The First Ten Days

Has it really only been ten days?

As the saying goes, a journey of a million miles starts with one step, and our first step was to get two big suitcases, two backpacks, a few bits and pieces and two howling cats onto the KTX (Korean Express Train) for our last 300km/h trip to Seoul. Once on board, Jakob (our big orange cat) decided that the cage was too boring for him, and it would be far more interesting to look out the window at the rice paddies and houses going past. This was to the chagrin of the employees who asked us a few times to put him back in his cage.

Dropping the cats off at their “cat hotel” ended up taking the better part of the afternoon… and yes, it was a “cat hotel”, complete with cubby holes and ledges to play on. Both cats reacted by freaking the hell out, which didn’t make our goodbyes to them easy at all – my mental scenarios included random cat attacks in airports, leading to the escape of both felines somewhere in Hong Kong or something (and my job was to coo and reassure that everything would be A-OK). It was completely uncalled for, as both cats are now safely in a friend’s apartment in the UAE…. But still…. You know, saying goodbye to a hissing, drooling, growling cat, with the hopes that other people will get him on the right plane???

On our way to the airport, we had enough time to do a bit of shopping. Ty had his eye on a certain kind of camera (Nikon D90), and insisted that he would only go to Abu Dhabi if he had the afore-mentioned camera in his possession. (And good thing I did… I pass my days at the moment by practicing the well known sport of dune photography) Annnnyway, with me playing the role of the frowning wife, the price dropped and the final package included a handsome bag and a cleaning kit or something (HEY!… once Virginia came into the shop AFTER the bargaining ended… she was frowning… but more because I wanted to spend WHAT on a camera. I think she is mildly disappointed that it can’t make coffee, and does not predict the next winner of America’s Next Top Model )

We arrived at the airport without much fuss, and waited for the check-in counter to open. For whatever reason, the airline decided to weigh our carry-on. I mean, really, who weighs carry on bags?????????????? As we were way over the limit on that, there was a bit of a kerfuffle as one manager after another was called over to frown and shrug at our situation (keep in mind that we had a guitar too). Finally, I did what any self-respecting woman of the 21st century should do and burst into tears…. We got a better deal, but ended up paying to send one of our bags anyway.

The flight was pretty awesome, with Ty playing with his camera (and we have about 20 photos of airplane seats to prove it) and me rejoicing over the lack of hidden ham in any food served on Qatar Airlines (how would you know?… you were snoring up a storm while I was testing the new camera).

After a short stopover (and stock-up of “essentials” in Duty Free), we arrived in Abu Dhabi. The airport arrivals terminal is built to look like a gigantic blue pumpkin tent thing on the inside and is quite the sight after 30+ hours of travel. Everything was running smoothly, and we were up at the immigration desks, getting our passports stamped when….

Virginia got through to the other side and waited. I saw her face becoming questioning when the person at immigration ran through my passport a second time. I was dying just to get to our hotel, and climb into bed as I’d not managed to have any meaningful sleep on the plane. I handed over the printed visa slip that Emirates Airlines had ripped me off for before leaving Korea. The Gutra-ed man frowned and tried my passport number one more time. “No” they kept saying and pointed behind them toward the iris scanning section. Before I left them I was told that I might have to go back home to South Africa (this was when I started panicking… But smiled at Virginia as if to say that everything was fine and I’d only be a minute)

Anyway, after scanning and fingerprinting, and being glared at by other suspected criminal elements (I assume) they took me back to the immigration desk. Everyone still seemed unsure, but finally they reread my passport number… turns out that the first few times it had been read, the other person had misheard… REALLY! Yay, I’m through…

No sooner had I joined V, smiling, when I got yanked aside to the luggage section. A very nice veiled woman started asking what I had in my luggage. Clothes, socks… could these be offensive... maybe the CDs are causing a problem? Ah… yes she says… maybe that (I refrained from saying that I had a bomb strapped around my waist, and had stolen the fountain from the entrance to the airport, oh and had also taken the little travel toothbrush from the plane)

This woman was replaced by several people who randomly proceeded to empty bits of my possessions all over the counter, before simply wandering away. Not a good start… treated like a common terrorist. And so begin my cultural lessons again. I like having stereotypes broken… and now know what it feels like now to be singled out at an airport just because you look wrong, or are from a different country. Getting rid of all those cartoonesk stereotypes, and replacing them with real experiences with people. It’s one of the better reasons to travel. It did not start all that well. That tired morning… well Arabs seemed just plain mean. It’s not true I know, and I’ve met beautiful people ever since… but for one tired morning I was willing to let it be an excuse to let loose on the emotions of moving, of leaving good friends in Korea, and of being in an uncertain new world. It would all look different after some sleep, I thought, and it did.

Meanwhile, I was re-communing with being back in the Middle East. Each man with a red-checked goutra (headscarf) was glorious. Each lady veiled in a black abaya (outer cape-like thing) or sheyla (headscarf) was beautiful. Our driver packed us (me giddy, Ty glum) into a taxi, as I exclaimed at the blue sky, pointed at every palm tree, and generally grew happier about being in the UAE, and drove us off to our hotel, our home for the next few days in Abu Dhabi.

The hotel (One to One Village) was lost in a newly-built area, just off the main drag. The bathroom was the same size as our Korean apartment, and the bed was a dreamily massive slice of heaven, which Ty curled up immediately on, after declaring that he hated the UAE and would leave at a moment’s notice if anyone tried to look in his bags ever again (Oh she does exaggerate sometimes... but this is pretty close to how I was feeling that afternoon)

Right.

That evening, we met up with my step-sister and her family. It had been roughly 18 years since I’d seen Michelle, and she and her husband had been in the Mid East for the past 5 years. She was the one who had sent me the information on how to score a job here, and they did wonders for our morale. We met up in a huge shopping centre – one of many in Abu Dhabi – then headed up to a popular burger restaurant for supper. The portion sizes were insane, and it was the perfect meal (and the perfect company) to bring us out of our funk. After supper, we went to the strangely named “Lulu’s Hypermarket”, which was a treat and a half for everyone. Lulu’s is a grocery store, and it’s huge (as is everything here). There were no less than 5 aisles of cheese and just about every kind of food product that one could ever dream to have. After our time in Korea, we were literally skipping up the aisles, pointing and giggling at the choice – all the while promising to send care packages to our friends in Korea (I do believe that everyone thought we were mad as we, so jolly, bounced up and down the aisles like children).

After a good night’s sleep in our incredibly amazing hotel, and an equally incredibly amazing breakfast buffet, we were off to explore Abu Dhabi as tourists.

Our first stop – the American Vet Clinic – is perhaps not the first place most tourists go when in Abu Dhabi, but an absolute necessity for us, as my credit card had been flagged for being used simultaneously in Korea and Abu Dhabi and had decided to stop working. Ahhh, no shopping for me for a while. Anyway, Mustafa, our cat import guy, ended up being the first in a long line of new acquaintances here who have proven themselves to be over-the-top friendly and helpful.

Continuing on, we headed to Abu Dhabi’s famous “Corniche” area, which is a beachfront area of huge buildings and hotels on the Arabian Gulf. After relaxing in the sand, and dipping our toes in the ocean, we decided to venture out to the Breakwater (we were following an indispensable guidebook from my Mom) to check out the Heritage Village, and yet another shopping mall (with an IKEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!). Abu Dhabi is a very pretty city – it’s green and wonderful with beautiful buildings. I’d compare it easily with a place like Singapore, albeit on a smaller scale. After the pollution of Seoul, it was a very welcome change.

The one thing that we have both noticed is that everywhere here smells amazing. Shops are scented, restaurants all beckon with fantastic spices from countries all over the world, but the real wonder is that the air outside and all around Abu Dhabi smells, not just clean, but sweet.

Once on the Breakwater, just past the over-zealous tribute to conspicuous consumption known as the Emirates Palace Hotel, we found ourselves at the Heritage Village, a small touristy look at traditional (think pre-discovery of oil) life in the UAE. We got to pet a camel and chat with an Arabian horse, before trying on some traditional clothes (Ty looks *very* nice in a dishdasha – the long white dress thing that the men wear… and V looked gorgeous in the abaya-like dress she pulled on). Wandering up towards a large mosque (near what was the tallest flagpole in the world before Jordan went and built a three meter bigger one… I won’t comment here on men and their flagpoles… HEY!… It was huge though), we were suddenly surrounded by friendly, skinny, mewling cats. Yes, they ignored everyone else, and came running over to us. Our evening was rounded out by a visit to the Marina mall (yes yes yes IKEA!!!) and an amazing Iranian supper that filled us both to bursting. So far, we aren’t missing Korean food at all.

As a relatively young, and yes, developing nation, the UAE owes much of its prosperity and advancement to the forward-thinking economic and educational policies of Sheikh Zayed, who died in 2002 (his son is now in charge). He and his two eldest?? sons’ pictures can be seen everywhere – on billboards, posters, walls, schools… from just about everywhere, they look down on their citizens like some sort of benevolent father-figures. Iconic images of leaders can be found in just about every country, but somehow here, they just seem kind of… well… friendly. They are smiling or waving, and the citizens here, both Emirati and non-Gulf Arab, all seem to genuinely love and respect these guys.

It really was quite amazing to look up at the buildings in Abu Dhabi, the sheer prosperity of this place, and realize that less than 40 years ago there was not a tarred road in the country. Oil helped, but the benevolent man in the posters seems to deserve the respect he gained in his thirty-odd years of rule. I’ll save the history lesson for another time though.

By Thursday, we were starting to feel a bit like freeloaders (me more so as V’s company has been looking after me as spouse, and so I REALLY don’t feel I deserve all this). So far, we’d had our flights and our luxurious hotel covered, I’d received my mobile phone (in an envelope at the hotel reception) and we’d done little more than tour around and eat ourselves silly. Fortunately, Thursday was the day that we’d be leaving Abu Dhabi and finally head out to the Western Zone, to our new home of Madinat Zayed (aka Beda Zayed). First, though, I had to attend a meeting with my new employers and then be handed a pile of cash (well… yes… it was my settlement allowance, coupled with my furniture allowance, and in the absence of a bank account, I ended up with an envelope of bills). But wait… there’s more…. As our apartment in Beda Zayed is not yet available to us, we are being housed until further notice in the Liwa Hotel, a 4-star resort on the edge of the so-called “Empty Quarter” – the big desert that makes up most of the Arabian peninsula.

The next day, Friday, was the first day of the weekend (Fri and Sat), but the day started quite early as I, still slightly jet-laggy, awoke before dawn and wandered out onto our desert-view balcony to be faced with FOG. Thick thick fog that made us feel a bit like we’d hit the end of the world. Dragging Ty out of bed, we stood there, staring at the fog, listening to the sounds of distant chickens, and wondering, really, how we had managed to find ourselves here. After breakfast, and as the fog lifted, we decided to explore our new home, discovering the gym, the huge heated pool, and the expanse of gardens to be quite to our liking. Wandering off the grounds of the hotel, we suddenly found ourselves on the dunes. Kicking off our shoes, we ran, rolled and generally played in the soft orange sand until we got a bit too thirsty (it is quite dry out here) to continue.

The Liwa Hotel is about 65km from MZ, but seems to be a popular spot for ex-pats looking for exercise (at the hotel gym, or in the pool) and booze – you can drink here. That afternoon, we ended up meeting a lot of people who work for CfBT in MZ, some of whom were in the same situation as we are now (i.e. living at the Liwa for anywhere from 6 weeks to 3 months) when they first arrived.

On Saturday, one of my colleagues, Sharon, picked us up and drove us around MZ, giving me a tour of my new school, and showing us where we would eventually be living. As with everyone here, we’ve been blown away by how friendly and generous everyone has been with us. One of our stops that day was the local Co-op grocery store (why am I so obsessed with groceries??? Must be post-Korea stress disorder or something), which is not as monumentally amazing as Lulu’s, but still carries more of a variety of food that we actually enjoy than even Homeplus in Mokpo did. MZ reminds me a lot of where I lived in Quebec, La Pocatiere – it’s a smaller town, about an hour and a half from a big city, a place where everyone knows each other and where the schools seem to be the biggest buildings.

I think we’re going to try to wind this up – it’s been an overwhelming new experience for both of us. One last thing, though – both of us are now living slightly different realities during the week.

Virginia’s Day:
I get up before 6am, and listen to the call to prayer as it echoes from two different mosques. It’s generally still dark out, which makes it very very eerie… anyway, once I get ready, I head down to the daily breakfast buffet where I might be the only person sampling the fresh yogurt, selection of fruit and muesli, hummus, vegetables and big chunk of bleu cheese (that I am determined to finish before I leave). The very attentive wait staff will go so far as to put the milk in my coffee for me (“Milk for you, Madam?”). As Liwa is far from MZ, I have a taxi that picks me up every day. My driver, Nawaf, is a big scary looking Pakistani man who has a sense of humour to match his size. He’s absolutely hilarious, and is apparently a good person to know, as he seems to be well-connected in town.
My school is very big and staffed exclusively by women. If a man enters the building, everyone starts pulling veils over their faces. This seems to contradict the brashness of these women. They are mostly non-Emirati (from Yemen, Jordan, Syria, etc) and once I get the hang of the different veil styles, I should be able to identify where someone is from based solely on their abaya and shayla (i.e. plain black vs blinged up with silver fringes).
One of my first experiences at school was being pulled into the VP’s office. Dibaba is the daughter of the main sheikh in these parts and an absolute character. She wears very tight and very colourful clothes, and enough makeup for a truckload of drag queens. Her office is kept perfumed with burning incense and her coffee pot is always well-stocked by her personal servants (!!!). On that first day, politely smiling at the collection of women who were quizzing me on why I didn’t have children and where I had lived before and did I eat pork, Dibaba decided that, as a newlywed, I needed a gift. The next day she called me back to her office and into her private ensuite bathroom. I was handed a bag of clothes and sent off to change. The bag contained a black silk slip, a purple flowered dress embroidered with gold and silver thread and my own sheyla. Dibaba, assisted by her servant, infused all my new clothes with a bowl of burning incense wood, then sprayed me liberally with perfume, before telling me to wear more makeup (I’m already wearing more makeup every day than I have in a long time….) I guess this means she likes me or something… My friend Paul (who is currently babysitting Jakob and Sonagi along with his other 4 cats) told me that it’s a traditional way for Dibaba to welcome me to the school, while showing herself to be a good and generous Bedouin woman.
Anyway, my real job consists of working with 5 Arab English teachers who have been given a new curriculum and textbook, and a new way of giving exams, and who need outside guidance to get on track with what the Ministry of Education and the Education Council (two different entities, run by different parts of government) are telling them to do in class. It’s an office job, but I’m going to find ways to get myself into the classroom as much as I can. So far, it’s a lot of meetings, paperwork and just getting to know the ropes. After Korea, and a work day that consisted of more Facebooking than actual teaching, it’s really been a shock to the system.
The great thing, however, is that the work day only goes until 2 or 2:30pm, meaning that I make it home by 3 and have a full evening to spend with Ty back at the hotel, walking on the dunes, chilling by the pool or watching satellite TV. Yeah, I guess things could be a lot worse!!!

Ty’s Day
Yes they could be a whole lot worse. I know what you are all thinking at the moment… “I don’t envy that poor Tyrone one bit”

I have to wake up, at some stage (okay, I’m trying my best to get downstairs and spend breakfast with V, which… well, all I can say is that I’m not particularly missing kimchi at the moment).
And I’m sure you all pity us terribly, what with the kind, friendly and insanely over the top service around here. Virginia and I have, from the very first, been sort of uncomfortable with it all. It starts with me picking up bags and trying to help the porter carry them back at the One-2-One (they don’t take kindly to that in these parts) to having our bags packed at the shops… to Virginia trying to clean off a table after we finished eating at a restaurant, and getting moaned at… to, finally, when we thought we’d could see nothing higher in service in general, the waiter at the Liwa hotel actually taking the bottle of tomato sauce from my hand and offering ever so politely to shake it for me. I didn’t quite know what to do but to, embarrassed as anything, hand it over and let him get on with it.

Anyway my days at the Liwa at the moment include such interesting pastimes as eating breakfast, lunch and supper, taking long walks through the desert dunes, taking photos of the dunes, rolling down the dunes, and sometimes just looking at the dunes.

As the cost of washing a pair of underwear here could instead be used to, say, feed a small village, I’ve also been privileged to learn the awesomeness of washing everything by hand, and to appreciate the fact that grandmothers everywhere probably did this while looking after hoards of children and some of them without room service to prepare meals for them.

Overall though, I’m quite enjoying having a bit of a holiday after the last few months of intense business. At the moment I cannot work (and won’t be able to for a couple months, until the appropriate visas come through) and have been doing all I can to keep myself busy (the hotel is empty most of the day… think the Shining). I’ve been meeting all kinds of lovely people from everywhere, though only by chatting to the staff around here, and the people that are working in Beda Zayed with V.

I will be dying to get out of here soon into our new home, and moving on with life again, I am sure, but for the moment it is not all that terrible (:-D) to spend the day reading at the pool, and brushing up on my rusty Arabic (okay, lets rather say, adding to my so far 2 word vocabulary).

It’s also wonderful, although Virginia is already going into work, that we still have most of the afternoon together. And just to top it all off… Virginia is on holiday from this coming Thursday. So the rest of the time here I’m trying to put together some plans for a roadtrip to some fun places in the desert, the sea, and the coastal mountains.

This has been an unusual, exciting and incredible way to start a marriage. The two of us are having a ball.