, technology. I'm going to have to use this more often...I'm sure it will be more enjoyable than some of my never-ending novel-length posts. Yes, I know I can be a rambler. I'm working on cutting it down, ok?

The end of an era

No, I'm not leaving yet. It's the end of an era in two other respects, though. Number one, it's almost the month of Ramadan, during which all Muslims are told to fast by the Koran from sunrise to sunset for an entire month. This can be a good and a bad thing. It's a good thing because Iftar, i.e. breaking the fast, means that there are lots of fun feasts and mini-parties in the evenings. It's a bad thing because things slow down since people are fasting all day, so business can be a little out of whack.

The other era coming to an end is that of everyone being on month-long vacations. Soon, everyone of all colors and creeds will once again return, back to school, back to work, back to traffic everywhere, the office humming, and, as everyone might surmise about me--a lot more people who might, possibly, on occasion, get on my nerves. But only because it is not appropriate to eat, drink, smoke, etc. during the day in front of people who are observing Ramadan--so more to come on how it will be to live, work, experience through it.

Also, sidenote, I created an 'America' playlist on my iTunes. I never struck myself as someone who would do that, especially given how I feel about our country under the tutelage of George W. At this point, it doesn't matter. I think the more prone you are to representing your country in a place where Americans are few and far between, the more proud you become of your roots, even if you're not always happy with it or in awe of it, or pleased with how it deals with its own problems and those of the rest of the world. Sounds kind of like how people sometimes feel about their parents?

UAE VIP

The concept of VIP in Dubai is a bit different here than in other places. Obviously all the run-of-the-mill celebrities and rich businessmen from all over the world that roll through get the usual attention, but there is another group of people in Dubai that are treated with as much, if not more, reverance and respect.

The local emiratis, in many cases families and descendants of sheikhs, have the money and social prestige that is centuries old, and often it's the little things that show you how much they are catered to but in a more automatic way. Though many of them don't really buy into all the hype that everyone else does, if they do decide to try out some of the luxury hotels, restaurants, etc., they get the best from start to finish. They always get the valet to park their Ferrari, Mercedes, Range Rover, etc., and get the best parking spots. They are always the first ones to be waited on or attended to in any store or restaurant. They get the coveted reservation spots, the best tables, the best quality everything.

Their status is very much reflected in their appearance, which is why they wear their traditional dress everywhere--it actually helps to distinguish them from "the rest", i.e. many of the people who have flocked to Dubai who have crowded, sullied, and complicated the locals' world. Their disdashas and abayas are always ironed and clean, the men have immaculately groomed facial hair, the women wear tons of makeup and wear designer shoes and carry designer handbags that cost thousands of dollars. Many of them wear designer clothes underneath their black cloaks/dresses.

As I've mentioned a few times, one of the curious showcases of wealth and status is how low a number one has on one's license plate. So, for example, the Dubai plate with just '1' is the ruling Sheikh of Dubai's car. Anything under 200 or so is pretty legit, but 3-digit plates get preferential treatment for the most part, since it means that the person shelled out a sizable sum for a piece of metal stamped with a low number.

Imagine my surprise when I went to the mall the other day and parked next to this gem:


Talk about a celebrity siting--and I didn't even have to see the actual person to know that it was a VIP. I'd say anything under 100 is ultra-VIP. Speaking of which, I saw '6' at the mall yesterday, and was shocked that it was affixed to a BMW X5, since you'd think with that kind of leverage, it'd be an even more outrageous car. Go figure.

Back in the UAE

So, I have now been back for a couple weeks after my 2 week hiatus in the US. A very well balanced trip, including a work conference, family, friends, and you know....American things.

Fast forward to 10 days ago, when I arrived back here. How to describe the weather...Hell-ish? The humidity is at astounding levels now. Combine that with a base of around 105-110 degrees daily, and you get an oven. Literally. I am baking.

And to cope with the surprisingly bad jetlag that I encountered upon returning to Dubai, I turned to the old mainstay, Starbucks. Normally I settle for the office coffee--I'm trying to resist wasting money on things here that I can get at home. Anyway, I go to get a venti iced coffee (I needed the caffeine, let me tell you). She tells me it costs 20 dirhams. That's almost $6 for just plain ole iced coffee. WTF? Thank god I don't get it every day. Also, you all will be happy to know that they know the "fill the cup to the top with ice before pouring coffee" trick so I was totally paying $6 for a whole bunch of ice and some coffee.

And in case you're wondering, I have not heard of ANY Starbucks closing over here. And they're EVERYWHERE. So once again, the Ameri-fication of the world continues. For the record, the UAE is also host to multiple McDonald's, Hardee's, Subway, KFC, Burger King, Papa Johns, Dunkin Donuts, KRISPY KREME (and they deliver), Baskin Robbins, Haagen Dazs, and the list goes on. Yet, I still can't find a decent salad. Shocker.

Quirks and question marks

So lately, there are a few things that have been happening here that I realize I've gotten accustomed to, but which I will never accept. Also, I haven't been sharing them as they come up, so here is a bit of a list.

For example, today when I walked outside, my glasses fogged up. But, they didn't unfog. I had to take them off after about 10 seconds of attempting to walk to my car, because frankly, I couldn't see anything. Wow. Talk about humidity.

Then, a few days ago, I tried to access Craigslist. Sorry, no dice. The internet company here blocks it, with this screen below:


They say it's not accessible because it's not consistent with the moral, cultural and social values of the UAE. Wow. Craigslist is morally irresponsible, and they're making that decision FOR me. Wham. In my face.

Then, I was at the airport going to Beirut this past weekend. We actually took a flight from Sharjah airport, which is in the emirate right next to Dubai. So, because this emirate is a bit more conservative than Dubai (it's dry, i.e. absolutely NO alcohol allowed) and the women dress much more covered up, I wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Nonetheless, it was obvious I'm western compared to most of the women who were in the airport, dressed in black abayas, floor-length skirts, head wraps, et al. Two different women came up to me when I was standing in line and spoke in very sweet voices, asking me questions in Arabic.

Now, I don't mind if they have a legit question but it was blatantly obvious that I was western and that I was, in fact, the odd one out who most likely would need to ask them a question. So, I wasn't pleased. Because I got the feeling they were trying to make me feel badly about being western, or not being able to speak Arabic, or essentially we're trying to make me look foolish in front of an airport full of people. No thanks.

THEN, I was driving home from work the other day. I live in an area that isn't far from work so I don't have to deal with the dementia-inducing traffic in this city (for the record, apparently there are about 2.5 million people living in Dubai, and there are 1 million cars on the road every morning and evening. Um, what?). So, all of a sudden, boom, traffic jam. Sweet. So I can't figure it out. I mean there is almost never traffic at this specific stretch of the 10-minute ride. Thirty minutes later, it all becomes clear. On the other side of the road, a van's engine caught fire. Fair enough, given the temperature usually reaches about 120 every day now. So, instead of just rubber necking, people had STOPPED on the road to get out of their cars and watch the dousing of the fire. Not pull over and watch the thrilling sight of water flooding a van engine. No, no. Actually blocking the road to look at this. So essentially there's one lane instead of 2 plus a shoulder. Excuse me? What universe is this? Get the ef out of the way, crazies.

All of this is redeemed (albeit slightly) by the fact that it took me 70 dirhams to fill my gas tank. That's approximately $19. Sorry. Had to disclose that.

Beirut (the city, not the drinking game)

Yes, I went to the actual city of Beirut. And no, I didn't play Beirut (otherwise known as beer pong) in Beirut. Enough said.

Beirut was definitely a worthwhile trip. It was refreshing to get out of Dubai, which is a place quite at odds with itself (shiny buildings vs. dust and sand everywhere; oppressive heat vs. hypothermia-inducing air conditioning; westerners wearing minimal clothing vs. Arabs covered head to toe--you get the idea).

Beirut smells like gasoline, and dust, and the city, with a hint of salt from the ocean, which frames its western and northern borders. It's got gorgeous buildings full of classic french architecture that are crumbling, or riddled with bullet holes. It's also got dull 70s-style cement block type buildings that look as if they were built in a hurry to withstand the turmoil that has transpired there.

Meanwhile, the American University of Beirut campus is gorgeous, full of cyprus and palm trees, right on the water. Below is a picture of their graduation ceremony set-up which was happening this past weekend.


The people were vibrant--happy to be back in their home country after a recent skirmish that shut down Beirut's airport and made people retreat into their homes and away from Lebanon--nothing new in the last few years. There are 10 million people living outside of Lebanon and only 4 million living inside, but people have been flooding back into the country for their summer holidays and to see their family members who have stayed.

There is a heavy french influence--gorgeous architecture, good food, sophisticated and well-dressed Lebanese people. A large percentage of the country is French-educated and Christian. It was amazing to see of tons of churches and mosques, even on the same block sometimes.

Of course, there were reminders of the latent tension--tanks in the streets anyone?:


But right down the street was this main square, with gorgeous cafés and great people watching:


But, bullet holes and partially abandoned buildings are reminders of what has happened in Beirut in recent times:


But with sights like this, it evens out really quickly:

What once was?

So, I was having a conversation with a fellow New yorker the other day, who also lives in Dubai, about how the UAE is only 30-something years old (since their independence from Britain) and Dubai as it is thought of now is really only around 15 years old, so basically, a lot of the original culture is all but lost, and frankly, most of the Emiratis don't like foreigners.

Case in point, an Emirati woman who sits next to me in the office. She dislikes me to the point where, at first, she just didn't acknowledge my existence. Now, it's graduated to her specifically saying hello to the girl who sits on the other side of me when she walks in, but not to me. And she only speaks Arabic. Loudly. Across my desk. All the time.

When I'm walking in the mall, it's not like in New York where people have mastered the twists and turns to avoid heavily bumping into people. Emiratis don't get out of the way. You are expected to avoid hitting them let alone touch their perfectly ironed abayas and dishdashas. Also, they cut you off while driving like it's going out style. But you're expected to swoop and swerve to accommodate them because after all, they were here first. Sidenote, I'm extremely glad I'm not Indian or African or any other race that Arabs deem below them, because as annoyed and disrespected as I feel sometimes, the way that those from Africa, India, and South Asia are treated would make your jaw drop.

Basically, my work nightmare is an example of a lot but not ALL Emiratis, according to some of my other Arab friends. They just don't really like all the hoopla and the immigration and the focus on all this crazy stuff that's going on here (individually rotating building floors?).

I snapped the photo below driving through the Jumeirah neighborhood, which was one of the first neighborhoods in which expats lived when Dubai was first starting to expand across the desert. This is a gorgeous mosque, and one of hundreds in the Jumeirah neighborhood.

If you are not Muslim, you cannot enter a mosque. However, there is one mosque, called Jumeirah Mosque, that Sheikh Mohammed, the guy who runs Dubai, decided to build so that other cultures and religions could enter to try to better understand the Islamic faith. This is one of the few construction projects here that I think of as useful, smart, and strategic.

Mission Accomplished

The glory that is high speed internet has graced my apartment building, FINALLY, and I sat in the internet office for an hour after work one day to get it connected.

I have to admit, not having the luxury of internet at my disposal at home was so painful, as many of you from my constant whining about it.

Well, whining is over, and posts will again resume now that my crankiness has subsided with this new development.

To represent this new era, below are pictures of the Dubai Sunrise and Sunset, from my balcony and at the beach--on the same day.

Sunrise over Dubai Free Zone (approx. 6:30 am):

Sunset, Jumeirah Beach (approx. 7:00pm)

The word is out

When I started writing this post a couple days ago, I figured this subject matter would be a bit of a surprise to some reading, but it seems the New York Times caught on way before I did. Several articles have been printed in the recent months having to do with adolescent boys and girls in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.

While this is more extreme than the UAE or other countries in the Gulf, it can give you a bit of insight into just how strict and traditional these cultures are, in large part due to the religious revival, as The Times calls it, happening in the region right now.

Though I haven't written awhile, the new ideas and realities that have hit me in the recent weeks have only grown exponentially in number. On the 2-month mark of my arrival in Dubai, the shock and the novelty of all of the hoopla has begun to subside, and I am now much more aware of the latent themes and customs that exist here.

Yea, there's the indoor ski slope, and malls a mile long, and the tallest building in the world, and the highest number of cranes and "designer" cars per capita in the world, but there's also a society that is in the midst of an identity crisis. Dubai is more or less the biggest anomaly to exist in a long time. It is a "western" haven in the middle of a region still very much set in its traditional, age-old ways.

There was an article in the New York Times this past Sunday about "mad" people, a new group that has started a new phenomenon where they are fighting the stigma of their mental illnesses by "owning" their mental illness and putting it on display in some cases, much like GLBT or disabled people have started to "own" who they are in recent years in U.S. society, finding a heightened level of identity and community amongst themselves and acceptance and support from others. I was having a conversation with someone about how there have been so many changes in our society just in the last 10 years; I think the Millenial generation (which just so happens to be the category I fall into) especially has helped to spur these changes, as more and more people that I have known at one point or another, or people they know, are starting to get engaged at surprisingly young ages, change sexual orientation, enter into experimental relationships or life phases, etc without as much fear about society or their family's judgment.

What hit me when chatting about how "far" U.S./western society has come in recent decades was how much I feel stunted living in this region as a 23-year-old female. While I don't have to wear any traditional Middle Eastern attire or cover my face, I feel restricted in other ways. My (somewhat) outspoken, (at times) explicit New Yorker mouth is painfully out of place; I am stared at because I have blue eyes, let alone for wearing a dress that leaves my legs exposed from the knees down. Living in a city that is literally being built as we speak leaves MUCH to be desired in terms of customer service and competent processes no matter where you go. Even the heat hinders what I am used to; I can barely go outside now during the day, completely eradicating the walking around and use of public transportation to which I am so accustomed.

Culturally speaking, many of the friends I have made here around my age (most of whom work with me) have some values that I would associate with 1950s America: no sex until marriage, marrying exclusively within their religion, living with their parents until only after they wed. And this is not strictly Muslims; on the contrary, there are many different variations of Christianity that are quite ubiquitous in the Gulf region, and still these conservative cultural values percolate.

Of course, the Arab Millenial generation gets in their partying, drinking, socializing, etc., but underlying the western activities that have gradually crept into the social fabric here are some very anachronistic values, compared to western standards anyway. Even when I talk about pop culture or some of the things that 20-something girls talk about amongst themselves, I am sometimes shocked at how little my girlfriends here know or are comfortable discussing--and then I remember that they weren't in liberal schools and universities in a country with significant civil rights, or with class and extracurricular options like GLBT alliances, Planned Parenthood, sex education, etc.

So all this translates into very "limiting" practices by the standards I have grown up expecting. Case in point, the internet is censored here. Since most of the businesses that control the infrastructure of this country are government-owned, they can censor internet sites or television that is deemed "not in line with the morals and values of the UAE." Public displays of affection are not allowed--no kissing, no hugging, hand-holding if you're lucky. Being homosexual is illegal. Having sex before marriage is illegal (read about a girl who was gang raped in Saudi Arabia and then incarcerated for it). Drinking alcohol in your home (only legal if you are a non-Muslim anyway) is illegal unless you have an alcohol license (they won't even sell it to you without a liquor license). Since hotels are the only establishments allowed to serve alcohol, all the bars, clubs, and decent restaurants are located in hotels to conform to the rule.

Granted, Dubai can feel perfectly normal at times. Women can drive, most of the people living here with full-time jobs and families are expats, and there is an ever-increasing number of restaurants and hotels to explore, not to mention the massive malls. The sky-scrapers are impressive, and the speed at which everything is built is truly jaw-dropping, helped out by the enslaved workers who have to work in 120 degree heat and are skinny enough to make you realize how much obesity has infiltrated our society and our psyches to the point where it is no longer surprising.

I'll drive by a building with 100 South Asian men sitting in the shade of the new mall they're building, trying to escape the suffocating heat for 5 minutes. And they'll stare at me. And then I'll get stuck in 20 minutes of traffic just to go 3 blocks in the middle of the day because the road that was open yesterday is now closed. But a new bridge just opened up a few minutes away. And a new hotel just opened, right next to the 10 others on the beach. There goes a Porsche, and a Bentley, and a Rolls Royce, and a Lotus, and a Maserati. It's so hot I can't breathe. Damnit, there are no more parking spaces at 9 am in the morning. There's sand in my shoes. Every single pair. Yea, that's my thought process almost every single day.

Cultural differences

So clearly the title of this post could be the title of every post, because the cultural differences here are apparent each and every day. Unfortunately, it would be a bit tourist-y and offensive of me to take pictures of some of them in public, but I am trying to be sneaky about it.

Anyway, today after work we decided to go to Mall of the Emirates, which has now become a regular stomping ground as it literally has EVERYTHING in it, including an all-in-one store the size of 2 Wal-Marts, clothing stores, banks, food courts, movie theatres, ski slopes...you get the idea. Anyway, we went at around 6 pm...around 7 pm, the call to prayer began to sound:

Prayer call in the mall (just click play on the page that pops up)

You can hear me and my friends talking in the background, but what was so interesting to me was, all of the people sitting around us, from all cultures, most if not all of them NOT Muslim, did not bat an eye. It was like a little interlude, and then when it was finished, it was as if it never happened.

The prayer call happens 5 times a day, as Muslims are supposed to pray at dawn, mid-morning, mid-afternoon, evening, and then later at night. There are two mosques in this mall, one for women and one for men, and I have witnessed people spilling out into the corridors of the mall when the mosques were full. They actually section off certain passages when it gets too crowded, because they have to take off your shoes and they lay out these large prayer rugs for everyone. All part of the clash of western-style malls with traditional habits.

That's all my relevant news for now--besides the fact that the internet probably won't be installed in my building for another 3 weeks. Amazing. Although, everything is under construction all over the place, constantly, as the pictures below show. These are the cranes (it's like a halo effect!) at the Trump International Hotel and Apartments site on the Palm Jumeirah, which is one of the man-made palms off the coast of Dubai. It has been given the moniker "8th wonder of the world" over here--a bit optimistic, don't you think?

Worth the wait, Part II?

Major shame on me for not writing. Major. I don’t have internet in my apartment—make that my whole building. It’s so “new” that the wires haven’t been fitted yet. Every time I call or ask my doorman downstairs when it will be ready, I get different answers: next week, mid-May, early June…you get the idea. So, I’m just going to have to keep my fingers crossed that it gets done before I go crazy. It’s amazing, you don’t realize how much you constantly use the internet until you don’t have it at your fingertips (literally).

Nonetheless, things have been going well. I am on the brink of getting my lease car instead of driving around in this little Mitsubishi Lancer (I swear every time I make a turn I feel like I’m going to flip the car over). The reason why I don’t have it already is because another GE employee ran a red light. Now the traffic/police department in Sharjah (the emirate just north of Dubai) says the fine needs to be paid for running the red light and the guy’s car will be impounded for 3 days. So, he needs to get it to the Sharjah police—except, oh wait, he went traveling. He won’t be back until Monday. So now, not a single new GE employee in Dubai can get their car because the Road & Transportation Authority won’t grant any more company car registrations until the fine is paid. Seriously? Seriously. Awesome.

Now, all I have to do besides that is get my alcohol license—aka, a piece of paper that says since I am not Muslim, I can buy a certain amount of alcohol, based on my monthly income—totally serious. You need permission to do almost everything here.

In other news, my birthday in Dubai was really fun. First, to an outdoor bar, since the weather is still quite nice here in the evenings—around 75 degrees on the beach—and then to a dance club later on. Too bad none of the huge champagne bottles being carried around were for me (pictures below). Nonetheless, I had a great time.

I don’t have a great time when I go grocery shopping, however. Food here is expensive—and that is an understatement. Here goes my Mastercard commercial reenactment:

1 box of Kashi cereal: $10

1 jar of honey: $8

1 vanilla yogurt: $5

Knowing you’re eating better than the workers slaving away on all the Dubai skyscrapers: priceless.

Speaking of which, I have been trying to get some photos of the workers and their work conditions—more on that soon. Apparently, the only thing they are fed is ground-up maize, in like a kind of mushy oatmeal, while they sleep in these barracks-type warehouses. Here is a video from Youtube about their mistreatment—I will try to get some firsthand photos as well. There is currently a mall being built just on the next block down from my apartment, and I swear, they finished an entire wall of it in like a week--see below--that wall was done--in a week!

Worth the wait

So I went over to my apartment today to meet the landlord, who again, is one of the nicest women. She brought me homemade chicken soup when she heard my voice was hoarse! She also has been so accommodating, bringing over everything that I asked for (sheets, towels, etc.) so that I don't have to spend the money on them, and even said she would get me things like a clothes drying rack and place mats, which are not necessary.

Anyway, we had a good long chat. She is originally from Iraq, but her father was a diplomat, so she lived and grew up all over Europe, and she has been in Dubai for 25 years (which in Dubai time is the equivalent of a century.) This is her first time buying and then renting an apartment--she and her friend are the only 2 women who bought apartments in this building and then furnished them before renting. Nice furnished apartments really are rare here, which is why I was so, so, so stressed out about finding a decent one a couple of weeks ago.

Below are pictures of the view from my little balcony off of my room--I will take pictures of the actual apartment this coming week, once I move in a bit more. I am excited that I'll be moved in for my birthday, so I can break it in a bit and make it feel like home. I'll be honest, if Dubai wasn't so far away, I could stay in this apartment for a long time. I really love it.

View to the left, overlooking the man-made marina and the Arabian Gulf:



Views to the right, looking out towards the main road and the largely undeveloped land more inland:

Great Success!

A little inspiration from Borat for the post title, as I have the key for my apartment in hand and I got my Dubai driver license--all in the same day!!

Turns out, my landlord is really nice (an older woman named Hind who is a first time owner/renter) but she was basically convinced by this psychotic "real estate agent", who can barely speak or understand anything beyond basic English from Azerbaijan (basically former U.S.S.R. in the middle of the tundra--how did he end up here, right?), to let him market the property. Hind said she pitied him, as he sounded and looked so desperate for the 5% commission, and figured it would be more or less harmless--not exactly.

That would have been fine, except for the obvious language barrier, in addition to the fact that he works for one of the many real estate "agencies" that have popped up in Dubai to help sell the innumerable number of properties that are available. Problem is, these agencies are barely legit. And most of the "agents", like the winner that I was dealing with, have never been trained in real estate practice or law and have never closed a sale.

So, to make a long story short, I'm glad I didn't have a nervous breakdown and I'm ecstatic that I got the keys. The relocation consultant I had been working with, who had been provided by my company, turned out to be my guardian angel, and made sure that everything went well and that neither the landlord nor I was getting screwed, since the superstar from the former U.S.S.R. literally made me want to punch a brick wall--repeatedly.

I will have pictures of the new spot tomorrow, but really had to post a picture of a poster that was on display at the government office where I got my driver license issued. It was a very small office on the upper floor of a "hypermarket", aka a Walmart-esque place that has a large grocery story in addition to lots of other little stores that offer whatever you need: eyeglasses, clothes, electronics, etc.

I gave these guys copies all my official documents (visas and passports and certifications, oh my) and got handed my license. For the record, the USA is one of only a few countries where you can simply show your license from your home country and immediately get a Dubai license--they have just put into effect new laws that make it VERY, VERY difficult for most foreign nationalities to get a license here. Basically, they are combating huge amounts of traffic, and huge amounts of murderous driving. Literally. There is an accident in Dubai every 5 seconds or something. They have the highest auto-accident death rate per capita in the entire world--I will be honest, I see about 50 "almost" accidents a day, so the number of actual accidents must be astronomical.


SO, in addition to revising the laws so that obtaining a license is more difficult, they actively posted some propaganda to aid in their campaign for safer driving:


Yes, according to Islamic law, or Sharia, speeding is a sin. Now, I know you're all thinking that I better be careful, because I can be a bit of a speedy gonzalez, but you should SEE the cars racing down the main highway here at over 100 mph, easily:


Although, with sweet-ass cars like this one literally everywhere, I can't really blame them. I will try to get more pictures of all the hot cars I see everyday--although, a curious phenomenon here is that license plates are sometimes much more coveted than the car itself. I don't know if any of you heard about this, but recently , a custom license plate was auctioned off in Abu Dhabi for around $14 million.

It's all about the number here--you pay more if you want a "better" license plate number (which means as close to the number 1 as possible), phone number (easy to remember, or as many of the same number as possible, i.e. 555-5555), P.O. box number (since Dubai does not have a mail delivery system, you can only receive mail at a P.O. box and go to pick it up--no mailboxes, no home delivery, nothing), etc.

It really is weird that they pay so much money for something that has absolutely no material value or serious purpose in their lives. And, apparently, the guys who have the money to spend $14 million on the license plate get the car, be it a Rolls Royce Phantom, Bentley, or Ferrari, FOR FREE, because just having the license plate attached to the car is enough of a marketing campaign to justify gifting the car away.

And that's enough "things that make you go hmmmm/WTF?" from Dubai for today.

What? Ja Rule is here?

I really need to make an effort to write more than once a week, but seeing as most of my week is spent working, there isn't always a lot to say. Nonetheless, lots of little lessons were learned this week, as I got closer to my goal of moving into an apartment, getting a car, a bank account, etc.

The real estate game in Dubai is infamous--it is one of the first things associated with the city: big buildings under construction every day finished in record time, whether commercial or residential. This plethora of new projects, combined with the wealth of the region, translates into a seller's market in a very one-sided way.

Some interesting (read: ridiculous, ludicrous, heinous, you get the idea) stipulations:

1. Rent is paid up front for an entire year, in one big, fat check. So, for instance, a one bedroom furnished apartment in either the Dubai Marina or other area near my office (read: bearable commute time) can run around 130,000 dirhams a year and up. That's about $40,000 dollars, or about $3,500 dollars a month. Yea. Pricey.

2. There are no gentlemen's agreements. You are not guaranteed an apartment, even if you say you will take it, until you put that check in their hand (along with a $3,600 security deposit) and you get the keys in return. The market is so volatile, apartments can change hands within hours--so tough luck if you don't get what you want!

3. You most likely will never meet the landlord. Or speak to them. Or even learn their name. Many of these properties have been bought and sold several times before they are even put up for rent, so it's all very fuzzy.

4. It is sometimes recommended that you ignore various ads in the paper or online for apartments, as "fake" apartments and agreements abound. If something sounds too good to be true, there's probably a 99% chance that it is. So basically, if you don't have a real estate agent or some other intermediary, you're screwed.

In summary, the fact that you have to shell out a huge sum of money up front, usually at a huge premium, and there's no guarantee that the place will be yours until you actually get the keys is a little...nerve-racking, shall we say?

Combine that with the fact that the realtors that my company set me up with were not exactly helpful and--poof-- you come to the realization I had 3 days ago that I need to do most of this searching and negotiating on my own. Too bad I've been here almost 3 weeks--a little late on the uptake, I admit.

Setting the whole living situation aside for a second, I still do not have a Dubai driver license, a car, or a local bank account (since the ATM card I got from HSBC was eaten by the ATM when I tried to confirm my pin #, and apparently the only way to get it back is to go to the original branch in the UAE, about 25 minutes down the highway. Psych!--their loss because there's no way I'm doing that.)

You can't really get any of the things mentioned above without your residency visa, so that was a huge glitch in any attempts to get "settled" here. The residency visa can only be processed once you have your "medical test" once you enter the country, which consists of a TB x-ray screen (standard, I had to get one for Brussels, too) and a blood test. What do they test for? Oh, you know, infectious diseases, HIV, pregnancy (if you're a single woman, being pregnant out of wedlock here is illegal--no, I'm not joking). If you are positive for any of the above, you get thrown in jail and deported ASAP. No messing around--they do not want diseased persons residing here. Too bad they can't test everyone who crosses their borders, so the attempt to keep the UAE HIV-free is pretty much futile. Good effort though.

Last week was particularly stressful, since my company apparently didn't realize they had to pay a year's worth of rent up front even though I won't be staying for an entire year. Going back and forth with the people that need to sign off on your financials when they are 10,000 miles and 8 time zones away is always enjoyable--and efficient. Just one of the drawbacks of working for a big company with various layers and standard procedures.

On to extracurriculars of the week. I had some good Indian food in the middle of the week that was not too pricey. Last night was the main event, as I dragged myself out because I had been talking about trying these 2 places all week with my coworkers, and didn't want to back out--I have a tendency to convince myself why I can't go out--it's too late, I'm too tired, I have to get up early, it's too much effort, etc.

We went to one place that's an outside bar, called Sho-Cho's, before the weather gets too hot (it was seriously like 70 degrees at 11 pm last night) and then went to this club, called Boudoir. Both were insanely fun. It was '80s night at Sho-Cho's, and the music they were playing cracked me up. Everyone knew the words to all the American music better than I did--for shame. Absinthe shots set on fire were had, insane outfits unbuttoned halfway with insane amounts of chest hair were seen, and last but not a least, a surprise guest was revealed towards the end of the evening.

We went to Boudoir around 1:45 am. You have to go to a club in boy-girl pairs, or they don't let you in. There are more men than women in Dubai to begin with, so you don't have a shot in hell of getting in unless you're accompanying a female. Anyway, we get in, it's great, we're dancing to hip-hop, rap, old school, R&B, etc. There are bouncers carrying ENORMOUS bottles of Grey Goose in these huge plastic diamond-shaped containers to the various tables bordering the dance floor--totally over-the-top and hilarious.

Then all of a sudden, I hear a voice on the microphone that is vaguely familiar. Hoarse, grating, baritone. Definitely rapper-esque. And then, an announcement: Ja Rule is in the building. Nas and Kelis are also in the building. Another, "are you serious?" Dubai moment. Lo and behold, the washed-up rapper was there along with his entire entourage and I would say about 9 various "girls of the evening" if you catch my drift. It was beyond funny. The crowd was pushing to get pictures of him throwing 'bows on top of his table. I was hysterical. He hasn't had a song, let alone a hit, in years. A has-been. Lame. Whack Attack. Nonetheless, in Dubai celebrating his birthday according to "Gutter" (yea, like where rats live), one of the members of his entourage we met outside after the club closed at 3 am.

All in a week's time. Wow. I'm glad I dragged myself out for that. Even though it's like 20 minutes away by taxi. Worth it to see Ja Rule's goofy snaggle-tooth smile and have a really good night out with new friends. Pictures below.

Making fun of all the popped collars and unbuttoned shirts:

Absinthe? check. On fire? check. Sherif's hand gets singed? check.

Ja Rule? Prostitutes? Classic "see how good by abs look" pose? Large, overweight entourage?

"Escalade" spelled in diamonds on the side of the Escalade? Might have been a sheikh's car?

Dubai World Cup: is this a joke?

It's been awhile since the last post, as I was hoping to get some good material at the Dubai World Cup, which was today. The world's richest race (a total of $21.25 million shelled out in a total of 7 races) surely would provide great entertainment as well as enjoyment, right? Au contraire, mon frere.

I bought my ticket online for this event ages ago--before I even arrived in Dubai. The race track is in the middle of the desert, ergo I figured I'd pick up my ticket the day of the race, because who has the time to go all the way into the middle of the desert twice in one week? Lots of other people had this idea as well, so that when we finally go through the hour of traffic to get to the racetrack, there was a line over an HOUR long to get our passes to enter the gates.

Why was it such a long line? Because there were only TWO, count them, ONE-TWO, women checking people's reservations and handing out passes. Is that a joke? Am I on Punk'd? Are there secret cameras capturing my every word, counting how many expletives I splutter as I stand in a parking lot full of dust and rocks, waiting to pick up a ticket that I should have been able to pick up in about 5 minutes?

Sadly, none of the above are true. The best part of the entire "queue-ing" experience (there were a lot of Brits around, and they all say queue, not line) was that, once we got into the little tent where the women would consult a list of about 20 pages of confirmation numbers, people started to get rowdy. Like, NYC-style belligerent when disatisifed with the littlest of things--I thought there might be a mini-riot and papers would go flying. At the height of the mutterings and complaining, one of the ticket-checkers says: "You need to be patient, you could have picked up your ticket before today but everyone always comes to pick up their passes the day of the race. It happens every year."

It happens every year? You mean to tell me that this heinous line situation, hours and hours long, in the sun, in the dust, everyone dressed to the nines and wearing the craziest hats I've ever seen (pics below) has happened before? AND NOTHING HAS CHANGED? As I learned, this is a typical Dubai experience--you can't really ask the question "BUT, WHY?" in an exasperated voice here--because there will be not be a single, even remotely sufficient, answer.

After that, we waited in a few more mile-long lines--I will spare you the details. Once we got to "International Village", or rather a Texas-state-fair-replica adjacent to the race track, we only stayed for about an hour. We saw one of the seven races--it lasted about 2 minutes. I ate a not-quite-cooked-enough chicken quesadilla and a diet Pepsi. There was nothing except food and beverage stands in the entire place. Except some fireworks, and a large TV screen. Lame.

All in all, huge letdown. Granted, I wasn't in the grandstand, but if I had to wait in line for that as well, I would have been just as disappointed. I've never ever seen such a poorly planned and executed event of that scale and magnitude--it really makes me appreciate how much planning and foresight does go into things in the US, even though at times it might seem like a circus.

Other things I have learned about in the last week:

-Every single car in Dubai has a buzzer that goes off every time you go above 120 km/hr, since that is the speed limit. So it keeps beeping until you reduce your speed--for the record, more annoying than any blinker or car horn you have ever heard.

-When one of the 5 times to pray/day happens to be when a Muslim is in a mall, well, everyone just goes to the top floor, takes off their shoes, and starts praying. There like rows of people in the aisles of the mall, sitting on prayer rugs for awhile--and you have to walk around the other side until they're finished. I wanted to take a picture but really thought it disrespectful.

-A glass of regular champagne costs $30. A beer costs around $10-$15. A mixed drink costs $15.

-Prostitutes are everywhere. Ev-er-y-where.

Photodocumentation of some of this week's sights below:

High rises in downtown Dubai

A little blurry--part of Dubai Media City @ night

On the way, sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic: a once-a-year event has it's own permanent sign--which you think would indicate their level of reverence and therefore consideration when planning--GUESS NOT

One of the better hat sightings of the evenings

Gone in a flash!

Really? Really?

It's been a few days since my last chit chat--and it is truly amazing what can happen in just a few short days. It took a lot of effort for me to keep my composure in a few instances over the long weekend. Cultural differences are just too hilarious.

Like, I go down to the hotel store. Which, for the record, is the size of closet. And there is a very skinny, kinda short, Christian Siriano (the latest winner of Project Runway) look-alike --crazy hair, skinny jeans and all (plus a unibrow). I needed shampoo. That was it. Given the incredibly small size of the store, it wasn't hard to find. So how the hell did I spend 30 minutes in that cubicle?

Yea, he started talking. It all began with asking me where I'm from, the U.S. or England (my eyes gave me away apparently)? Am I here for business? On vacation? When did I arrive? How long am I staying? Sidenote: this interrogation is standard here. There are so many people from all over the world that it's kind of a necessity to get the vital stats before continuing with the conversation (my waitress the other night gave me the same rundown, while I was eating). Suffice it to say that I'm not extremely happy with this arrangement, because I come from a place where looking someone in the eye on the subway is considered intrusive.

Meanwhile, he's from Iran, his name is Omid (which means "hope" in Persian) and we talked about everything from religion to family to cultural attitudes. Mind you, I did this more out of curiosity about Iran and his particular journey to Dubai than him, though this apparently was not his thought process, because as I finally was able to say "How much do I owe you for this?", he almost immediately replied: "So how do I contact and talk to you again? Friends, more than friends--your choice."

I'm sorry, what? Really? Really? Did you just ask me in one sentence whether I wanted to be "friends" or "more than friends"? What is this, practice for when you're trying to weed out the prostitutes at the mall? I then spent another 10 minutes letting him know that it was kind of weird that he asked me that, and if that was the way he asked girls in Iran or in Dubai if they wanted to be "friends" or "more than friends". The answer is no, by the way. Figures.

So, it was harmless--an eye opening conversation with a kind soul who was excited to talk to a New Yorker. Enough said. Only problem is, the store is right next to the gym, so now I have to slink inside so that a verbal onslaught from Omid is avoided. Ugh. That wouldn't be a problem except I'm going to be in this hotel for at least another 2 weeks.

After that episode, not that much else happened. I went to "brunch" at the hotel on Saturday-- not a piece of toast or a plate of eggs in sight. Lame. They didn't get the memo about what a real, delicious brunch is (I miss my Mom's cooking!). I went to the Mall of the Emirates soon after, the biggest mall here--the one with the ski slope in it, for all of you who have seen the pictures. The sight of snow made me giddy. I didn't go inside (it's freezing in there, but the air conditioning here definitely runs a close second) but seeing snow reminded me of home and how it will be cold and most likely snowing (or not: global warming) when I return to the States in November.

Funny things at the mall: groups of women in their black outfits (it makes them look ghostly--like spirits), men in their dishdashas (those are the traditional white dresses they wear) walking next to tourists in their khaki uniform, cameras, and fanny packs, and teenagers in their Forever 21 sparkly-tween attire. That's what Dubai really is--a huge melting pot of tons of cultures, ethnicities, languages, customs, etc. The mall itself is HUGE. They have EVERYTHING. Below are a couple of pictures from the outing.

For the record: Things are not cheaper here. My movie ticket was the equivalent of $10. My Starbucks tall frapp: $5. Two boxes of granola bars, 12 apples, a shower loofah, and a bag of mixed nuts at the store as big as 2 Walmarts: $25.

No, I'm not joking.


Geek is the same in every language, apparently:



Multilingual Mochas:



They looove their Sheikhs, as is evidenced by massive billboards on the side of the highway (more of these to come--they're EVERYWHERE):


The soon-to-be tallest building in the world, Burj Dubai:

Clearance granted

So I made it. I took an overnight flight from London and sat next to a really pleasant British girl, didn't really sleep, but got all of my luggage.

The visa and passport control lines are a different story. My first glimpse into a different way of doing things in this country:

Scenario 1: I come to these 4 counters set up for visas--any kind of entrance visa whether it's for work, visiting, etc. They are set up as follows: Europeans and Americans, Africans and Arabs, Pakistanis and Asians. That hierarchy is very indicative of the social classes that exist here, first of all. Second of all, there are only 2 men behind the counter, looking very tired and worse for wear. Third of all, do the math--2 visa guys x 4 counters = not enough to deal with all the lines. One of those counters unmanned happens to be the Europeans and Americans counter. We start to queue; we wait, oh, 7 minutes. A man in front of me goes up to the other counter, and asks one of the men (who has his back turned) if we can get someone to help us--he is IGNORED. Flat out denied--no response. So he leaves in a huff. One minute later, and the Europeans and Americans are being taken care of--even though people in other lines were there first. And have been waiting (like the 50 or so South Asian men waiting to get their visas to start working on all the high rises here. They have to wait by the visa counter whether their visa is found in 2 hours or 2 days--at the whim of the desk counter guys and their schedules. Uh huh).

That's not even the best story from the airport.

Scenario 2: So then I get my employment visa (a piece of paper), and I get into the line for passport control--which is quite well set up. There must be 50 counters in total, with maybe 15 passport checkers ready to check all the flights that arrived around the same time. So I get in a line. Within 5 minutes, the guy who was checking my line has disappeared--vanished. I think, ok, time for shift change. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. 15 minutes. No one says a WORD. My New Yorker attitude is starting to simmer. I am getting angry that we are not moving, that no one has taken the guy's spot, and that none of the other men "patrolling" are noticing and asking someone to get their ass over there to fill the desk. Throw me a bone.

A few times, I considered saying something...I decided against it. I didn't want to start off on the wrong foot (or in a customs office). So then our line and 2 others start sharing the remaining passport checkers--because that is SO efficient. Anyway, I get through, I get my luggage, I leave.

On the drive to the hotel, I see lots of interesting things, like enormous high rise buildings half finished, KFC written in Arabic, the 2nd biggest mall in the world-- you know, the usual. I tried to snap some photos, but the car was going to fast. I do however, have a couple of interesting photos below. Taken years apart, this can give you an idea about the insane amount of growth and development here. I will post personally snapped photos in a couple of days.

I am slightly crabby at the moment since I flicked the "Do not Disturb" switch so that I could sleep in today--it's a long weekend since today is the Prophet Muhammed's birthday--peace be upon him (you have to write that phrase after you say his name, every single time, or else you could be arrested--I'm not joking). But then the phone blared in the middle of an intense dream I was having, and the woman on the other end asked me to open the door for room service, since I had ordered a bucket of ice--oh really, I ordered that? In the middle of my REM cycle? Great, thanks for informing me, that's why I had the DO NOT DISTURB sign on, genius.

To get your awareness up, weekends here are Friday/Saturday, not Saturday/Sunday. So Sunday will now be my Monday--ugh. I will never get used to that. Sunday was by far one of my favorite days. Weeeelcome to Dubai.

Sheik Zayed Road (THE main road) Dubai 1990:


SZR Dubai 2003:


SZR Dubai (at night) 2006:

The calm before the storm

It's pretty much impossible to feel like you're being original with any blog title that you come up with, since there are something like (insert number here) million blogs created every month, but I gave it a shot. I thought of superlatives since everything in Dubai is about being the biggest, the tallest, the most expensive, the most luxurious--not to mention the fact that I wouldn't doubt that Dubai is one of the sunniest, hottest, fastest-growing, and most intriguing places on this planet right about now. So, let's hope that some of my stories and observations about Dubai happen to go along with that theme, or else I made myself look really stupid by choosing that moniker.

I don't know if it's just me, but the idea of writing a blog implies that you think people want to or should read your stuff, for whatever reason. Granted, I am part of the Millenial generation; therefore, by definition, I should think very highly of myself and my beliefs/thoughts/opinions and expect others to do the same. Maybe it's because I've seen so many trainwrecks paraded around the internet as "personal blogs" that I'm still wary of believing that what I'm writing about is worthy of such a potentially large, diverse, and ever-increasing audience.

Nonetheless, while I'm not that politically minded, I am aware, through my own increasing interest in world current events (and my good friend who works as an online editor at a large international newspaper), that information about the Middle East (and Africa for that matter) often times reaches the US public in the form of a story or other material gathered and/or written by a US reporter. While this might seem perfectly correct and logical, I believe that our country's leadership and international activities in the last decade or so have not helped any in the campaign against ignorance. What I'm trying to say is, many times, the USA tends to get on its high horse, and not always cut the MEA (that's Middle East & Africa) some slack. I'm not denying that there are terrorists, etc. coming out of the region, and that sometimes, US journalists do in fact get it right; rather, I just think that sometimes it's worth holding off on that snap judgment for just a bit longer (and I'm a pretty judgmental person, so it's not that easy for me, either).

I think this could be fun to write for a couple of reasons: 1) I'm pretty young and think having an online record of the ensuing mayhem will be as fun to keep as a traditional journal (yes, I have one--I'm an old school soul) and 2) there seem to be too many lingering myths and misconceptions about the Middle East and much of the world outside of the USA for too many people, so I can only hope that hearing some anecdotes from another American will help you to have a better idea of a culture that, while not necessarily ideal by Western standards, has a right to be explored rather than constantly slandered.

Now that all my boring rants are over, time to get to the juicy stuff. I am moving to Dubai in approximately 1 month, and the process has already thrown me for a bit of a loop.

Like, they need my original college diploma in order to get my employment visa--excuse me, what? You want me to give you my ONLY copy of a piece of high-quality, cream-colored paper with a pretty gold seal and a few signatures of people I don't even know on it, which basically represents my entire academic life (slash non-academic life) up until graduation, so that you can get a special stamp in my passport? Why the hell do you need the original?

Oooohh, that's right, those weird bureaucratic processes that make no sense whatsoever. The woman helping me with my immigration papers assured me it would not be harmed or marked in any way (it better not be), and that they merely needed the original in order to get a copy of it stamped and authenticated and all that nonsense--but I just don't get why they wouldn't ask for a transcript instead. In this day and age, anyone can make anything look real--I wouldn't be surprised if some expats in Dubai weren't college graduates, na mean? (Na mean is my abbreviation for know what I mean--for future reference, b/c I'm too lazy to write that out every time).

So lots more fun tidbits to come. And pictures. Photography is a hobby of mine (I like to think), so be ready for some snapshots--the ones I've seen so far have blown me away. Remember when people started imagining what the world would look like in the future, a la Minority Report, etc.? Well, Dubai definitely embodies that in some areas, but with pretty beach and ocean landscape, instead of concrete and grey nothingness as far as the eye can see.

Promise to not be as long winded next time. Except when describing the good stuff, like prostitutes walking around in broad daylight next to women in niqabs that cover everything except their eyes and the bridge of their nose--just sayin', that's what I heard.