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.
