Yes that's right, 6 weeks. Let me tell you, no one should ever have to go 6 weeks without leaving this city, especially with the combination of (a) summer heat, (b) Ramadan, and (c) everything.
At any rate, less than 24 hours to go, whew. I can feel my passport pages twitching at the prospect of that exit stamp already. And why am I going to Singapore, you might ask?! Surely you know already, but if you have forgotten, THE ELEGANT SWALLOW IS GETTING MARRIED! And so I will travel across many oceans (well, 2) to go be the blondest, whitest bridesmaid in all of Southeast Asia.
Anyhow, I need an escape - Dubai is sucking the life out of me lately. New Job is great but other than that, blech. I'm hoping to become one of those people who just take their whole identity and happiness and fulfillment from work, because ain't nothin' else goin' on and frankly I would like to ignore my recent realization that, in Schmom's words, I do kind of live in "the heinous asshole capital of the world." But more and more, nights of drinking with the flatmates and going to bars full of Uzbek prostitutes and coming home to pass out in my saj wrap are just not doing it for me.
All this (and the constant election coverage) has led me to be inexplicably homesick for the USA as of late. In fact, I have taken to playing Brooks and Dunn "Only in America" on my drive to work and sometimes, when a particularly rage-inducing Indian in a 1988 Toyota Corolla cuts me off after I've already sat in 35 minutes of traffic to get to my office which is not even 1 mile from my house (but unwalkable thanks to continued 120F heat and something about it not being professional to walk into work having just lost 1/3 of my body weight in sweat), I get teary-eyed at the lyrics/spectacle of it all... "oh, but we do dream in red white and blue! and these people dream in asshole!"
Whatevs, this city - like anywhere - is all about ups and downs and ebbs and flows and I feel level-headed enough to know that this is just an annoying phase (and if I'm level-headed about something... well, wow). But particularly during the Month o' Hypocrisy (Exhibit A: VIP Ramadan tents all over the city - so much for solidarity with the poor during this holy time of alms and fasting!), it is easy easy to get annoyed.
Which is why tomorrow I will board an 8-hour flight to go to a slightly less psychotic boomtown and see amazing people who have known me for 9 years and cry tears of happiness for Jules and young love and old friends and eat a lot of really really really good Malay / Tamil / Chinese food from hawker stalls with nary a hummus in sight.
Nary a hummus in sight! And did I mention it's only 90F in Singapore this weekend?!
