Flowers in the Sand, Abu Dhabi

Ma as-salaamah Abu Dhabi

2008-10-01T04:28:00.024+04:00

I'm home now in the US - not at Port Zayed, overlooking the skyline of Abu Dhabi (as above).

So this is my last post. Ma as-salaamah everyone.

A friend asked me recently how it felt to be home. She'd heard that returning to one's own culture could be harder, even, than moving to a new culture. Without thinking I said I felt numb.

And that's about where I am. I feel apart from my day-to-day activities, as if I'm doing things but not experiencing them. When people ask if I'm happy to be home, I always say yes. I think I am, but I'm not entirely sure.

My time in Abu Dhabi softened me, allowed me to shed some earlier sadnesses. When I moved to Abu Dhabi I brought the one lesson I'd taken from losing loved ones - that life is short - and imbedded it in my mind and heart. I used it as a motivator to overcome my natural shyness and get as much out of my time in the UAE as possible.

But as I told this friend that I felt numb lately, I realized that I remain someone who shuts off sadness, who won't look at it or deal with it. But I do store it, way down in my heart. Whether I'll ever open it up and breath it in I don't know.

At the same time, I also feel great joy about my two years in Abu Dhabi. I had times there that made me incredibly happy, that reassured me about the world, about people, about the future. I found over and over again that regardless of our origins, people are much the same: we worry about our loved ones, about our health, about the future of our planet. We want peace, at least the vast majority of us do. And we want to feel connected.

What I take away most from Abu Dhabi are the friendships. Not only did I make great friends in Abu Dhabi, but M and our children did too.

I will also never forget the beauty of the place. The emirate of Abu Dhabi is magnificent. I never grew tired of the flowers along the wide boulevards, nor the palm trees along the Gulf. But the desert is what I'm really talking about here. The desert is ostensibly a brutal domain, with a harsh, unrelenting sun pouring down on a vast barrenness. And certainly this can be accurate. But the desert is also a place where one can feel incredibly free and peaceful. The seemingly endless rolling hills of sand, the dunes constantly being re-shaped by the wind, the powder-blue sky above the golden-tan landscape, and the surprising presence of animals, occasional flora and fauna, all made a deep impression on me. I felt both more serene and alive in the desert.

I didn't write much this summer, since returning home. Every time I started I felt my words were inadequate. But I set a deadline to end this blog.

So here it is, I say good-bye.

Thank you to anyone who bothered to linger on this blog. I wrote it for you. Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for letting me share my affection for Abu Dhabi and the UAE with you. And thank you to everyone who wrote to me on the blog and on my email. I felt understood and heard when you wrote in. Once again, it was the gift of the human connection I so enjoy.

Will I ever return to Abu Dhabi? I don't know. I've just begun a master's degree in Teaching English as a Second Language. In addition, I am endeavoring to learn as much as I can about the Islamic/Arab/Asian world. For example, yesterday I took part in a two-day workshop on Afghanistan in Boston.

My imagination and my intellect were sparked by my time in Abu Dhabi. But most of all, Abu Dhabi, my temporary home, touched my heart.

P.S. My e-mail address is flowersinthesand@hotmail.com if anyone wants to get in touch. Now it's really ma as-salaamah, wallah!

Pics of UAE

2008-10-01T04:17:00.003+04:00

Here's a few additional photos, taken by M as usual, from our time in the UAE. Above is a roundabout in Fujairah.

Sheikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al Nahyan Mosque, Abu Dhabi (above).

Outdoor Mass, Christmas 2007, at St. Joseph's Catholic Church, Abu Dhabi. It was a beautiful night, quiet and peaceful though thousands attended that Mass.

Some More of Abu Dhabi

2008-10-01T03:48:00.002+04:00

Khalifa Park on opening weekend last winter, with two of my sons.

A mosque, beautifully lit at night in Abu Dhabi.

Sheikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al Nahyan Mosque in Abu Dhabi.

Abu Dhabi - Pics I Like

2008-10-01T03:31:00.002+04:00

Here's a view (above) I had every time I walked from my car to our catholic church, St. Joseph's. It is of a walkway into Sheikh Mohammed Bin Zayed Mosque, which borders St. Joseph's Catholic Church.

This is the Eastern Corniche, near where we lived in Abu Dhabi. Above are two of my sons and a cousin fishing in January.

A view looking outside, (from inside) the Emirates Palace Hotel.

Khalifa Park, where I saw my favorite thing: flowers in the sand.

More Pics of Abu Dhabi

2008-10-01T03:02:00.001+04:00

A Few Pics of Abu Dhabi

2008-09-09T04:57:00.009+04:00

This month I will close this blog for good. I'm back in the US now; it's definitely time.

I haven't posted much lately because I'm not quite sure what I want to say.

Flowers in the Sand, Abu Dhabi has been a signifcant part of my life for the past 18-or-so months. It's not easy to say khalas. (For the umpteenth time, please forgive atrocious attempt at Arabic spelling.)

With the end in sight, I thought I'd post a few pictures of AD now and again. Unless noted, all were taken by the infamous M.

Above is a view of the east side of Abu Dhabi, from the Abu Dhabi Mall. The Beach Rotana pool is visible below the Gulf.

This was taken near the Cultural Foundation and Airport Road.

A side street in Abu Dhabi at night: lots of cars parked here, there, and everywhere.

Before Leaving Abu Dhabi

2008-08-19T05:19:00.011+04:00

Before we left Abu Dhabi, our eldest child graduated high school.

"What hotel is your graduation in?" a friend asked on the phone a few days before the big event.

"We're at the Intercon, how about yours?" I said.

It's a funny thing here (in Abu Dhabi), but all the high school graduations I know of took place in a swanky hotel. At home in the US, they are almost always held on the school grounds, either in the gymnasium or under a large tent erected for the day. After the ceremony, families go either home or to a restaurant. They have a large, "open house" family party for the new graduate. Even posh boarding schools follow this practice.

Our son's graduation ceremony was followed by a dinner dance at the same hotel. This was lovely, too, but had the feel of a wedding (an American wedding). It was also quite expensive and our younger children were not allowed to attend. (There was an age cut-off.) It was a nice evening, but I still vote for the American-style graduation.

*Our children attended an international school in Abu Dhabi. This post does not reflect local graduation customs.

Some Pics From Recent Activities

2008-08-19T05:12:00.013+04:00

When our next-door neighbors from Abu Dhabi visited recently, we went kayaking on the Contoocook River in New Hampshire. We were a party of four parents and eight off-spring (ages 18 down to 9 years old). Each of us had his own kayak save for me and my ten-year-old son, who shared a double.

For more than three hours we paddled along nine miles of a slow and winding river. As if to add emphasis to the natural beauty we were experiencing, dragonflies soared and dipped above us on the water, occasionally landing on our kayaks.

There is something very pure about this kind of thing -a physical endeavor shared with such a range of ages. I just loved it. I think all of us did, especially we parents. (Those children of mine who read this blog are now groaning. Wait 'til you're a parent, I say.)

Another day we took a drive to the Nubble Lighthouse (above) in York, Maine. Very beau.

Of course all this touring required lunch beside a scenic spot along the water in Maine.

Home

2008-08-07T00:39:00.013+04:00

We sleep with the windows open, something we did only in the winter in Abu Dhabi.

Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and a summer breeze brushes my face and I am cold. I can hardly believe it. This morning I peeled back our cotton bedspread and added a blanket over the sheet. At the foot of the bed I put a quilt, just in case the blanket doesn't do the trick.

In my effort to "re-bond" with my home, this morning I decided to work in the garden. The air was chilly and damp. We've had many days of clouds and rain. I put on a sweater, an old gray cashmere pullover that was my mother's. It felt nice. I remember now that it took me a while to find the right balance, vis a vis clothing, in Abu Dhabi's heat: to wear clothes that didn't make me even hotter while also being mostly covered.

Next I stepped into a pair of green rubber boots I keep in the garage for gardening. Suddenly I felt like Beatrix Potter's Mr. McGregor, when he finds Peter Rabbit has eaten all his lettuce: my right sock was stuck to the bottom of the boot. A chipmunk - or another animal from the woods - must have found a stray piece of candy, dropped by one of my children, and hid it in my boot for the coming winter.

Flowers in New Hampshire

2008-08-02T20:14:00.006+04:00

Since I returned home I've been busy unpacking, painting rooms to suit my new tastes even as I talk to old friends on the phone, and seeing loved ones. I also took weeklong trip to Ireland to visit my grandmother and attend a writing workshop.

Then I had to face the fact that for a while at least, my travelling is over. Naturally I have mixed feelings about this. It doesn't surprise me that I miss Abu Dhabi since there was so much I loved about living there. In another post I'll discuss what I miss about living in the UAE.

For now I offer two pics of flowers growing in my New Hampshire garden. They certainly were a welcome sight upon our arrival home at the end of June.

In the photo of daisies above, in the distance is a large rock on our front lawn. Young children love to climb on it. They usually stand on the flat parts and sort of pose, as if they are royalty.

Above here is one of the hollyhocks blooming near the mudroom door. They grow to about eight feet tall. They're so sturdy they remind me of Jack and the Beanstalk's bean plants that grow into the clouds.

Mount Kearsarge, New Hampshire

2008-08-02T02:31:00.005+04:00

Our neighbors from Abu Dhabi, with their two teenage sons, visited us recently. Being that they're a couple from Scotland and Egypt, and have lived in the Middle East for more than 15 years, we tried to do quintessential New Hampshire activities with them.

The first day of their visit, both our families hiked a mountain a short ride from our home. It was a sparkling day, dry and sunny and not too hot. All we needed were sturdy shoes and a hat or sunglasses. Above is me on the way up the mountain.

Above is some of our party relaxing on the top of the mountain. It was a good five or ten degrees cooler at the peak and the views were magnificent.

In the very far distance you can see the outline of the White Mountains. Below are the evergreen trees you see all over New Hampshire.

Understanding Emiratis

2008-08-01T01:16:00.009+04:00

It's easy to live in the UAE and co-exist with the country's "locals" but never get to know them. Some ex-pats are fine with that, but I was not. I was more than curious. I felt I wouldn't have really experienced this country if I never engaged with its people. Then I met "Sunshine," a nickname my local friend said to use for her.

I was more than fortunate to have made friends with a local and to meet her friends. For those interested in learning about people of the Emirates, the link below to an essay in The National, the new newspaper from Abu Dhabi, is helpful.

Respect: it’s the key to understanding Emirati identity
comment Bushra al Hahshemi
The National - News
22 Jul 2008

"The late Sir David Roberts, the British ambassador to the United Arab Emirates from 1977-81, wrote in a foreword to This Strange Eventful History, the memoirs of another British diplomat, Edward Henderson in 1988: “A diplomat might speak excellent...read more...

We Are Home

2008-06-25T16:56:00.008+04:00

We are home. Suitcases, boxes, sneakers cover every surface.

The air is cool, damp even, and I tend to move about with a sweater on my shoulders. Even so, I have just about every window in the house open at least a quarter way. The air is clear and smells so fresh I wish I could bottle it.

We had thunder and lightning the day we arrived, and then the next day too. It reminded me of the man-made thunder and rain storms at Wild Wadi in Dubai except that it was God-made, the real thing. The first day back, I stepped out of the car and into a large puddle - my foot and shoe immediately soaking - and was hit with the reality of being in New Hampshire.

I revel in the coolness and greenness of my surroundings - the grass, the trees, even the large, lettuce-like leaves on a pot of pale pink gerbera daisies that a friend brought over. Before we arrived, another friend bought us groceries and left yellow cala lilies in a pot on the kitchen counter. My tenants left two pots of African violets, too. Of course I'm delighted with all.

The shrubs I planted over the years around the house - holly, yews, rhododendrons, and azaleas - have grown so much in my absence. Like children I haven't seen for a time, they have shot up while my back was turned.

One disappointment was that two yews (evergreen trees) I'd been watching grow into tall, column-shaped shrubs on the far left corner of the house are now bare to their trunks. They've been eaten to their cores, like apples, by deer.

The natural pull towards friends and away from unpacking is taking place amongst all of us. We are still trying to find the balance.

Moving, A Heart Like Stone

2008-06-19T16:43:00.004+04:00

We are in the midst of the big move.

The men packing our stuff have raised their job to something of an art form. The box they made to wrap around a small coffee table is worthy of a picture. The camera is about the only thing not boxed...

Did a speed-viewing of the Picasso art exhibit on display at the Emirates Palace yesterday. Am amazed at the Emirati government's effort to bring education and the arts here. This is why, I believe, this country has a great future: because they invest in endeavors that enhance a civilized society.
.....................................................................................................................

A good friend of mine has said the thought of our departure has brought her to tears more than once. Another good friend, whom I bade farewall to today, cried as we said our goodbyes. I felt very sad too, but I was surprised how composed I was.

"I'm not crying on the outside but I'm crying on the inside," I said.

I felt then that my heart was like a stone. I don't know why I haven't cried over leaving Abu Dhabi when I love it so much, when I am so sad to leave. I think I'm operating in another mode, my brain unable to let my feelings surface. Maybe if I sat down long enough, with no interruptions, maybe I could take in the enormity of what it has meant to move here, live here and now leave here.

To anyone still reading, please forgive choppy sentences - blame it on the move.

Emirati Weddings

2008-06-14T07:57:00.005+04:00

Emirati weddings.

You know someone whose relative is getting married, so you are welcome.

You get very dressed up. You put on a long dress, do your hair and makeup and for good measure you throw on some bling. If you have an abaya you wear it, otherwise you bring a pashmina.

You arrive at the wedding hall or hotel at 9 o'clock at night, when the ladies-only party typically starts.

You are greeted warmly at the door by 10 or so of the bride/groom's close female relatives. They are extremely dressed up, with more makeup than you've ever seen a woman wear in your life. You are surprised at the elaborate dresses they wear, which draw attention to their figures, to say the least: cleavage is really on display, and maybe a midsection on a gown or two will be see-through. Their gowns appear custom made because they fit like gloves.

Everyone says "welcome," shakes your hands, maybe kisses your cheeks. You really do feel like an honored guest. You're glad you got dressed up; you'd feel like part of the beige-colored walls in the lobby right now if you hadn't.

You walk into a lavishly-decorated ballroom: the bride's chosen colors are maroon and pale yellow or maybe mint green, and everything from the flowers to the table clothes and the chairs has these colors. There is a stage at one end of the large room, with a maroon velvet sofa-bench positioned in front of a maroon velvet backdrop, where you imagine the bride will sit when she arrives.

You find seats with your friends at a table. Arabic coffee and tea are offered, along with fruit juices and sodas.

Hummus, moutabal, fatoush, and some sweets are passed around the table. Deliciously-cooked lamb - as in most of the carcass including the head - on rice is served on a huge platter. There's also harees, a traditional lamb/wheat dish, and other foods at your table.

At 10 or 11 o'clock, the lights go out and a spotlight shines on the far end of the room. The bride appears. She is dressed in an elaborate, white wedding gown. She walks very slowly down the center aisle, pausing to pose for the cameras. She looks nervous, but her appearance is absolutely perfect. She walks up the steps of the stage and poses for more pictures. Finally she sits down on the sofa. The guests line up and greet her on the stage and lots of pictures follow.

A little later the close, young female relatives dance before the bride on and off the stage. Are they on display for mothers of potential grooms to check out?

The music is very different from western music. It is all in Arabic, and it has a fantastic rolling drum beat that makes you wish you could dance too.

Around midnight, an announcement is made in Arabic. Suddenly there is a wave of black moving over the room. Every lady in the room is covering her head with her shayla, some adding their burqa or niqab over their faces. If you don't have a shayla or even a pashmina you will want to duck under the table, so strong is this wave of covering in this room now.

Then the groom enters, wearing the formal gold-edged garment the royal family wears over their kanduras on special occasions. He is flanked by his father and brothers and uncles. Maybe there are twenty men and some boys altogether.

Now you notice the bride's face is covered with a white cloth.

The groom and his party go up to the stage and stand by the bride and many photos are taken.

The groom's party leaves the stage and they dance among themselves close to the foot of the stage. Some of them can really dance. (The groom remains with his bride on stage.) Then an older gentleman among them suddently whips his camel stick in the air several times and all at once the men turn and leave the room.

Now the bride's face is uncovered. She and the groom chat as they greet the ladies who wish them well. Cake and other sweets, as well as coffee, are served.

The newly-weds leave together. The wedding is over.

When In Abu Dhabi

2008-06-13T11:13:00.013+04:00

Just before we moved to Abu Dhabi two years ago, I bought something I'd never owned before: a ball gown.

Having lived in New Hampshire for more than a decade, I was accustomed to donning waterproof boots, jeans, and a good wool sweater when I left the house. I wore heels only to church on Sunday - that is, if it wasn't snowing, raining, muddy, or icy.

I remember the day I bought this fancy long dress. I was in New York for the weekend, clearing out my family home after my mother died. I took a break from what was a sad task and decided to check out a nice clothing shop nearby. I spotted an elaborate silk ball gown in the "clearance" corner.

Was I crazy? I'd entered the shop in search of conservative, lightweight, cotton skirts and pants for hot weather in a Muslim country, and now I was holding a ball gown. Maybe not, I told myself. I remembered reading it was handy to have something formal in Abu Dhabi.

I nervously paid for the dress, half feeling that such things were for other ladies and not me. But as the clerk carefully pulled a garment bag over the gown, she smiled and said, "Lucky you to have somewhere to wear this." Even in this upscale New York shop, most of the apparently affluent customers were buying casual clothes.

As I pack for the move home, I see five ball gowns in my closet*, and it doesn't seem like such a big deal.

*(Now I'll see if M really reads this blog. By the way, I didn't pay very much for any one of these dresses: it's a surprising thing that you can easily find affordable ball gowns in Abu Dhabi. Really.)

Me and My Abaya

2008-06-07T12:45:00.010+04:00

I went to an Emirati wedding recently. It was a rare chance to wear my abaya, a gift from an Emirati friend last year. These pictures were taken before my two friends and I left for the ladies-only party that began around 9 p.m.

I've been to three Emirati weddings. I will write about them soon. For now I just wanted to post something on my blog to show I'm still here.

A Parting Gift

2008-05-27T23:15:00.022+04:00

I have a plant that for two years has never bloomed.

But about a week ago, a ball-like orange flower appeared atop the plant's bushy leaves. Like a spray of fireworks in the night sky.

Now there are twelve blooms on this plant.

A parting gift? This is what I'm thinking.

In late June I'll leave this place I love, Abu Dhabi, knowing full well I may never come back and that regardless, life will go on here after I'm gone. At the risk of sounding morbid, it reminds me a little of death: that's how it is for people who know they're not long for this world and are cognizant of the fact that their loved ones will get up the day after their demise. Their favorite people will move on, as they should, despite their absence.

What will happen to my flowers, I ask myself in the middle of the night. The petunias, which have outlasted most in the city, as well as the impatiens, I will toss lest they wither and become an eyesore for my neighbors. The bougainvillea and my cycads tree,"Jameel," (forgive spelling), which is Arabic for "beautiful," will go to my Emirati friend, Manaal (not her real name).

When I see Manaal lately she asks, "How is you jameel?" and I answer, "You mean how is your jameel," and we laugh. Other things, like hair dryers and kettles, I will just give away. I'm no good at garage sales and the like.

It's not all sad and bad, though. As we get closer to our leave date, my mind is full of the smells of home: the beginning of spring, with the air cool and clean and mild after a long winter, which always make me feel a surge of freedom and energy; the evergreen trees around my New Hampshire home; the dark, wet earth in my hands when I dig holes for news plants and move others around for the coming season; the fresh air coming through the window in the morning as I lay in bed or stand at the kitchen sink washing a pot.

I am distracted and unable to concentrate lately. I flit from task to task like a fly. I give away clothes the kids have outgrown, throw away unnecessary papers, and purchase things we cannot get anywhere but here. I trade recipes with ladies from other countries and try to see friends one more time before we go. I attend the children's school activities and shuttle them to social/academic events.

When I see Manaal, I say let's not talk about my imminent departure. This is chiefly because I don't know when and if I will ever see her again. (I have this feeling in general and all the time, that we don't know what tomorrow will bring and if the people we love will be with us/alive next year).

We touch on a variety of subjects, but naturally the conversation returns to my leave date. She stops talking, looks away. Her kohl-outlined eyes are full of water. I look away too, for a moment, and then one of us changes the subject.

Doha

2008-05-20T07:43:00.010+04:00

With all my children promising they wouldn't cook (we've had at least three near fires) and no one would do a handstand into a brother or sister's mouth (my 10-year-old nearly lost a tooth recently when his younger brother enthusiastically practiced gymnastics), I took off for Doha, Qatar last week.

I joined M in Doha for two nights at the end of his business trip there. I didn't have time to see much of the city, but what I did see I liked. Doha is smaller than Abu Dhabi and much of it is under construction, but it seemed quiet and calm. (The numerous roundabouts, I think, would make the driving difficult. But separate from that, I've heard the locals are more friendly to ex-pats than in Abu Dhabi.)

Above is the championship football game we attended on the last night of the trip. It was fun to watch the two Qatar teams, both supported by thousands of fans in the stands, play their best for first place. The tied game went into overtime three times, finally ending with a competition of penalty kicks wherein the first team to get 6 goals won.

After the orange team made the winning goal and both teams were congratulated by the emir of Qatar, huge streams of confetti flew out of "cannons" on the field, followed by magnifcent fireworks.

Qatar is a dry country, and I believe the pleasant atmosphere at the game was owing to this. There was no vulgarity or bad behavior in the stands - nice for female attendees, in particular.

The hotel we stayed at was ultra luxurious and therefore super-relaxing. I felt like a celebrity, since everywhere I went the staff knew my name. I felt so pampered that I didn't even mind that I resembled a male lion after getting my hair washed and blown dry at the hotel salon. (A few brush strokes and I was back to the real me.)

Summer Approaches, Petunias Go

2008-05-07T15:54:00.012+04:00

Nearly all the petunias around Abu Dhabi have been pulled up and discarded as the warm weather takes hold. The green-jumpsuited workers, their backs bent over the city's flower beds so many months this winter, now spend their days trimming lawns and squatting by sprinklers, watching to see if the water sprays the right way.

I clipped, fertlized and watered my own petunias this morning. They're definitely not ready for the trash can. I really think it's possible that my flowers can make another great showing before we leave Abu Dhabi. And tomorrow I will get someone to help me turn my incredibly heavy cycads tree - I think he's getting a little sun burn.

As I move about the city, the heat produces a thin coat of water on my face. The body's natural cooling system is amazing. Someone told me that women in the Gulf have fewer wrinkles because the perspiration on their faces prevents their skin from getting too dry. There's a silver lining to everything.

People Are Moving Here

2008-05-01T07:44:00.012+04:00

Lately I've been in more communication with westerners who are moving to Abu Dhabi. A lot of them say that they're excited to live here, partly because of how much I've said that I love this emirate and the UAE.

The first thing I feel is pure joy - that other westerners will experience this fascinating country.

Immediately afterwards I panic - what if they don't like it here? What if the housing search/school search/friends search turn out to be really hard for them? What if, in the middle of the night when they can't sleep, these very nice Abu Dhabi newcomers wish they'd never laid eyes on Flowers in the Sand, Abu Dhabi? What if they hate my blog for making the move sound so blissfully easy?

(I am not overestimating the importance of this blog, nor am I trying to say that it made anyone decide to move to Abu Dhabi. Rather, it's that many people have told me they feel positive about moving here and that that is because of my blog.)

The truth is, my own move to Abu Dhabi was anything but easy. About ten days after we arrived, my stomach hurt so much I was often doubled over in pain. I described this in my journal as akin to "...being fired upon at close range, with a 22-calibre handgun, about every 20 minutes - round the clock..."

The heat, the vastly different style of dress, feeling I could get absolutely nothing accomplished, and living in a hotel with six children for over a month were among many contributing factors to my new gastritis.

But, of course it all worked out. And it was definitely worth it. For me and my family.

Yesterday I met for coffee with two readers of my blog who've just moved to Abu Dhabi. While they were quite different (from each other) and are in different situations, both were so nice and so interesting I know they'll make lots of friends. And have lots of stories.

I hope they have blogs, because no doubt their stories here will be different from mine.

The First Abu Dhabi Good-Bye

2008-04-20T08:46:00.030+04:00

Last Thursday afternoon, in equal parts disbelief and denial, I sat in a metal chair beside the nurse's desk at Khalifa Urgent Care Clinic in Abu Dhabi.

"What brings you here?" an unsmiling nurse asked me.

"I was riding. I fell off a horse," I said, showing her the swollen middle finger on my left hand.

"Your first time?" she asked.

I began to feel as if I were in the confessional.

"No, I've ridden for a while," I said. "I broke my right arm in February - also falling off a horse."

"Not a very good rider," she said.

"You could say that," I said, nodding my head. I'd earned that one: my left middle finger turned out to be broken.

I had broken my right arm two months ago, in February. When I got the cast off after six long weeks, I told myself I wouldn't ride again. The healing process had been more difficult than I'd anticipated.

But over subsequent days, even as I decided to quit riding forever, the demands on my time/energy were mounting. Our eldest needed advice on which college he should attend. The mail needed sorting, the house needed de-cluttering, and the younger boys needed to organize play-dates. The height of the laundry began to rival the Hajar Mountains.

My inner self yearned for something just for me.

I got the okay from my doctor for riding, and I set up a private lesson. Sitting on the slowest horse in the stables, I was exuberant to be back in the saddle.

"I haven't that much fun in a long time," I told M that evening, smiling for the first time in weeks.

Last Thursday, my horse made an abrupt stop while cantering. I went over his head and onto the ground. I didn't do anything wrong, my teacher said. But accidents happen. My finger was killing me. I didn't yet know it was broken, but I knew I had to quit this sport.

I looked at my riding instructor. I felt very sad as I began my first Abu Dhabi good-bye.

I wished this gentle man much happiness and success in life, with his job, with his wife and his new baby. He wasn't a personal friend, but I liked him very much. His workday began at 6 a.m. every day except Friday. He grew up in Morocco, where his father had been a showjumping trainer. He was endlessly patient and an excellent rider himself. He spoke Arabic, French and English - sometimes all three in one lesson.

Over the time I knew him, I'd enjoyed hearing about his baby: it was the one area where I felt I could return the favor and offer him advice. I was leaving Abu Dhabi this summer. I knew I'd never see him again.

I mumbled good-bye and left, saving my tears for the car ride home.

Fujairah

2008-04-13T09:15:00.011+04:00

On Friday morning, M, the kids, and I set out on a roughly four-hour drive to the northern emirate of Fujairah. Travelling north from Abu Dhabi through Dubai and into Sharjah, we then headed east, crossing the UAE to this mountainous and quieter emirate on the Gulf of Oman.

On the well-built highway (above), the Hajar Mountains in the distance reminded me of mountains of instant coffee because of their color and rocky surface. The mountain peaks stand layered, in rows, like bowling pins, becoming lighter in color the farther away they are.

Sitting in the front passenger seat beside M, with six kids behind us and mountains on every side, I realized I was becoming slightly claustrophobic. But just as nausea was about to set in, the sea was before us. All was right with the world: we arrived at the peaceful, deep blue sea and coastline of Fujairah.

It turned out to be a terrific overnight getaway - a great change from our city life in Abu Dhabi.

We enjoyed swimming in the Gulf of Oman. The beach was clean and uncrowded. In the picture above, the island on the left is known as "Snoopy Island" because of its resemblance to the profile of that famous Peanuts dog when he's lying down.

The hotel we stayed at was very beautiful and quite luxurious. We splurged this night because we haven't taken a family trip in a very long time. I particularly liked the Moroccan-style lounge (above).

Fujairah Part II

2008-04-13T09:09:00.003+04:00

On the way home, still in Fujairah, we passed Al Bidya Mosque, a very small and beautifully-built mosque that dates back over 400 years. Beyond it, in the background, is one of two old towers that provide breath-taking views of Fujairah.

This north-eastern emirate receives more rainfall than the other emirates of the UAE, and thus has the opportunity for a bit of farming and greenery.

Above are two of my sons resting on a stone wall on the grounds above the Al Bidya Mosque. In the background are the magnificent mountains of Fujairah.

Passing through Sharjah, we couldn't resist the opportunity to check out the Blue Souq. Above is one of the colorful shops there.

In addition to many shops selling pashminas and souvenirs, there are many carpet shops in the Blue Souq.

Arriving at Camel Festival 2008

2008-04-06T10:24:00.011+04:00

Yesterday M, the kids, and I went to the UAE Camel Festival in Madinat Zayed near Liwa, about two hours southwest of metropolitan Abu Dhabi. I absolutely loved the entire day, including the drive, because we saw what I've been longing to see more of: the desert. (More on the desert two posts down from this one.)

As we got further into the remote western region of Abu Dhabi, there were fewer and fewer signs in English. Once at the festival, I asked a police officer for information about the contest and he replied in French.

Above is the side road to the festival, wherein thousands of camels from the Arabian Gulf are competing for significant prizes of cash and cars, etc.

Everyone but us seemed to have a Land Cruiser and everyone but us seemed in need of getting somewhere in record time. Above is a fair display of the driving mentality on this road: if someone isn't going fast enough you go around him - a philosophy almost every driver seemed to be employing at the same time!

Good thing M was driving, as I tend to get excited when all the cars around me are about to plow into my car.

The above picture was typical of what we saw out our car windows before we parked: camels coming and going from the competition arena. If you click on the picture above you will see that despite the heat and the strong sun, the man leading these camels is smiling, his white teeth bright against his tanned skin.

Camel owners say each camel has his own look, his own face, like people. Most owners also seem to have great love for their camels, whose incredible hardiness and wide feet have taken many people across the desert before cars were available. I enjoyed watching the animals and their owners together.

Spread over the vast open land on either side of the makeshift road, as far as the eye could see, there were groups of camels and bedouin-style tents set up for their owners for this nine-day Camel Festival.

It was a feast for the eyes. Many camels were decked out in specially-made, sparkly bands around their humps and backs; some groups of camels wore their country's flag on their backs; many had thick hair on their humps but were otherwise shaved. Some were dark, like those above, and others were sand-colored.

Lunch Gulf Style

2008-04-06T10:16:00.012+04:00

By the time we arrived at the Camel Festival Saturday at 12:30 p.m., the morning contests had ended. Most traditional activities in the Gulf follow this schedule: they begin early and close for the hottest part of the day - between 1 and 4 p.m. - and resume when the weather cools and people come out for the evening.

We toured the souq (above), a series of tents selling coffee pots, incense, etc., set up for the weeklong Camel Festival.

As we passed the tent above, the ladies inside said hello in Arabic and invited us in to their tent, even M and our boys. Though we'd only been outside a few minutes, the shade of the tent was a welcome respite from the hot sun.

The ladies inside - four sisters and their aunt who I believe were from Qatar -served us Arabic coffee, which is lighter than American coffee and has cardomom, saffron and cloves in it. Next we were given water and then a hot, sweet drink that looked like tea. Soon a man pulled up in a truck and gave the ladies two covered platters of cooked poultry on big beds of rice.

"Come," one of the ladies said, gesturing at the platters. She began pulling the meat off the bones of what I believe was goat and leaving it on the rice for us. She and her sisters began to eat. When I reached for some food with my left hand, she stopped me and pointed at my right hand. I regretted that I'd forgotten that many Arabs consider the left hand unclean and only use their right hand for eating.

Though I felt awkward eating with only my weak right hand, even spilling some of the rice on my lap, I noticed our hostesses never dropped a bit of food on their clothes. They were completely covered but for their hands and their striking brown eyes. They lifted their veils just enough to bring the meat and balls of rice they'd formed with their hands to their mouths.

Again I was impressed by the hospitality and graciousness of these Gulf ladies.

The Desert, Liwa

2008-04-06T10:06:00.007+04:00

After our visit with the ladies from Qatar at the Camel Festival souq, we took a drive into the desert. This was the high point of the day for me. I find the vast, wide open land, and the shades of sand, which go from beige to burnt orange to deep tan in gradually higher waves against a cloudless blue sky, reassuring. Like the ocean and the mountains, the natural beauty of the desert has a calming effect on me. If left to my own devices, I could stare at this scenery for a very long time.

For miles, there was nothing but a very well-built road, the desert, and us.

I'm a bit weather-worn here, (sacrificing my vanity yet again for this blog!), but I included this photo because I wanted to show how huge the sand drifts were in comparison to a person.

I love the idea that by tomorrow, there will be a whole new pattern of sand waves out here, depending on which way the winds blow.

Like so many pictures on my blog, it helps to click on the photo to see it in a larger size in order to get an idea of the vastness of this space.

Camel Beauty Contest

2008-04-06T10:02:00.008+04:00

Upon our return to Madinat Zayed and the Camel Festival, we entered the viewing area to see that it was already crowded - and men only. We sat in the next viewing area that was less crowded.

Above is the area where the camels were being judged. Yet again, I wish I spoke Arabic as the entire event was in that language. We could only guess what was being said and why the men in the audience clapped at certain points.

From the initial group of about 25 camels, about 15 were eliminated. The remaining 10 or so were brought closer to the viewing stand. At this point everyone came to the fence for a better look at the finalists. According to the newspapers the camels were classified by age and gender and type; they were then judged on the beauty of their face, the length of their necks, their muscle tone, and the silkiness of their hair.

Each camel had an Arabic number written on the side of its neck. In this contest, I liked number 6 the best; he or she had a particularly pretty face and fine proportions, in my unprofessional opinion. Unfortunately she was sent out before the final round.

When the winner was announced the viewers cheered and clapped most enthusiastically.

On our way out of the festival, we spotted this camel being hoisted into a farm truck.

Horses Are Beautiful

2008-03-31T07:53:00.005+04:00

People look at the cast on my right arm, which I broke while riding, and they ask if I will ride again.

"Of course," I usually say with a smile.

From that point, only people who love riding think I am sane. The truth is, I miss it. But this injury has been more challenging than I anticipated. So I am on the fence as to what I'll do if this cast ever comes off. (Sorry, couldn't resist.)

I thought I'd post a few pictures of horse shows we attended (as viewers) this year and last year. All photos were taken by M at the Abu Dhabi Equestrian Club.

Visitors Abound

2008-03-29T20:02:00.043+04:00

Last Monday the Atlas in me reared its ugly head. A college friend I'd seen twice in the past 20+ years, his wife whom I didn't know well, and their four children were coming from eastern Europe to spend a week with us.

It must be noted that I live in a large villa that starts getting dirty as soon as the mop is put away. I also have a broken arm and six children. We haven't had a maid since January.

How would I look after 14 people with one good arm, a busy husband, and children of our own who are wonderful but seem to have amnesia when it comes to the virtues of tidiness?

To top it off, M's Very-Important-Boss was flying in from Washington, DC, and would visit us this week, too. The man is practically a legend in M's work sphere. I'd never met him before, so I was doubly intimidated.

That made 15 for dinner. I've taken some cooking classes in Abu Dhabi from a friend who's a retired chef, but I'm far from being talented in the kitchen.

So. I honestly don't know why I worry so much. The week went very well, even the night that M preferred take-out over my planned menu and then the Lebanese Flower had no drivers. (We opted for Chinese delivery, which was awful but noone seemed to mind. In fact, all were delighted I didn't cook - should I take that the wrong way?)

It was almost surreal to walk down a street in Abu Dhabi with one of my closest friends from college. I remember ambling along Washington DC streets with this fellow more than 20 years ago, comiserating about schoolwork and the ups and downs of our social lives, and laughing a lot.

Now my college chum and I have ten children between us. He and his family, Americans living in Moldova, were flexible and helpful. They were interested in getting to know the UAE. Their two-year-old daughter calls her mother "mamushka." (Pardon the spelling.) After a great but lengthy tour of the Sheikh Zayed Mosque, their nine-year-old son hugged me at the Marina Mall and said, "Now you've brought me to another great place." Charming. My friend's wife was lovely; we had much in common and talked until after midnight more than once.

Our guests told us about Moldova, and we told them about Abu Dhabi. Yesterday, when I happened to meet a lady from Russia, I could discuss that region with more knowledge than before.

M's boss was as kind and gracious as a person could be. He had no ego, was a world-class listener, even with the children, and showed appreciation for even the smallest things I did for him. I got great satisfaction from overruling him when he attempted to help clear the dinner table.

Weather in Abu Dhabi

2008-03-27T15:52:00.005+04:00

Above is a picture of myself and my children, on the street in front of our villa in Abu Dhabi, as we walked to the bus on the kids' first day of school last year. I chose it now because it represents typical weather at this time of year in Abu Dhabi. It's beginning to heat up here, but we know it will get much, much hotter and more humid.

Below is a typical view of the street in front of my New Hampshire home at this same time of year, after a snow storm. New Hampshire has gotten more than 102 inches of snow this year. Friends tell me that spring seems very far away in New Hampshire (below).

Can you see the Adirondack chairs M made? They're painted dark green, but are covered in snow on a wintry day in New Hampshire a few years ago.

When the snowing ends and the sun comes out, the view out the rear windows of my New Hampshire home is magnificent.

Winter Back Home

2008-03-24T09:09:00.005+04:00

A dear friend called me in Abu Dhabi last night from our home town in New Hampshire. She said the snow has been "unbelievable" this winter, even for New Hampshire. At lunchtime where she was in the northeastern USA, the temperature was 20 degrees Fahrenheit. It had been 0 degrees earlier that day.
Above is what a snowy day looks like outside my New Hampshire home.

When the sun shines after it has snowed, the woods behind our home look like a winter wonderland.

Dressing Up In Abu Dhabi

2008-03-18T07:36:00.017+04:00

My new favorite dress is one my dear Emirati friend (called Sunshine here) picked out for me. Actually Sunshine picked it out for herself, but it "needs a taller person," she said as she handed it to me in a shop in Abu Dhabi the other day.

It is a clingy, short-sleeved, knit dress in pink, black, and white. It has a deep v-neck in front and back, and it goes to the knee. Much sexier than my usual style. I could easily imagine an Emirati lady wearing this dress with her female friends; the women of the Gulf whom I've met are deeply feminine and stylish and love to dress up. But I wasn't sure I had the nerve to wear this kind of dress in my mixed-gender social gatherings.

Now our cultural style differences were confronting me head-on.

"I think it's too small," I said.

"Try it on," she said. Sunshine was covered -as usual when in public - in one of her elegant black abayas and shaylas.

I did. The dress was lovely, but I couldn't see wearing it further than my living room: it hugged my torso like a super-long girdle. The deep v-neck seemed to show more of me than any bathing suit I'd ever owned.

I opened the dressing-room door just a crack to show Sunshine, who was waiting patiently. She looked me over with her lovely dark eyes.

"Beautiful. Buy it," she said.

I bought it, not wanting to hurt Sunshine's feelings. But I'm glad I did: I wore it last night, to a fancy cocktail party on the water at a beautiful Abu Dhabi hotel. It was a perfect evening, weatherwise, and noone seemed scandalized by my attire, be he Emirati or westerner.

In the end, it seemed the perfect dress for a party in a cosmopolitan city.

Perhaps I'm advancing from merely admiring the stylish people around me to gaining the confidence to be stylish myself. The Abu Dhabi adventure continues.

Different Customs at the Clinic

2008-03-11T23:00:00.012+04:00

Early this morning I arrived at the hospital for a check-up on my broken arm. That the waiting room was full of (Emirati) men and no women should have made me pause, but this always seemed to be the case when I went there: numerous men in the national (Arab) dress and me.

I tried to be nonchalant and took a seat.

Soon I noticed a man was staring at me. Then I realized he was actually glaring at me. Really glaring. I was dressed modestly and certainly not acting peculiar, so I decided he must have some kind of issue I knew nothing about. I picked up the newspaper, began to read it, and tried to forget he was there.

Then, at the receptionist's window, a light bulb went off in my head. Beyond the reception desk was another waiting room, and it was full of Emirati ladies.

"Am I in the men's waiting room?" I asked.

The administrative staff began giggling. The receptionist nodded and rather timidly answered, "yes."

Why noone bothered to tell me that I was repeatedly invading the men's waiting room, I'll never know. But I'm glad to think I added a little amusement to the staff's day.
...............................................................................................................................................................

Feeling a lot more comfortable upon entering the ladies' waiting room, I still did not blend in: every lady patient at this particular hospital is covered - really covered - in black.

But a nicety occurred that I haven't seen back home in waiting rooms. When a new patient came in the door, she nodded to the rest of us females already present and greeted us by saying, "A salam alaykum," and then all the other ladies would answer "alaykum salam." (Please excuse incorrect spelling.)

In a clinical setting, that small greeting/acknowledgement warmed the atmosphere.

Winter in Full Bloom

2008-03-09T15:14:00.003+04:00

Petunias bloom in Abu Dhabi along an elegant side street near the public beach.

A closer look at the same scene.

Abu Dhabi Desert

2008-03-05T23:08:00.005+04:00

Typing with my (non-writing) left index finger is beginning to get on my nerves, so I thought I'd just post a couple of photos taken by M instead. Above and below are the desert, of course, out near Al Ain. It's so, so, beautiful.

These were taken around sunset on desert safari. The man pictured above had given many people rides on the camels by dinner time.

Flowers To The Rescue

2008-03-02T08:53:00.005+04:00

Outside the front of my villa I've planted four window boxes of pink petunias.

To the right of the front door, the flowers (in photo above), are thriving in the perfect weather of late. These beauties are planted in sand, with a light topping of soil.

When you have a broken arm, it is great to have beautiful flowers to cheer you up. They can distract you from the fact that the orthopedic surgeon continues to mention the possibility of surgery, that he off-handedly says your arm will hurt for three more weeks, and that he only smiles when you ask him if the cast might not really have to stay on for eight weeks.

(I planted all these flowers before I broke my arm.)

Third Trip to Emergency Room

2008-02-22T19:11:00.010+04:00

Yesterday's riding lesson started out well but ended painfully.

I was excited because recently I've felt really comfortable riding and jumping. This is an activity I'd done a lot in the past but had left behind after college. Lately, my horse and I were like one going around the ring and gliding over the fences. I think I was happiest about the fact that I had no fear, that the whole exercise was a challenge I could meet.

But yesterday morning, about four paces after I cleared a fence, I lost my right stirrup. I couldn't slow my horse because I'd given her too much rein. I tried to hang on but I couldn't. Down I went into soft sand. I felt hurt but I tried to get up and crawl away from my horse in case she might step on me. Then I saw she was standing still, about two feet away. (Oh how I love that horse!)

"Frances, are you okay?" my teacher asked.

"I don't know," I said, feeling I shouldn't make too big a deal out of it.

He helped me stand up and brush off the sand I was covered in from head to toe.

"I think you're okay. Get back on and we go again," he said.

My teacher is a very nice man and an excellent instructor. He is from Morocco and speaks Arabic, French, and English - sometimes all three in a group lesson. I knew he wanted me to put the fall behind me by having a good finish to the class. But my right arm was killing me.

I drove myself to an emergency room and waited in the females' waiting room with about 12 local ladies covered in black. I closed my eyes and tried to keep my tears from spilling down my dusty face. Once again I found the emergency-room care to be excellent, though everything did take a long time. After two rounds of x-rays it was determined that I broke my arm, about two inches above the wrist, in three pieces.

About seven hours later I was ready to go home, my arm in a cast from the middle of my upper arm to the ends of the knuckles on my fingers. M drove me home and has been an angel ever since.

I can't ride or run or write long-hand, or do pretty much anything, for eight weeks.

But as usual, there's a silver lining to my incapacitation.

"I wish I could make you feel better, but I honestly don't know how to comfort the comforter," my 17-year-old said last night.

Everyone has been icredibly kind. My dear neighbors brought me chocolates and offered rides for our kids. My ten-year-old says he'll lead the kitchen clean-up for the next week. My 13-year-old daughter helps me dress and will wash my hair. My rambunctious eight-year-old says he will follow me from room to room, seeing what I need. What more could I ask for?

The Pendulum Swings Back Towards Center

2008-02-19T20:41:00.025+04:00

When we moved to Abu Dhabi, I carried a lot of stuff with me. Yes, we put just about everything we owned in storage or in the dustbin. The stuff I'm referring to, the stuff I brought here, was emotional rather than tangible.

I carried my mother's death, my father's death, and my uncle's death to Abu Dhabi. Of course those events happen to everyone - I only mean to say that they influenced me to be less carefree. I also brought years of putting myself second to my family. I do not regret that - but I knew it had taken its toll on me.

I look back at who I was when I came to Abu Dhabi: I remember myself as a bundle of resignation, guardedness and fatigue. It was M's idea to come here; I merely cooperated. I read everything I could about living in the UAE and about Arab cultural awareness. I was neutral on the plan: life had taught me to expect disappointment, because being surprised by it was very hard to swallow.

As I look ahead to moving back to New Hampshire (United States) this summer, I know I am more whole now. I am stronger and softer at the same time. Abu Dhabi is an expensive place to live but some things here are quite affordable: having a maid, riding lessons, and sunshine. Friendship, too, has been easy.

To be fair, I had begun to emerge from the tidal wave of early motherhood before our 2006 move to Abu Dhabi. In 2004, I'd started a novel, I'd started to exercise, and I'd started doing things with my children rather than only for them.

But it was here in Abu Dhabi that I could catch my breath, rest a bit, and dive in to interests that were purely mine. Riding clears my head. The English-language conversation class is rewarding. Making friends with Muslims and Arabs confirms my hope that we are all the same, worried about our loved ones and the future. Writing I just have to do.

Living here has helped me get back to me, which in turn helped me get back to my family. (If you're still reading, you deserve a medal. I apologize for the record-breaking self-indulgence of this post.)

At the Beach, Abu Dhabi

2008-02-10T23:04:00.000+04:00

(Above: my oldest and youngest sons at the beach, Abu Dhabi.)

Friday morning begins our weekend. While sitting in church, unable to understand the priest's accent, my mind drifted. I proceeded to concoct an entirely me-centered afternoon: after Mass I'd workout at the gym and then, I thought, I'd spend the rest of the day at the Arabian Horse Show.

I'd been to the horse show the previous night with a friend and really enjoyed it. (The Arabian Horse Show reminded me of the famous Westminster Dog Show, except the horses didn't look prissy and overly-preened, they were magnificent.) We saw the yearlings and the 13-and-over horses judged on their physical beauty and their gaits. All the yearlings, by the way, were bred in the UAE. Held outdoors at the Abu Dhabi Equestrian Club, the horse show was free and attended by people of all ages, including a lot of locals. Because Abu Dhabi is so safe, it was a carefree atmosphere, wonderful.

So. At the end of a hectic Friday morning, after rushing to get the younger four kids to catechism classes and then all of us to Mass, we returned to our villa. It looked like a bomb hit it from the mad dash we'd made out the door. The disarray didn't bother me, though, since I was going out...

"Are we ever going to go to the beach?" my oldest son said, entering my bedroom as I made my bed. (Thought a little tidying up was the least I could do before making my escape.)

"It's a little cool," I said, trying to hold on to my plans. I turned and looked outside; it was cool, in the mid 60s, but beautiful, very sunny.

No sooner did he leave than my youngest wandered along as I eyed the mountain of laundry in the laundry room.

"I'm bored. There's nothing to do," he said. "Why can't we go to the beach?"

I don't know if he'd overheard his oldest brother, but regardless, the two of them gently asking such a small favor weakened my resolve. Off we went to the beach.

We had a lovely afternoon: it was a special time, I thought, to have my oldest and youngest children together, alone but for me, enjoying something as simple as the sun and sand of the Arabian Gulf.

I actually was cold that day as I've adjusted to the very hot weather here; I wore a long-sleeved t-shirt, a light ski jacket and jeans, but the sun warmed me to the core.

We went to a public beach off Khaleej Al Arabi and Al Saada Streets. A sign there says "No Hanging Around or Using Jet Skis," or words to that affect, but it seems that as long as people are quiet they are allowed to stay. There were small groups of people, some in bathing suits and some fully clothed, sun bathing or picnicing near us.

In and Around Shaikh Zayed Al Nahyan Mosque

2008-02-03T15:13:00.000+04:00

This weekend all of us went to the newly-opened Shaikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al Nahyan Mosque in Abu Dhabi. This is the front facade. The grounds are still under construction.

I drive by the mosque often. M and I were excited to visit, but the kids, at first, weren't so enthusiastic. As soon as we arrived, however, they changed their minds. Immediately you feel you are in a very special place that the whole world will come to know.

We are non-Muslim westerners, but no one looked askance at us. We took off our shoes when we arrived; my daughter was handed an abaya and a shayla and I (finally) got to wear my abaya and shayla.

A close-up of one of the many beautiful columns.

I believe this is the main prayer hall. The carpet is the largest in the world; it was made in Iran and flown to Abu Dhabi in nine pieces.

In and Around Shaikh Zayed Mosque, Part II

2008-02-03T15:02:00.000+04:00

The rear facade of the mosque, from the left side.

The front facade, awaiting finishing of the grounds.

Inside what I believe is the main prayer hall, looking up at the ceiling.

In and Around Shaikh Zayed Al Nahyan Mosque, Part III

2008-02-03T14:57:00.000+04:00

I liked this sign, which I saw on the way out of the mosque. It reads: "My Lord make this City one of peace and security."

Abayas in General, Abaya Styles

2008-01-28T19:58:00.000+04:00

Recently I've seen several females in shorter abayas, something I haven't seen before. (In the Gulf, an abaya is a black floor-length cloak worn over clothing when ladies leave the house. They wear a matching black shayla, or headscarf with their abaya.)

At the Marina Mall yesterday, I saw a woman in an abaya that was five inches shorter than the usual floor length. The hem of this lady's long brown skirt really stood out; I assumed she must have borrowed a shorter friend's abaya in a pinch. As a fashion style it definitely didn't work.

Later, while watering my new pink petunias in their new window boxes in front of my villa, a group of teenage girls walked by. Each of them was wearing an abaya that was more like a cape. These abayas were sort of hip length. The girls were beautiful, young, laughing. I liked their whole "air," if you will. Their heads were covered loosely with black shaylas. Very lovely. Is the shorter abaya a new style?

Speaking of abayas, I love them. They're feminine and graceful. They definitely make you wonder what is worn under them, which by the way, could be anything from cottom pajamas to a silk ball gown. Women of the Gulf wear abayas well, as they tend to walk very erect and with a proud air. The abaya fabric is wrinkle resistant and very fluid. Sometimes they have embroidery or brightly colored stones on the sleeves or hems or both, but some Gulf ladies say these highly-decorated abayas are too flashy and are supposed to be saved for special occasions.

The abaya has evolved over the years into something quite fashionable. In times past, abayas used to have "wings," and were like floor-length ponchos, I'm told. But they've become more tailored to the size of the wearer's arms and figure.

Occasionally a lady's abaya will flare open towards the bottom and a bright colored skirt and heels might be seen. It's interesting to note that men seem to like them.

"Western women don't get it," my German podiatrist chiropodist said when we discussed the abaya one day. "Men would rather get a little peak and leave the rest to their imaginations than see everything."

Really, if a woman is overweight the abaya is slimming. I've seen extra-large ladies remove their abayas at weddings and thought they ought to immediately put them back on. If a woman is slender, she is nothing short of stunning in her abaya. For most ladies who fall in between, the abaya makes them look well groomed and certainly insulates them from prying eyes. In this part of the world, where a woman can feel the uncomfortable heat of a strange man's stare, the abaya is often welcome.

I cringe when I read a western woman rail against the abaya as something imprisoning Gulf ladies when, in fact, local ladies I know actually like their abayas.

When I received an abaya and matching shayla (headscarf) as a gift from an Emirati friend, my children teased me about being an Emirati "wannabe." Maybe they were scared I'd wear it in public, I don't know. I find it's best not to listen too closely to my children at these times.

I haven't worn my abaya outside yet, but I confess that I've tried it on (in the bathroom) many times, just to see what I'd look like.

Riding, Writing, Maids, Living Far From Home

2008-01-24T06:23:00.000+04:00

Life goes on, most things unchanged. A friend in Abu Dhabi just found out her father (in England) is very ill and another friend had similar news about her mother (in the Netherlands). At times like these it's hard to be so far from home.

Lately, the riding is going better than the writing. Seems I can write a blog or I can write fiction, but I cannot write both. After a long dry spell, the muse has returned, so I am back at my attempt at a novel. We'll see.

Certainly some of the people I've come to know here, Emiratis and Arabs in particular, are inspiring me in a positive way. Can't say any more than that at the moment...

My dear maid, whom I had great affection for, is not working for us anymore. She used to come once a week - for a while her husband came too - and my villa sparkled under their care. I was sad to say goodbye to them, but happy for the reason: they are buying a house in their home country of Sri Lanka. It costs about 50,000 dirhams, equal to $13,500 US.

Would I visit, they asked. I said I would love to, and I meant it. They said their home would always be ready for me, and I know they meant it, too.

Although I had a good experience with my maid, a number of friends have gone through 3 or 4 maids before they found someone whom they trusted and who cleaned well. Since my children are asking for cash at every turn lately, well, you can imagine what we've decided to do.

The UAE

2008-01-18T21:30:00.000+04:00

The UAE is training women to be judges and prosecutors, in anticipation of a change in federal law, the newspapers said this week. If all goes as planned, the UAE will be the second country in the conservative, Muslim, Gulf region to have women in these roles. The first is Bahrain.

Also this week, the first female pilots graduated in Al Ain, UAE.

I know I sound like an ad for the UAE, but I do think this is an amazing country in the context of today's world. Next door in Saudi Arabia, women cannot even drive a car; even non-Muslim women must be covered and cannot hold jobs. Elsewhere in the world, people are killing innocent people in the name of religion. In the UAE, nearly 200 nationalities co-exist peacefully. Crime is extremely low here; in the city, I don't have to look over my shoulder in fear that someone might jump me.

My second oldest son, a former blogger himself, says my blog is too PollyAnna vis a vis the UAE. He loves Abu Dhabi, but he thinks my blog could use some more gritty analysis from time to time.

To be sure, the UAE has some serious issues. Anyone would say that locals seem to live by a different set of laws from foreigners. I was incensed when I read about a French teenage boy in Dubai who was kidnapped and raped last year by three Emirati males - including a schoolmate and a 38-year-old man who knew he was HIV positive - and the authorities initially considered prosecuting the victim for having a "homosexual affair." (In December, the two adult males were found guilty and sentenced each to 15 years in jail; the schoolmate is being tried in juvenile court. I'll never know if public pressure played a part in the turnaround here, but the story got a lot of international attention.)

Another issue is the wages of the "workers" here - people who sweep streets, man security booths, clean washrooms and the like for 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, for 2 years without a vacation, for maybe $200 a month. They are bussed in and out of single-sex housing outside the metropolitan areas. They see their families once every year or so. But many of these workers say they have it better here than in their own countries.

My point is, the UAE may have some things to work on, but so does my own country and every other country I can think of. So I still say the UAE is an amazing country.

There's a Wadi in My Kitchen!

2008-01-16T22:14:00.002+04:00

Abu Dhabi hosted both the U.S. and French presidents this week - the same week in which the UAE saw record amounts of rain.

The roads here are flat, with no drains, so the water just sits. Puddles grow quickly into small ponds. People are not used to driving on wet roads in the UAE; there are more accidents even than usual. In the last few days we've received more than 100 millimeters of rain, surpassing the old record of 80-some odd millimeters, the newspapers said.

"There's a wadi in the kitchen!" I yelled, feigning alarm, when M arrived home from the office last night.

A wadi is Arabic for a "dry riverbed that contains water only during times of heavy rain," according to Wikipedia. Having been to "Wild Wadi," a fantastic water park in Dubai, M and I used to joke that we had our own wadi in our Abu Dhabi villa: when we moved in, the sprinklers outside the kitchen were facing the wrong way. Exterior doors here are not fitted with weather-stripping and the water poured right into the villa, morning after morning. It took a number of days to get this problem fixed.

After two days of rain this week, yesterday's downpour was the heaviest. Portions of major roads were closed and even some schools were closed in Abu Dhabi. Dubai was hit harder and the northern emirates suffered with flooding. When I stood in front of the kitchen sink last evening, my feet were in a pool of water. Seems it came in under the window, and created a mini-wadi across the floor.

Everyone I've talked to today has a small flood somewhere in his villa or flat, but noone seems terribly worried about it. Perhaps because all our homes have tile floors and eventually the water will disappear, or maybe because we don't own our homes? Probably a combination of both. And as one friend said, "Oh well, how often does it rain in Abu Dhabi, maybe twice a year?" True enough.

Regarding President Bush's visit, I feel he missed a great opportunity to strengthen his relationship with the UAE. And we very much need friends in this region.

On a lighter note, President Nicolas Sarkozy was here this week, just after President Bush. At a reception at the Emirates Palace Hotel, according to a French friend, a tent was set up outside to accomodate the large crowd of French citizens there to meet him. Unfortunately, the rain was so heavy it split the roof of the tent and water poured down on some of the guests!

Abu Dhabi - Tourist Club Area

2008-01-16T20:18:00.000+04:00

Here's a photo M took (before the rain of late) from an upper floor of the Beach Rotana Suites, beside the Abu Dhabi Mall on the east side of the island.

President George W. Bush in Abu Dhabi

2008-01-13T20:41:00.000+04:00

President Bush arrived in Abu Dhabi today. In the picture above, he is being introduced by Ms. Aida Abdullah Al Azdi of the Emirates Center for Strategic Studies and Research. He was giving a speech before an invitation-only crowd at the Emirates Palace Hotel. (M attended and took the pictures.)

In the picture above, Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice is shaking hands with a UAE dignitary after the president's speech.

Global Village, Dubai

2008-01-09T10:03:00.001+04:00

Global Village, now in a permanent location in Dubai and open until March, is definitely worth a visit. (FYI - We hit a lot of traffic on the way there but the roads were wide open on the return trip to Abu Dhabi.)

There are 38 countries represented, each with stalls selling a variety of wares within a facade of the country's characteristic architecture. In the picture above I'm looking at hand-embroidered tablecloths in the Afghanistan pavillion.

A pleasant surprise was a modern dance performance that began on land and continued on the man-made canal that runs through Global Village. The dancers performed inside "bubbles" as they floated on the water.

Above is the just-opened India pavillion.

On the night we went to the Global Village, there were many, many people there - mostly families - but we didn't find the crowds overwhelming. There are a nice variety of amusement-park rides and games, but they don't dominate the Global Village. In the background there was a steady stream of Arabic music.

Above is another view of the various countries' pavilions. Many line the canal but others are found off the canal, closer to the food/dining area. To be sure, some countries' pavilions offer more authentic wares than others. We particularly liked Nepal, Senegal, and Afghanistan. We plan to go again as we didn't have enough time to get around to all the countries.

Extreme Cold Spell

2008-01-09T09:04:00.000+04:00

"UAE shivers under extreme cold spell" read a headline on the top half of page one, Khaleej Times, yesterday.

It's downright chilly and somewhat windy in Abu Dhabi. As I write this at 9 o'clock in the morning, it's a mere 46 degrees (Fahreinheit) - about 10 degrees cooler than the normal low in January here. Today's high will be 63 degrees, compared with a normal high of 74 degrees in January. With a lot of moisture in the air, we are really feeling the coolness.

People in Abu Dhabi do not talk about the weather, as a matter of course. It's almost always sunny and warm (if not extremely hot) in the Gulf, and it hardly ever rains. In contrast, where I'm from in New Hampshire (US), the weather is a constant topic of conversation. I suppose old habits are hard to break: I've found myself telling Abu Dhabi friends that New Hampshire had a record 44 inches of snow in December. (Now that certainly is certainly something to talk about!)

In any case, everyone I meet the past few days is saying something about how cold it is. We are pulling out favorite wool sweaters; if we don't wear them today we probably won't get another chance to this year.

So, while the UAE experiences the effects of a shamal (a summer, northwesterly wind) that's blowing dust from Iraq and Kuwait, causing dusty conditions and rough seas here, the weather back in New Hampshire yesterday was unusually mild. It hit 60 degrees in New Hampshire yesterday, according to a friend, which made it far easier for people to get out and vote in the presidential primary.

Shaikh Zayed Mosque Part II

2008-01-02T07:35:00.000+04:00

Here are a few more photos - taken by M from the passenger side of my car on the highway - of Shaikh Zayed Mosque. Picture above is from the east side. Again, it is even more beautiful in "real life" but we'll keep trying. According to the newspaper, it is the third largest mosque in the world.

This is the front of the mosque. It was open for the recent Eid Al Adha in December, when Shaikh Khalifa bin Zayed Al Nahyan (president of the UAE and ruler of Abu Dhabi) and Shaikh Mohammed bin Zayed Al Nahyan (crown prince of Abu Dhabi and commander of the armed forces) attended prayer services there, along with many others.

This last photo is again from the highway and is of the west side of the mosque. The grounds are still being finished and lots of construction vehicles and apparatus remain. Some day, when this mosque is very famous, I'll say I can't believe I used to drive by it every day. I hope I can visit it and see the interior before we leave Abu Dhabi.

Cultural Mix, Cultural Divide

2007-12-28T10:49:00.000+04:00

This morning as I sat at my laptop and closed my eyes, I felt as though I were in Maine. The sliding door beside me was open, and a breeze made the curtains billow and fall. It was sunny, the air was cool and dry, the temperature about 60 degrees. (It would rise to the upper 70s later.) This is the weather we wait many months for in the UAE. It is perfect.

Last night we had some friends over - all ex-pats. The ladies and I got on the subject of making friends with Emiratis, and the opinons were flying back and forth pretty fast. I'm not sure I got my own position across - which may be why I've turned to my blog.

Anyone in Abu Dhabi would tell you it's not easy to make friends with a UAE native, or "local," as they call themselves. One could live here for years without ever getting to know a local.

(Some reasons for this: it's a gender-segregated society and inappropriate for women to talk to unrelated men and vice versa, thus cutting down on interacting with locals by 50% for starters. Also, Arabic is a difficult language. Finally, the UAE has a history of foreigners coming here to work and leave without putting anything into the country, and this must affect how locals view ex-pats. There are so many ex-pats and so few Emiratis -the ratio is approximately 82% to 18%.)

Back to last night. One friend seemed put off that locals were not friendly to her. (I must add that she is a lovely, kind, polite and relaxed person.) Another friend present has lived in the Middle East for many years and is married to someone from the region. (She is equally wonderful). This second friend expressed no particular desire to make friends - or not - with Emiratis.

I knew what my "first friend" was saying. I've been cut in line many times in Abu Dhabi, and I know some local ladies have no interest in talking to me because I'm western and because I'm not Muslim. However, I also feel fortunate that I have made friends with an Emirati woman and with two western ladies married to locals. In last night's conversation, I said it's surprising how open these women are, once they're comfortable and also once they are certain no men are around. If I have them over I make sure no repairmen are coming, that M is at the office, that the sheers are pulled across the windows.

My "first" friend implied that having to make these accomodations was perhaps unfair to me, that maybe I was even compromising my own culture to appease these ladies' requirements. If I can't share my ways, if I can't have a drink while they are over (not that any of us drink during the day or drink a lot, mind you), then maybe I can't even be myself with them.

I'm not sure I answered her views adequately. But I don't at all feel that I'm compromising my ways for the sake of these friendships. Rather, I see it more as reaching out to someone different, as a small effort that is richly rewarded with new friendship.

My Emirati friend is someone I connected with almost immediately. We both have lots of children, we both like to talk about things that are close to our hearts, we both struggle with the demands of large families. In addition, I really like and admire these women for their sense of style and their committment to their Muslim faith. They have each inspired me with my own committments to my own values and my own faith.

Christmas Eve Mass - Abu Dhabi

2007-12-25T21:28:00.000+04:00

Christmas Eve Mass at St. Joseph's Catholic Church, Abu Dhabi, was held outdoors due to the huge crowd attending. There were about 10,00 people at the 8 p.m. mass. An even larger crowd was expected for the Midnight Mass.

Father Francis Jamieson gave a rare "general absolution" because many people, through no fault of their own, could not go to confession before Christmas. The main celebrant, whose name I don't know, said we should reach out to not only the poor but the lonely. Loneliness is something that everyone goes through some time, he said, and it's one of the hardest things to bare.

St. Joseph's is the only catholic church in metropolitan Abu Dhabi. It serves 100,000 parishioners. At a recent confirmation-candidates' gathering, a priest looked at the jam-packed community hall and sighed. He said the enormous number of teens at St. Joseph's is "both the church's greatest blessing and its greatest handicap." The priests here work hard to serve the catholic community well.

(In the picture above, there is a football-field-sized awning overhead; this covers the area between the rear of the church and a St. Joseph's classroom building and provides much needed shade on the many hot days in Abu Dhabi.)

It was a beautiful evening. When the Christmas Eve mass ended, thousands of people dispersed peacefully.

This picture above shows the area between the main church (on the left) and the church hall (on the right). Straight ahead is one of the St. Joseph's School classroom buildings.

Weekends in Abu Dhabi are Friday-Saturday, so our children attend catechism class on Friday mornings and then we all attend a youth mass afterwards.

It took a few minutes for the crowds to exit through the few openings in the walled-in grounds of St. Joseph's. All churches are in one area in Abu Dhabi - the catholic, protestant, and Koptic churches. In the background, on the right of this picture, is Sheikh Mohammed bin Zayed Mosque.

Cracking Down on Reckless Driving

2007-12-20T00:17:00.000+04:00

Two articles caught my eye in the Dec. 17th issue of the Khaleej Times.

One said a new radar was being installed on Mussafah Bridge to catch speeders. I hope this will help prevent another tragic accident there. The other article said, "Around 71 reckless drivers of various nationalities were detained for a week and had to carry out community service on the capital's roads and in schools for 48 hours. Their vehicles have been impounded for a month."

If you meet someone new to Abu Dhabi and chat for a few minutes, invariably the conversation will get around to how dangerous it is to drive here. One often sees either a serious accident or the wreckage from one that has just happened. It used to send chills up my spine but now I am used to it. (I've been told it's even worse in Doha, Qatar.)

There's a website in Abu Dhabi that lists all tickets for driving violations by the license-plate number. A friend's husband typed in her license number and they were surprised to see that she'd gotten a ticket. It was for talking on her cell phone while driving. Noone stopped her at the time, but since my friend hardly ever answers her phone while driving she remembers the one time she did. She answered the call because it was her husband(!). Unbeknownst to my friend, the police were watching.

Maybe these are signs that Abu Dhabi is taking steps to make things safer on the roads here.

Eid Tomorrow, Christmas in a Week

2007-12-18T23:24:00.000+04:00

Christmas is one week away. Back home in New Hampshire, U.S., there is so much snow that our mail box has been "taken out" by one too many snow plows. In Abu Dhabi, the only moisture on the ground is that from my garden hose, which is somewhat leaky.

It is nearly silent around our villa today. Many families have departed for vacation, and my younger boys are wondering what they'll do without their friends. Even the sun seems quieter, it is so much gentler recently. The temperatures brush 80 degrees during the day and the low 60s at night.

As we look forward to Christmas in a week, our Muslim friends anticipate their own important holiday, Eid Al Adha. It begins Dec. 19th (this year) and runs four days. During Eid Al Adha, Muslims pray at home or in a mosque, don their best clothes, visit the eldest family member's home for a nice meal, and give children money as gifts. This Eid comes at the end of Haj, the pilgrimmage to the holy city of Makkah, Saudi Arabia, that Muslims are supposed to try to make once during their lifetime. There are many rituals of religious significance during this pilgrimmage. The intention is to draw Muslims' to their faith and also to unify them as members of their community of worshippers.

Eid Al Adha, the "Festival of Sacrifice," commemorates Abraham's faithfulness and love for God, a love so great he was willing to sacrific his only and beloved son. (As Abraham was about to kill his son, he was told his sacrifice was accepted and his son lived. A ram was sacrificed instead.)

During the Eid, many Muslims today sacrifice an animal - usually a goat or a lamb - and share it with family and the needy. The Khaleej Times reports that approximately one million kilograms (2.2 million pounds) of meat is distributed to the poor at Haj.

My Emirati neighbors left Abu Dhabi yesterday. Their destination was London, if they could get tickets. It seems everyone wants to go to London this Eid, my neighbor said. Other friends flew to Egypt, Oman, and Australia. We know three families spending Christmas in India. Other friends travel to Florida, U.S., this evening.

Abu Dhabi Days Are Passing

2007-12-11T11:48:00.000+04:00

This picture - of a setting sun near my home in Abu Dhabi - seems to capture my mood of late.

Perhaps it's the shortened days as we approach the winter equinox. Maybe it's that Christmas is two weeks away, and soon it will be the end of another year.

It could also be due to a discussion about family life I enjoyed yesterday in my home, an experience I know I cannot duplicate in the U.S. It was during my book club. I was one of two Americans in a group of nine women.

"We are both from Africa," my friend from Sudan said to my friend from South Africa when they were introduced. There was also a friend from Switzerland, one from England, two friends from Wales and one from Jordan. It was terrific.

Whatever the reason, I'm increasingly aware that our time in Abu Dhabi is going fast. Before I know it, next summer will be here. I'll be standing in a room full of brown boxes, sighing as I think how bare the walls are without our prints hanging. We'll be moving home. This is something I long for and dread at the same time.

Last weekend my eight-year-old was accidentally hit in the head with a hockey stick. When I first saw his handsome blond face, his nose and mouth bloody, my heart did a leap. I thought the skin under his nose was cut straight through to his mouth.

I get strangely calm when my children are hurt, but as I wiped his cuts and discovered they were not serious, alarms still rang in my head. I wished we were home. I've made two visits to emergency rooms with my children thus far in Abu Dhabi, and the care was excellent both times. But I still wished I were in my own country.

Of course the main pull towards home is missing friends and family. Recently, too, one of my best friends back home experienced a tremendous loss. The distance between Abu Dhabi and New Hampshire was heart-wrenching. These are the times I long to blink my eyes and open them to see pine trees and snow.

Most days, though, I like Abu Dhabi so much I know it will break my heart to leave. When my ten-year-old tells me about the nice boy from Yemen he's made friends with, or my 16-year-old arrives home, as he did yesterday, energized by a school competition in Cairo, I think I could stay forever.

Dangerous Driving

2007-12-01T09:44:00.000+04:00

People drive at excessively-high speeds in Abu Dhabi. Car accidents here are often fatal. Twice this week, five members of a single family were killed in car accidents in the emirate of Abu Dhabi.

On Sunday, a speeding car slammed into the car in front of it, causing the second car to hit a third car. The driver of the third car, a 26-year-old Emirati, his 18-year-old sister, and his three young nieces were all killed instantly as their vehicle was thrown into oncoming traffic on Musaffah Bridge, Gulf News reported.

Tragedy struck again on Thursday, when five members of an Asian family died in a highway accident in Al Ain. Their Land Cruiser was struck by a speeding BMW and "flipped over several times before crashing into the iron fencing by the roadside," according to the Khaleej Times. Three of the victims were in their 20s or 30s. The other two were 50 and 65 years old. In addition, a two-year-old and a 3-month-old were brought to the hospital in serious condition.

I grew up in suburban New York. Once I got my driver's license, my father made me drive every weekday of the summers into New York City. I worked at Tiffany & Co. while off from college. I never minded driving in New York City.

Shortly after getting married, I moved to New Hampshire, where people are exceedingly polite on the roads. Initially I had to hold myself back from honking the horn if the driver in front of me didn't immediately go when the light turned green. After all, I might end up sitting next to that person in church.

Abu Dhabi is home to a lot of aggressive, hazardous driving. No one seems in a rush in this country until they get behind the steering wheel. While many drivers are skilled at slicing across lanes, there are a fair number of absolute lunatics on the roads here.

A few of my personal driving habits: if possible, I stay out of the left lane. It's known as "suicide lane" because of the speeding cars that zoom up behind you from out of nowhere. They flash their high beams into your rear window, as if to say, "get out of the way or I'll drive right over you," which I think they would gladly do.

I also take my foot off the gas when approaching a traffic light, just in case it's about to turn yellow. Once it turns yellow it will turn red about three seconds later. And I know what could easily happen if I sped through a red light in Abu Dhabi.

(M took the photo above on a rare rainy day in Abu Dhabi. Fortunately, there were no fatalities in this accident.)

The Ex-Pat Wife and Mother

2007-11-29T10:21:00.001+04:00

I am beginning to wonder if the ex-pat life is too rich for me.

I've never had so much household help, never belonged to so many groups, and never had such a social life as I do now in Abu Dhabi. I certainly have never shopped as much. Poised to embark on weekly riding lessons after a 25-year hiatus, I have to admit I'm feeling a little guilty about all the things I'm doing for me.

Mind you, with six children and a husband with a demanding job, plus nearly 20 years of marriage under my belt, I ought to take care of myself. (Why not have an expensive personal trainer?)

I tell myself I ought to pursue some of my own interests and have some fun. Makes sense, no doubt about it. I also firmly that believe no woman should be a doormat for her family. It's good "modeling" for my children that I insist on saving some of myself for myself, if you know what I mean.

But I suppose there is a small part of me that worries that my children are becoming too used to their mom and dad either having a get-together or going to one on the weekends. Too used to their mom breezing in from an activity a few minutes after they arrive home from school.

Yes, it's important that they know I'm a person and not just a facilitator of their lives.

But nothing good ever comes without sacrifices and hard work, and raising children is certainly at the top of the list of endeavors that require both.

Perhaps all this self-indulgence is just the pendulum swinging over from where I was before: burned out. Moving from a small town in New Hampshire, US to the UAE in the summer of 2006, on the heels of my mother's death in late 2005, did take a toll on me. These extra comforts I've indulged in since moving here have renewed my spirits. Abu Dhabi has been fantastic in that way.

So maybe the fact that I'm thinking I ought to be more selective about how I spend my time is a good sign. Maybe it means I'm finding the balance.

A Quick Bite in Ras Al Khaimah

2007-11-26T23:00:00.000+04:00

Here's a scene that, but for the Arabic writing and the young men wearing the UAE national dress instead of jeans, reminds me of home: people ordering at McDonald's.
M took this photo when we were in one of the northern emirates, Ras Al Khaimah, and stopped for a quick lunch. More about Ras Al Khaimah in another posting soon. Nothing new here in Abu Dhabi.

Growth of Abu Dhabi, Revisited

2007-11-24T14:26:00.002+04:00

There is a lovely place to walk along the Arabian Gulf, on the southeast side of the island of Abu Dhabi. Called the "New Corniche," it's a brick-paved path that goes for a few miles. Pagodas and fountains adorn the lawns on one side of this walkway, the aquamarine Gulf lies on the other.

Every time I drive along the New Corniche I inhale slowly and feel myself unwind. Unfortunately, the path was bordered up recently, the view of the Gulf obstructed, to prepare for construction of a new residential/resort development there.

I lament changes here because I love Abu Dhabi just the way it is: a quiet, yet cosmopolitan city where people from all over the world live peacefully and one often runs into someone he knows. The predicted tripling of the population will surely lessen the small-community feeling here, not to mention the decrease of open spaces.

But I haven't met an Emirati (a local) who is opposed to Abu Dhabi's growth. They accept it, it seems, without question. Maybe they're right. Perhaps Abu Dhabi must grow fast.

The housing shortage, for example, is talked about everywhere. At the hair salon I overhear someone say she has to move because her landlord wants her villa for "a close family member," but she suspects he wants to turn over the property to raise the rent. Others, newly arrived, are living long-term in the city's luxury hotels, paying the daily rate, because they can't find housing or the housing they've found isn't ready yet. Some say there aren't enough schools to serve all the ex-patriate families who plan to move here. All these issues are being addressed, but in this time of transition, some are feeling the crunch.

To be sure, Abu Dhabi's growth includes the promise that it will be a place steeped in cultural attractions. In the next 15 years or so, nearby Saadiyat Island will erect an Abu Dhabi Louvre, an Abu Dhabi Guggenheim, a world-class performing arts center, a maritime museum, and a museum of UAE history.

So I'll try to keep an open mind when next I see a beautiful view screened for construction. I have to admit, they do make an effort to make the barricades attractive.

Another day with a high of 82 degrees!

A Piece of the Desert is Transformed

2007-11-16T19:21:00.001+04:00

In September, about three dozen men (called workers here) dug long, deep trenches in the sand in front of where we live. They'd start early in the morning and take a long midday break; it was very hot and the sun was very strong.

Next they lay an elaborate network of narrow black hoses for underground sprinklers.

In October darker sand of a rich orange color was dumped over the near-white sand that's always been here. It was smoothed over the property. Palm trees were planted.

I don't know quite what's in these bags but I assume it's fertilizer or grass seed.

Desert Transformed, Part II

2007-11-16T19:11:00.001+04:00

After the underground sprinklers were installed, the new sand smoothed out, and the sod/grass laid, the men added a wide strip of white pebbles. Palm trees were brought in. Finally the workers planted flowers in the sand.

Our new front entrance. It is beautiful - the grass, palm trees, the pebbles and flower seedlings. I soak in the greenery with my eyes and it calms me.

My children see the same area and are skeptical. They wonder if the new landscaping might be just for show. But after they make some inquiries they're relieved: in two weeks the grass will be strong enough to endure their soccer games.

Near Shaikh Zayed Mosque, Abu Dhabi

2007-11-14T15:29:00.000+04:00

I'm doomed to squint in every picture taken of me in Abu Dhabi, but the sunshine here is splendid.

M snapped this photo near the almost-complete Shaikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al Nahyan Mosque in Abu Dhabi. Because I'm standing behind the mosque, the picture doesn't do this awesome structure justice. We'll have to go off the island to get a good view of the front facade; the mosque is so large that photos must be taken from a good distance. It is majestic from the front.

According to reports, Shaikh Zayed Mosque will be one of the ten largest in the world. I've heard it will be one of the three or four largest, but I cannot confirm that.

The carpet for this mosque was made in Iran. It is the largest in the world. Using 28 colors, it took more than 200 weavers over one year to complete. The main prayer hall will be able to hold more than 40,000 worshippers.

A Night Culture

2007-11-05T11:29:00.000+04:00

Abu Dhabi is gradually becoming cooler, and we are spending more time outdoors. Daily temperatures hover between the low 70s and the low 90s. This weekend we had a barbeque with our neighbors and we dined by candlelight in our backyard. Except for an occasional moth flittering around someone's head, it was blissful.

Throughout metropolitan Abu Dhabi, armies of workers in green jumpsuits are edging lawns with foot-wide borders of red, white, pink and purple petunias - a sure sign the beautiful winter weather is coming. Palm trees are being trimmed, the dead clippings piled and removed later.

Yesterday an Emirati friend (I'll call her Amina) and I planned a picnic in a nearby park. We haven't seen each other since the start of Ramadan; I haven't phoned Amina for a while as I knew she was busy praying, fasting, and then enjoying the nightly Iftars.

"Oooh, a picnic, and not a shopping mall," she said on the phone. As beautiful as they are, the shopping malls cannot compare to a day outside in November here. We'd bring Amina's two-year-old with us.

When I arrived at her home, Amina - slim and graceful in her black abaya, sheyla, and high heels - approached my car with her young daughter. Her maid trailed behind with a large bag for the picnic.

"Do you have a carseat?" I asked.

"It is in storage," Amina said. I hesitated, thinking of the dangerous driving in Abu Dhabi. Amina does not drive.

"It is okay. She will sit with me," Amina smiled, opening her arms as if to say that was all the protection her child needed.

Car seats are not required by law here. I'm not sure seatbelts are either. While driving in Abu Dhabi, it's not unusual to see children jumping between the front and back rows of a moving car. This is drastically different from New Hampshire, where I'd get a $350 ticket if the police caught me driving with a young child not in a car seat. When my 10-year-old hit 80 pounds recently, he said "I'd just be getting out of a carseat back home!"

Amina, her daughter and I arrived at the park around noon. To my surprise it was closed. The guard said it opens at 4 p.m. on weekdays.

I was visibly disappointed, not only for Amina and me but for our young companion.

"The hot weather makes us lazy," Amina said as we walked back to the car.

"You have to slow down in the heat," I offered.

I looked at Amina's little girl, who sat calmly on her mother's lap as I drove away from the park.

"But what about the mothers and children who might like to play here? What do they do?" I asked.

"They go at night."

I'd forgotten that Abu Dhabians live by a different schedule. The weather has shaped their routines and habits, just as it has shaped mine back home.

In both the UAE and the northeastern US, the temperatures drop at night. This makes the night the perfect time to go out in Abu Dhabi, while in New Hampshire the frosty evenings make many want to stay home and curl up in bed with a good book.

Back to School

2007-10-25T23:31:00.000+04:00

The other morning, as I stepped onto the treadmill, the phone rang. It was my children's school.

Could I substitute for an absent teacher? Yes, I could.

"I don't know anything about history," I said to M as I raced around our villa getting ready.

"You know more than you think you do," he replied.

"What do I wear with teenagers?" I asked. Jeans? A conservative skirt?

Thankfully M had already gone to refill his tea. He would have said, "what you usually wear."

Of course I was nervous, I hadn't worked in nearly 18 years.

But the day went well. The students and staff were polite and friendly. My own children didn't mind that I was in their "world" for the day. My 14-year-old was unfazed by my presence in his class, my 16-year-old held the door for me, and my 18-year-old helped me with a computer question.

By the end of the day I was reminded of how much one learns in school that has nothing to do with school.

"How do you pronouce your name?" an American student asked a Lebanese student as they walked into US History and settled in to their chairs.

"Abdullah, not Ab-DOO-lah," the second fellow said, pronouncing the second syllable like "dull," as in unsharpened.

"In the States people call me Uh-LEE-a, but my name's Alia," a female student said, putting emphasis on the beginning "ah" sound.

These students seemed disappointed but resigned to the fact that their names are often mispronounced. Two other boys, Zaid (rhymes with maid) and Zayed (pronounced zye-edd), are frequently both called Zaid though their names are actually very different.

I don't speak Arabic, except for a few phrases. But I was glad, in this international school setting, that children have the chance to understand each other better - even if it starts with something as small as pronouncing someone's name correctly.

Khalifa Park, Abu Dhabi

2007-10-22T15:40:00.000+04:00

Over the recent Eid Al Fitr, the holiday following Ramadan, we went to the opening of Khalifa Park in Abu Dhabi. Though there's a lot of pavement running through the middle of the park, there are beautiful side lawns and lots of monkey-bars for younger children to play on. I plan to go back, when the weather is cooler, with a thermos of tea and a notebook for writing.

Despite the fact that we were the first on the platform for next the train ride around the park, we barely got on. Most Abu Dhabians do not queu for things - they just go right to the front of the line! Once on board, we waited 40 minutes before the train moved: people who'd been on the train were refusing to get off so others could ride. The police had to come to make them deboard.
As we pulled up to the platform at the end of the tour, people began lifting their children over the chain into our compartment before I'd even stood up. I could barely get off the train. A woman in an abaya and veil grabbed my hand with her hennaed one.

"Sorry," she said. Through the cut-out part of her veil, I could see her eyes. She was smiling sincerely, holding my hand as if she knew me. Suddenly we were just two mothers, and it was obvious that she hadn't meant any offense - she merely wanted to make sure that she and her little ones got a seat.

"It's okay," I said. I smiled back just as sincerely.

My rambunctious 8-year-old found this slide was more his speed than the train. Even climbing the stairs was exciting. Lots of children were cutting the line - a woman in an abaya was even helping a group of children to do so. But then the park staff intervened: as the "cutters" climbed over the side wall of the stairs, the staffers hit their hands as fast as they could and the children backed off. Noone batted an eye at the cutting or the swatting.

Whenever I see a garden or a fountain in Abu Dhabi I am grateful to whomever is responsible for adding beauty to this city. This photo, taken by M of course, was on our way out of Khalifa Park.

The Fossil Valley, Oman

2007-10-17T09:48:00.000+04:00

The Muslim holy month of Ramadan ended Thursday night (Oct. 11th). Our good friends and neighbors invited us to join them in the desert. A popular place to camp, Fossil Valley is a two-hour drive from Abu Dhabi in Oman.

Above is just over the UAE border in Oman. It's the lead car, driven by our new Dutch friends who were patient and unflappable when various problems arose (see post below!).

We had to remind our children not to drink water or show they were chewing gum once we crossed into Oman - the Omanis were in their last day of Ramadan.

Fossil Valley is a vast, open and flat area that was at one time under water; it now contains fossils of marine life. Stark and dry, dotted with an occasional acacia tree, it reminded me of pictures I've seen of the African plains.

Despite the heat, the children immediately began climbing the surrounding rocky hills and scratching the sand in search of fossils. Our new friends, who'd camped here numerous times, picked out two trees where we set up camp. It was a good 20 degrees (Fahrenheit) cooler in the shade.

My 16-year-old and I enjoy the shade and company of new friends. My youngest two boys were flying kites near us with a Japanese schoolmate of my second-grader's.

In the distance (picture above) is the mountain we were to hike. The intention was to reach the "Hanging Gardens," which grow downward in the crevices of the steep rocky mountains here.

The Hanging Gardens, Flat Tire in Oman

2007-10-16T16:10:00.000+04:00

Here we are following our friend's car further into the desert near the Fossil Valley in Oman.

I was game for hiking the mountain in the distance (above) to see the "Hanging Gardens," which are famous for growing downward.

M did a superb job driving over the sand in our Toyota minivan. It was the only non-AWD vehicle in the group. (Someone called our car a "saloon car.")

An Omani man - you can see him if you enlarge the picture above - waved hello as he ran after his camels, herding them like a shepherd. A true desert experience. I practically swooned.

But the firm sand turned soft. Then it turned rocky. Then very rocky.

"I can't take this any more - we have to stop," I announced.

My imagination had us either bottoming-out on the sharp, grape-fruit-sized rocks or getting a tire puncture and being stranded in the desert.

"We can't - there are cars following us," M replied coolly.

I was tense. I am a worrier. World class. (My nickname in high school was "Atlas" for a reason.)

As M continued over the ever-larger rocks, I began to think of winters in New Hampshire, when we'd drive over icy mountain roads on our way to cut down a Christmas tree. (I'd clutch the arm rests, envisioning our car sliding off the road into a snowy embankment and our frozen bodies found weeks later.)

Then a surprising thing happened: our neighbor's car, the best car in the group, got a razor-like gash in the side of the rear tire! It was replaced with an excellent spare, which was flat (!). But the spare was quickly pumped up by our amazing friend and guide.

When the repair was finished, we decided to skip the hike and call it a day. By then we'd been out in the sun for hours. We felt lucky our humble minivan hadn't had any trouble thus far. Some of the others did the hike and said it was difficult, because of the steepness, but that it was great fun.

Walking back to our car, we caught sight of these camels making their way over the hills, one after another.

Falling in Love Again

2007-10-06T09:07:00.000+04:00

Early this morning I opened the door and fell in love with Abu Dhabi all over again.

The feeling came just in time, as I was beginning to miss home a lot lately. I haven't told anyone about this small bit of melancholy I've been suppressing. In fact I was surprised by how much I've missed home recently, because I love living here.

The homesickness started about three weeks ago. It was the morning after M and I had a big party. After the great fun and late night, we woke up and made a big breakfast. The smell of coffee brewing, of bacon and sausage on the stove, combined with the luxury of all of us sitting around lazily in pajamas and the house still sparkling with new glasses and a platter or two purchased for the event...well it all reminded me so much of Christmas morning that a great feeling of homesickness came over me. Like a tidal wave.

I think the prolonged hot weather played a part too, for I knew it would be crisp and cool in New Hampshire then. Meanwhile in Abu Dhabi the air was still heavy and the temps were still hitting 104 or more.
Since that morning I've been using some of the spices we use during autumn - cinnamon in particular - to give me that feeling of autumn in New Hampshire.

This morning, a Saturday, I was up at 6:30 a.m. I had to drive our eldest to his college-entrance SAT exam. I opened the front door for the newspaper and sweet-smelling, mild air hit me immediately. It must have been about 70 degrees. The air was light and clear with the gentlest breeze. I love Abu Dhabi again.

Separate from that: yesterday I heard an expression I've never heard before. A South African neighbor said raising her three children - now 7, 5 and 3 years old - is "a dead lolly." She meant it was really manageable.

Something I cannot get used to here is that people always ask how much you pay in rent. Back home we'd never ask how much someone pays in rent or how much their house costs. But here, in Abu Dhabi, where the price of rent is all the talk as prices rise nearly as often as we breathe, it is entirely acceptable to make that inquiry.

Abu Dhabi is Set to Change, Big Time

2007-09-29T09:27:00.000+04:00

Oh how this different this emirate will be in 23 years!
By the year 2030, metropolitan Abu Dhabi's economy will triple. The population will reach 3.1 million, compared to today's 930,000, the Urban Planning Council announced this week.

About 7.9 million people will visit annually, versus 1.8 million at present, according to the Gulf News (Sept. 2o, 2007). There will be 74,500 hotel rooms and 25 golf courses.

The housing crunch Abu Dhabi now faces - especially for the middle and lower-income sector - will ease with a veritable explosion of real estate developments in and around metropolitan Abu Dhabi.

"We will see a lot of little Abu Dhabi's off the island," one Emirati told me, referring to the communities under construction on the emirate's main-land. "This will take pressure off the city."

Abu Dhabi's plans also include an ultra-modern mass transit system of high-speed rails connecting the downtown to outlying areas, the airport, and other Gulf countries, the paper said.
The aim is to develop Abu Dhabi into "one of the best international cities in the world," Falah Al Ahbabi, UPC's General Manager said in the Gulf News, while maintaining its "cultural essence."

Perhaps because I prefer the peacefulness of Abu Dhabi to the sometimes craziness of Dubai, these plans seem daunting to me. It seems there are differing opinions amongst Emiratis.

"This (growth) is to be expected. We will still be a very small country - we may have 7 million people, while you (the US) have 300 million," an Emirati told me. Another UAE citizen said Abu Dhabi "must grow to keep up with the world."

No doubt Abu Dhabi will be an even more interesting place to visit in coming years. There are already plans underway for an Abu Dhabi Louvre, an Abu Dhabi Guggenheim, a world-class performing arts center, a maritime museum, and a museum of UAE history.

But will the country loose its identity in the process? How can the Emirati people retain their culture in coming years. The UAE is already comprised of at least 80% ex-patriates, the vast majority of whom do not share their culture or traditions.

In an op-ed piece (Sept. 25th) in the Gulf News, Dr. Abdulkhaleq Abdullah, professor of political science at Emirates University, wrote, "...is the situation getting out of control? Probably the great majority of UAE citizens firmly believe that they are on the verge of losing it all..."

To be sure, the dramatic changes coming to Abu Dhabi will continue to generate differing opinions.

The Lettuce Man Cometh

2007-09-27T21:49:00.000+04:00

The Lettuce Man came today. Of course that's not his name, but it's what M and I call him.

Every Thursday, the Lettuce Man delivers pesticide-free lettuce to my door. He sells boxes of eight heads, for five dirhams each. That's $1.35 apiece.

My neighbor and I share a box. Every leaf on every head of lettuce is healthy and green; there is no waste.

Sometimes, after the Lettuce Man leaves, I'll pick up one of the heads of lettuce and hold it like a bride's bouquet - they are that beautiful.

A Palace Suite, Emirates Palace Hotel

2007-09-25T14:14:00.001+04:00

Two of the boys and I took a tour of Emirates Palace on Saturday. The top two photos are of the master bedroom and private dining room in a Palace Suite. The bottom picture is a view of Abu Dhabi from the terrace of that suite. Unfortunately, the humidity prevented us from getting a clearer picture.

Learning English

2007-09-19T23:05:00.001+04:00

I volunteer for an English-language-conversation group in Abu Dhabi. Today we met for the first time for the new "season."

It was really nice to see these ladies again. They come from all over the world: Bosnia, Egypt, Eritraea, France, Indonesia, Iraq, Japan, Lebanon, Libya, the Netherlands, etc. I worked hard to get to know the participants last year, especially the Muslim women. Today everyone greeted me warmly, like a friend.

The Korean woman who leads the class makes it fun and challenging. Today we started by reading tongue-twisters aloud, which made us all laugh. Afterwards we broke into smaller groups and discussed the topic of the day: homesickness and possible remedies.

Ramadan Begins

2007-09-13T14:53:00.000+04:00

The holy month of Ramadan begins today. With the sighting of the moon, we have entered the most important time of the year for Muslims. For thirty days they will fast - even going without water - from about 4:30 a.m. until sunset (around 6:30 p.m. here) every day.

Every Muslim, from the age of puberty on, is expected to participate. The elderly, the ill, and nursing or pregnant women are not expected to fast, though if they recover from a temporary condition they are expected to make up the days and fast at a later time.

There is an energy in the air in Abu Dhabi surrounding Ramadan. The grocery stores are teeming with shoppers stocking up for the nightly Iftar (breaking of the fast). Newspaper ads announce special savings at many stores in honor of Ramadan.

Prominent Sheikhs and Sheikhas have given millions of dirhams to settle the debts of imprisoned UAE nationals and expatriates, so the latter may be released from their debts and return home for Ramadan.

Several children in my fourth-grader's class announced that they are fasting, some for the first time.
Even non-Muslims here seem inspired. While we were discussing the fast, my 17-year-old said we ought to do more for Lent next spring.

The newspaper has run articles about the true meaning of Ramadan. The real purpose of Ramadan, they say, is not the fantastic meals and get togethers shared after sundown. Rather, Ramadan is an opportunity to get closer to God through prayer, fasting and good works, and to remember how the poor live every day of their lives.

It is against the law for any person to eat or drink in public during Ramadan.

The government is warning people to take care with the Ramadan tents they set up outside their houses, reminding people to keep generators and lamps away from the sides of tents to avoid fires. Another caveat is to be extra careful driving in Abu Dhabi just before sunset, when those who've fasted all day are in a hurry to get home for the Iftar.

The photo above, of Sheikh Mohammed Bin Zayed Mosque in Abu Dhabi, was taken by M.

The Desert, Near Al Ain

2007-09-13T14:51:00.001+04:00

Since life is so short, here's a picture to remember how fun it can be. M took this photo of some of our kids running up a very high sand dune in the desert near Al Ain. We were on a "desert safari" that lasted well into the night.

A "desert safari" is one of my favorite things to do with visitors: a skilled driver takes you (via four-wheel drive car) over high, rolling sand dunes into the desert. The sometimes hair-raising ride ends at a camp with traditional Bedouin tents and barasti huts that show how people used to live in what is now the UAE.

When you're at the camp, the sand dunes beckon you to climb to the top, though you'd better be in fairly good shape to make the climb. It's quite a bit harder than it looks!

The view from the top is spectacular. Against a dusty blue sky are miles of burnt-tan hills of sand that nature will rearrange in another beautiful design the next day.

There are sand skis you can ski down on; some people just like to roll all the way down. The rolling beat of Arabic music adds to the atmosphere. You're treated to Arabic coffee and a beautiful Arabic dinner. You can try on the traditional abaya and sheylah (the black outergarment and headscarf worn by Emirati ladies) or the white dishdasha (a floor-length, shirtlike garment worn by Emirati men). Sometimes there is a belly-dancer. Usually there are fireworks. At some point they usually turn out all the lights and the music so visitors can enjoy an Arabian night for a bit. The desert is magnificent and not to be missed.

September 11

2007-09-11T16:42:00.001+04:00

An uncle of mine died in the World Trade Center on 9/11.
He was 54 years old, married with two sons, one a senior in high school, the other a senior in college at the time. His wife, my aunt, has Parkinson's Disease.
My uncle was a trader for Cantor Fitzgerald; he worked on the 104th floor of the north tower. He'd been there during the 1993 attempted bombing.
He was a spectacular person. He had a way of making every one feel important. He was very good to my grandmother. You could call my Uncle John for advice and he'd listen and help. He never talked about people and he never complained. His greatest aim in life was to see his sons get the best education possible.

Enough Shopping, Let Life Begin

2007-09-02T07:49:00.000+04:00

Arabs are brilliant businessmen. It's because of them that I'm shopped off my feet. Talk about product placement in movies, how about coffee-shop placement in the UAE malls?

When I go for coffee with a friend, we meet at the "Starbucks" at the Marina Mall, the "Mugg & Bean" at the Abu Dhabi Mall, or the "Kosta Coffee" shop beside the Carrefour supermarket.

Simple, pleasant and inexpensive - if only I could resist the stores above, below, and beside the coffee shops. Our closets are practically swelling with new purchases.

"When we move from Abu Dhabi, we're going to have so much stuff," M said yesterday with a groan. He sounded like someone who'd eaten too much camembert and caviar for weeks.

Enough shopping, it's time for real life again.

Just in time, more serious endeavors are about to resume: Arabic lessons and Middle Eastern dance lessons start this month. I intend to take both, much to my children's embarrassment over the latter. My English-language-conversation group commences next week, and my compound book club meets the day after tomorrow. (We read Palace Walk by the late and brilliant Egyptian writer Naguib Mahfouz.)

By October, I'll probably have been to the first meeting of the Cross-Cultural Group. They hosted, among other events last year, a terrific presentation by businessman/artist Mohammed Kanoo, who spoke about Arab Art. He and two others opened the first art gallery in Abu Dhabi in 2006.

"Buy Arab Art, it will only go up in value," he said. With this country's plans to have an Abu Dhabi Louvre, an Abu Dhabi Guggenheim (designed by Frank Gehry), a world-class center for the performing arts, a maritime museum and a new museum of UAE heritage, Kanoo's presentation was all the more interesting.

While I continue to "dry out" from shopping, I also hope to get to know more natives of the Arab world.

Picnics on the Corniche, Abu Dhabi

2007-08-28T18:26:00.000+04:00

As soon as the weather cools and my sunglasses stop fogging when I leave the villa, I will spend a day prepping and cooking for a family picnic at one of these sites along the Corniche. We live a few miles from the center of Abu Dhabi, but the scent of the sea and the proximity to beautiful open space like this makes it worth the extra driving.

Shopping and Lunch Out

2007-08-28T18:10:00.000+04:00

...But until it gets cooler, and until all those interesting, cultural lectures and activities begin, I'll have to settle for a little shopping at the Abu Dhabi Mall and lunch at Prego's at the Beach Rotana Resort complex.

The Water is Warm

2007-08-12T08:56:00.000+04:00

There is no cold water in Abu Dhabi, not at this time of year.
Our "cold water" tank sits on the roof of our three-story villa, so the cold water is actually very warm. In summer, we turn off the water heater and use the "cold water" tank for our hot water.
The "hot water" tank is elsewhere, out of the sun. It becomes our cold water.

You have to be careful doing laundry in Abu Dhabi in summer. Things have a tendency to shrink; clothes can lose their color. I use the "cold/cold" water setting on the washing machine, and still the water is very warm. I fill the machine and let the water sit as long as I can, so it can cool, before adding the clothes.

We've made friends with a family that is new to Abu Dhabi. We invited them over to swim in our compound's pool. What fun we had - our six children and their four children got along great. We all laughed because the pool water was so hot you had to get out to cool off. It was about 110 degrees that day.
The Arabian Gulf, too, is as warm as bath water at this time of year.

Al Salam Street, Abu Dhabi

2007-08-08T20:54:00.000+04:00

It is warm in Abu Dhabi, but the heat doesn't seem to bother any of us as much as it did last summer.
Still, we spend most of our time indoors. Rounds of R.I.S.K., Monopoly, and "Hide and Seek" are played over and over lately by the children.
Villa by villa our neighbors are beginning to return from a summer spent elsewhere. M and I are enjoying weekend evenings dining and talking with them again.

In many ways I have it quite easy in Abu Dhabi. Once a week our large villa is thoroughly cleaned for a very reasonable price. (The people who clean it are a lovely husband and wife from Sri Lanka. They charge me 30 dirhams per hour, which is equal to about $8 per hour; although I pay them about double that, it is still a great deal less than the going rate in the U.S.) We also have our cars washed every morning for the fee of $27 per car per month.

I got very sad news recently from the hardworking man who washes our car. His wife, only 25 years old, died very suddenly back in India of Typhoid Fever. He has a five-year-old son who now lives with his grandmother.

"I bet she was very beautiful," I said to him.

"She was," he said. "Soon I will show you a picture of my son."

"I am so sorry I don't know what to say," I said.

"Just say a prayer," he said quietly.

The photo above, by M, is Al Salam Street, a road I frequently take to get to the "heart" of the city. In the center of the picture is a very large portrait of the late H.H. Sheikh Zayed Al Nahyan, founding ruler of Abu Dhabi (on the right, with sunglasses), and H.H. Sheikh Khalifa Bin Zayed Al Nahyan, President of the U.A.E. and ruler of Abu Dhabi.

Outside the Zoo in Al Ain

2007-07-29T13:51:00.000+04:00

This was near the entrance to the Al Ain Zoo.
We ended up near the group in this photo throughout our visit to the zoo. From what I could see they were truly enjoying themselves. There was much laughter, the children ran free, and none of them seemed very affected by the tremendous heat.
The Al Ain Zoo contained an impressive variety of animals in a clean and spacious setting.
Al Ain is a desert oasis town east of the city of Abu Dhabi (and part of the emirate of Abu Dhabi). It is one of the original settlement areas in what is now the United Arab Emirates. The Bedouins who lived in the region used to travel on foot or by camel and set up their tents in Al Ain for the summer months.
The late H.H. Sheikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al Nahyan, founding ruler of the UAE, was from Al Ain.

Back in Abu Dhabi

2007-07-26T12:44:00.000+04:00

We returned to Abu Dhabi two days ago, excluding M and two of the older boys, who are touring Germany until Saturday.

We're wide awake at night and practically comatose in the morning.

Last night we played musical beds: at 1 a.m., my 8-year-old woke me, he couldn't sleep. Two hours later, when I finally heard his soft, steady breathing beside me in my bed, his 9-year-old brother appeared.

With tears in his eyes, my 9-year-old said that he couldn't sleep. He'd noticed his brother's bed was empty and thought he'd been kidnapped. Once he saw his younger brother was still alive, he didn't want to get into my bed with him, so we stumbled down the hall to his room. Around 5 a.m. he, too, fell asleep. My 12-year-old daughter stayed up 'til 4 a.m. finishing the new Harry Potter. My 17-year-old is napping before dinner.

No one is rising before noon.

I am re-living a difficulty I had when we first came to Abu Dhabi a year ago: I keep misplacing things, such as letters I'm about to mail. But I know this will pass.

It is hot, but not oppressive, at 108 degrees. (In New Hampshire it will reach 88 today.) The air looks milky; it is full of sand and moisture.

Perhaps the biggest change in coming back to Abu Dhabi from the U.S. is the brightness of the sun. It is white here, so white I think it will bleach my clothes when I go outdoors.

Some of my plants died when we were in the U.S.
I may have to go to the Iranian Souk for replacements. With the sheer admiration I feel for the date palm trees swaying in the breeze, I'm not sure I can return without a baby palm tree.

The photo above, taken by M, is of the north side of Abu Dhabi.

Roses, Lawn, and Sea in Maine

2007-07-19T05:26:00.000+04:00

This was taken by M, July 19th, near where we stayed in Maine.

Swimming off Southport Island, Maine

2007-07-19T05:25:00.000+04:00

In five days we return to Abu Dhabi. I will be happy to be back - I've grown to love that city - but I must admit I'm enjoying the cool, clean air, the steel-blue water, and the rocky coast of Maine.

Creativity in Maine

2007-07-19T04:15:00.000+04:00

Andrew Wyeth, who did some of his most famous paintings near where we are in Maine, said his father believed children need ample amounts of boredom in order to develop their own creativity. I think he was right.

We've had mostly beautiful weather during our vacation in Maine, but we've also had our share of rain.

Rain, fog, no television, no friends, and no phone. M deserves a medal for playing a record number of "Monopoly" games. There are other children around - we see them at nearby tennis courts for lessons - but they don't surface when our children play baseball or soccer on the big lawn below our house.

I think the lack of anything to do, the boredom that my children are experiencing, is bearing fruit. Fruit in the way of collaborative creativity.

The other day my oldest son, who is 17, started writing a play.

In the evening, as I read Babar and Zephir (by Jean de Brunhoff) to my youngest two boys in their bedroom, my eldest came in to sell the roles he'd created for his youngest brothers.

It rained this afternoon, beginning on the way home from our family's less-than-scintillating visit to a nearby town. Tonight all six of my children are at the dining room table reading the new script.

Even if they never spend another minute on this play of theirs, I love the fact that for a little while they are doing something creative, something with their minds and hearts, something that has nothing to do with computer games or movies or other technology that is served up to them for their entertainment.

This morning I tried to draw a picture of the incredible view out the living room window. I already respected artistic abilities, but my meager drawing made me put artists somewhere close to God.

View from A House by the Sea, Maine

2007-07-11T19:23:00.000+04:00

Maine

2007-07-10T19:40:00.000+04:00

We got to Maine yesterday evening.
It was raining, puddles were everywhere. Even the pine trees over my car couldn't shield me from the elements. On the root-covered, uphill path to the house we'd rented by the sea, my sandals squished the soggy grass, my jeans and t-shirt got soaked.

When I packed for this vacation, back in Abu Dhabi, how could I've forgotten I was headed for northern New England? I should've brought warmer clothes. Water repellent clothes.

But that night's discomfort was a small price to pay.

Early the next morning I woke to the moan of lobster boats, stopping to check their traps and then moving on. I looked out the window: the rain was gone, the fog lifted. Dark purple delphiniums, pink spirea, and yellow lilies bloomed under a golden sun.

The living room of Cliff House overlooks the metal-blue water of the Sheepscot Bay. Rugosa rosebushes border a meandering path down to a rocky point below the house.

Three years ago M and my daughter Julia, now 12, spotted a white seal there. I'm hoping for a repeat sighting, especially for our two youngest boys, Albert and Hugh, 9 and 8.

The smell of the sea is even stronger than in Abu Dhabi. At night the air is chilly, filled with the scent of a log fire.

Keeping it Simple

2007-07-07T06:35:00.000+04:00

In two days we leave New Hampshire for the coast of Maine, my favorite place in the world.

M arrived from Abu Dhabi. He and our eldest son, who is 17, then drove from New Hampshire to Washington D.C., where M had meetings. They looked at several colleges on the way down, our son checked out three more in D.C., and they're visiting two schools on the return trip. They arrive back in NH tomorrow evening.

The rest of us left the cabin by the lake last week. The morning we departed I saw 25 geese on my neighbor's lawn.

Now we are "camping out" in our own house in New Hampshire, taking advantage of a gap between renters. We don't have a stick of furniture, except a long oak table in the kitchen.
We are sleeping in sleeping bags, some of us using a towel or a blanket if we don't have a pillow.

I love the simplicity: I have one style cup for water, juice, milk, beer, wine and coffee. Every room in the house is spacious, clean, orderly with nothing in it. Our meals are usually one-dish affairs; Robby, 14, asked me last night why it's so much harder to clean up from dinner in Abu Dhabi.

The priority these days is on seeing loved ones. I haven't seen everyone I wanted to, but I've tried to make sure each of the kids has seen at least one friend.

When we move back to NH in July 2008, after a second year in Abu Dhabi, I wish I could refuse to take back all the belongings we've put in storage. I wish we could exist as we do now, with no curtains or "things" to slow us down from seeing the sunlight and the trees outside.

A Log Cabin in New Hampshire

2007-06-25T23:14:00.001+04:00

The children and I arrived back in the United States last week. M will join us soon.

We are staying in a log cabin in a rural part of New Hampshire. (Our own house is rented.)

I am soaking up the change of scenery, trying to burn it into my memory for when we return, in late July, for a second year in Abu Dhabi.

The sky is dusty blue, it seems bigger here, and it often has a gorgeous display of cotton-puff clouds across it. The road we travel into town cuts through hills covered in trees that make me think of gigantic heads of broccoli standing so close together you can't see their stalks.

Twice last week, when I was driving to the cabin late at night, deer loped out of the woods and and paused at the edge of the road. I slowed down, in case they charged my car. A deer did run into my car a few years ago in New Hampshire. But both times (last week) the deer walked back in to the forest.

Our log cabin is on a lake. The air is cool and dry. We don't need air conditioning, and my sunglasses don't fog up when I go outside.

Yesterday I saw beautiful lilac-colored dahlias for sale; I'm trying to resist buying them because in four weeks we'll be back in Abu Dhabi.

Two of my goals for when we go back to the UAE: to own a small palm tree and to take Middle Eastern dance lessons. The good news is that I know where to acquire both.

Talking with some Emiratis

2007-06-14T08:18:00.000+04:00

This was taken last October at the Emirates Palace Hotel during the Muslim holy month of Ramadan.
M and I were invited to a special Iftar, when Muslims break their daily sunrise-to-sunset fast.
The men in the picture were telling me about the reasons for the fast, which include going without food or water even on the hottest days.
They said it is to draw the person closer to God, to live as simply as possible, to feel how it is to live as the poor do, and also to continue their tradition.

From Ireland to Abu Dhabi to New Hampshire

2007-06-14T07:57:00.001+04:00

On June 6th I returned to Abu Dhabi after a week in Ireland.
M was incredibly kind to let me go, bearing all the responsibilities of his work and the kids' last week of school, too. (When I booked the trip last winter, I didn't know it would be the last week of school - SAT exams, finals, a sixth-grader's portfolio exhibition, an eighth-grader's graduation, end-of-year parties for the third- and first-graders... I didn't. Really.)

I went to Ireland alone, to attend a writing workshop in Listowel and to visit my grandmother in Dublin. It was a restorative seven days, where I could call my time my own, eat or not eat, socialize and withdraw when I liked. Fantastic.

Tonight the children and I fly to the US after a year in Abu Dhabi. (M joins us soon.)

It seems fitting that my last day of our first year here will be spent thus: I'll apply for my first job in over 17 years (at a school), and then, what's more exciting, I will for the first time visit the home of an Emirati lady.

My children tease me (constantly) about my eagerness to meet the "locals." So far they've been far more successful than I.

However, the other day I was watering my garden and a woman dressed in the full black abaya approached me.

"Are you Joe's mother?" she asked.
"Are you Sultan's mother?" I asked.

We are both looking forward to meeting today.
(This photo M took last summer when we were all in Ireland together; it shows three of our boys on Innishbofin, an island off the coast of Clifden, Galway.)

Trimming the Date Palm Trees

2007-05-28T22:04:00.000+04:00

Trimming the Date Palm Trees

2007-05-27T15:30:00.000+04:00

Petunias are a winter flower in Abu Dhabi.
About a month ago, they began to wilt and fade as the days grew warmer. Now they've been pulled up by armies of workers, who spend long days tending the lawns, shrubs and flowers that Abu Dhabi is famous for. Today I saw brilliant red and pink and yellow zinnias, on strong, three-foot stems, drying up and giving in to the heat of oncoming summer. Hibiscus and oleander are having a field day.

The workers are also trimming the date palm trees around the city. This is a good thing: the palm fronds have grown so long that they whip the windshield of my car when I drive in the left lane.

As the days grow hotter - it was 105 degrees yesterday - we are more and more inside the house. It is the reverse of winter in New Hampshire, which would gradually confine us to the indoors on the short, frigid, snowy days from December through March.

As the heat comes on and school winds to a close, people are beginning to pack their bags for a summer spent elsewhere. Many families we know leave the day school ends; basically anyone who has the wherewithall leaves Abu Dhabi for at least part of the summer. It is simply too hot to do much here during July and August. Even the beautiful, aquarmarine Arabian Gulf feels like a bathtub.

Two exceptions are my friends from Lebanon, who are unsure what they'll do because of recent violence in their home country.

"If there are no bombs for a week I'll buy the tickets," one friend said. Last summer she enrolled her nine-year-old son in a wonderful camp in Lebanon. But then she and her husband and son had to be evacuated when war broke out with Israel.

"I can take it, I am so used to it, but it really bothers (my son) Danny," she said.

Emirates Palace, Abu Dhabi

2007-05-10T07:25:00.001+04:00

Recently M and I were invited by a couple next door, our dear friends, to a concert by the opera singer Jose Carreras at the magnificent Emirates Palace Hotel. (It was the culmination of the fourth annual Abu Dhabi Classical Musical Festival.)

A swank affair, it was black tie, invitation only. As the mother of six children, I am always looking for an opportunity to escape the kitchen and my apron.

I pulled out a long skirt and the highest heels I own. Unlike New Hampshire, people dress up in this town. Really dress up. This was going to be fun.

When we arrived at the Emirates Palace (built in 2005 for $3 billion, with 12,000 workers), we were disappointed to see a very long line ahead of us. My neighbor muttered something about this being "unacceptable," and headed for the manager.

"I am (his name) and I am here," he announced rather boldly. "What are you going to do about it?"

Evidently this is the way you get results in Abu Dhabi.

Seconds later we were shown in and we found great seats. Slowly the auditorium filled. When a sheikh from Abu Dhabi's ruling family walked in, everyone stood up. There were also members of a European royal family and several ambassadors present. The concert started about 40 minutes late - typical, I understand, in the UAE - and it was magnificent.

Afterwards the elegant crowd moved en masse towards the esplanade behind the Palace. Palace employees attempted to collect tickets for the VVIP reception, but they were completely ignored. People simply put their noses in the air and proceeded to the cocktail party.

Long tables in white linen hosted beautiful hors d'oeurves. Waiters walked around with trays of soda, beer and wine, the latter being in scarce supply and scooped up immediately. Soon 20 or 30 tuxedoed men hovered over the kitchen entrance, hoping to catch the next few glasses of wine.

The exterior of the Emirates Palace is like a marvelous, jewel-encrusted box. Purple, pink, yellow, and white flood lights highlighted the Palace's palm trees, fountains, marble temple and marble columns around the esplanade. A mild breeze wafted through the air. At least five different languages could be heard. People in national (Emirati) dress and others in western formal attire mingled. It was superb.

(The photo here is of me beside a giant gold coffee part, the symbol of hospitality in the UAE.)

Quick Change for a Flat Tire

2007-05-07T21:52:00.000+04:00

The other day while driving near Port Zayed in Abu Dhabi, I heard that awful wub, wub, wub that can only mean one thing: the left rear tire was as flat as a pita bread.

What to do? I called M at his office. He said he'd come help.

"Bring a spare tire," I told him, because within minutes a nearby security guard and three Port workers in jumpsuits were dismantling my fairly-new Toyota minivan, trying to find the spare tire to replace the flat one.

"For this car you need a map," one of the workers, from Egypt, said in frustration.

He and the others were unscrewing every bolt, lifting every piece of plastic - even the permanent ones - and peeling back every inch of carpeting they could, to find the spare. They located a jack about as thick as a pencil. The manual let us down - the spare wasn't in the stated location. But they jacked up the car, undeterred.

"It's okay. My husband is coming," I said, getting a little nervous. The car seemed to be shaking even as a man had his head under it. They carried on, as if I hadn't said a word.

I put in another call to M. He had a spare but was stuck in traffic. It was about 100 degrees.

Eight-year-old Hugh, who'd just come from a birthday party, sensed this was going to be a long session. He found shade under a date palm tree a few feet away. More passersby stopped to consult (in Arabic) et voila! the spare was found under the middle of the car!

The car survived its strip search just fine by my eyes.

I pulled out all the cash I had - these men had worked incredibly hard - and gave it to them with gratitude, and Hugh and I were off.

Culture Shock Cure: Flowers

2007-04-21T23:37:00.001+04:00

When we arrived in Abu Dhabi last July we stayed in a beautiful hotel for 43 days. (Construction on the compound we'd be living in was behind schedule - not unusual here.)

At first I thought I'd died and gone to heaven, the hotel was so luxurious. It had a tranquil, Asian decor with high ceilings and tile floors. But then, of course, we have six children, and some of them are so active or talkative I think they ought to count twice.

Soon hotel living began to wear on me. Usually, the children and I weren't able to get outside until around 4 p.m., due to the strong sun, incredible heat and humidity. Also, Abu Dhabi isn't pedestrian-friendly. People don't walk down the streets here the way they do Madison Avenue, in New York, for example. If they want to stroll they go to the brand-spanking-new malls. They serve as sort of indoor parks.

I was surprised by how off-kilter I felt walking through the Abu Dhabi Mall; it seemed I was the only woman not covered from head to toe in black. At home in New Hampshire my style of dress would be considered conservative; in Abu Dhabi I felt my figure was completely on display. My enthusiasm for our new Middle East adventure was waning. I wasn't able to get a break from the kids on the long days when Michael was working, and we were initially without a car. My spirits dampened.

I did make friends with the hotel concierge, as I was always checking with him as to whether we were disturbing other guests.

"No complaints so far, Mrs. Gunnison," the unflappable Mr. Shibou would reply.

No complaints, that is, until we nearly set the hotel on fire. And broke the air conditioning system..(M and I are good friends with Shibou in spite of it.)

Finally, the day before school began, we moved into our villa. We were all thrilled. We could spread out, find our own corners to get away from each other, maybe make some new friends in the compound. My smile returned. M was relieved.

Then I announced we needed flowers.

M and I headed to the Iranian Souk for plants. The Emirati in the photo here was utterly charming. I declined his offer for coffee or tea and left M to chat with him in his air-conditioned office while I perused the great plant selection.

I picked out large pots of bougainvillea and whatnot quickly. But how to get them home? I didn't want to wait for a delivery...things move slowly in Abu Dhabi. What if they didn't come soon? I needed those flowers to sustain my fragile cheerfulness. I needed them that day.

"Let me see your car," the man said.

M fetched our Toyota minivan. The Emirati took one look at it and sighed, as if to say we had no problem here.

"In this car you can fit two camels," he said.

We bought lots of large plants that day.

Wearing Hijab

2007-04-16T22:30:00.000+04:00

You come to it in degrees.
It is between you and God.
It was hard for me to cover my hair.
But when I know the reasons why, it is okay.
It is what is right for me.

This is what two Muslim friends told me today, over lunch in Abu Dhabi. Neither woman wore hijab (the head-scarf) when she was growing up - one in Lebanon, the other in Egypt. Their parents were not very strict, as in some Muslim families where girls approaching puberty must begin to wear the headscarf.

It was well after the women were married that they decided to take this step. (I'll call my Lebanese friend Nura and my Egyptian friend Alia.)

"Wearing hijab, I'm not as pretty," Nura says, her big brown eyes earnest. Her striped pink headscarf matches her pink tunic, white pants and white shoes. It is wrapped carefully around her head two or three times and secured by a discreet pin. Not a strand of hair shows, due to an inner white cloth that snugly covers her hairline.

"It is hard for me - I like my hair, I like to wear earrings," she says in her gentle voice. "But the hair is very attractive to men." As a Muslim woman, Nura believes it would be wrong to make herself overly attractive to men other than her husband. It is in the Quran that women should cover their hair.

Nura and Alia said that even after they decided to wear the head scarf, it took time to actually go through with it.

"I used to practice wearing hijab at home. Then I'd go to the door and I couldn't open it," Alia says. She is a striking woman, tall and slim with black eyes and fine features. She, too, has taken great care to match her head scarf with her outfit. "One day I opened the door and told my husband and daughter to just push me out so I couldn't go back in."

Both Nura and Alia seem genuinely happy. They exude peacefulness, that they made an informed choice that is in accordance with God's wishes. We laugh easily about family life, cooking, and the hazardous driving in Abu Dhabi. We discuss the commonalities of Catholicism, my religion, and Islam, theirs.

(At home they only cover their hair if a male visitor - a man they could marry - is present.) Nura and Alia both say they wear a little makeup, though their faith says they shouldn't.

Alia says she would not force her teenage daughter to wear the headscarf.

"It must come from your heart. If a girl or a woman covers her hair and she doesn't want to, it is very obvious."

Seeing People, Not Nations

2007-04-13T14:02:00.000+04:00

"Now this is where you should've had the camera," my husband said when he picked me up at the Abu Dhabi Ladies Club the other night. It was 10 p.m., the end of an international bazaar/fundraiser for special-needs children in the area. I'd been volunteering at the United States table.

I looked around the large room with its multi-level, white marble floors, high ceiling and glass-lined, curving stairs. It was a colorful a scene: there were numerous flags draped over the upstairs railing and ladies on the ground floor in bright cottons from South Africa, black abayas from the U.A.E., and brilliant silk saris from India, to name a few.

At the countries' individual tables, the diversity continued. Azerbaijanis displayed rugs of rich reds and browns, Italians offered expensive, hand-made lace shawls and modern art, and Jordanians presented skin-care products from the Dead Sea, among others.

At the U.S. table, myself and two other Americans were selling t-shirts, pens, mugs and the like with the U.S. Embassy logo on them. (Local Emirati children who stopped by were most interested in our few Mickey Mouse trinkets.) Beside us were ladies from Eritrea. We were in business attire; they wore floor-length, gauze-cotton dresses and head coverings and some wore elaborate jewelry.

With my husband's comment about the camera, I realized I've gotten so used to the variety of cultures in Abu Dhabi that I've begun to not notice it. I've made friends with many of the women present. I've stopped seeing the countries and started only seeing the people.

Near closing time, an Emirati (in national dress) stopped by our table, introduced himself, and asked how long each of us had been in the U.A.E. He welcomed us to his country. He'd gone to college in Washington state and loved his time in the U. S. He wished us well. I hope I'm as friendly to visitors when I return to live in New Hampshire.

It was a nice evening.