The Heritage Village

Why have I not been here before?!?!?!?!

Traditional Arabic poses: Girls on the right, boys on the left

It's like a mini, Middle East Ren-fair with cheap goodies all around.  Oh, and you learn stuff too.

This is a well

Oh, and I met my new camel friend, just chillin' there.  No one watching.  He's pretty cool.  We have a lot in common: we both like to sleep during the hot afternoons and make angry noises when people disturb us.

Ignore my Incredible Hulk arm.  Or don't.  Either way, Camel and I will crush you!

There are booths set up to show leather crafting.  The craftsman was making purses from exotic animal skins.  He was getting ready to make one out of Egyptian cheetah skin that I would rock like a Herman Cain if I had 400 dirham to spare.

My skin will endow you with super speed.  Trust me, I'm a cheetah.

There was glass blowing (no one was doing it at the time) but I did buy a camel perfume bottle and the man at the silk weaving booth made me a bracelet in the UAE colors and tied it around my wrist.

This camel was made for Mambo No. 5...or is it Chanel No. 5? Who can remember

There was also the requisite cheap tourist crap area which I will one day plunder like a drunken pirate. 

Doesn't everyone need a magnetic bottle opener shaped like a camel?

Anyway, it was awesome, free to get in, and <spoiler alert> my new go to place for souvenirs. 

Which I will obviously weave myself ;)

Beauty and the Beast: The Grand Mosque

Last week my in-laws, Bruce and Karen were in town and so we went to all the obligatory tourist places and Bruce fed me like he was getting me ready for slaughter (another week and I'd be ready for the Easter feast Bruce!).  My blog posts on the week are going to be out of order because I've decided to start with the Sheik Zayed Grand Mosque, as I need to get it off my chest before I can write about the good parts of the trip.

The Grand Mosque is one of the few landmarks in Abu Dhabi.  It's considered a "must-see" for tourists.  I had never been before and never intend to go again.  Don't get me wrong: there is beauty there.  No detail (or money) was spared in the making of this place.

Object in photo is larger than it appears

The chandelier has 375 gazillion* Swarovski crystals in it.  It's the Chandelier-iest chandelier in the world.  I think when they built it they just asked for every crystal ever and then handed over an oil pipeline.

*Number is approximate

The carpet is the largest hand-knotted carpet in the world.  It was made entirely by women in Iran and took two cargo planes to bring it to the UAE.   It's the carpet-iest carpet in the world (ask Guiness, the world record people, not the beer, I'm not making ALL of this up).

OMG, women can do stuff other than having babies?

There are hundreds of columns, inlaid with patterns of vines and flowers and made of mother of pearl (a soft material) and marble (a hard material).   The contrast of the materials is supposed to be meaningful.

It's a metaphor in stone.  That's probably deep.

There are seven clocks around the mosque showing the five times for prayer as well as the time of the sunrise.  You're supposed to pray and have breakfast before sunrise.  Perhaps that's why brunch is so popular.  I will have to contemplate that brunch thing.

If I were Muslim, I wouldn't even bother going it bed, I'd just stay up for that first prayer.

So there is beauty there.  It's a pretty place.  Here's the ugly:  No matter how conservatively you are dressed, as a woman, you will be covered from head to toe in a scarf and robe.  

Karen and I wishing we were somewhere else

Tourists are invited in, admission is free, tours are free, but they don't have the courtesy to have enough headscarves to go around.  I was elbowed by a woman when I was trying to ask where the toilet was because she thought I was queque jumping (cutting in line) for a head scarf.  You can't even get to the bathroom without one.  I would have taken a photo of the clusterfuck that is the women trying to get "decent" to go inside, but I was too busy trying not to cry.  It was humiliating.  My body is so offensive in a polo, long loose jacket, and corduroy pants that I must be covered, lest some man see me and be distracted from his pure thoughts.  Apologists will say that covering is a choice.  It is not.  It is forced on you if you if you wish a husband or familial approval.  30% of the Emirati women have had clitoridectomies, and older women still say they would not allow their sons to marry an uncircumcised woman.  That is not a choice.  I could go on, but I won't.  The Grand Mosque is a monument to that harm, and no matter how beautiful it may be, if I have to wear head to toe black (with security guards constantly reminding me my hair isn't covered) but the men can walk around in tank tops and beach shorts, forget that place.

A security guard was waiting to tell me to cover up again as soon as I moved

Tourists may enjoy it.  They must not think about it much.  They see the beauty, they expect the lines, they go and see the smiling tour guides and enjoy it.  I never will. 

Dan, carrying our shoes and getting to wear whatever the hell he wants

Sorry Chelsea, if you want to see the Grand Mosque, I'll have to put you in a cab.  Don't worry, they'll know where it is.

At least we both got in trouble here.  Protip: Don't sit on anything that looks like a bench

I can't write a blog post!

I'm not leaving this tree until someone brings me a drink!

My in-laws, Bruce and Karen, are busy running me ragged all around Abu Dhabi and Dubai.  Sorry, Karen, you'll have to give this girl a little time to relax if she's going to write about how beautiful the mosque is but how they don't give a fig about women and it's exactly the opposite at the spice market (they do give figs).

Now I have to get ready to go to Ferrari World.  It'll take me the longest to figure out what shoes to wear that will be the easiest on my feet.

The Wheels on the Bus

I ride the bus.  I really do.  I did it in Arizona during college, and I recently started doing it here, once the weather got nice enough to stand both being outside and being stared at like I'm the last woman on earth. 

That's right, I get stared at.... A LOT.  Like, so much so, if it happened in the US I would NOT be riding the bus.  But penalties for harassment are pretty stiff (stiff, dead, get it?), so I don't worry about it, but let them.  I don't have a "back off" face like the bitches of Abudhabiwoman say you need to cultivate.  I always have that little inscrutable Mona Lisa smile that new people misinterpret as me surreptitiously laughing at them (bonus points for the SAT words in that sentence!) 

Hint: I'm not laughing at you; I just find humor or irony in most situations and my face is an open book.  

I also cry at movies.

OK, back to the bus.   The bus stop is just a sign post at the edge of the parking lot.  Not the edge of the parking lot you think it would be on, but one the other side of the mall, the place no one goes.

That's it.  Just wait here.  Somehow, a bus will pick you up.

There's no schedule beyond "Buses run every 30 minutes between 6am and 10pm." So be sure and mark the time you get there so you know if you're running late or not.  The bus won't help you.  The cost is 2 dirham (about 50 cents) and I can ride it all the way downtown to the Wadha Bus Station where a short walk will take me to my GP or a short cab to my neurologist. 

Can't miss it, it's a giant, pea green concrete patio

All buses also lead to the Carrefour (C4 to those in the know) by the liquor store, but not having a license to buy, I've been too nervous to go there.  This may be my last post about riding the bus because now I have a driver's license and can take the car just about whenever I want.  Whenever I want means, "Whenever I'm out of beer" or "Whenever bacon would make this dinner more delicious". 

Necessary!

More Necessary!

 Riding the bus would seem like it's for everyone.  But I live near the labor camps.  The labor camps are LARGE dormitories where the lowest class of laborers live.  They all use the same bus stop as I do, and a voluptuous white girl with uncovered hair and shoulders is probably the most exciting thing they'll see all week.  It's also strange enough in my area that women on the bus will unabashedly take my photo without shame and without asking.  Note to the Indian woman last time:  I would have smiled and posed for you had you asked.

So, along with all the baggage that comes from riding from the labor camps to downtown, the bus is kind of a crap shoot.  I got on a bus labelled "120 Abu Dhabi" the other day.  Just what I wanted.  When I got on the sign inside said "180 Al Raha Beach", not what I wanted.  So I spent the ride (going the right direction) in a state of anxiety wondering if I'd get where I needed to go.  I didn't.  I ended up getting off 2 kilometres beyond where I wanted and taking a cab back to be on time for my doctor's appointment, and all hope of fish and chips for lunch were crushed beneath the weight of the unknown.   Now that I think about it, how did I get home? 

Was probably still too distracted by a fish and chips craving to remember

There's also the nice, safe way they put the stops.  Instead of putting stops somewhere near a crosswalk or in a parking lot, they put them right on the opposite side of the road from where the corresponding stop (going the opposite direction) is.  That means a rousing game of Abu Dhabi Frogger as you try and get home/the mall/park/etc. 

Looks like this...

...feels like this

So I ride the bus.  Sometimes.  It's not fun, but it's cheap and means that until the weather gets unbearable I can make my own way into town.  Once it breaks 100, who knows what I'll do.  Oh wait, I know, I'll steal Dan's car.

Reporting for Duty

So, nothing much is happening in my world right now.  I found a doctor who will do what he's told, just the way I like it, but medicine here in Abu Dhabi is not as effective as medicine in the US (and the UK so I've heard).  It's probably mostly chalk and lead from China or Honduras or wherever it comes from.  So I have something that helped with my insomnia back in the US, but doesn't really do much here, except cost money.

Oh, yes, I'm certain this will work.  150 dirhams please!

 

I got an IUD inserted, that was fun.  (Readers who don't know what an IUD is don't need to know).  I hope it works better than the sleeping pills.

I learned to make cinnamon toasted nuts like you get at carnivals, because I hate Dan's intestines and want to tear them up with delicious foods he's slightly allergic to.  There's a batch in the oven right now, just waiting to mess him up.

We're waiting for you, Adams

Here's a photo of a cat who hates the police:

The Man can't keep me down, but oy vay, this heat!

I'm also tired.  Tired of cooking and laundry and not being able to find what I want at the grocery store. 

That's me: OKAYWIFE

Tired of beer being so expensive and only being able to get it at certain times (apparently Mohammed doesn't want people enjoying themselves on his birthday), and bacon being sub-par.  Can someone tell my why it takes over a year from bacon's production date to get here?  It's only a 17 hour flight!

Sorry it took so long, ma'am, conditions in France are treacherous

Couch to 5k Jogging program is progressing slowly.  I went once and Dan wimped out.  I believe he will continue to do so until I'm so fast he'll never catch me!

Although this is how I feel on the treadmill

And lastly, although it's only March 1st, it's Too Darn Hot.