Stuff is Weird

I often make the observation that "stuff is weird here."  It's pretty vague, and necessarily so, because it's not really anything definite, it's just that stuff is weird.  You order a pizza and the operator will only tell you one of two times for it to get here:  30 minutes (short time) or 40 minutes (long time).  Then when it comes it has so little sauce it's almost just cheesy  bread, but never fear, they give you packets of the clove-spiced super sweet ketchup they love here to put on it.  See?  Weirdness.

You can also order a pizza that's actually a Big Mac.  Weirdness.

Our car beeps that you're driving too fast at 120 km/hr, even though sometimes the speed limit is 120 km/hr and there are signs telling you explicitly that you won't get a photo radar ticket unless you're going 140 km/hr.  Weirdness.  Also, annoyingness if you're driving out of town, say from Abu Dhabi to Dubai.  Dan's high-tech solution:  turn up the radio.

If it weren't a lease, I'd have Googled which wire to cut to make it stop by now.

Speaking of the radio:  it's not weird.  I mean, some of it is, but the stations that broadcast in English are just the same as you would get in the USA.  Radio 1 is a Top 40 station, so you can hear Katy Perry's latest tune a dozen times a day, and Radio 2 is a mix station, pretty much like I listened to in Arizona.  It might even be better.  You can stream it over the internet here.  If you do take a listen, let me know if it is as normal as I believe it is or if you can't understand the British/Aussie/Canadian accents of the DJs.

Cheerios come in Honey flavor and not Honey-nut flavor here.  I can't taste the difference.  Weirdness.

VH1 shows music videos all day.  Weirdness.

Peanut M & Ms are imported.  From France.  Weirdness

Here's what's weird also:  I hear, pretty regularly, that we might be moving soon.  Sometimes I hear it through the grapevine (by which I mean my friend Sara), and sometimes Dan will say we might not be here that long when I talk about buying a vacuum cleaner.  The latest iteration came last night when I was complaining that I wanted some Lucky Charms and Dan said "Well, we might only be here a couple more months!"  I didn't believe him then, and really don't believe him now.  It would be dumb for Stanley to close down their office here when there's so little work to be had at home.  That doesn't mean it won't happen, and that brings up the question:  Where will we go next?  Arizona has NOTHING going on.

Newest construction in Arizona

One possibility is Jamaica.  So although I snort in disbelief every time I hear we might not be here much longer, I'm still looking up stuff on being an expat in Jamaica, because if it does happen, Dan will call me up one day, ask if I want to move to Jamaica, and I'll have approximately 45 seconds to make up my mind.  And I like to be informed.

Google Image Search Result for "Jamaica expat."  I know exactly what to expect now, thanks.

Much as I dislike some (most?) of the stuff here, at least it is very westernized.  I can get any kind of food I want, either at a restaurant or at the grocery store.  They now have a decent kind of white bread that lasts more than an hour after you open the package.  I know where things are and can drive to them fairly easily.  I have a doctor who will write me my prescriptions without too much hassle.  My internet is decently fast.  Tap water is drinkable and I have central A/C.  Would I have those things in Jamaica?  I have no freaking clue.  I do know that of those things there are two dealbreakers:  A/C and internet.  I MUST have those two things, and the rest I can work around.  Plus, Jamaica is much closer to my home country, and I could visit my family more often. 

I love Dan, but drinking beer and watching TV is just better with my Granny.

And look at those faces!  They miss me.

Anyway, who knows what will happen.  I just keep on, keepin' on, and one day sometime in the near or distant future, Dan will come home and tell me we're moving.  I'm actually rooting for Florida, because they have Disney World and my presidential vote might actually mean something.

Florida Polling Place