Abu Dhabi Days Are Passing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.