Going to the Movies (Cinema)

The other night we did what any normal couple does on a weekend night and decided to go see a movie. Little did we know, this experience would be like none other.

We decided to see The Devil's Double, a true story of how Saddam Hussein's family would use body doubles in many of their public appearances. (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1270262/) The men chosen to be doubles were given "training" and medical procedures so they would, in essence, become the identical twin of the Hussein family member. They had no choice in the matter and were forced into this life. On the positive side, they were given everything they could ever need: a home in the palace, food, designer clothing, women, etc. On the negative side, they lost their own identity, leaving families to believe their son/father/uncle was dead. While not the best made movie I've ever seen, it was pretty good and gave you insight into a very twisted world.

But this is not what my story is about. My story, I believe, is MUCH more entertaining and scary.

We booked our tickets online so that we were not directly on the end of a row, but one seat in. 'Who decides to sit on the end of a row on their own?' we thought. When we sat down, my husband offered to take the inside seat so I could "avoid sitting next to the crazies" in the theater. That phrase was my death sentence.

As we sat waiting for the movie to start, an Indian family of 6 walks up to our row with their tickets in hand. Staring confoundedly at our completely full row (aside from the empty seat next to me), the father repeated the same sequence of events for about 3 minutes: Looked at row, looked at tickets, looked at wife with a puzzled expression...looked at row, looked at tickets, looked at wife...etc.) My husband and I, observing this frustrating behavior, noticed that the row directly in front of ours had 6 empty seats. With common sense FINALLY kicking in, the family took their seats just in time for the movie to start.

Pic source: IMDb.com

With the lights dimmed, commercials and trailers playing, in walks Crazy carrying 4 large shopping bags and a large popcorn, being escorted to her seat by the concierge. She plumps down next to me, still holding on to her many bags and snacks, (imagine Dr. Sybil Trelawney from Harry Potter).  

The movie begins and Crazy starts clapping and talking excitedly to herself. In one of the beginning scenes, the main character first arrives at the palace, so she said "HELLO SADDAM!!!" and laughs to herself. Then, she started meowing like a cat and mumbling. This type of behavior continued throughout the entire movie and at the end, she started clapping and yelling "Yay" when one of the bad guys died.

Along with my special friend, we had some other interesting characters in the theater with us:

   -A group of Arab men who thought it appropriate to talk back to the characters, as though they were in the film too. For examply, when a character would say "Salam alaikum" (a greeting meaning peace be upon you), the group would respond in an almost chant-like unison, "Wa alaikum salam". Or if a character said, "Insha'allah" (a veryb common phrase in Islam meaning God willing) they would simply repeat it as though they were joined in the conversation.

    -A Indian/Pakistani man sitting behind us who would constantly break wind loud and proud throughout the movie, while sitting next to his wife and surrounded by strangers.

As the movie came to a close, I was excited to get a properly-lit vision of my crazy friend next to me, but the second the credits began to roll, I looked over and she was gone like the wind. It was at this time, I decided that going to the movies here brings more stress than pleasure.

Here are a few things I've noticed when going to the movies:

     -Arabs will go watch anything and they won't usually read what the movie is about. Instead, they pay the money, sit and eat their snacks, and if the movie proves boring they get up and leave 20 minutes in. I've

been astonished, at first, at the amount of locals in very cultural movies: The Iron Lady, J Edgar, etc. but realize half-way through that they just wanted to sit in a movie theater and not watch the movie.

     -They like to do anything else but actually watch the movie: talk on their cell for 10 minutes, gossip with each other, play games on their phone, etc. I personally find it rude and a waste of money (not that they have financial problems, but still!)

     -They will ask the ticket sales people to choose a movie for them. I've seen it happen a few times where they will go up to the desk (at a VERY busy time) and say "what should we see?" and "what's this one about?" It takes forever!

     -The sense of humor is very young and/or different. For example, if a man dances around with a flower  on his head, this is hilarious to them. Witty banter is not.. Or when a man is released from a torture prison and told he better clean up before meeting Saddam, this is the funniest thing they've heard in years. I'm no stranger to differences in sense of humor with other cultures, (many times I ask myself  "WHY?!" when watching Britcoms with my husband) but this really baffles me.

Moral of the story (very long story) is that simple activities can prove very difficult and frustrating in this place. Pick your times and places wisely.

Expats..Us or Them?

People frequently forget that the term "Expat" means: a person who is voluntarily absent from home or country. It is common practice here to refer to all Western people in Dubai as expats but we forget that unless you are a citizen, you are an expat. This includes all of the Indian, Pakistani, Phillipino, Bangladeshi, etc. people who make up this diverse country. I often find myself referring to only Europeans and Americans as expats but I have to remember, most people in Dubai/Abu Dhabi are expatriates.

When I start to find life hard and somewhat unbearable here, I try to think of those in a much worse situation than us (and there are so many). I frequently meet taxi drivers, cleaners, and sales representatives who are paid below minimum wage and never have a day off. The taxi drivers, for instance, get one month off a year to go home and see their family. They work 12 hour shifts every single day. Many of them can't afford to call long distance to speak with their families on a daily basis or even weekly. They aren't all young men either, many are middle-aged men with families. They all come to Dubai for the same reasons we all do: To make money and send it home to their families.

I had a moment of shock and clarity the other night while speaking to my personal trainer at my gym. These men are specially trained professionals, not simply cleaners or construction help. I asked him how often he got to see his wife and young son and he replied, only once a year. I asked if he was able to speak with them much and he just shrugged and shook his head no. I guess I expected that from the more menial jobs but not from a higher profile one.

I feel so lucky and blessed to be able to use Skype at a moment's notice, to be able to hop on a plane with ease if needed, and to have my husband with me. I couldn't imagine having to leave a family behind and hardly ever see them. Parents miss the growing of their children, all for the sake of being able to send them to a good school and feed an entire extended family. I find that amazing and so selfless.

I think we European and American Expats need to remember these facts and find some compassion when we start to lose our patience with them (which is a daily occurence for many of us). I also urge Americans and Europeans to be thankful for your country and lifestyle. Things are difficult for many of us out there in the US, UK, and Europe, but we don't have it anywhere near as bad as a lot of the people in the world. There are opportunities in our countries that many people in the world can't even imagine. Be thankful for what you have been blessed with.

And remember, we are all EXPATS in this country.

Walking onto the Dubai metro for the first time I noticed that something was different. Something was missing. It was the familiar smell of the London Underground (or "tube") - a combination of sweat, urine, vomit and decade-old mustiness. It was a smell that I had grown accustomed to and almost fond of during my daily commute into London. This metro was different. It was clean, bright and punctual.

Waiting for my train to arrive I braced myself for the "rush hour squeeze" or throwing yourself onto an overcrowded train - arms, elbows, and fellow passengers' hair in your face. It was perfect for Dubai since they have no idea of personal space. I was pleasantly surprised, however, when the train pulled in. I had heard that Dubai metro cars had "Women & Children Only" sections. Think what you might, but sexist my ass. There is nothing nicer, especially here, than being able to avoid the ogling eyes from the nose-pickers in the male cars. No matter how covered up you might be, the stares are inevitable.

  

I walked effortlessly onto the busy, although uncrowded, "women only" car. Aside from the periodically antsy toddler, the ride was calm and quiet. It was a nice change from the hectic drives and the manic taxi rides.

Walking home across the dirt lots, my feet getting covered in dust and my heals sinking into the sand, I thought about my previous London commute. At least my feet are dry (there is nothing worse than rainy wet shoes) and the inside of my nose isn't black from the London Tube pollution (those who have frequented the Tube know this all to well).

All in all I'd say that riding the metro here is a great and cheap way to get around Dubai. It goes through most of Dubai and they are constantly expanding it. Trains are frequent (every 2-3 minutes) and they stop at most of the popular destinations. My single trip cost me 5 dirhams (=£1 or 1.25 dollars) for a 30 minute journey. They also have travel cards available that you can top up with money when needed (like a London Oyster card). I don't think I will ride it on a daily basis but it's definitely a great option!

Getting a job

I have to count myself either very blessed or very lucky. After enjoying a month of travelling to my two "homes" and enjoying some much needed time away from Dubai, I decided it was time I got off my lazy ass and got a job. The life of leisure was nice but my brain was starting to turn to mush. One Tuesday morning after my husband had left for work I decided to turn into a job-hunting fiend. Unfortunately, my life of leisure and spacey mind got in the way and I found myself running errands instead. I was determined, though, to get at least 5 CVs/resumes out that day.

Once I returned from my shopping spree (getting our Christmas turkey) I noticed a missed call from an unknown number on my phone. Seeing as how I don't have voicemail with my pay-as-you-go phone I decided if it was that important they would call back. Sure enough, five minutes later I had a woman on the line asking me to come interview for a position I had applied for weeks prior.

"When would you like me to come in?" I asked, thinking that tomorrow I could probably pry myself away from the pool for at least an hour.

"I know it's short notice but could you possibly make it in today? We close at 5:30pm so just come when you can."

Looking at the 2:15pm flashing on my kitchen clock I blurted "Sure, I'll be there as soon as I can."

Luckily I had decided to make myself look nice for the store earlier so my makeup was done. I threw on a dress, worked some magic on my hair and rushed out the door to grab a cab.

I sat nervously in the cab trying to Google what exactly this company did and thinking through my answers to some common interview questions. My cab driver, on the other hand, had other plans for me. The older gentleman sat chatting away at me, asking about my day, asking about my family (Was I married? Any kids? Where was I from? Etc.) When I told him I was having a good but nervous day because of my job interview he was very sweet and gave me encouragement. I asked about his family and how often he gets to go home to Pakistan to see them. It was a very nice and calming journey which is a rarity for Dubai taxis.

When we arrived, I told him he had calmed me for my interview and he said, "Insha'Allah (God willing in Arabic) you will get this job!"

"Choukrane! (Thank you)," I said as I tipped him and walked through the doors of the Fairmont Hotel. I do believe the entire event was in God's will, including having him as my taxi driver.

My interview was quick, to the point, and pretty much met all of my requirements for a job: part-time, afternoons, good pay, great holiday time, and nice colleagues. I left feeling invigorated, excited and happy.

The woman phoned that evening and offered me the job to start the following Sunday. I just couldn't believe how quickly it all happened. I guess that's just Dubai.

Location:Dubai

Horror Hospital aka Getting my Residence Visa

Today I got to see the other side of Dubai many people don't talk about. What an experience, is all I can say. To set the background, I was going through the process of getting my visa paperwork finished today. A right of passage for every resident of Dubai is to get a blood test and chest x-ray done by the government. The purpose of this is to test all residents for HIV and TB. First answer to the questiong already in your heads, YES you have to use the government hospital for this. Which is basically where this story takes place...

Luckily my husband had gone through the process a few weeks before so he had an idea of what we had to do, although his company got him to the front of the lines when he went so we had a huge learning curve. H's company advised us to have H dress in his uniform when we went, that way we might get priority and extra assistance. Is this fair? No, probably not, but if in the same situation, you would do the same.

We took a cab to the hospital. Its location was near the workers living accomodations. I think this area was the closest thing to the ghetto that Dubai has. I noticed that every building was owned by a company in Dubai; from hotel chains, to airlines and construction companies. Looking out the window I saw men dressed in their native clothing, a nice change from seeing them always in their company uniforms and jumpsuits. The area was very desolate, though, with very few amenities around. Although not shocking, it was very sad to see.

We entered the hospital and it was mayhem. Hundreds of people were crowded in the halls and waiting areas. The smell was not that of any hospital I had ever been in. Even though I had dressed ultra-conservatively I could feel the eyes of hundreds of men eyeing me. We found a security guard who pointed us in the direction of the "phlebotomy" section and yelled "Go register!" Register? What does that mean? We looked at each other in confusion when a man came up to my husband and ushered us to a desk. The man seemed as though he worked at the hospital. He took my documents and my passport and told us to take a seat. Not knowing whether we were being helped or being robbed we decided to have faith in the short Arab man, although we kept a glued eye on my passport. After about 10 minutes of the man pushing his way to the front of the "line" (I say line but it was more of a mob) and us joking that he probably didn't even work at the hospital, he returned with my documents and took us to the waiting area for the blood tests. To be fare, I don't think he actually pulled any strings for us, but we didn't have to brave the mob...that time.

After waiting for about 20 minutes my number was called to have my blood drawn. I entered the room where a few other women were sitting waiting for their number to be called. It was a great place to people watch, getting to see so many different types of people and from such diverse backgrounds. I felt an odd connection to these people, knowing we were all going through the same process for the same reason. My number was called after a couple of minutes and I entered the white lab room. The nurse had difficulty finding a good vein. After painfully prodding around my right arm veins, she decided to move to my left arm. "You have great veins," she said, "but they don't want to give me any blood!" Fantastic, I thought with dread. She continued to poke around my left arm veins and after finding "no blood" there either, she decided to try one more place on my left arm. Just as I felt horrified enough, another nurse came over and started discussing my veins, in Urdu, with the first nurse. They then proceeded to stick the needle in, while the second nurse grabbed my upper arm just above my elbow, and "pumped" my blood for me. I have never had a nurse squeeze my arm to get blood out! She removed the needle and as I looked down I saw a large lump above the needle point. Feeling slightly woozy from the experience they said "OK, all done. Go now." Ok, if I pass out in the hall or have a blood clot, it's on you lady!

(I must add, my husband found out how they actually test these samples they receive. Get ready to be disgusted. Apparently the get a group of samples and mix them together. If the results come back positive, everyone in the group gets a letter telling them they have HIV! You are then instructed to go back and get a new test. It happened to a few of H's colleagues and they were terrified and horrified when they discovered this.)

The rest of the appointment wasn't too crazy for me. I had to go to the x-ray department after my blood test. After sitting for a few minutes next to H, a security guard came over and yelled at everyone. Apparently the waiting area was divided into male and female sections and there were no exceptions. I luckily sat next to an Indian woman and her adorable 2 year old son. Funny enough, peek-a-boo is the same in every language. I was finally called in to get my chest x-ray done, but when I turned my documents into the woman she informed I was not registerd for the x-ray. Our friend had apparently skipped this part of the process. I ended up having to run out of the room and ask the "reception" (man at a small table outside of the x-ray room) where to go. He pointed me to the main reception, or madhouse, so I attempted to get any info I could out of the security guards there. Luckily they directed me to a desk where the man generously registered me quickly. After that I got my X-Ray done. (One funny thing I noticed was on my medical form. They instructed us to write in big letters "I confirm that I am not pregnant" instead of just ticking a box.)

Poor H had an even more interesting and frustrating experience than me. Due to the fact that he was in uniform, people were under the impression that he was staff or security. He was constantly hounded with questions of "What do I do now?" "Where is this building?" "Where do I go now?" "What does this mean?" Then once those questions started, workers were hounding him for jobs with his company.
"We are friends now, yes? You write me letter to get me a job? Yes! We are good friends and they will give me a job!" Unfortunately politeness didn't get him very far and he had to get a bit angry with them. One man even went to the extreme of waiting outside for us to leave and asked Zav for a picture of the two of them to send to the company. It's terribly sad and trying to explain to them that we couldn't do anything to help was heartbreaking and frustrating. That is something that is hard to deal with here. Every taxi driver has a sad story to tell as do the workers. We wish we could help all of them but there are just too many. We just try to tip them extra.

Anyways, that was my experience getting my medical check done for my visa. Good luck to those about to attempt this process!!

Arrival

I arrived at my final destination (no more trips back and forth for a while) on June 27 early in the morning. I can tell you that time seems to be flying so quickly here, not only in the weekly timespan but also during my day. I swear I wake up, do a few things, run a few errands and BAM, its 6:00pm! I honestly don't know where the hours go. At least this is a good thing because it means I'm staying busy and not just sitting around being bored all the time, (like I did when we were living in Scotland..Yuck). I have realized a few things now after being here.
1) You need a car. Period. Yes, they have cabs and for the most part they are reasonable, safe, and get you where you need to go. One downside, I'd say, is shopping. Especially if you are furnishing a house. By the time you get to the mall, walked around, bought an ironing board and a computer printer (this story may be from experience..) you are done! Usually I would place the larger items in my car and continue to walk around and shop. Instead you are stuck looking for a cab large enough to fit your items and going back home. It's exhausting.
2) Dubai has no addresses. Nope, not a one. So explaining that you live opposite the Subway restaurant, near a certain hotel, on the left side of the road and that it's a tall building isn't very helpful. Luckily most delivery men can find it, eventually. The other problem is cabs. The other day we wanted to go to Ace Hardware on Sheik Al Zayed Road (the main road through Dubai). We eventually found it but due to the nature of SAZ Road (a huge freeway), we had to go a very scenic route back to where we actually needed to get. What does this equal? Frustration and large cab fares.
3) Language is fun! (sarcasm anyone?) Okay, so with a lot of patience and talking much slower and using smaller words you can get things understood and accomplished. A huge problem is understanding when ESL speakers are talking. I truly admire them. Can I speak Arabic or Urdu? Not a chance. The closest I have is "Would you like a cup of tea?" or "Thank you". It is definitely something I need to brush up on. The phone calls are the most frustrating for sure.
4) There are no manners, at least to Western standards. There are no lines/queues. I have many times been waiting in line at a store, cafe, etc. and someone walks right in front of me to the register. Aside from making a huge fuss (which isn't my style) or giving a glaring look (that's me) there really isn't anything you can do. So I have just started pushing to the front as well. If you can't beat them, join them! Another thing is personal space and slow walkers. People will stand closer to me than my husband does! If I subtly push back on them they don't seem to mind in the slightest. The other thing I've noticed is that the locals walk SLOW. I think I saw an expat woman with a walker moving faster than them. Plus, since they usually travel in groups, they block entire pathways! Very frustrating indeed.

In spite of the frustrating aspects of life in Dubai, this place is amazing to live in. The sun is constantly shining, the people are friendly, and there is a real ambience in this country. I love the family aspect of the culture. The Muslim week runs Sunday to Thursday, with Friday being our version of Sunday and Saturday being equal to ours. The locals take Friday very seriously, making sure that the entire day is spent with family. I am noting many truths about the taboos many of us believe about the Middle East and I hope to make the truth more well known.

Cultural Differences and the 3 Question Rule

H has been in Dubai all alone now since I returned to the UK. He has had to battle day in and day out to get things accomplished. He has been telling me of a few of the "quirks" and difficulties he has been dealing with:

-Giving a "thumbs-up" to an Iranian is like giving them the finger...oops! Just don't do it! Maybe try the "AOK" hand gesture instead...

-The 3 Question Rule: H has said that people will fight you until you pretty much demand something at least three times.
Example: Our internet was supposed to be installed early Saturday morning (9-10am). The company promised they would be there between that time and even gave H their personal number to call if there was a problem. So he gets a call at 9:45am on Saturday saying "Sir, we will come this afternoon."
"No, you are supposed to be here in 15 minutes." 
"Not possible sir, I am on the opposite side of Dubai. I will be there at 4pm"
"No, you have to be here this morning. Your company ensured me that it would be this morning."
"NO! Sir its not possible. I cannot be there now."
"No you need to come here this morning!"
"Okay sir, I will be there in 10 minutes..."
Haha! And the man was there in 10 minutes. So it was possible, he just didn't want to do it. Basically they will try to take advantage of you. You have to put your foot down, otherwise they will walk all over you. I think this will be difficult for me because I will always try to be polite. Which brings me to my next point: Taxi drivers...

-Taxis: We were always under the impression that the taxi drivers were pretty honorable, which is rare. Our tour guide a few years ago told us that they can't screw you or over charge you because if you complain they can lose their license to work. Now we are realizing you have to be careful with them. Some of H's colleagues have been in taxis where the journey is short but since they have been there for a while they know the way. Then the drivers seem to go a long way because they assume you have no idea and they want a larger fare. So now H has to say "Look, I'm a local, I know the way. So go the SHORTEST way possible." Sometimes they get annoyed but you have to make sure they don't "take you for a ride" (forgive the pun). H is a very generous tipper and very patient in these situations but even he is getting annoyed with some of the attitude they are giving.

Anyways, the plan is for me to return to the sand next week for good. I just got my visa today so I just need to finish up work and then I'm a permanent resident. I'm sure more stories will be coming soon!

**I've been corrected by H..Its not the Arabs who are offended by thumbs up, its the Iranians. And to all my lovely Americans out there, no they are not the same thing.  ;)