Awesome Every Day Experiences
Posted by: aletarw on: December 17, 2009
At first, I wrote frequently, but now it is taking more effort. Not because I don’t have anything to say, but life is constantly filling with awesome stuff!!
In fact, I am overflowing with stories. I could write about my first thanksgiving away from my children and grandchildren, when we invited 21 of our new friends over for dinner which kept me from missing my kids.
I could write about the experience of feeling kinship with people who are “frequently out of the box.” For the first time in our lives, my husband and I are surrounded by people like ourselves, and we keep meeting more of them.
One of the many interesting things in my new life is traveling to foreign countries. Now you may think ’whats the big deal’ … people travel to foreign countries all the time, but the expats here take travel to another level. Prior to a school break, the faculty lounge is buzzing with talk of vacation plans to Singapore, Sri Lanka, Mumbai, Kenya, Zambia, and many, many more places. It is amazing how people use this gig in the UAE as a launching place for travel. In fact, that is frequently one of the reasons why people say they are here.
When planning our trip to Egypt, we had lots of resources in the faculty because so many of them had “been there, done that”. When we came back, I wanted to talk about shopping in the Cairo Souk done
One friend said she can see a book coming from all this, but that would take time away from the experience. In fact, just last week while riding a horsedrawn carriage in Luxor Egypt, done
Through the Eyes of a Child
Posted by: aletarw on: November 29, 2009
After growing up in the US, everything here in the Middle East is new to me, and like a child, I am always in wonderment. Just as small children walk around touching, tasting and asking the what, how, and why questions. So do I.
Yesterday I watched the students at HCT as they celebrated the 38th year of the joining of the independent emirates into the United Arab Emirates. As I viewed the UAE marching bands and military parade, I marveled at being here as a resident which is entirely different from experiencing a country as a tourist. I compared and contrasted their “National Day” to our “Independence Day”, both of which represent the beginning of a new nation. It was interesting to note that they display lights on buildings and along streets for National Day just like we do for Christmas in the US.
I walked through the narrow alleyways of the Bur Dubai Textile Souq (market) with child’s eyes and wondered about all the little shops and shopkeepers. I wondered how they managed to stay in business when there are so many of the same shop. I wondered about their lives in those small, dust covered alleyways where one has to watch their step to keep from falling into a hole. The shopkeepers seem so relaxed. No one hurries. They don’t even call out to sell their wares. I was dazzled by the colorful fabrics hanging along the storefronts. For a moment, my husband and I just stood on the corner and watched them watching us.
While talking with a fellow expat from Canada via Istanbul, she mentioned that she was amazed at being here, which surprised me. I thought she would be used to these things that are so new to me. I am now getting a glimpse into why expats move from country to country. One never gets used to the constant buffet of new sights, sounds, and experiences.
The world is much more exciting through a child’s eyes.
Till next time
Pinch Me – It’s Wadi Bih
Posted by: aletarw on: November 15, 2009
Living in another country that is diametrically opposite my norm is filled with pinch me moments. Walking down the street in Nakheel (Indian part of RAK) felt like being a tourist in another country, but I wasn’t a tourist. This is my home… pinch me. Shopping in Manor Mall while surrounded by women dressed in black abayas and men in white disdashayas also felt like a pinch me.
Another moment occurred just yesterday. My husband and I were reading the paper and I came across the word ‘wadi’. I asked him if he knew what a wadi is and he said no. Later that morning, a friend called to ask if we wanted to go to a wadi… coincidence or weird or dejavu? So off we went to our first wadi which, as it turns out, is a riverbed or ravine. At this time of year, the wadis are dry so the correct term is dry wadi and when it rains they become wet wadis. The funny thing is that instead of looking it up on the Internet (which is down again), we got a real life lesson which will always stick with us.
We trekked through the dry wadi over layers of rocks and up rather steep bounder strewn hills. Occassionally, I was able to stop and look around at the surrounding beauty of the hills, but most of time it was ‘heads down’ to keep from twisting an ankle. I vaguely remember that some time in my distant past, I would have thought this type of rugged hiking was fun, but sitting here today listening to my inflamed knee complain about the trek, I’m not so sure if it’s worth the fun.
On second thought… it was worth it. A swollen knee is a small price to pay for the experience of my first wadi. My first trek. The joy of seeing the beautiful hills. The incredible quiet and spending time with old friends and meeting new friends.
Living is like opening a faucet. We can let it trickle out or open it wide and let it flow with full force. I like the full force method.
Stay tuned.
Loosing Friends Really Sucks
Posted by: aletarw on: November 14, 2009
- In: Aging| Love| Marriage
- 2 Comments
One of the secrets to a long term marriage is avoiding secrets. Now, you probably think I mean that we shouldn’t keep secrets, but that’s not quite it. I mean don’t go looking for trouble or you may find it. So, I instinctively know not to go through pants pockets, or look at phone call logs and especially not to look through his email. But this morning I needed travel info for an upcoming trip so I scanned his email and found a punch to the gut.
He had received an email announcing the death of a lifelong and dear friend. I sit here reeling from the news and wonder why he did not tell me. In the world of married folk, we often bring our friends into the marriage and George was “his friend” who became “our friend”. Maybe he didn’t tell me because he is still processing the news. Maybe he thought I would be upset, or maybe he just forgot. In the end the only thing that matters is that we have lost another friend. It matters how I approach the subject with my husband, because if he is grieving, I need to tred lightly and respect his feelings.
It is so easy to intellectualize the whole death and dying thing. It is easy to sit around and talk about how we all have a short time on this earth and how we should appreciate the time we had together, but at the end of the day… we hurt. We miss. We care and we have to grieve. We have to regain our wind after being punched in the gut. Then we can move on.
Loosing friends really sucks.
Surreality at the Hilton Beach Resort and Spa
Posted by: aletarw on: November 5, 2009
Kinda beginning to get used to this expat thing as I sit at the Hilton Resort and Spa in Ras Al Khaimah (RAK) overlooking the candle-lit salt water pool that overlooks the beach on the Arabian Gulf (ie., Persian Gulf). Mind you this was after taking a 
45 minute brisk-walk along a paved beach path as the sun was setting followed by 40 minutes of exercise. The Hilton experience was surreal because it came after a 12 hour work day, but by the time I worked out and showered, the work thing was fading and by the time we completed dinner, work was a vague memory. With our membership, we can do this as often as we want. We may have discovered paradise.
Paradise- You say! You may recall that just two months ago, I was lamenting the heat, grayness, sandiness and general ugliness of RAK. What happened is that Winter is arriving so the weather is now a comfortable 80 degrees, and Ramadan ended so there is much more activity. My husband and I are discovering things that we did not think existed here. Last weekend we went Salsa dancing at the Hilton, line dancing at the City Hotel, and walked along the newly built waterfront followed by dinner with friends at the creek’s edge. Tomorrow we go into Dubai for more Salsa dancing and touristy stuff.
Well, calling it paradise may be a stretch. Large chunks of RAK are still gray, dusty, sandy, and generally unkempt, but it’s beginning to grow on us.
Stay tuned.
The End of Racism – Maybe not yet
Posted by: aletarw on: November 5, 2009
There are all kinds of Ism’s – racism, sexism, ageism, and their presence varies across state and regional boundaries. Having grown up in the United States, I was baptized in the waters of racism against African Americans. When faced with that situation, one can choose to respond in several ways including ignoring, reacting, and avoiding, but the choices made at an early age become embedded in ones psyche for life.
Being the only African American in my elementary school (I’m the chocolate drop in the backrow on the left of the school picture), I chose to ignore the taunts and expectations by excelling. Therefore, as an adult, I literally do not see any of the ism’s and even when they are 
pointed out… I ignore them as someone else’s problem. If Dr. Phil were to ask “how’s that working for you”, I would say it works very well, because I don’t have to get caught up in someone else’s dysfunction.
At a recent dinner party, I was explaining experiences I am having with my college students in the UAE and found that my experiences were diametrically different from those of the “majority” instructor. With further probing discussion, I was asked by the “majority” faculty member if I thought I was experiencing racism. That question was like having a glass of ice water thrown in my face, because that was the furthest thing from my mind. It literally never occurred to me. (Note the other “majority” faculty members at the dinner party were generally silent on this topic.)
A week later, unprompted by me, a faculty member from India made the statement that the students do not respect him. This again was totally different from the comment of the “majority” faculty member. I don’t want to believe it and two data points from two brown-skin people are not enough to clearly say that racism is at play here, and if it is, what do I do with that information.
I suppose that as long as humans walk this earth, there will be some kind of ism. It seems to be part of humanism.
Stay tuned
Varying Degrees of Differences
Posted by: aletarw on: November 2, 2009
The girls that I teach at the college here in Ras Al Khaimah are the same as teenagers in the US, but also different. Like most teens, they love to dress up and apply makeup and are preoccupied with their hair and looks. Unlike US teens, their lives are centered around their family. When I asked “what do they do on the weekends”, they respond that they spend time with their family. In the US, teens rarely spend time 
with their families because they are so involved with their friends and activities outside of the home.
In addition to spending time with family, many Emirattee girls marry and then move into the “family home” of their new husband. This can lead to a very comfortable and safe environment. The young ladies do not have to worry about childcare, because grandma or the nanny is available. They don’t have to worry about cooking, because the Indian servants will cook and shop for them. For some, the government provides housing, stipends, health care, and reduced rate utilities for life.
The life of the Emirattee lady seems to be family oriented to the exclusion of everything else including travel and careers. But even with those restrictions, I suspect many young American girls would gladly trade in their careers for the comfortable lifestyle of some young Emirattee girls.
I’m still learning and exploring. Here, like everywhere else, nothing is black and white. The habits and lifestyle of Emirati teens varies a great deal from rich to poor, married to single, covered or uncovered. There is no right or wrong… just varying degrees of differences.
Stay tuned.
Becoming My Mother
Posted by: aletarw on: October 22, 2009
Wonder how many years it takes to become one with a partner. Certainly more than five. Maybe more than 10. But, somewhere along the line after all the hurts, joys, tears, breakups, sorrows, and laughter, something begins to happen. Like most children, I had a ringside seat at the table of my parent’s marriage. As a child, I remember the major swings in their relationship, but as an adult, I began to appreciate and long for what they had.
Towards the end of their marriage, they became dependent on one another, but in a good way. Mom’s eyesight was failing… so he was her eyes. Dad’s memory was failing…. so she remembered for him. Where one went … so did the other. I never thought I’d say this, but Clay and I would be so lucky to have a relationship like theirs.
Our recent 20th anniversary gave me pause, but I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because I don’t think about being married… I just am. Maybe because I see a glimmer of what my parents had in our relationship. The 20th certainly seemed to have more significance than all the others. Of course, when measured against those who have been married 30 and 40 years, our little 20 is a drop in the bucket, but it’s our bucket, and we’ve been busy stuffing that bucket with all kinds of memories… birth of grandchildren, death of parents, cruises, moves, summer backyard pool parties, and lots and lots of fun stuff.
Many of those memories are saved in our electronic photo album that I searched for photos to frame as a gift for my husband. That search became quite a foray down memory lane. Pictures allow us a chance to re-experience a moment in time. To savor the joy of a grandchild’s smile while floating in the pool. 
To relive a time when we danced on an anniversary cruise.
Having a compatible partner is a gift. I never want to take him for granted. I frequently tell him how important he is to me. He is my partner, my lover, and my friend. Maybe that’s why this 20 year milestone is so important. It doesn’t seem possible, but I love him more and more each day.
Happily on my way to becoming my mother 
Sweet Mystery of Life
Posted by: aletarw on: October 16, 2009
If you’ve been following my journey, then you know that I recalled my father’s saying “sweet mystery of life”, and that has never been truer than now. Before my husband and I uprooted ourselves by moving to the UAE, life was pretty predictable. Breakfast at the same time and place. Regular movie nights at the usual theaters, and occasional outings with the usual friends. Not much mystery.
Here in the Land of Oz ((fantasy region), everything is a mystery or has to be figured out or remembered. Lighting our gas oven rekindled memories of my grandmother lighting her gas oven with a wooden match followed by a loud WHOOSH that sounded like an explosion. 
Had to buy a portable clothes line dryer, and again, I was transported back to the time when everyone had a clothesline in their backyard. It’s hard to believe, but hanging clothes outdoors on a warm, breezy day was great “alone time” spent daydreaming, and the smell of clothes fresh off the line was akin to memories of fresh baked bread.
It’s a mystery why many things are done using old methods that have been solved decades ago by other countries. In fact, life in RAK is such a mix of 3rd world and 21st century that it sets one’s mind spinning with the incongruities. Beautiful walled villas, surrounded by bleak sandscapes with goats running free. 
A beautifully designed mile-long, waterfront park with carriages and brand new tourist buses like you would see in any USA downtown. Portions of town that could have been models for Disney’s World Showcase at Epcot center… except for the dust. One area of town clearly caters to the Indian expats with a square block of beautiful Indian fabrics for sari’s hanging along the storefronts. The second biggest incongruity is the education of young women for a workplace that offers few opportunities for those wanting to work. The primo example of an incongruity is a government that attaches “… great significance to education and learning…”, but disincentivizes nationals from working by providing stipends, free housing, free education, and free utilities to it citizens.
Life is a mystery that is full of incongruities…
What’s the Difference
Posted by: aletarw on: October 12, 2009
- In: Expat| Faculty| Middle east| UAE
- 1 Comment
At a dinner party last evening, I was lamenting the fate of the Indian and Filipino laborers in the UAE. They make very little money (equivalent of $250 US/month), and work long hours (10 hr days, 6 days a week). The Filipinos manage to do it with a smile and a “yes mum”. Indian construction workers work without expression. Their counterparts in the kitchens and gardens will speak when spoken to. It harkens back to slavery. The Nationals pass by them as if they do not exist.
For a moment, I know what it might have felt like for an anti-slavery person during the days of slavery in the North American south. Because the laborers are so oppressed, I go out of my way to speak and learn their names. On the other hand, I too benefit from their cheap labor. They clean our house, wash our cars, do our laundry, and sundry other tasks that we do not want to perform. Most of them are working here to send money to their families at home. A taxi driver explained that if he does not send money home to Indian then his wife and children will have no money. He has been here ten years and only gets to go home once a year. He is missing his children’s childhood.
Every part of my being understands that these workers are just like me. They have spouses, children, or grandchildren. They feel the same emotions as I do. I want to free the slaves, but feel powerless. Then the dinner conversation took a turn. A guest informed me that we are the same as the laborers. What? No way! I have a doctorate!
The truth of the matter is that the only difference is that we are better paid. The Emirates import all of their manual and intellectual labor. They work us hard (20 teaching hours is unheard of in the US) and, like the laborers, we go about our daily work in quiet fear of crossing an invisible cultural line with our students.
A laborer by any other name …..
