So of course - because we are who we are, and hamdullah we have each other so we don't have to bewilder others with our sense of humor - Jojo, Mar, and I have just made plans to print t-shirts for our upcoming Syria trip.
The front will say:
SYRIA SPRING BREAK 2008
The back is up for debate, between:
(a) Putting the "damn!" back in Damascus
(b) Party like it's 1429! [Ed. note: the current Islamic year is 1429]
(c) Hot in Dubai... Searing in Syria!
LOL. If you have a vote to cast, please feel free to email/Gchat it my way.
(And no Schmom, we will not really wear the t-shirts in Syria, it is more to have them as a memento. Just to preempt that "I really think you should be more careful when you travel" email. ;-))
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Next Stop, Syria!
As of a few minutes ago when I booked our flights, I'm pleased to announce that the next installment of my whistle-stop/piecemeal long-weekend tour of the greater Middle East/North Africa region is... SYRIA!
We have Thursday 20 March off work for the Prophet's birthday - coincidentally, it's also Easter Sunday - so Jojo, Mar, and I are peacing out on Wednesday night and coming back on Sunday evening. We'll fly into Damascus and spend two days there, with a day trip to Bosra or Palmyra, and then finish up the trip by stopping off at Krak des Chevaliers on our way to Aleppo, from which we'll fly home.
(LOL, not that I'm in full-throttle Nerdy Travel-Planning Mode or anything...)
But seriously, I'm so excited because Syria has absolutely insane history - we'll see a span of Babylonian, biblical, crusader, and Ottoman sites, all within the course of 4 days - not to mention the fact that Dimashq and Halab (Damascus and Aleppo) are two of the oldest inhabited cities in the world.
Plus... Syrians rock. All the coolness of the Lebanese, with none of the attitude.
Anyhow, the only remaining stitch in our plans is visa issuance for Mar and I (Jojo, traveling on a British passport, has it blissfully easy). There's a lot of drama about needing to get a "no objection" letter from the US consulate here in Dubai, and blah blah blah diplomatic rhetoric, and "ooh Syria is a state sponsor of terrorism, oh no!" but we think we have a flawless back-door plan in the form of Habib, Roommate E's personal travel agent from his 2 previous trips to Syria, who apparently procures quasi-under-the-table visas for Americans and meets you at the airport with them in hand.
Ha. Should be an adventure!
In other news, I've decided that I can Officially Live in Dubai Forever based on last night's discovery of cable channel 80, a dreamy hybrid of E! and the Style Network which shows both "True Hollywood Story" and "Whose Wedding Is It, Anyway?" on a nightly basis. Following on the heels of my realization that channel 48 shows Oprah and Tyra Banks from 9-11 PM, I think Dubai now meets all my needs.
On second thought... Sour Patch Kids. I will still have to move back to America someday to have access to free, unlimited consumption of Sour Patch Kids. There you go, Mom and Dad - don't panic. ;)
We have Thursday 20 March off work for the Prophet's birthday - coincidentally, it's also Easter Sunday - so Jojo, Mar, and I are peacing out on Wednesday night and coming back on Sunday evening. We'll fly into Damascus and spend two days there, with a day trip to Bosra or Palmyra, and then finish up the trip by stopping off at Krak des Chevaliers on our way to Aleppo, from which we'll fly home.
(LOL, not that I'm in full-throttle Nerdy Travel-Planning Mode or anything...)
But seriously, I'm so excited because Syria has absolutely insane history - we'll see a span of Babylonian, biblical, crusader, and Ottoman sites, all within the course of 4 days - not to mention the fact that Dimashq and Halab (Damascus and Aleppo) are two of the oldest inhabited cities in the world.
Plus... Syrians rock. All the coolness of the Lebanese, with none of the attitude.
Anyhow, the only remaining stitch in our plans is visa issuance for Mar and I (Jojo, traveling on a British passport, has it blissfully easy). There's a lot of drama about needing to get a "no objection" letter from the US consulate here in Dubai, and blah blah blah diplomatic rhetoric, and "ooh Syria is a state sponsor of terrorism, oh no!" but we think we have a flawless back-door plan in the form of Habib, Roommate E's personal travel agent from his 2 previous trips to Syria, who apparently procures quasi-under-the-table visas for Americans and meets you at the airport with them in hand.
Ha. Should be an adventure!
In other news, I've decided that I can Officially Live in Dubai Forever based on last night's discovery of cable channel 80, a dreamy hybrid of E! and the Style Network which shows both "True Hollywood Story" and "Whose Wedding Is It, Anyway?" on a nightly basis. Following on the heels of my realization that channel 48 shows Oprah and Tyra Banks from 9-11 PM, I think Dubai now meets all my needs.
On second thought... Sour Patch Kids. I will still have to move back to America someday to have access to free, unlimited consumption of Sour Patch Kids. There you go, Mom and Dad - don't panic. ;)
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Back to RAK
This weekend saw the continuation of my Return to Distance Running/Know Your Obscure Emirates World Tour with a trip to Ras Al Khaimah for the RAK Half-Marathon. How's that for killing two birds with one stone? I had actually passed through RAK once before (a boozy afternoon on the beach of its one 5-star hotel, en route to Oman) but needless to say, running 13.1 miles there gave me a better sense of the lay of the land. It's a beautiful emirate (mountains + mangroves... wait, there's natural scenery in the UAE?!) and has a quaint, almost small-town feel to it... actually nice enough that it was worth the pain of leaving DXB by 5:30 AM to make it there for the 7:30 start.
The race itself was fine - I finished in 1:50, slightly more respectable than my recent marathon time - but true to form took it out way too fast and was hurting by the end. Hurting so much, in fact, that I proceeded to lose my breakfast in the last quarter-mile, projectile-vomiting not once, not twice, but eight times in the final stretch. The most fabulous part was that at least two of these occurrences were right in front of the Emirati bagpipe band that was marching along the course for entertainment... and blissfully within lens-shot of the official race photographer. If there is any justice in this world, there will be some hilarious photos to be shared once the race pics go up online (made more hilarious by the fact that I chose this race as the debut for my American flag running shorts).
[UPDATE: photos have just been posted online and tragically, there are none of me yakking on the Emirati bagpipers.]
In other news, things are getting better on the home front with the impending Wednesday move-out - after 5 torturous, tortuous weeks - of Roommate Javs' flat-ironing, MAC lipgloss-applying, Jordin Sparks-playing, bedazzled top-wearing, LV briefcase-carrying, "I can't use the elliptical at the gym because my legs are too long for it!"-commenting girlfriend, Fire. (Okay, I love Jordin Sparks too. But in a self-deprecating way that invites people to mock me for it. That's the whole point.) Jazz hands!
The race itself was fine - I finished in 1:50, slightly more respectable than my recent marathon time - but true to form took it out way too fast and was hurting by the end. Hurting so much, in fact, that I proceeded to lose my breakfast in the last quarter-mile, projectile-vomiting not once, not twice, but eight times in the final stretch. The most fabulous part was that at least two of these occurrences were right in front of the Emirati bagpipe band that was marching along the course for entertainment... and blissfully within lens-shot of the official race photographer. If there is any justice in this world, there will be some hilarious photos to be shared once the race pics go up online (made more hilarious by the fact that I chose this race as the debut for my American flag running shorts).
[UPDATE: photos have just been posted online and tragically, there are none of me yakking on the Emirati bagpipers.]
In other news, things are getting better on the home front with the impending Wednesday move-out - after 5 torturous, tortuous weeks - of Roommate Javs' flat-ironing, MAC lipgloss-applying, Jordin Sparks-playing, bedazzled top-wearing, LV briefcase-carrying, "I can't use the elliptical at the gym because my legs are too long for it!"-commenting girlfriend, Fire. (Okay, I love Jordin Sparks too. But in a self-deprecating way that invites people to mock me for it. That's the whole point.) Jazz hands!
Thursday, February 7, 2008
City of Dreams?
While doing some research for work the other day, I came across this article, which was published in the Op-Ed section of The Wall Street Journal in March 2007. Entitled "City of Dreams," it argues that Dubai is a new model for religious tolerance and cultural coexistence: not perfect, of course - deeply flawed, to be sure - but arguably the best we have. And that means something.
It made me very nostalgic to find the piece, because I distinctly remember reading it this time last year when I was back in Tennessee looking for a job in Dubai, and being struck by how much it echoed my own beliefs about why I want to be here. 7 months out, I'm proud to say that for as much as I sometimes rant about this place, the article's argument about why Dubai is important - and why it shouldn't be written off for its glitz and excess - still rings true.
I don't agree with everything Karabell says - for example, his claim that "In Dubai, no one cares what you believe or to which God you pray; the only criterion for success and social acceptance is the almighty dollar" is a joke given how heavily Muslims, especially local Muslims, are favored in society here. But my time in Dubai - and its sharp contrast with my travels elsewhere in the Arab and Muslim worlds - has led me to believe that despite everything Dubai is doing wrong, there's one very big thing it's doing right.
If you don't read the whole article, at least ponder these paragraphs:
It made me very nostalgic to find the piece, because I distinctly remember reading it this time last year when I was back in Tennessee looking for a job in Dubai, and being struck by how much it echoed my own beliefs about why I want to be here. 7 months out, I'm proud to say that for as much as I sometimes rant about this place, the article's argument about why Dubai is important - and why it shouldn't be written off for its glitz and excess - still rings true.
I don't agree with everything Karabell says - for example, his claim that "In Dubai, no one cares what you believe or to which God you pray; the only criterion for success and social acceptance is the almighty dollar" is a joke given how heavily Muslims, especially local Muslims, are favored in society here. But my time in Dubai - and its sharp contrast with my travels elsewhere in the Arab and Muslim worlds - has led me to believe that despite everything Dubai is doing wrong, there's one very big thing it's doing right.
If you don't read the whole article, at least ponder these paragraphs:
Christian-Palestinian businessmen do deals with Indian Muslims, who team up to build condos that are then sold to Malaysian millionaires or Kuwaiti sheikhs. Global investment banks facilitate contracts between the royal Maktoum family and the very American Boston Properties (led by Mortimer Zuckerman) to buy and sell prime real estate in Manhattan. And not only does Donald Trump get his name into the action, but the government of Dubai is also a major holder of Kerzner International, one of the world's premier gambling and resort companies that happens to be majority-controlled by a South African Jewish family.
That said, however, Dubai is very much an Arab city-state. It prides itself on becoming -- along with neighboring Abu Dhabi -- a Muslim model for tolerance, affluence and global success. That it manages to do so should belie prejudices in the West that the Arab world is incapable of participating in the global system until it unburdens itself of the doctrinal rigidity of some forms of Islam.
Seeing Dubai as an economic model for other parts of the Arab world is admittedly a challenge: Like Singapore, it has the virtues of a small ruling class, a tiny population and not much territory, and that is not something Egypt or Syria could emulate. But as a cultural model, or an attitude, it does offer an alternate vision of the future, one with its own excesses and vices for sure, but still free of the divisiveness and religious conflict that has become the assumed status quo in other parts of the Middle East.
Dubai should not be written off as little more than an Arab Las Vegas. It deeply challenges the assumption that Muslims, Christians and Jews cannot find common ground and work together to construct a shared future. Dubai is proof, not perfect, but real, that they can.
Something to think about the next time you roll your eyes at those palm tree-shaped islands. ;)
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
When A Boy Becomes A Man...
... or in this case, when a sheikh becomes a crown prince.
That's right, the big news on everyone's lips in DXB this week is that HH $heikh H@mdan bin Moh@mmed bin R@shid Al M@ktoum (aka... my future husband) has officially been appointed Crown Prince by his father, $heikh Moh@mmed, and thus will someday become the next ruler of Dubai. It's all over the news, all over the editorials (shockingly, none of them are anything less than glowing), and basically all over town - including, but not limited to, the walls of my friend Jojo's cafeteria at work (they unveiled a special "$heikh H@mdan becomes Crown Prince" mural within days of the announcement), and special congratulatory poster inserts in the Khaleej Times, the city's #2 paper (apparently fights were breaking out as people tried to snap up their copies).
In reality, the announcement changes nothing because everyone already knew that H@mdan was the chosen one (and had the marketing campaign to prove it), but it's nice to be able to celebrate it officially with some new eye candy. And it makes for a particularly hilarious contrast to Super Tuesday in the States, to be living in a place where one person basically claps his hands and voilà, a new leader is chosen. I could go into some kind of musings here about how this is the difference between government by the people and government for the people (Subtitle: Musings on Why Democracy Might Not Be the Answer for the Arab World, Because Let's Be Honest, Enlightened Despotism Actually Kind of Works, and If You Don't Believe Me You Can Just Ask Plato), but I'll save that for another time.
(And oh yeah, civil liberties. I always have to remember that you don't usually get those as part of the Enlightened Despot package. "50% more oil, FREE! ... personal freedoms not included.")
Oh man, look at what a politico I am today. Ha. In other related (but thankfully non-political) UAE news, we're getting ready to march into the record books with the upcoming auction sale of the most expensive license plate in history. Special thanks to M.Hard for drawing my attention to the fact that the story made it all the way to CNN... bet H@mdan was jealous of the international media coverage.
So that's what's new with Dubai. What's new with me? Last weekend Jojo, Al, and I took an extremely exciting roadtrip to Umm Al Quwain, the least populous emirate and in my eyes, the most obscure/lo-budg. This was a momentous event because it means I have now visited alllllllllllllllll 7 emirates that make up the UAE (keep in mind that the country's the size of Maine, so it's not quite the achievement it sounds) and because of the wonders we found there: cheap, luxe, ladies-only day spas on the beach, an unlicensed liquor store, and ... well, a lot of interminable driving through the desert in the middle of a shamal (sandstorm). This might have been more "exciting" and less "terrifying" if we had thought to take a bigger car than Jojo's Peugeot 206 (total weight: 17 lbs), but it was strangely exhilarating to think we could be blown off the road and into the dunes with the bedu at any time.
What else is new. I hosted a Girly Dinner Party on Saturday night in honor of not having to watch the Stupor Bowl here, which if I do say so myself was quite a success and was a triumphant return to cooking/entertaining/stressing for a crowd, à la the days of "Domesticity Wow!"
And on that note, things are not good at home thanks to the one-month tenancy of "Fire," Roommate Javs' 22 year-old aspiring-model girlfriend (so-nicknamed because she was voted "Miss Fire" in the Miss Earth South Africa 2007 Pageant... thanks, Google). She moved to Dubai to be with him in early January and seems to be completely and totally unable to find a flat, or do anything else for herself, for that matter... cue scenes of her prancing around in Juicy Couture sweats as Javs teaches her how to use the washing machine. I am really honestly trying to be goodhearted about it - I swear to God I am - and don't get me wrong, I love having someone to pose all my fake nail questions to, so I'm learning a lot from her (the difference between acrylic and gel is that gel is softer but more breakable; I can paint them, as long as I use non-acetone remover when I take it off). But if I had wanted to live with a fresh-out-of-(beauty?)-college Gisele-wannabe who flat-irons her hair while reading Nigella Lawson's How to Be a Domestic Goddess (hey, at least she can read), I would have targeted a WHOOOOOOLE different demographic when I was looking for a flatmate.
/ end rant. And on that note, I'll wrap things up. Happy Super Fat Tuesday to all of you! (It will be my Lenten goal to love my aspiring model neighbor as myself - wish me luck.)
That's right, the big news on everyone's lips in DXB this week is that HH $heikh H@mdan bin Moh@mmed bin R@shid Al M@ktoum (aka... my future husband) has officially been appointed Crown Prince by his father, $heikh Moh@mmed, and thus will someday become the next ruler of Dubai. It's all over the news, all over the editorials (shockingly, none of them are anything less than glowing), and basically all over town - including, but not limited to, the walls of my friend Jojo's cafeteria at work (they unveiled a special "$heikh H@mdan becomes Crown Prince" mural within days of the announcement), and special congratulatory poster inserts in the Khaleej Times, the city's #2 paper (apparently fights were breaking out as people tried to snap up their copies).
In reality, the announcement changes nothing because everyone already knew that H@mdan was the chosen one (and had the marketing campaign to prove it), but it's nice to be able to celebrate it officially with some new eye candy. And it makes for a particularly hilarious contrast to Super Tuesday in the States, to be living in a place where one person basically claps his hands and voilà, a new leader is chosen. I could go into some kind of musings here about how this is the difference between government by the people and government for the people (Subtitle: Musings on Why Democracy Might Not Be the Answer for the Arab World, Because Let's Be Honest, Enlightened Despotism Actually Kind of Works, and If You Don't Believe Me You Can Just Ask Plato), but I'll save that for another time.
(And oh yeah, civil liberties. I always have to remember that you don't usually get those as part of the Enlightened Despot package. "50% more oil, FREE! ... personal freedoms not included.")
Oh man, look at what a politico I am today. Ha. In other related (but thankfully non-political) UAE news, we're getting ready to march into the record books with the upcoming auction sale of the most expensive license plate in history. Special thanks to M.Hard for drawing my attention to the fact that the story made it all the way to CNN... bet H@mdan was jealous of the international media coverage.
So that's what's new with Dubai. What's new with me? Last weekend Jojo, Al, and I took an extremely exciting roadtrip to Umm Al Quwain, the least populous emirate and in my eyes, the most obscure/lo-budg. This was a momentous event because it means I have now visited alllllllllllllllll 7 emirates that make up the UAE (keep in mind that the country's the size of Maine, so it's not quite the achievement it sounds) and because of the wonders we found there: cheap, luxe, ladies-only day spas on the beach, an unlicensed liquor store, and ... well, a lot of interminable driving through the desert in the middle of a shamal (sandstorm). This might have been more "exciting" and less "terrifying" if we had thought to take a bigger car than Jojo's Peugeot 206 (total weight: 17 lbs), but it was strangely exhilarating to think we could be blown off the road and into the dunes with the bedu at any time.
What else is new. I hosted a Girly Dinner Party on Saturday night in honor of not having to watch the Stupor Bowl here, which if I do say so myself was quite a success and was a triumphant return to cooking/entertaining/stressing for a crowd, à la the days of "Domesticity Wow!"
And on that note, things are not good at home thanks to the one-month tenancy of "Fire," Roommate Javs' 22 year-old aspiring-model girlfriend (so-nicknamed because she was voted "Miss Fire" in the Miss Earth South Africa 2007 Pageant... thanks, Google). She moved to Dubai to be with him in early January and seems to be completely and totally unable to find a flat, or do anything else for herself, for that matter... cue scenes of her prancing around in Juicy Couture sweats as Javs teaches her how to use the washing machine. I am really honestly trying to be goodhearted about it - I swear to God I am - and don't get me wrong, I love having someone to pose all my fake nail questions to, so I'm learning a lot from her (the difference between acrylic and gel is that gel is softer but more breakable; I can paint them, as long as I use non-acetone remover when I take it off). But if I had wanted to live with a fresh-out-of-(beauty?)-college Gisele-wannabe who flat-irons her hair while reading Nigella Lawson's How to Be a Domestic Goddess (hey, at least she can read), I would have targeted a WHOOOOOOLE different demographic when I was looking for a flatmate.
/ end rant. And on that note, I'll wrap things up. Happy Super Fat Tuesday to all of you! (It will be my Lenten goal to love my aspiring model neighbor as myself - wish me luck.)
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