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whether there’s weather

We had plans with another family today to go out to Saadiyat Island , which is about fifteen minutes from downtown Abu Dhabi, but feels worlds away: big empty beach, no tall buildings, very few people.

I woke up this morning to this:

I’ve seen the iPhone iOracle predict clouds for Abu Dhabi; I’ve seen it predict flames licking the roof of hell, in late July, when the temperatures go upwards of 45C, 46C, 47C (112, 113, 114); but I’ve never seen it predict rain.

And after my sleep-fogged brain realized it was looking at a forecast for rain, I realized what the noise was outside my still-shaded windows: rain, splattering against the glass.

Ah the irony, right? The one day in months and months we actually plan a beach day…oh how the weather gods must have chuckled.

But we had the last laugh. We braved the mist and clouds, and were rewarded for our efforts:

Lovely.  My reward for finishing NaBloPoMo – a blog post a day – and for honoring the promise I made to my mom, of keeping her company in going cheese-free. (Full disclosure: she fell of the wagon on election night, when it was clear the good guys were going to win; and I had one little run-in with a gooey, stinky, rosemary-wrapped Boucheron. But mostly we stayed off the hard stuff.)  Not sure why, in the long run, we went cheese-free, but at least we proved to ourselves that we can, in fact, live without cheese. Life just isn’t quite as interesting.

Driving home from the beach, we saw all decorations up for National Day:  the city’s buildings are wrapped in lights and the cars are wrapped in images of Sheikh Zayed and the colors of the UAE flag – it’s all very festive and vaguely Christmasy because of the red and green everywhere. The country is a whopping 41 years old on Sunday and people are planning picnics and parades in celebration.

I just hope it doesn’t rain.

 

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Read full story · Comments { 1 } on November 30, 2012 in Abu Dhabi, NaBloPoMo, UAE

PDA at the mall

Teen-age boys. You know the stereotype: rambunctious, loud, gangly, hands and feet too big for their bodies.  They push and shove with their friends; they throw their arms around one another’s necks to show their affection, even though to the non-initiated, it looks like they’re trying to kill each other or at least cause grievous bodily injury.

When I’m in the mall, or any other public space, the Emirati boys I see seem no different. They wrangle and gangle and try to be discreet when they look at girls.

And yet:

These are two boys in the mall on their way to the movie theater, hand-in-hand.  If I saw these boys holding hands at a mall in the States, I would assume they’re gay; I don’t assume that here.  Here I assume they are –really — just friends.

Public displays of casual affection between men seem fine but, paradoxically and problematically, public displays of homosexuality (or heterosexuality, for that matter) can get you arrested.

I remember a day in New York, about three years ago, when Caleb was almost six. He was walking down the street with his friend D., and they were holding hands.  Then they suddenly dropped hands, and Caleb said “we’re big boys, we’re not supposed to hold hands.” D. nodded at Caleb’s pronouncement (which sent me into one of those where the hell is he getting this stuff parenting reveries) and for about a half-block, they tried to be “grownup.” But then they forgot about that, grabbed each other’s hands and went running down the sidewalk.

There are all sorts of ways to define “man.” Not holding hands with your friends shouldn’t be one of them.

 

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Read full story · Comments { 3 } on November 30, 2012 in Abu Dhabi, Kids, NaBloPoMo, Parenting

an ethical dilemma of the two-wheeled variety

I have a bicycle in this non-bike-friendly city and I ride it (defiantly) to work, and along the waterfront bike path, and I’m gearing up (no pun intended) to ride around and explore the city. A bike is a great thing – you can cover more ground than if you’re just walking, but you’re connected to the cityscape much more intimately than if you were in a car.

And, I have to say, as a person who was raised in the northern midwest, and then went to Boston, and then to New York, the fact that I’m riding my bike around in November, without freezing my ass off – well, that’s just remarkable. I love it.

But. (There’s always a catch, isn’t there? No catch, no story.)

But. I don’t have a basket on my bike. The original owner of the bike (hi Lisa)  said I should get panniers for the back instead of a basket, because I can carry more stuff and they’re less bulky (you can buy collapsible pannier baskets).

Lisa is probably right (she usually is, about most stuff) except I love to ride no-handed, as I pedal along the flat paving of the Corniche, and having the panniers on the back will disrupt my balance, especially if one is holding a water bottle and the other side is holding a camera. I’d wobble, I’d fall, it would hurt, I’d cry. I don’t want to cry in public on the Corniche.

I want a basket for the front of my bike. You’d think it’s not that big a request, right? I’ve been to three bike shops and nope, nope, nope. I’ve been to some sporting goods stores. Unh-unh.  It’s like my great search for a waffle iron, which Husband finally had to buy when he was in London a few weeks ago.  Couldn’t find a waffle iron here for love nor money (although another friend has a bead on a possible source, so stay tuned).

A basket. Such a simple thing.

Enter the ethical dilemma. Downstairs, in the basement of the building, there are bike racks. Next to where I park my bikes are two bikes that look as if they’ve been abandoned: flat tires, dust, untouched. Even the things in the bike basket–a bike pump, a lock (which is in the basket, closed, and with the key attached), some crumpled pieces of paper – are untouched, and I’m talking months, not days or weeks. Months.

What? Why yes, I did mention a basket.

One of the bikes, which is about the right size for a twelve-year old child, has the perfect basket on its front handlebars. Perfect.

Here’s my question: would it be wrong for me to detach the basket from that bike and put it on my bike? I mean, I’d leave a note with my contact information, and I’d offer either to pay for the basket or return it, if the owner wants it back.

Otherwise the basket is just sitting there, collecting dust. Shouldn’t I liberate it, let it out in the Gulf sunshine to be its best basket-self?

My children, feral beasts that they are, said TAKE IT. They weren’t even sure I should leave a note.

What do you think I should do?

 

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Read full story · Comments { 4 } on November 28, 2012 in Abu Dhabi, Children, exercise, NaBloPoMo

social media success on the Chinatown Bus?

Yesterday I went to a talk by three social media Big Guns: Chris Brogan, who writes and blogs about social media as well as runs a consulting company called the human business way; Alexis Ohanian, who embodies Brooklyn DIY in a way I haven’t seen since…well, since I lived in Brooklyn, and who invented a little company called reddit right after he graduated from college, when most of us are still waiting tables and wondering what the hell we’re going to do next. And oh, yeah, the third speaker started this little company, maybe you’ve heard of it–it’s called twitter? Yes, folks, Dom Sagolla, the man who co-invented 140-character crack, was part of the line-up too.

The talk was sponsored by the Sheikha Salama Bint Hamdan Al Nayhan Foundation, which promotes education and the arts in the Emirates, particularly for girls and women.  Most of their events (perhaps even all their events) have evening sessions and sessions during the day, which are just for ladies.  I went during the ladies-only session and am still digesting its dynamics: the mostly abaya-wearing audience listening to these three digital dudes (none of whom I think was wearing a tie), who were all with the irony and the insider jokes about US culture, as well as advice about the power – both present and future – of social media. Even with all the complex contexts swirling around, the ideas these guys were talking about were fascinating, and it’s worth finding the hashtag #muntada to see what people had to say about the talks.

But. This post is not about how women in the UAE hold the keys to social media power in their well-manicured hands.

This is about the Chinatown bus. One of the Big Guns told a story about a friend who planned to do a lot of work on his laptop while he rode one of the (in)famously cheap busses that leave from New York’s Chinatown and run to Boston or DC.  He got on the bus and realized he’d forgotten his flash drive, which made him think that there had to be a better way to share files and documents between computers.

Maybe you’ve heard of Dropbox?

So I tweet this

A little later in the day, I find out that my tweet has been retweeted, which is always flattering, I guess. Or sort of. Or maybe, upon reflection, not at all, at least in this instance:

Yep. I’ve retweeted by Chinatown Busses.

Who knew busses could read, A; and B, when Alexis Ohanian said that the world isn’t as flat as Thomas Friedman said it was, but that the world wide web is, I’m not sure this is the sort of thing he had in mind.

I mean, what’s next? Being favorited by John Deere?

 

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Read full story · Comments { 1 } on November 27, 2012 in Abu Dhabi, NaBloPoMo, NYC, pop culture, tech life, UAE

water, water, everywhere…

Abu Dhabi, the city, is a bit like Manhattan, in that technically it’s an island, but it’s easy to forget that fact when you’re wandering in the maze of skyscrapers and multi-lane roads. Where Manhattan has New York Harbor, Abu Dhabi has the Arabian Gulf along one edge, and then a series of creeks and canals that separate the city from the mainland.

And then, of course, once you wander away from the Gulf and over the creeks, it’s just desert. Sand blurring out to the horizon, a view that’s vaguely oceanic in size and scope except that it’s, you know, dry.  In fact, in photos of old Abu Dhabi (and keep in mind that “old” here means 1956, 1963, 1971) the desert reaches right up to the ocean’s edge, with roads cut through the sand.

image source

When you’re in the city now, it’s easy to forget, at least briefly, that you’re in the middle of the desert – at least until you realize that the slightest breeze blows fine sandy grit onto every surface.

In attempts to create the illusion of an oasis, the city has built grassy parks with shady walks; there are palm trees and flowerbeds around most of the public buildings; and everywhere there are fountains.

Big public “art” fountains:

And little fountains that spurt out of the bike path with no warning:

And fountains half-hidden from public view:

 

None of the water (that I tasted, anyway) seemed like salt water. I don’t know if the fountains run with the same desalinated water that comes through the pipes and that is in the process of wrecking my hair (see here for why, but suffice it to say that if we stay here for a long time, I’ll be wearing full hijab because I’ll be bald).

The fountains are beautiful, and they, along with all the green plantings do create the illusion that I’m living in an oasis city, not a desert outpost.

But all the irrigating, the endless miles of hoses and water-lines that criss-cross the city to feed the fountains and gardens…It comes at a price: desalinating is hideously expensive and ultimately damaging to the environment, not only because of the drain on the original water source but also because of what’s done with the chemicals used to treat the water and render it drinkable.  The UAE leads the world in water consumption, despite having so little of it.

The water everywhere makes me wonder if what’s really on display is wealth: you can’t really beautify public space with a crude-oil fountain but the oil pays, in a sense, for all these displays of water-fed beauty.

If the water dries up (or the oil), the sand comes back; it will cover the fountains and the flowerbeds. It’s like the ending of “Ozymandias,” Shelley’s warning about imperial over-reaching and the dangers of believing too deeply in the permanence of your own creations: Round the decay/ Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare/ The lone and level sands stretch far away.’

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Read full story · Comments { 4 } on November 27, 2012 in environment, expat, NaBloPoMo, Politics, UAE, Uncategorized, urban nature