Sorry I haven’t been in touch for a couple of weeks. I don't have a flash excuse as I hadn’t been kidnapped by a white slavery ring. If I had, we all know they’d be phoning the police after a couple of hours offering big money to hand me back. So in answer to the questions, I’m still alive, healthy and for the moment financially solvent.
Today could be the last day of Ramadan, it all depends on the gents on the Moon Committee announcing that the New Moon has been sighted but it could just as likely happen tomorrow night or Monday. Once the announcement is made everyone has a couple of days holiday though the government shuts down for a full week. Bakers has already told us that we can have Sunday, Monday and Tuesday off, it just gets too confusing otherwise. Most of the people in the office have taken the whole week off and a few are going overseas. One of the great things about Dubai is that it's so central for travelling. One girl has gone to Syria, one of the guys has gone to Jordan to visit his family then is heading to Petra and the Dead Sea, and another has headed to London for the week.
It really is a small world. One of the lawyers here at Bakers did 6 weeks on the Death Star as an intern.
Last week I went go-kart racing for the first time ever, it was so much fun though it took me a full lap to realise that the kart had brakes. Many would now hope that I'll eventually learn that big cars have brakes too.
I’ve been to a few iftars during Ramadan. The first was at a small Lebanese family style restaurant with great food, then another at the Mina Seyahi which had a huge A&P show size tent with smaller tents set up inside. Last week we went to the Shangri-La hotel which has iftar by the roof top pool (life’s so tough…) It was a gorgeous setting, a nice group of people, mezze and smoking shisha. If it was possible to eat, chat and smoke shisha on a professional basis I would take the job in a heartbeat! I had the bright idea that next Ramadan I could give up coffee for the month. I mentioned it to a few people but it seems that even though I may only have been here for 3 months, my addiction to the bean has already been noticed and my suggestion has been greeted with universal laughter and "as if"!
Life will return to normal once Ramadan is over. The coffee will flow freely and the place downstairs will again sell scones to the needy masses, ie, me!
Eid Mubarak!
Monday, 23 October 2006
Sunday, 24 September 2006
Ramadan begins
It’s the first day of Ramadan today. We got an email on Thursday evening to say that the firm is allowing all staff, Muslim and non-Muslim, to work 9:30am to 3:30pm each work day during Ramadan with no reduction in pay. Realistically I won’t be leaving early if my boss is still working though but if I have a few early marks during the month when I can go to the beach that’ll be nice. Ramadan Kareem Nadia!
What a grand and glorious game yesterday, though as usual the Swans made the red and white faithful suffer in the process. As I was out of Dubai I’d taken my laptop hoping that there’d be a wireless network I could get into so I could listen to the Triple M webcast. No luck unfortunately so I was phoning my kids every half hour - if I could wait a whole 30 minutes - for score updates. In the evening we went to watch the replay at Aussie Legends, a bar in Rydges Hotel. Of course nobody will be surprised to hear that I have my Swans scarf, hat and tee shirt with me (you'd be surprised if I didn't). The Grand Final will be on live at Legends at 9:30am Dubai time on Saturday morning and then, depending on the result, I’ll spend the rest of the day being unbearably happy watching the replays, or unbearably depressed, despondent and possibly drinking gin.
I was at the Hatta Hotel while the game was on. Hatta is near the Omani border and Colin had taken me down there so I could do what’s known here as a visa run. Until I have Dubai residency I use 30 day or 60 day visitor visas which means that, like a huge number of other temporary residents in Dubai, I have to leave the country when the current visa is close to expiry and then re-enter to get a new visa. To do the visa run many people drive or fly to Oman, others fly to Qatar and Colin’s flatmates fly to a small island off the coast of Iran. My most recent visa says quite clearly in English “Valid for 30 days from date of issue” which meant we had to do the run this weekend as the 30 days expired on 25 Sept.
The Omani border is about 2 hours drive from Dubai. We drove down Friday morning and went through the procedure of exiting the UAE through their border post which looks like a handful of portacabins that have been thrown onto the side of the road. The UAE immigration man said to Colin that my visa is actually for 60 days. Yes, it was my passport but the immigration guy didn’t speak to me directly or even acknowledge me at any stage. This would have really pissed me off when I was younger, but now it doesn’t faze me at all, in fact I can see the funny side of it. Colin pointed out that the stamp says in English quite clearly “30 days”. The immigration guy laughed and said that some border offices hadn’t been issued with the “60 day” stamp so they just kept using the “30 day” stamp instead. Apparently the visa says “60 days” in Arabic which is good if you read Arabic, but I know this how?
Anyway we’d got this far so we carried on and drove through the no-mans land (no-person’s land surely) to the Omani border post which is completely different to the UAE post. The Omani border post looks like a palace, all cool marble, manicured lawns and landscaped gardens. Once inside, I had to stand in a queue to get the immigration form that needs to be completed. Why you have to queue to get a blank form is a total mystery to me. You fill in the form and then join another queue where you’re issued with the actual visa and your passport is stamped. Everyone in front of me in the ‘collect the form’ queue was having issues with the immigration man behind the counter. Yikes, my turn. I step up, hand him my passport and he gives me one of those looks that makes you think “Jeez, how does he know about that?”(insert darkest secret) and he says “Ah New Zeeleendee” and he doesn’t give me the form. Yikes again. Instead, he reaches over to the visa issuing guy’s desk, takes the guy's stamp, issues my visa and stamps my passport. No paperwork, nothing. Ooookaaay!!
The next step was to get the Omani exit stamp in my passport. As Colin has UAE residency he doesn't need to enter/exit Oman so he was waiting in the car park ready to post bail if I wasn’t back in an hour. I headed out the back door of the passport palace and round the corner. As there is no provision for people to exit Oman on foot, well not legally anyway, I had to stand in the queue of cars waiting to exit Oman and re-enter the UAE. Look at me, I’m a car! The immigration guy who rules the car queue stamps my passport and he also gives me a form in Arabic that says who-knows-what. I jump back into the car and we drive back up to the UAE border where they refuse to let us re-enter because the form the car queue guy gave me isn’t exit authority for two-people-and-a-car it’s just for one person (me). So we drive back to Oman, I jog into the passport palace past the people in the queues who look at me curiously, exit out the back door, and again I’m standing in the queue with the cars - I wish I had a photo. I then had to explain to the car queue man that while he may see one woman standing in front of him I am in fact two-people-and-a-car! Strange, but in this part of the world it all seems so logical. Unfortunately he starts making phone calls and giving me suspicious looks and I have to make the painful confession that at this point, for the first time in my life, I resorted to Every Girl’s Final Fall Back Position. I took off my sunglasses, batted my eyelashes and tossed the blonde hair while giggling and saying words to the effect of “Oh dear I don’t know what to do, you big handsome immigration man, I’m just a helpless little lady…….” Oh my God! It works! I can’t believe it – that routine is bloody magic, why have I never used it before? The end result is that he gives me a huge smile and the form that clearly states that I’m two-people-and-a-car. Let’s hear it for flexible feminist principles! I’m glad to say we got back through the UAE border without any problems, then had a lovely bbq lunch at the Hatta Fort hotel and a swim before returning to Dubai.
My residency application still hasn’t started because I’ve had to have my NZ UE certificate notarised in NZ and then authorised by both NZ Internal Affairs and External Affairs. The certificate is in the post to me now thanks to Raewyn. When it arrives here I take it to the NZ Embassy who then authorise the Internal and External Affairs signatures then it goes to the UAE Ministry of Foreign Affairs for something else and then it finally comes to my employer to start the application process. There’s a charge for each signature of course. All this for a 30 year old certificate that shows that in 1971 amongst other things, I could draw a crash hot diagram of the Waipa River (UE Geography) and write a boring précis on the Unification of Yugoslavia a topic which is now of course totally redundant. Ah well, it’ll all work out in the end I guess, insha’allah.
Go Swannies!!
What a grand and glorious game yesterday, though as usual the Swans made the red and white faithful suffer in the process. As I was out of Dubai I’d taken my laptop hoping that there’d be a wireless network I could get into so I could listen to the Triple M webcast. No luck unfortunately so I was phoning my kids every half hour - if I could wait a whole 30 minutes - for score updates. In the evening we went to watch the replay at Aussie Legends, a bar in Rydges Hotel. Of course nobody will be surprised to hear that I have my Swans scarf, hat and tee shirt with me (you'd be surprised if I didn't). The Grand Final will be on live at Legends at 9:30am Dubai time on Saturday morning and then, depending on the result, I’ll spend the rest of the day being unbearably happy watching the replays, or unbearably depressed, despondent and possibly drinking gin.
I was at the Hatta Hotel while the game was on. Hatta is near the Omani border and Colin had taken me down there so I could do what’s known here as a visa run. Until I have Dubai residency I use 30 day or 60 day visitor visas which means that, like a huge number of other temporary residents in Dubai, I have to leave the country when the current visa is close to expiry and then re-enter to get a new visa. To do the visa run many people drive or fly to Oman, others fly to Qatar and Colin’s flatmates fly to a small island off the coast of Iran. My most recent visa says quite clearly in English “Valid for 30 days from date of issue” which meant we had to do the run this weekend as the 30 days expired on 25 Sept.
The Omani border is about 2 hours drive from Dubai. We drove down Friday morning and went through the procedure of exiting the UAE through their border post which looks like a handful of portacabins that have been thrown onto the side of the road. The UAE immigration man said to Colin that my visa is actually for 60 days. Yes, it was my passport but the immigration guy didn’t speak to me directly or even acknowledge me at any stage. This would have really pissed me off when I was younger, but now it doesn’t faze me at all, in fact I can see the funny side of it. Colin pointed out that the stamp says in English quite clearly “30 days”. The immigration guy laughed and said that some border offices hadn’t been issued with the “60 day” stamp so they just kept using the “30 day” stamp instead. Apparently the visa says “60 days” in Arabic which is good if you read Arabic, but I know this how?
Anyway we’d got this far so we carried on and drove through the no-mans land (no-person’s land surely) to the Omani border post which is completely different to the UAE post. The Omani border post looks like a palace, all cool marble, manicured lawns and landscaped gardens. Once inside, I had to stand in a queue to get the immigration form that needs to be completed. Why you have to queue to get a blank form is a total mystery to me. You fill in the form and then join another queue where you’re issued with the actual visa and your passport is stamped. Everyone in front of me in the ‘collect the form’ queue was having issues with the immigration man behind the counter. Yikes, my turn. I step up, hand him my passport and he gives me one of those looks that makes you think “Jeez, how does he know about that?”(insert darkest secret) and he says “Ah New Zeeleendee” and he doesn’t give me the form. Yikes again. Instead, he reaches over to the visa issuing guy’s desk, takes the guy's stamp, issues my visa and stamps my passport. No paperwork, nothing. Ooookaaay!!
The next step was to get the Omani exit stamp in my passport. As Colin has UAE residency he doesn't need to enter/exit Oman so he was waiting in the car park ready to post bail if I wasn’t back in an hour. I headed out the back door of the passport palace and round the corner. As there is no provision for people to exit Oman on foot, well not legally anyway, I had to stand in the queue of cars waiting to exit Oman and re-enter the UAE. Look at me, I’m a car! The immigration guy who rules the car queue stamps my passport and he also gives me a form in Arabic that says who-knows-what. I jump back into the car and we drive back up to the UAE border where they refuse to let us re-enter because the form the car queue guy gave me isn’t exit authority for two-people-and-a-car it’s just for one person (me). So we drive back to Oman, I jog into the passport palace past the people in the queues who look at me curiously, exit out the back door, and again I’m standing in the queue with the cars - I wish I had a photo. I then had to explain to the car queue man that while he may see one woman standing in front of him I am in fact two-people-and-a-car! Strange, but in this part of the world it all seems so logical. Unfortunately he starts making phone calls and giving me suspicious looks and I have to make the painful confession that at this point, for the first time in my life, I resorted to Every Girl’s Final Fall Back Position. I took off my sunglasses, batted my eyelashes and tossed the blonde hair while giggling and saying words to the effect of “Oh dear I don’t know what to do, you big handsome immigration man, I’m just a helpless little lady…….” Oh my God! It works! I can’t believe it – that routine is bloody magic, why have I never used it before? The end result is that he gives me a huge smile and the form that clearly states that I’m two-people-and-a-car. Let’s hear it for flexible feminist principles! I’m glad to say we got back through the UAE border without any problems, then had a lovely bbq lunch at the Hatta Fort hotel and a swim before returning to Dubai.
My residency application still hasn’t started because I’ve had to have my NZ UE certificate notarised in NZ and then authorised by both NZ Internal Affairs and External Affairs. The certificate is in the post to me now thanks to Raewyn. When it arrives here I take it to the NZ Embassy who then authorise the Internal and External Affairs signatures then it goes to the UAE Ministry of Foreign Affairs for something else and then it finally comes to my employer to start the application process. There’s a charge for each signature of course. All this for a 30 year old certificate that shows that in 1971 amongst other things, I could draw a crash hot diagram of the Waipa River (UE Geography) and write a boring précis on the Unification of Yugoslavia a topic which is now of course totally redundant. Ah well, it’ll all work out in the end I guess, insha’allah.
Go Swannies!!
Tuesday, 19 September 2006
Work is the curse of the drinking class
The office working hours here are 8:30am to 6pm though the shops are open to around 10:30-11pm every night even later on Thursday nights. I may be getting used to working Sunday-Thursday, as I rang the Commonwealth Bank in Sydney on Sunday and was annoyed that nobody answered – yes I know, it’s often hard to get them to answer when you ring Mon-Fri anyway.
As several of us have discussed, the reigning Premiers, those stars of the SCG, God’s Own Team, the Sydney Swans, play the Dockers this weekend. I’ll be sitting in the office listening to the broadcast on Triple M on the net. I doubt whether I can resist yelling at the screen at times of stress and if Goldspink is umpiring then all bets are off!
Ramadan is expected to start on either Friday or Saturday of next week, it all depends on the sighting of the moon. During the 40 days of Ramadan Muslim people fast during the hours of daylight then there are evening prayers and the fast is broken by a meal called iftar. Iftar is quite a social thing and there are iftar tents set up at all the hotels, families get together and companies hold special iftar functions for clients. For expats Ramadan means no alcohol is available at all, even through the holes in the wall. Many people do a pre-Ramadan stock up (it’s a trip down to the Barracuda resort in Um al Quain which is one of the other Emirates. It's the best bottle shop this side of Naremburn). During Ramadan there is no eating or drinking in public, many restaurants are either shut for the month or have their windows covered, food courts in the shopping malls are shut, the bottle of water you’d usually have on your desk has to be put away and if you want to have a drink, you go to the toilets and drink it there. I’m lucky because I can go home for lunch as my place is only a 5 minute walk away from work. The government has put out a decree that this year all employees whether Muslim or not, must work ‘Ramadan hours’ which means 6 hours a day without reduction in pay. (I’m all for this of course).
The company I’m working for is in an office tower attached to the Bur Juman shopping mall. Bur Juman is very upmarket with only the most exclusive labels being sold. How utterly pathetic when someone like me does a lunch hour mooch round the shops and thinks “I’m bored with Dior, OMG, do I have to look at Christian LaCroix again, and why hasn’t Versace changed their window display?” Ker-thunk!! That’s the sound of people on both sides of the Tasman fainting in shock that the woman who thought high fashion was having two pairs of gumboots now not only knows the designers’ names but can spell them too.
And finally, my nomination for the worst “call waiting” music ever, courtesy of a certain Dubai banking institution: “Eye of the Tiger” played on the Pan’s pipes. Truly ghastly.
Take care all, Go Swannies!
As several of us have discussed, the reigning Premiers, those stars of the SCG, God’s Own Team, the Sydney Swans, play the Dockers this weekend. I’ll be sitting in the office listening to the broadcast on Triple M on the net. I doubt whether I can resist yelling at the screen at times of stress and if Goldspink is umpiring then all bets are off!
Ramadan is expected to start on either Friday or Saturday of next week, it all depends on the sighting of the moon. During the 40 days of Ramadan Muslim people fast during the hours of daylight then there are evening prayers and the fast is broken by a meal called iftar. Iftar is quite a social thing and there are iftar tents set up at all the hotels, families get together and companies hold special iftar functions for clients. For expats Ramadan means no alcohol is available at all, even through the holes in the wall. Many people do a pre-Ramadan stock up (it’s a trip down to the Barracuda resort in Um al Quain which is one of the other Emirates. It's the best bottle shop this side of Naremburn). During Ramadan there is no eating or drinking in public, many restaurants are either shut for the month or have their windows covered, food courts in the shopping malls are shut, the bottle of water you’d usually have on your desk has to be put away and if you want to have a drink, you go to the toilets and drink it there. I’m lucky because I can go home for lunch as my place is only a 5 minute walk away from work. The government has put out a decree that this year all employees whether Muslim or not, must work ‘Ramadan hours’ which means 6 hours a day without reduction in pay. (I’m all for this of course).
The company I’m working for is in an office tower attached to the Bur Juman shopping mall. Bur Juman is very upmarket with only the most exclusive labels being sold. How utterly pathetic when someone like me does a lunch hour mooch round the shops and thinks “I’m bored with Dior, OMG, do I have to look at Christian LaCroix again, and why hasn’t Versace changed their window display?” Ker-thunk!! That’s the sound of people on both sides of the Tasman fainting in shock that the woman who thought high fashion was having two pairs of gumboots now not only knows the designers’ names but can spell them too.
And finally, my nomination for the worst “call waiting” music ever, courtesy of a certain Dubai banking institution: “Eye of the Tiger” played on the Pan’s pipes. Truly ghastly.
Take care all, Go Swannies!
Wednesday, 23 August 2006
Salalah: Omanis in the Mist
On our second day in Salalah we went out to Muqsayl on the coast where there are lots of blowholes. Very spectacular and with the rough seas and big surf it was very much like Bethells (my home beach in NZ). The fog was very thick which made driving quite difficult at times and isn’t helped by the fact that a lot of drivers only use their hazard lights, if they use lights at all, and they certainly don’t bother slowing down. As well, there are the camels and goats which wander the roads. Drivers have to stop for camels and to hit one causes really serious problems and the payment to the owner of lots of cash in compensation.
We then drove along the Sarfait Road which continues from Mugsayl to the Yemen border. The road winds and twists up a 1000m cliff to a plateau, spectacular views, well, what we could see through the fog. I was doing some of the driving and Sabine was very calm only yelling out “Cliff, Cliff” as in “You’re too close to it…..” a couple of times. The Lonely Planet guide says the border crossing at this point “is not for the faint- hearted” and I can add to that, nor is the drive to get there!
One thing I’ve learnt is that Omanis are the world champion picnickers, they will picnic anywhere, any time, there is no terrain too rough, no slope too steep, no fog too thick to stop any self respecting Omani from having a picnic. The Omani motto should be “Picnics-R-Us”.
We’ve also had a drive on the anti-gravity road. This is 200m section of an unsealed track off the road between Salalah and Tarqa. You go down the hill, put the car in neutral, release the brakes and the car starts going backwards uphill. It’s true, despite certain people who read these emails, you know who you are, saying that there is no scientific proof, it’s an optical illusion etc etc. It’s weird but it’s for real.
Day 2 photos: http://www.geocities.com/aziza_au/Salalah_photos2.htm
On our final full day we battled the low cloud to go out to Job’s Tomb (Nabi Ayub). Though the tomb is small, it has a powerful atmosphere. I don’t know if it really is Job buried there but whoever it is, they have strong vibes. Apparently there are great views from the tomb but, as you’ll see from the photos, the cloud was so low we couldn’t see anything. We continued on the same road up to a plateau where the air was hot and dry and it was all desert again. We stopped for coffee at a small town called Thumrayt. The restaurant had a ‘family area’ which is where families (obviously) or ladies travelling together can sit in privacy in individual curtained off areas. We sat in our little secluded area and drank coffee made with sweetened condensed milk had then had sugar added to it. I’m looking forward to a cup of coffee that doesn’t carry with it the risk of developing instant diabetes.
On the plane from Salalah to Dubai I sat in an aisle seat and there was a lady wearing full purda in the window seat. She was very concerned that a man was going to be in the vacant middle seat next to her so I moved over and sat next to her to ‘protect’ her from the man who then took the aisle seat.
Day 3 photos: http://www.geocities.com/aziza_au/Salalah_photos3.htm
We then drove along the Sarfait Road which continues from Mugsayl to the Yemen border. The road winds and twists up a 1000m cliff to a plateau, spectacular views, well, what we could see through the fog. I was doing some of the driving and Sabine was very calm only yelling out “Cliff, Cliff” as in “You’re too close to it…..” a couple of times. The Lonely Planet guide says the border crossing at this point “is not for the faint- hearted” and I can add to that, nor is the drive to get there!
One thing I’ve learnt is that Omanis are the world champion picnickers, they will picnic anywhere, any time, there is no terrain too rough, no slope too steep, no fog too thick to stop any self respecting Omani from having a picnic. The Omani motto should be “Picnics-R-Us”.
We’ve also had a drive on the anti-gravity road. This is 200m section of an unsealed track off the road between Salalah and Tarqa. You go down the hill, put the car in neutral, release the brakes and the car starts going backwards uphill. It’s true, despite certain people who read these emails, you know who you are, saying that there is no scientific proof, it’s an optical illusion etc etc. It’s weird but it’s for real.
Day 2 photos: http://www.geocities.com/aziza_au/Salalah_photos2.htm
On our final full day we battled the low cloud to go out to Job’s Tomb (Nabi Ayub). Though the tomb is small, it has a powerful atmosphere. I don’t know if it really is Job buried there but whoever it is, they have strong vibes. Apparently there are great views from the tomb but, as you’ll see from the photos, the cloud was so low we couldn’t see anything. We continued on the same road up to a plateau where the air was hot and dry and it was all desert again. We stopped for coffee at a small town called Thumrayt. The restaurant had a ‘family area’ which is where families (obviously) or ladies travelling together can sit in privacy in individual curtained off areas. We sat in our little secluded area and drank coffee made with sweetened condensed milk had then had sugar added to it. I’m looking forward to a cup of coffee that doesn’t carry with it the risk of developing instant diabetes.
On the plane from Salalah to Dubai I sat in an aisle seat and there was a lady wearing full purda in the window seat. She was very concerned that a man was going to be in the vacant middle seat next to her so I moved over and sat next to her to ‘protect’ her from the man who then took the aisle seat.
Day 3 photos: http://www.geocities.com/aziza_au/Salalah_photos3.htm
Saturday, 19 August 2006
Salalah, Oman
Our flight from Dubai to Salalah in Oman (down by the border with Yemen) was uneventful though there were several layers of cloud to pass through on the descent into Salalah which made for a bumpy ride and the pilot hit the runway at quite a speed, you could say the ground broke our fall.
During the khareef (rainy) season in July-Sept, Salalah is affected by the monsoon season and as a result has clear air, a slightly lower temperature and lots of greenery, a very welcome change after the heat and dust of Dubai. The hotel we’re staying at is brand new and right by the beach. As part of the Khareef Festival a large shopping/funfair/outdoor restaurant area is open right next door and on our first night we went over for a look. Sydney people, there are bananas galore here with roadside stalls that sell nothing but bananas…and they don’t cost $10 a kilo…you could buy the whole stall for $10!! It became very obvious, very quickly that Salalah is a conservative area. It’s no exaggeration to say that 90% of the ladies here wear the burqa (face covering) but don’t get the idea these ladies are oppressed or meek. We seem to be the only CWPs (Crazy White People) in town, everywhere we go people turn and look. Salalah has built up its tourism industry but it is aimed at tourists coming from the Gulf and Saudi not Western tourists. There are few maps or road signs in English and by the time Sabine and I use our combined Arabic skills to decipher an Arabic road sign we are 20kms down the road. We’ve hired a Toyota Landcruiser (manual, left hand drive) for the time we’re here. I’ve driven the Landcruiser a couple of times and each time I’ve reached down with my left hand to ‘change gears’, hit my hand on the door and thought “My God, where’s the gear lever?” but I’m getting the idea now.
On our first day we went to Taqa Fort then further along the coast to the small town of Mirbat. Mirbat, which is a rundown town to put it mildly, has a small fort (which was closed) and was the site of an important battle during the Dhofari insurgency in the 1970s. We bought some rolls and cheese and sat on the breakwater to eat them while looking out at the Arabian Sea. We then visited Bin Ali’s tomb on the outskirts of Mirbat. We drove on to Wadi Darbat which was absolute paradise. During the khareef the Wadi looks like a picture book, verdant greenery, lakes, small waterfalls, birds, vines creeping up the trunks of the trees. Lots of people were there picnicking and flying kites (kite flying seems to be a very popular pastime here). Yet just a few miles up the road (and I do mean up….) the plateau is dry, rocky and sandy.
Picture the scene, I’m getting ready to take a photo of a “beware of the camel” road sign which happened to have some real camels in the background. I was waiting for the camels to get themselves organised when a car pulled over from the across the road and blocked my shot. Then, a bloke sticks his head out of the car window and delivers the most incredible pick up line ever delivered – here we are in the back blocks of Oman and the guy cheerfully announces “I know you two, you’ve just come back from Lebanon!” “Um, no, not us.” Brilliant smile from the guy, he gets the vibes that he has struck out with his spiel and with a cheery “masalema” he waves, winds up his window and drives off. The total absurdity of the situation hit us, Sabine and I laughed so hard we were crying and were both hit with fits of the giggles throughout the remainder of the day. “I know you two, you’ve just come back from Lebanon” it’s a classic isn’t it, put it on my headstone.
You can see some photos at: http://www.geocities.com/aziza_au/Salalah_photos1.htm
Interesting aside: You can buy Hassan Nasrala pillowcases here. (He’s the leader of Hezbollah.)
During the khareef (rainy) season in July-Sept, Salalah is affected by the monsoon season and as a result has clear air, a slightly lower temperature and lots of greenery, a very welcome change after the heat and dust of Dubai. The hotel we’re staying at is brand new and right by the beach. As part of the Khareef Festival a large shopping/funfair/outdoor restaurant area is open right next door and on our first night we went over for a look. Sydney people, there are bananas galore here with roadside stalls that sell nothing but bananas…and they don’t cost $10 a kilo…you could buy the whole stall for $10!! It became very obvious, very quickly that Salalah is a conservative area. It’s no exaggeration to say that 90% of the ladies here wear the burqa (face covering) but don’t get the idea these ladies are oppressed or meek. We seem to be the only CWPs (Crazy White People) in town, everywhere we go people turn and look. Salalah has built up its tourism industry but it is aimed at tourists coming from the Gulf and Saudi not Western tourists. There are few maps or road signs in English and by the time Sabine and I use our combined Arabic skills to decipher an Arabic road sign we are 20kms down the road. We’ve hired a Toyota Landcruiser (manual, left hand drive) for the time we’re here. I’ve driven the Landcruiser a couple of times and each time I’ve reached down with my left hand to ‘change gears’, hit my hand on the door and thought “My God, where’s the gear lever?” but I’m getting the idea now.
On our first day we went to Taqa Fort then further along the coast to the small town of Mirbat. Mirbat, which is a rundown town to put it mildly, has a small fort (which was closed) and was the site of an important battle during the Dhofari insurgency in the 1970s. We bought some rolls and cheese and sat on the breakwater to eat them while looking out at the Arabian Sea. We then visited Bin Ali’s tomb on the outskirts of Mirbat. We drove on to Wadi Darbat which was absolute paradise. During the khareef the Wadi looks like a picture book, verdant greenery, lakes, small waterfalls, birds, vines creeping up the trunks of the trees. Lots of people were there picnicking and flying kites (kite flying seems to be a very popular pastime here). Yet just a few miles up the road (and I do mean up….) the plateau is dry, rocky and sandy.
Picture the scene, I’m getting ready to take a photo of a “beware of the camel” road sign which happened to have some real camels in the background. I was waiting for the camels to get themselves organised when a car pulled over from the across the road and blocked my shot. Then, a bloke sticks his head out of the car window and delivers the most incredible pick up line ever delivered – here we are in the back blocks of Oman and the guy cheerfully announces “I know you two, you’ve just come back from Lebanon!” “Um, no, not us.” Brilliant smile from the guy, he gets the vibes that he has struck out with his spiel and with a cheery “masalema” he waves, winds up his window and drives off. The total absurdity of the situation hit us, Sabine and I laughed so hard we were crying and were both hit with fits of the giggles throughout the remainder of the day. “I know you two, you’ve just come back from Lebanon” it’s a classic isn’t it, put it on my headstone.
You can see some photos at: http://www.geocities.com/aziza_au/Salalah_photos1.htm
Interesting aside: You can buy Hassan Nasrala pillowcases here. (He’s the leader of Hezbollah.)
Thursday, 17 August 2006
My life flashes past me...........
Thanks for all the emails, it’s really good to read them and keep up with what’s happening.
On Sunday I went out to the mosque at Jumeirah which is the only mosque in Dubai that allows entry to non-Muslims. The tours are on Tuesday and Sunday mornings and the guide is usually an English speaking convert who encourages questions of all types which makes for a very interesting session. Ladies and gents need to dress modestly, long sleeves and long trousers for both sexes (though ladies can wear long skirts) and ladies must wear a head scarf.
Yesterday I went out to Ibn Battuta Mall which is the biggest mall I’ve been to. It’s named after a famous 14th century Arabic explorer. The mall is a kilometre long from one end to the other and divided into ‘courts’ which have different themes – China, India, Egypt, Tunisia and another couple that I forget. To say it’s huge is an understatement, the China court has a full size junk in the middle and there’s still masses of room to spare both in height and width. Lots of familiar names; Athletes Foot, Billabong, The Body Shop etc and the big UK chains, Debenhams and BHS. Woolworths is here too but it sells clothes only which is different to both Aus and NZ. In each court there are also static displays about Ibn Battuta, his travels, literature, development of Islam, science etc in the 14th century which are really interesting. Shopping hours are 10-10 Sat-Tue and 10-midnight Wed-Fri. Photos of the mall are at http://www.geocities.com/aziza_au/Photos_3.htm
Have I become some sort of international traffic *&#%wit magnet? Why won’t the cars leave me alone? On Monday night I went out to Al Basha and the return taxi trip provided me with yet another close encounter with death. Dubai people to give you the picture, the trip was made even longer by an accident on Sheikh Zayed Rd so we had to go the back way on the road with the signs saying ‘Oman 120kms’. Anyway Markesh Skaif (oh very clever) was at the wheel and obviously full of the thrill of it being Pakistan's independence day. At no time during the entire 40 minute trip did the speed drop below 120kph, he did more weaving than a carpet factory and finally, having almost passed the Bur Dubai turnoff, without dropping a kilometre in speed he crossed 3 lanes, went over the striped lines just before the concrete lane divider and missed the crash barrier by inches. It was at this point I felt the bony fingers of the Reaper gripping my shoulder and that was because the Grim Reaper was as scared as me! No human has ever exited a taxi as fast as I did that night.
Here’s something to think about. In a recent discussion fuelled by cans of unlicensed VB (thanks Colin) this topic was raised: can we tell anything about the psyche of a nation by the lyrics of its pop songs? What sort of nation can have a song with the lyrics “I’m lost at sea and I’m an amputee and there was slaughter in the water when I bought a shaaaark attack” and regard it as a cheerful dance floor ditty? There was huge amusement over whether Britney Spears has a subliminal message (well, umm, like, d’uh) and what is the cultural relevance of the Pussycat Dolls, compare and contrast. The topic fool, not the girls. And how come there’s 6 PCDs in some videos and 8 in others. Are they being cloned? The quality of debate went downhill from there a bit.
Most shops seem to have local radio playing over the speakers. Quite a few of the radio DJs are English (one sounds just like John Peel) and there is a strong UK influence in the music played on the radio and available in the music shops. It’s a bit surreal to be in the ghee section of an Indian supermarket while the Violent Femmes are playing over the speakers, but wait there’s more……isn’t there always…. in a coffee bar in the Mall of the Emirates they were playing Wolfmother, and I walked into the shoe shop at the Al Ain shopping centre and all the boy shop assistants were standing round singing along to “I’m a freak, I’m a weirdo…………” Who is that girl who sings “I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair”? Hasn’t anyone told her that if you wore flowers in your hair, you’d be beaten to a bloody pulp by the punk rockers?
Where are the weird business names, I’ve been asked? OK, here’s a couple for you: Who in their right mind would name a car rental company “Travel and Walk Rent a Car” (it’s in Karama) and how about the mattress shop called “JoySleep”. I thought you could have one or the other…..hehehe….oh control yourselves.
The place I’m staying is nice and I’m so happy to have a gym in the building (collective rolling of eyes). There is a reception desk downstairs usually staffed by a couple in their late 20s. I call them “Mum and Dad” because they glare at me if I dare to go out in the sleeveless top….I can hear them thinking in Tagalog/Hindi “You’re not going out dressed like that are you?” I only dress in such a racy fashion if I’m going out at night and I wear a pashmina over the top while I’m out in public.
I thought I heard a rubbish truck one night which seemed an odd thing to dream about even for me. When I asked “Mum and Dad” about it they told me the trucks come round to empty the skips that are on the sides of every street. There’s no rubbish pick up for individual houses here, instead there are the skips that everyone puts their rubbish into (yes, yes I know, it should be “into which everyone puts their rubbish”.) After a couple of days in the heat, even though the skip has a lid, the smell from some of them can be lethal, like WMD lethal, adults hold their breath when they walk past and little kids run past and make gagging noises.
On Friday Sabine and I head off to Salalah in Oman. We’ve hired a 4x4 for the 3 days we’re there, lots to see, Job’s Tomb, the frankincense trail, the magnetic road, the beach, looking forward to it. Sabine’s talked me into doing some driving while we’re down there: unsealed roads, blind corners, cars on the wrong side, ah, it’ll be just like Waitakere…………..
Ma’a salema
On Sunday I went out to the mosque at Jumeirah which is the only mosque in Dubai that allows entry to non-Muslims. The tours are on Tuesday and Sunday mornings and the guide is usually an English speaking convert who encourages questions of all types which makes for a very interesting session. Ladies and gents need to dress modestly, long sleeves and long trousers for both sexes (though ladies can wear long skirts) and ladies must wear a head scarf.
Yesterday I went out to Ibn Battuta Mall which is the biggest mall I’ve been to. It’s named after a famous 14th century Arabic explorer. The mall is a kilometre long from one end to the other and divided into ‘courts’ which have different themes – China, India, Egypt, Tunisia and another couple that I forget. To say it’s huge is an understatement, the China court has a full size junk in the middle and there’s still masses of room to spare both in height and width. Lots of familiar names; Athletes Foot, Billabong, The Body Shop etc and the big UK chains, Debenhams and BHS. Woolworths is here too but it sells clothes only which is different to both Aus and NZ. In each court there are also static displays about Ibn Battuta, his travels, literature, development of Islam, science etc in the 14th century which are really interesting. Shopping hours are 10-10 Sat-Tue and 10-midnight Wed-Fri. Photos of the mall are at http://www.geocities.com/aziza_au/Photos_3.htm
Have I become some sort of international traffic *&#%wit magnet? Why won’t the cars leave me alone? On Monday night I went out to Al Basha and the return taxi trip provided me with yet another close encounter with death. Dubai people to give you the picture, the trip was made even longer by an accident on Sheikh Zayed Rd so we had to go the back way on the road with the signs saying ‘Oman 120kms’. Anyway Markesh Skaif (oh very clever) was at the wheel and obviously full of the thrill of it being Pakistan's independence day. At no time during the entire 40 minute trip did the speed drop below 120kph, he did more weaving than a carpet factory and finally, having almost passed the Bur Dubai turnoff, without dropping a kilometre in speed he crossed 3 lanes, went over the striped lines just before the concrete lane divider and missed the crash barrier by inches. It was at this point I felt the bony fingers of the Reaper gripping my shoulder and that was because the Grim Reaper was as scared as me! No human has ever exited a taxi as fast as I did that night.
Here’s something to think about. In a recent discussion fuelled by cans of unlicensed VB (thanks Colin) this topic was raised: can we tell anything about the psyche of a nation by the lyrics of its pop songs? What sort of nation can have a song with the lyrics “I’m lost at sea and I’m an amputee and there was slaughter in the water when I bought a shaaaark attack” and regard it as a cheerful dance floor ditty? There was huge amusement over whether Britney Spears has a subliminal message (well, umm, like, d’uh) and what is the cultural relevance of the Pussycat Dolls, compare and contrast. The topic fool, not the girls. And how come there’s 6 PCDs in some videos and 8 in others. Are they being cloned? The quality of debate went downhill from there a bit.
Most shops seem to have local radio playing over the speakers. Quite a few of the radio DJs are English (one sounds just like John Peel) and there is a strong UK influence in the music played on the radio and available in the music shops. It’s a bit surreal to be in the ghee section of an Indian supermarket while the Violent Femmes are playing over the speakers, but wait there’s more……isn’t there always…. in a coffee bar in the Mall of the Emirates they were playing Wolfmother, and I walked into the shoe shop at the Al Ain shopping centre and all the boy shop assistants were standing round singing along to “I’m a freak, I’m a weirdo…………” Who is that girl who sings “I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair”? Hasn’t anyone told her that if you wore flowers in your hair, you’d be beaten to a bloody pulp by the punk rockers?
Where are the weird business names, I’ve been asked? OK, here’s a couple for you: Who in their right mind would name a car rental company “Travel and Walk Rent a Car” (it’s in Karama) and how about the mattress shop called “JoySleep”. I thought you could have one or the other…..hehehe….oh control yourselves.
The place I’m staying is nice and I’m so happy to have a gym in the building (collective rolling of eyes). There is a reception desk downstairs usually staffed by a couple in their late 20s. I call them “Mum and Dad” because they glare at me if I dare to go out in the sleeveless top….I can hear them thinking in Tagalog/Hindi “You’re not going out dressed like that are you?” I only dress in such a racy fashion if I’m going out at night and I wear a pashmina over the top while I’m out in public.
I thought I heard a rubbish truck one night which seemed an odd thing to dream about even for me. When I asked “Mum and Dad” about it they told me the trucks come round to empty the skips that are on the sides of every street. There’s no rubbish pick up for individual houses here, instead there are the skips that everyone puts their rubbish into (yes, yes I know, it should be “into which everyone puts their rubbish”.) After a couple of days in the heat, even though the skip has a lid, the smell from some of them can be lethal, like WMD lethal, adults hold their breath when they walk past and little kids run past and make gagging noises.
On Friday Sabine and I head off to Salalah in Oman. We’ve hired a 4x4 for the 3 days we’re there, lots to see, Job’s Tomb, the frankincense trail, the magnetic road, the beach, looking forward to it. Sabine’s talked me into doing some driving while we’re down there: unsealed roads, blind corners, cars on the wrong side, ah, it’ll be just like Waitakere…………..
Ma’a salema
Friday, 11 August 2006
Sunshine, lollipops etc
Yesterday I went to the Diving Museum and the Heritage Museum which are next to each other near the Creek. Both were ‘open but closed’ - the facilities were open but as it is high summer there aren’t many tourists around so not many of the actual exhibits were open. Still I got some good photos which I’ve put up on the web and hopefully you’ve seen now, despite my HTML hiccup. The photos should be there in the correct size and order now.
I’ve bought myself an umbrella to try to keep off the worst of the sun. I know that sounds terribly ponsy but the sun here is so fierce that I need something more effective than standing in the shadow of telephone poles and slapping on buckets of 35+ sun cream. I’ve now got the whole tea-plantation-memsahib look happening, but it does the job.
I’ve promised myself that on at least one as yet unspecified day, I will not spend any money. Today is not the day as I have discovered a true wonder – the 2 Dirham Shop (that’s about 74c Aus). They’ve got the most extensive range of craptastic products one could ever hope to find. Things like: shampoo in bottles that look exactly like Free & Lovely but it’s called “Heal and Smoothing”; anything plastic that you could ever want, need or have wondered if it existed; perfume that’s “supposed” to be Chanel but smells like it’s made from the contents of Bopal’s sewers; leis and plastic flowers of every size imaginable and my favourite, snow globes of Dubai, and that’s just for starters. I was assured that there is “More stock coming in daily Madame”. The mind boggles!
PS’s
Angelina – The shoes here! OMG! It’s like Shoe Queen Heaven. Even I’m finding them irresistible.
Terry – A 2 year old Chevy Lumina SS sold here for 70,000Dhm, yes dirhams! Want to go halves on one? You could have it on weekends hahahahaha……
I’ve bought myself an umbrella to try to keep off the worst of the sun. I know that sounds terribly ponsy but the sun here is so fierce that I need something more effective than standing in the shadow of telephone poles and slapping on buckets of 35+ sun cream. I’ve now got the whole tea-plantation-memsahib look happening, but it does the job.
I’ve promised myself that on at least one as yet unspecified day, I will not spend any money. Today is not the day as I have discovered a true wonder – the 2 Dirham Shop (that’s about 74c Aus). They’ve got the most extensive range of craptastic products one could ever hope to find. Things like: shampoo in bottles that look exactly like Free & Lovely but it’s called “Heal and Smoothing”; anything plastic that you could ever want, need or have wondered if it existed; perfume that’s “supposed” to be Chanel but smells like it’s made from the contents of Bopal’s sewers; leis and plastic flowers of every size imaginable and my favourite, snow globes of Dubai, and that’s just for starters. I was assured that there is “More stock coming in daily Madame”. The mind boggles!
PS’s
Angelina – The shoes here! OMG! It’s like Shoe Queen Heaven. Even I’m finding them irresistible.
Terry – A 2 year old Chevy Lumina SS sold here for 70,000Dhm, yes dirhams! Want to go halves on one? You could have it on weekends hahahahaha……
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