Despite the fact that I have lived in Abu Dhabi for a year and a half, I am still discovering new things about the city that is my (temporary) home.
My journey of discovery has been helped along a great deal by the fact that first freelancing assignment has been for the city's premier tour guide. Apart from learning all about things within the city, I learnt a whole lot about the way the city works - especially the government agencies!
One of the first things I learnt was quite simply not to expect anything to be done immediately. Its considered rude to walk into someones office and start talking business straight away. Being hospitable and sociable are important parts of Arab culture, and building relationships is key.
One of my first appointments was with the Public Relations manager for the Abu Dhabi Municipality and Town Planning department. I sat down, and told him what I was looking for.
He stopped me, smiled, and said that I must have coffee first. He grinned, gave a gentle shrug of his shoulders, and said "Its the Arab way." Over the hot, aromatic Arabic coffee, we talked about the weather, about how long I had been in Abu Dhabi, and how grateful we were that we didn't have to face Dubai's incredible traffic.
We chatted about the importance of family, and how fantastic a place Abu Dhabi is to raise kids. Once the coffee and small talk were done, we got down to the business of business. By this time, we were both at ease with each other, and I got what I needed in no time at all.
I've decided I like this way of doing business, and I have discovered I quite like the Arabic coffee too, which is poured out of a special pot at great height. I've also discovered that business cards are important too - and I don't have any! Its an important exchange here, and my little pink PostIt notes with my details written on don't quite do it. An investment in business cards is required!
A fairly tricky issue for women in business is shaking hands. Traditionally this is a "male thing" and in the Islamic culture it would be highly inappropriate for a man to touch a woman he is not married to. And if I, as a women, offer my hand to be shaken, I might inadvertently embarrass or offend the person to whom it is proferred. He may just ignore my hand, or cover his hand with his sleeve so that he did not officially touch me. Or if he is used to Western women, would probably just shake my hand lightly.
I decided to take the "discreet" route. I would shake a man's hand if it was offered to me first (as it was on the odd occasion). I chose not to offer my hand to men, and instead stood up to greet, and developed this funny head bob instead! Accompanied by a big smile of course. I still am not sure what is appropriate, but at least I haven't caused any offence. After all, I may need to contact these people in the future.
Another thing to get used to is the whole "open door" thing. Doors are seldom shut, especially if a man is meeting with a woman. Though I've noticed that its not really as much to do with that as it is to do with hospitality and helpfulness. Interruptions are frequent, with people sailing in and out of a meeting room on a regular basis.
Occasionally I'd be introduced (cue head bob), but more often than not, our conversation would be paused while the other business (generally quick) was dealt with. Apparently this even happens in doctors offices! People will wander in without so much as a knock! It takes some getting used to, but as I said, relationships and hospitality are key in Arab culture, so you just deal with it.
Its been fun, though I reckon I still have a great deal to learn. And I look forward to learning it!
Showing posts with label Abu Dhabi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Abu Dhabi. Show all posts
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Desert Notes: The Art of Henna
Henna has been used throughout the Middle East for centuries to decorate and beautify women, particularly their hands, feet and hair. I’ve been fascinated by the beauty of the designs since I arrived in the UAE.
During my parents recent tour of Abu Dhabi we visited the Women’s Handicrafts Centre. There are henna artists based at the Centre, and with a great deal of excitement, I had my hand “painted.”
The paste is made from the dried leaves of henna plant (Lawsonia Inermis) which are ground to a fine powder and mixed with water and other ingredients. Henna powder can be mixed with a variety of things - lemons, limes, black tea, coffee, rose petals, orange blossoms, essential oils, cloves, pomegranates, tamarind, okra, and sugar. Traditionally, ingredients such as lye, urea, yak or camel urine may be added to deepen the colour.
Fortunately for me, henna is most often mixed with water, lemon juice, tea or coffee these days, along with essential oils!
Once the mixture has reached the desired consistency, it is placed in what looks like a piping bag and squeezed gently on to your hand in delicate, intricate patterns.
The pattern the henna artist chose for me was a fairly simple one of vines, flowers and leaves, covering only part of my hand. It took only a few minutes for the skilled artist to complete her design. She never wavered or splashed. Her moves were decisive and skilled as she drew on the pattern with the paste.
Designs vary from region to region. According to my reading, the varying designs often mean different things to different cultures.
Arabic designs are generally large, floral patterns on the hands and feet. Indians traditionally use fine thin lines for lacy, floral, and paisley patterns which cover their entire hands, forearms, feet and shins. Africans and Native/South American Indians tend to prefer bold, large geometric designs.
The paste felt cool as it lay on my skin. Initially the paste is black in colour, but as it dries, it becomes lighter in colour. It is painless, but as it dries it tingles somewhat!
The longer the paste is left on the hand, the darker the stain, and the longer it is likely to last.
The paste dried on my skin, and after about 2-3 hours it started flaking off, leaving behind an orange stain. Over the next 48 hours the orange darkens to become brown, and gradually begins to fade over the next week or so.
In some regions, the henna paste designs are covered for up to 6 hours and are kept warm. This apparently also aids in keeping the design on your skin for much longer.
I was delighted with the results, and every time I look at my hand I smile! It really does look pretty and feminine, and I think I will do this again!
My elation led me to read up on the subject, and I found out that henna has other properties, other than as a skin and hair dye. Henna has been found by modern scientists to be antibacterial, anti-fungal, and anti-hemorrhagic. Henna is useful is healing athlete's foot, fungal skin infections, and local inflammation. The leaves and seeds of the plant possess medicinal properties. They both act as cooling agents for the head and body. Henna is applied to burns and scrapes and is often used to treat heat exhaustion and to bring down the fever of a sick person. Henna provides a complete sunblock.
With these additional properties, it is no wonder that the Prophet Mohammed supported the use of henna as a medical aid, and as a method of beautifying women’s hands and feet.
In the UAE, henna is often reserved for special occasions, especially weddings. In preparation for her wedding, the bride is anointed with all sorts of traditional oils and perfumes from head to toe. Her body is rubbed with cleansing and conditioning oils and creams. Her hands and feet are decorated with henna and the hair is washed with extracts of amber and jasmine. She is fed only the best foods and her girlfriends prepare the best dishes which they share with her. Fine pieces of jewellery, perfumes, silk materials and other items are presented to her by the groom, from which she creates her elaborate trousseau called ‘Addahbia.’
The night before the wedding is the ‘Night of Henna’ or ‘Laylat Al Henna.’ The henna night is a time for all the bride’s sisters, female family members, and girlfriends to get together and celebrate the occasion. All female family members and guests also decorate their hands with henna.
Henna parties are also held during the year, especially around the time of religious festivals. Apart from the opportunity to have the henna designs done, it also provides the opportunity to sit, chat and relax. An Arabian-style “girls night out” if you will!
I know the room in which we had our henna designs done was filled with ladies chatting and laughing. I definitely think I could do this more often!
During my parents recent tour of Abu Dhabi we visited the Women’s Handicrafts Centre. There are henna artists based at the Centre, and with a great deal of excitement, I had my hand “painted.”
The paste is made from the dried leaves of henna plant (Lawsonia Inermis) which are ground to a fine powder and mixed with water and other ingredients. Henna powder can be mixed with a variety of things - lemons, limes, black tea, coffee, rose petals, orange blossoms, essential oils, cloves, pomegranates, tamarind, okra, and sugar. Traditionally, ingredients such as lye, urea, yak or camel urine may be added to deepen the colour.
Fortunately for me, henna is most often mixed with water, lemon juice, tea or coffee these days, along with essential oils!
Once the mixture has reached the desired consistency, it is placed in what looks like a piping bag and squeezed gently on to your hand in delicate, intricate patterns.
The pattern the henna artist chose for me was a fairly simple one of vines, flowers and leaves, covering only part of my hand. It took only a few minutes for the skilled artist to complete her design. She never wavered or splashed. Her moves were decisive and skilled as she drew on the pattern with the paste.
Designs vary from region to region. According to my reading, the varying designs often mean different things to different cultures.
Arabic designs are generally large, floral patterns on the hands and feet. Indians traditionally use fine thin lines for lacy, floral, and paisley patterns which cover their entire hands, forearms, feet and shins. Africans and Native/South American Indians tend to prefer bold, large geometric designs.
The paste felt cool as it lay on my skin. Initially the paste is black in colour, but as it dries, it becomes lighter in colour. It is painless, but as it dries it tingles somewhat!
The longer the paste is left on the hand, the darker the stain, and the longer it is likely to last.
The paste dried on my skin, and after about 2-3 hours it started flaking off, leaving behind an orange stain. Over the next 48 hours the orange darkens to become brown, and gradually begins to fade over the next week or so.
In some regions, the henna paste designs are covered for up to 6 hours and are kept warm. This apparently also aids in keeping the design on your skin for much longer.
I was delighted with the results, and every time I look at my hand I smile! It really does look pretty and feminine, and I think I will do this again!
My elation led me to read up on the subject, and I found out that henna has other properties, other than as a skin and hair dye. Henna has been found by modern scientists to be antibacterial, anti-fungal, and anti-hemorrhagic. Henna is useful is healing athlete's foot, fungal skin infections, and local inflammation. The leaves and seeds of the plant possess medicinal properties. They both act as cooling agents for the head and body. Henna is applied to burns and scrapes and is often used to treat heat exhaustion and to bring down the fever of a sick person. Henna provides a complete sunblock.
With these additional properties, it is no wonder that the Prophet Mohammed supported the use of henna as a medical aid, and as a method of beautifying women’s hands and feet.
In the UAE, henna is often reserved for special occasions, especially weddings. In preparation for her wedding, the bride is anointed with all sorts of traditional oils and perfumes from head to toe. Her body is rubbed with cleansing and conditioning oils and creams. Her hands and feet are decorated with henna and the hair is washed with extracts of amber and jasmine. She is fed only the best foods and her girlfriends prepare the best dishes which they share with her. Fine pieces of jewellery, perfumes, silk materials and other items are presented to her by the groom, from which she creates her elaborate trousseau called ‘Addahbia.’
The night before the wedding is the ‘Night of Henna’ or ‘Laylat Al Henna.’ The henna night is a time for all the bride’s sisters, female family members, and girlfriends to get together and celebrate the occasion. All female family members and guests also decorate their hands with henna.
Henna parties are also held during the year, especially around the time of religious festivals. Apart from the opportunity to have the henna designs done, it also provides the opportunity to sit, chat and relax. An Arabian-style “girls night out” if you will!
I know the room in which we had our henna designs done was filled with ladies chatting and laughing. I definitely think I could do this more often!
Desert Notes: Getting Historical
I like museums. It may be odd, but I always have. All those musty looking objects with that tremendous sense of history about them.
Perhaps it was inspired by my parents’ firm belief that holidays are not only the destination, but the journey too. So we would stop off at old battlefields, and little pokey museums and wander around in awe (probably with the odd complaint too, I was still a kid) looking at the various antiquities. And my mom would find an appropriate reference in one of her travel guides, and read to us about the history of the area.
So it was with great delight that I decided to visit some of Abu Dhabi’s heritage sites.
The first one we visited was the Bedouin Heritage. This is not exactly a museum, but a replica of the lifestyle in and around the Arabian Gulf before the rich wealth of oil was discovered.
There was a replica Bedouin campsite, and walking through the tents gave me an incredible feeling of what it had been like to live in them. I had a mental image of a bible story – when God sends angels to tell Abraham that they would have children. Sarah had been sitting apart from the men, but could hear what they were saying, and laughed out loud at the thought as she was very old.
I could picture it, especially with the old wooden cradle suspended from the roof.
There were other things to look at too – the reed housing that formed the more permanent structures of the day, and snippets of the regions history as a pearl diving centre.
It was very interesting, but kind of limited. It wasn’t helped by the fact that the guide who took us around the village was Sudanese!
The second site we decided to visit was the Old Fort (the Al Hosn Palace), which is one of the oldest buildings in Abu Dhabi. It has these huge white-washed walls, and looking at it in the bright sunlight was just about blinding.
I was a little disappointed here though, because there was absolute no one around to show us the interior, and we couldn’t figure out which door to use. So we took a casual amble around the exterior. I would love to know more of its history, and take a look inside. I will have to make a return trip.
This week we stopped off at the Emirates Heritage Village, which is run by the Emirates Heritage Club. The Heritage Club was set up in 1997, and aims to protect and preserve the heritage of the UAE.
It was absolutely lovely. There was a section with the traditional tented culture, as well as the reed huts we saw at the other village.
But most interesting were the various rooms in one building that demonstrated some of the crafts and skills that the Emiratis have developed over the years.
The first “shop” we stopped in was the spice shop. A very friendly gentleman opened up all his jars had us take a sniff. Even a whiff of the world’s most expensive spice – saffron! Mr Hassan Mohamed told us how some of the spices are used to create the special Arabic flatbreads. And then he proudly showed off some of the soap that his wife makes by hand from olive oil. I bought some!
We stopped in at the weaving shop, where a man was energetically making a fantastically beautiful wall hanging. It was incredibly detailed and he told us that it took 20 days just to weave one square metre of wool into a picture. He then roped a young girl from a tourist group into giving the loom a try.
We also visited the pottery shop, the glass blowing shop, the traditional curved dagger making place, and the basket weaving. We looked in at the women in traditional clothing (worn always, and not only at the village) and how they weaved the blankets on this long slender looms using their hands and feet. Another woman was braiding the silver threads into strips that are used to decorate the dresses worn under the black abayas.
There was also a small museum which showed some of the tools that have been used over the years, as well as some examples of pearl traders’ equipment.
And then, to my youngest daughter’s delight we came across the agricultural section. First up was the system of irrigation used to make things grow in the desert. She spotted what she thought was a donkey, but was a very big bull. The bull pulls a leather bucket thing with a spout from out a deep well. When it reaches the top, the bucket tips over, and the water pours out of the spout into these long irrigation channels. It took a long time it, but it definitely worked.
We then met a real donkey (or ass, it was the one with the cross on its back). The donkey took a shine to my daughter and brayed in dismay when she stopped scratching his head and we walked over to see another “donkey” – which was actually a camel.
I was a wee bit nervous to get too close to the camel, as there were no guides around and I had no idea what kind of temperament it had. I posed gingerly near it for a photo, and walked on to the falconry section.
We weren’t able to see much here as the falconry displays are only done once week in the evenings. Next time!
The Heritage Club puts a lot of effort into its work – everything from archeological digs to producing pamphlets of the significance of the date palm in Arab culture.
And that’s what caught my attention. Every single one of the people we spoke to at the Heritage Village was truly passionate about what they were doing, and why they were doing it.
I have yet to visit the equivalent “cultural village” in South Africa, though I know there are many. And I also haven’t visited a museum at home for years. I plan to when we next visit. And I hope we are able to experience the same passion for their culture as what I saw at the Emirates Heritage village.
Perhaps it was inspired by my parents’ firm belief that holidays are not only the destination, but the journey too. So we would stop off at old battlefields, and little pokey museums and wander around in awe (probably with the odd complaint too, I was still a kid) looking at the various antiquities. And my mom would find an appropriate reference in one of her travel guides, and read to us about the history of the area.
So it was with great delight that I decided to visit some of Abu Dhabi’s heritage sites.
The first one we visited was the Bedouin Heritage. This is not exactly a museum, but a replica of the lifestyle in and around the Arabian Gulf before the rich wealth of oil was discovered.
There was a replica Bedouin campsite, and walking through the tents gave me an incredible feeling of what it had been like to live in them. I had a mental image of a bible story – when God sends angels to tell Abraham that they would have children. Sarah had been sitting apart from the men, but could hear what they were saying, and laughed out loud at the thought as she was very old.
I could picture it, especially with the old wooden cradle suspended from the roof.
There were other things to look at too – the reed housing that formed the more permanent structures of the day, and snippets of the regions history as a pearl diving centre.
It was very interesting, but kind of limited. It wasn’t helped by the fact that the guide who took us around the village was Sudanese!
The second site we decided to visit was the Old Fort (the Al Hosn Palace), which is one of the oldest buildings in Abu Dhabi. It has these huge white-washed walls, and looking at it in the bright sunlight was just about blinding.
I was a little disappointed here though, because there was absolute no one around to show us the interior, and we couldn’t figure out which door to use. So we took a casual amble around the exterior. I would love to know more of its history, and take a look inside. I will have to make a return trip.
This week we stopped off at the Emirates Heritage Village, which is run by the Emirates Heritage Club. The Heritage Club was set up in 1997, and aims to protect and preserve the heritage of the UAE.
It was absolutely lovely. There was a section with the traditional tented culture, as well as the reed huts we saw at the other village.
But most interesting were the various rooms in one building that demonstrated some of the crafts and skills that the Emiratis have developed over the years.
The first “shop” we stopped in was the spice shop. A very friendly gentleman opened up all his jars had us take a sniff. Even a whiff of the world’s most expensive spice – saffron! Mr Hassan Mohamed told us how some of the spices are used to create the special Arabic flatbreads. And then he proudly showed off some of the soap that his wife makes by hand from olive oil. I bought some!
We stopped in at the weaving shop, where a man was energetically making a fantastically beautiful wall hanging. It was incredibly detailed and he told us that it took 20 days just to weave one square metre of wool into a picture. He then roped a young girl from a tourist group into giving the loom a try.
We also visited the pottery shop, the glass blowing shop, the traditional curved dagger making place, and the basket weaving. We looked in at the women in traditional clothing (worn always, and not only at the village) and how they weaved the blankets on this long slender looms using their hands and feet. Another woman was braiding the silver threads into strips that are used to decorate the dresses worn under the black abayas.
There was also a small museum which showed some of the tools that have been used over the years, as well as some examples of pearl traders’ equipment.
And then, to my youngest daughter’s delight we came across the agricultural section. First up was the system of irrigation used to make things grow in the desert. She spotted what she thought was a donkey, but was a very big bull. The bull pulls a leather bucket thing with a spout from out a deep well. When it reaches the top, the bucket tips over, and the water pours out of the spout into these long irrigation channels. It took a long time it, but it definitely worked.
We then met a real donkey (or ass, it was the one with the cross on its back). The donkey took a shine to my daughter and brayed in dismay when she stopped scratching his head and we walked over to see another “donkey” – which was actually a camel.
I was a wee bit nervous to get too close to the camel, as there were no guides around and I had no idea what kind of temperament it had. I posed gingerly near it for a photo, and walked on to the falconry section.
We weren’t able to see much here as the falconry displays are only done once week in the evenings. Next time!
The Heritage Club puts a lot of effort into its work – everything from archeological digs to producing pamphlets of the significance of the date palm in Arab culture.
And that’s what caught my attention. Every single one of the people we spoke to at the Heritage Village was truly passionate about what they were doing, and why they were doing it.
I have yet to visit the equivalent “cultural village” in South Africa, though I know there are many. And I also haven’t visited a museum at home for years. I plan to when we next visit. And I hope we are able to experience the same passion for their culture as what I saw at the Emirates Heritage village.
Desert Notes: The Empty Quarter
“The Empty Quarter” – doesn’t that just sound totally dramatic? I thought so when I first heard it.
It’s the name that is given to the desert that stretches between the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, Yemen, the Sultanate of Oman, and the United Arab Emirates. Known also as the Rub al-Khali, it is the world’s largest continuous expanse of sand.
I have yet to see The Empty Quarter for myself, but the name simply conjures up the most amazing imagery in my head.
I have visions of endless dunes of sand, reddish brown and reflecting the bright hot sun into the endless blue sky.
The only sound I hear is the endless singing whisper of the sand, as the wind creates whirls and eddies in the desert.
I imagine the heat is unrelenting, wearying, and the sand a constant irritation as it creeps into your clothes, rustling and scratching. The only comfort is from the stark beauty of the landscape around you, with heat hazes glimmering on the horizon, which is filled with yet more dunes. And as each dune is conquered, yet another one lies at your feet.
Restless sand, endless heat.
Just imagine.
There is a large portion of this “desert within a desert” that is yet still unmapped, although it has been traveled by the Bedu tribes for centuries. While camel caravans would stop at the small oases that are part of the desert, today’s traveler has much better options - an airconditioned 4x4, GPS, and satellite phone.
Luxuries indeed to the original inhabitants of one of the world’s driest places.
The Empty Quarter is the world’s largest sand sea. According to National Geographic, it holds roughly half as much sand as the Sahara, which is 15 times the Empty Quarter's size but composed mostly of graveled plains and rocky outcrops.
Despite its attraction for intrepid travellers searching for the romance of the desert, it has its dark side. As the area is stretches across borders, which are difficult to man, it has become a place for gun traffickers and a hideout for terrorists.
I find it fascinating, and plan to visit the Empty Quarter at some stage during my stay in the UAE. I promise to share my experiences with you.
In the interim, I found a fantastic mini-video (uses Flash) on the National Geographic site. To view, go to http://magma.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/0502/sights_n_sounds/media2.html
It’s the name that is given to the desert that stretches between the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, Yemen, the Sultanate of Oman, and the United Arab Emirates. Known also as the Rub al-Khali, it is the world’s largest continuous expanse of sand.
I have yet to see The Empty Quarter for myself, but the name simply conjures up the most amazing imagery in my head.
I have visions of endless dunes of sand, reddish brown and reflecting the bright hot sun into the endless blue sky.
The only sound I hear is the endless singing whisper of the sand, as the wind creates whirls and eddies in the desert.
I imagine the heat is unrelenting, wearying, and the sand a constant irritation as it creeps into your clothes, rustling and scratching. The only comfort is from the stark beauty of the landscape around you, with heat hazes glimmering on the horizon, which is filled with yet more dunes. And as each dune is conquered, yet another one lies at your feet.
Restless sand, endless heat.
Just imagine.
There is a large portion of this “desert within a desert” that is yet still unmapped, although it has been traveled by the Bedu tribes for centuries. While camel caravans would stop at the small oases that are part of the desert, today’s traveler has much better options - an airconditioned 4x4, GPS, and satellite phone.
Luxuries indeed to the original inhabitants of one of the world’s driest places.
The Empty Quarter is the world’s largest sand sea. According to National Geographic, it holds roughly half as much sand as the Sahara, which is 15 times the Empty Quarter's size but composed mostly of graveled plains and rocky outcrops.
Despite its attraction for intrepid travellers searching for the romance of the desert, it has its dark side. As the area is stretches across borders, which are difficult to man, it has become a place for gun traffickers and a hideout for terrorists.
I find it fascinating, and plan to visit the Empty Quarter at some stage during my stay in the UAE. I promise to share my experiences with you.
In the interim, I found a fantastic mini-video (uses Flash) on the National Geographic site. To view, go to http://magma.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/0502/sights_n_sounds/media2.html
Desert Notes: The Sound of Abu Dhabi
All cities have soundtracks. The noises that show they are alive and awake. Abu Dhabi does too.
Sitting here, writing this article, I can hear the far off hum of traffic. If I lived in the city centre, this wouldn’t be a hum it would be a constant beat of cars and people. The traffic noise is interspersed with hooters and brakes.
You seldom hear the sirens of emergency vehicles, even though we are close to a fire station and a large police complex. They tend to run swiftly, with lights flashing, and very seldom the wail of sirens. They are around, but much quieter than their South African counterparts.
Where I live, my morning sounds are very different from my night sounds. In the morning I hear the jangling of the bell as the gas track slowly drives down the street, reminding people that they can get their gas canisters exchanged. Or the bright ding-dong of the doorbell as the Oasis water delivery man brings my 5 gallon water bottle for the cooler.
Early morning also brings the burble of birds in the gangway, which I can hear through the hum of the extractor fan in the bathroom. In the summer, the bird sounds disappear, because it is too hot.
On weekends, the streets stay quiet, with the sound of children laughing and riding bicycles in the street.
There are the ever present hens and the strutting roosters, crowing not at dawn, but whenever they feel like it. I have no idea who these chicken families belong to, but they walk the street as though it belongs to them.
During the week, my morning sounds are filled with the noise of cars and people. Our street ends up taking the overflow parking from the nearby Passport and Immigration department. There is the rush and bustle of cars, the hooting of impatient drivers and anxious parkers. Occasionally there is the crushing sound of bumper on bumper, or bumper on the “No Parking” sign, which is roundly ignored.
There is the constant chatter from the streets around, as people bustle with the paperwork need for a trip to Immigration. Cellphones ring, and the chatter is that of Babel, a thousand voices, languages, inflections. Occasionally you hear a chuckle of laughter or the hearty greeting of friends.
In the afternoon, the streets quiet, and the cars go away, leaving it free for the children to explore.
In the evening, the streets change again. Some children are still about, but its quieter. Except, like now, for the distant hum of the traffic. As I lie in bed, I will hear the sounds of the neighbourhood street cats, alternately fighting or wailing in passion. At 2am, I will hear the thump and rattle, clatter and bang of the refuse truck, coming to empty those hated dumpsters.
Then it is quiet again, until the sunrises.
For with the sun, comes the most recognisable of this city’s sounds. The call to prayer and the singing of the muezzin.
There is literally a mosque on every street corner, and where I live, there are at least five within a 2-5 minute walking distance. We have the small mosque with the cream and brown walls. There is the little mosque with its green roof. There is the mosque at the Arabic school. There is the beautiful big mosque right next to the Christian churches. There is a tiny mosque behind the far row of villas, with a little bench outside.
And those are the ones I have seen so far. There are bound to be others, of all shapes and sizes. You are never far from a mosque, so answering the call to prayer is never a burden for those wishing to pray.
The first call comes at dawn, with the rising of the sun. The first voice goes, quickly followed by the calls from the other mosques, over their loudspeakers. It is discordant at first, but becomes an unusual harmony that has come to mark the passing of time.
When I first moved here, the calls were odd, strange, a reminder that this was not my home, that I was somewhere else.
Now, as I have become used to them, it reminds me of where I am and what needs to be done.
There are six prayers held daily. The prayers are made according to the position of the sun or moon, your location and vary daily. Today (Friday, 18 February), the first prayer (known as Fajr) was at 5:34 am. I hear it as I wake, knowing that soon my alarm will go off, and I will need to get up. The next prayer (known as Shuruq) was at 6:54am, and during the week, this reminds me that it is nearly time to get my older daughter to school. The lunchtime prayer (known as Dhuhr) will be at 12:36pm. When the Asr prayer is called at 4pm, I know its time to think about cooking supper. And the Maghrib prayer (tonight at 6:19pm) tells me that its definitely supper time and that the sun is setting. The last prayer of the day (Ishaa) tells me its getting late (its 7:49pm), and that night is here.
While these sounds may remind me of my daily routine, it has recently become significant in another way.
It tells me that people are praying. Which in this chaotic world of ours, is a good thing. People are praying to be better people, for a better world. It’s a thing of peace.
I am sure that it was similar in the old days when church bells were rung to mark the Catholic prayer times. I don’t think many churches do this anymore. You’d probably hear it in Ireland, and probably in Rome. But very few places would ring out the bells to mark the Angelus (a catholic prayer). And its sad.
To me, the ritual of the regular prayers has become a symbol of hope. I may not believe the same as what they do, but I appreciate their efforts. They are trying, in their own way, to be more of themselves.
Surely we should be doing that too?
Sitting here, writing this article, I can hear the far off hum of traffic. If I lived in the city centre, this wouldn’t be a hum it would be a constant beat of cars and people. The traffic noise is interspersed with hooters and brakes.
You seldom hear the sirens of emergency vehicles, even though we are close to a fire station and a large police complex. They tend to run swiftly, with lights flashing, and very seldom the wail of sirens. They are around, but much quieter than their South African counterparts.
Where I live, my morning sounds are very different from my night sounds. In the morning I hear the jangling of the bell as the gas track slowly drives down the street, reminding people that they can get their gas canisters exchanged. Or the bright ding-dong of the doorbell as the Oasis water delivery man brings my 5 gallon water bottle for the cooler.
Early morning also brings the burble of birds in the gangway, which I can hear through the hum of the extractor fan in the bathroom. In the summer, the bird sounds disappear, because it is too hot.
On weekends, the streets stay quiet, with the sound of children laughing and riding bicycles in the street.
There are the ever present hens and the strutting roosters, crowing not at dawn, but whenever they feel like it. I have no idea who these chicken families belong to, but they walk the street as though it belongs to them.
During the week, my morning sounds are filled with the noise of cars and people. Our street ends up taking the overflow parking from the nearby Passport and Immigration department. There is the rush and bustle of cars, the hooting of impatient drivers and anxious parkers. Occasionally there is the crushing sound of bumper on bumper, or bumper on the “No Parking” sign, which is roundly ignored.
There is the constant chatter from the streets around, as people bustle with the paperwork need for a trip to Immigration. Cellphones ring, and the chatter is that of Babel, a thousand voices, languages, inflections. Occasionally you hear a chuckle of laughter or the hearty greeting of friends.
In the afternoon, the streets quiet, and the cars go away, leaving it free for the children to explore.
In the evening, the streets change again. Some children are still about, but its quieter. Except, like now, for the distant hum of the traffic. As I lie in bed, I will hear the sounds of the neighbourhood street cats, alternately fighting or wailing in passion. At 2am, I will hear the thump and rattle, clatter and bang of the refuse truck, coming to empty those hated dumpsters.
Then it is quiet again, until the sunrises.
For with the sun, comes the most recognisable of this city’s sounds. The call to prayer and the singing of the muezzin.
There is literally a mosque on every street corner, and where I live, there are at least five within a 2-5 minute walking distance. We have the small mosque with the cream and brown walls. There is the little mosque with its green roof. There is the mosque at the Arabic school. There is the beautiful big mosque right next to the Christian churches. There is a tiny mosque behind the far row of villas, with a little bench outside.
And those are the ones I have seen so far. There are bound to be others, of all shapes and sizes. You are never far from a mosque, so answering the call to prayer is never a burden for those wishing to pray.
The first call comes at dawn, with the rising of the sun. The first voice goes, quickly followed by the calls from the other mosques, over their loudspeakers. It is discordant at first, but becomes an unusual harmony that has come to mark the passing of time.
When I first moved here, the calls were odd, strange, a reminder that this was not my home, that I was somewhere else.
Now, as I have become used to them, it reminds me of where I am and what needs to be done.
There are six prayers held daily. The prayers are made according to the position of the sun or moon, your location and vary daily. Today (Friday, 18 February), the first prayer (known as Fajr) was at 5:34 am. I hear it as I wake, knowing that soon my alarm will go off, and I will need to get up. The next prayer (known as Shuruq) was at 6:54am, and during the week, this reminds me that it is nearly time to get my older daughter to school. The lunchtime prayer (known as Dhuhr) will be at 12:36pm. When the Asr prayer is called at 4pm, I know its time to think about cooking supper. And the Maghrib prayer (tonight at 6:19pm) tells me that its definitely supper time and that the sun is setting. The last prayer of the day (Ishaa) tells me its getting late (its 7:49pm), and that night is here.
While these sounds may remind me of my daily routine, it has recently become significant in another way.
It tells me that people are praying. Which in this chaotic world of ours, is a good thing. People are praying to be better people, for a better world. It’s a thing of peace.
I am sure that it was similar in the old days when church bells were rung to mark the Catholic prayer times. I don’t think many churches do this anymore. You’d probably hear it in Ireland, and probably in Rome. But very few places would ring out the bells to mark the Angelus (a catholic prayer). And its sad.
To me, the ritual of the regular prayers has become a symbol of hope. I may not believe the same as what they do, but I appreciate their efforts. They are trying, in their own way, to be more of themselves.
Surely we should be doing that too?
Desert Notes: Abu Dhabi weeps
Abu Dhabi weeps
This week (11 November 2004) saw the death of Shaikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al Nahyan, President of the UAE and Ruler of Abu Dhabi. The outpouring of grief that has swept the United Arab Emirates has been phenomenal, and took me by surprise.
As a relative newcomer to Abu Dhabi, I haven’t really had much time to form an opinion on Shaikh Zayed, though I understood him to be a benevolent and forward-thinking leader.
To the people of the UAE, he was more than this. They called him the “Father of the Nation.” And he was. The UAE was formed in 1971, after the British withdrew from what had been known as the Trucial Coast. Shaikh Zayed was appointed President by the Supreme Council of Rulers, which is made up of the leaders of the seven emirates within the UAE.
Initially, there were numerous disputes, and at the end of his first 5-year stint as President, Shaikh Zayed threatened to resign if the emirs did not settle their disputes. Nobody dared call his bluff. The result was a much stronger federation, that has grown in thirty years from oil-rich but poorly managed and largely third-world country into a significant economic force in the Middle East.
Amongst his early achievements included providing low-cost housing to UAE nationals, establishing the first wildlife sanctuary and establishing the Abu Dhabi Fund for Arab Economic Development as a means of channelling aid to other developing countries. 28% of Abu Dhabi’s income is allocated to foreign aid.
He was instrumental in establishing the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) which is the region’s equivalent of the European Union.
Surprisingly for many, Shaikh Zayed was a champion of women’s rights, and although he recognised that according Islamic and traditional values, a woman's role is the upbringing of children but she should not be confined only to that role. His words were “Those who call themselves 'conservative Muslims' and object to a woman's rising to the highest ranks in the workplace are ignorant of the basic teachings of Islam. The religion grants both men and women the right to work and to contribute to the overall development of society. It is their duty to be participants in such a process.”
In fact, the day prior to his death, the country’s first women cabinet minister was appointed.
Shaikh Zayed also established the Marriage Fund, which initially was set up to help young couples bear the sometimes exorbitant marriage costs. The Marriage Fund’s role has expanded over the years, and now plays a major role in social services, including family counselling, and support for abused women.
And while he provided support and benefits for UAE nationals, he felt strongly that they needed make their own livings. He is quoted as saying “The most important of our duties as Rulers is to raise the standard of living of our people. To carry out one’s duty is a responsibility to God, and to follow up on work is the responsibility of everyone, both the old and the young.”
He ensured that the country maintained strong ties with the West, which included supporting the 1991 Gulf War, and the war in Afghanistan.
Shaikh Zayed promoted religious tolerance and condemned those who resorted to violence in the name of religion. In fact, it was Shaikh Zayed who ensured that land was made available for the building of Christian churches in Abu Dhabi.
There has been no problem with Islamic fundamentalists and radicals in the UAE, and the violent behaviour that often marks other Islamic states is simply not tolerated.
The reaction to his death has been unbelievable to me. There is no way that I can see South Africa ever reacting in this way to the death of Thabo Mbeki. The only equivalent would be if Nelson Mandela had to die.
After the announcement, people thronged together, often in tears. So many people tried to get to the palace that the police had to close off a number of streets. The night echoed with half-hourly prayers and the singing of the mullahs. Local TV stations stopped normal programming and switched to recitations of the Quran.
Businesses, shops, schools and government institutions have been closed. The flag is flying at half mast. All the coloured lights which decorate the cities many fountains have been turned off. The Ramadan signage has been covered in black cloth.
It is a nation in shock.
For me, the death of the Shaikh has prompted me to think about a number of things, which I’d like to hear your opinions on.
Firstly, how would our country react to the death of Nelson Mandela?
Secondly, can South Africa achieve in thirty years what the UAE did? From a patched together country with little to no infrastructure to an economic powerhouse?
And lastly, it makes me think of leadership. The Shaikh undoubtedly had an incredible vision for his country, and the leadership ability to get people to do what was needed. He inspired them, and got things done. Do we have the equivalent in South Africa?
I’m not sure. What do you think?
This week (11 November 2004) saw the death of Shaikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al Nahyan, President of the UAE and Ruler of Abu Dhabi. The outpouring of grief that has swept the United Arab Emirates has been phenomenal, and took me by surprise.
As a relative newcomer to Abu Dhabi, I haven’t really had much time to form an opinion on Shaikh Zayed, though I understood him to be a benevolent and forward-thinking leader.
To the people of the UAE, he was more than this. They called him the “Father of the Nation.” And he was. The UAE was formed in 1971, after the British withdrew from what had been known as the Trucial Coast. Shaikh Zayed was appointed President by the Supreme Council of Rulers, which is made up of the leaders of the seven emirates within the UAE.
Initially, there were numerous disputes, and at the end of his first 5-year stint as President, Shaikh Zayed threatened to resign if the emirs did not settle their disputes. Nobody dared call his bluff. The result was a much stronger federation, that has grown in thirty years from oil-rich but poorly managed and largely third-world country into a significant economic force in the Middle East.
Amongst his early achievements included providing low-cost housing to UAE nationals, establishing the first wildlife sanctuary and establishing the Abu Dhabi Fund for Arab Economic Development as a means of channelling aid to other developing countries. 28% of Abu Dhabi’s income is allocated to foreign aid.
He was instrumental in establishing the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) which is the region’s equivalent of the European Union.
Surprisingly for many, Shaikh Zayed was a champion of women’s rights, and although he recognised that according Islamic and traditional values, a woman's role is the upbringing of children but she should not be confined only to that role. His words were “Those who call themselves 'conservative Muslims' and object to a woman's rising to the highest ranks in the workplace are ignorant of the basic teachings of Islam. The religion grants both men and women the right to work and to contribute to the overall development of society. It is their duty to be participants in such a process.”
In fact, the day prior to his death, the country’s first women cabinet minister was appointed.
Shaikh Zayed also established the Marriage Fund, which initially was set up to help young couples bear the sometimes exorbitant marriage costs. The Marriage Fund’s role has expanded over the years, and now plays a major role in social services, including family counselling, and support for abused women.
And while he provided support and benefits for UAE nationals, he felt strongly that they needed make their own livings. He is quoted as saying “The most important of our duties as Rulers is to raise the standard of living of our people. To carry out one’s duty is a responsibility to God, and to follow up on work is the responsibility of everyone, both the old and the young.”
He ensured that the country maintained strong ties with the West, which included supporting the 1991 Gulf War, and the war in Afghanistan.
Shaikh Zayed promoted religious tolerance and condemned those who resorted to violence in the name of religion. In fact, it was Shaikh Zayed who ensured that land was made available for the building of Christian churches in Abu Dhabi.
There has been no problem with Islamic fundamentalists and radicals in the UAE, and the violent behaviour that often marks other Islamic states is simply not tolerated.
The reaction to his death has been unbelievable to me. There is no way that I can see South Africa ever reacting in this way to the death of Thabo Mbeki. The only equivalent would be if Nelson Mandela had to die.
After the announcement, people thronged together, often in tears. So many people tried to get to the palace that the police had to close off a number of streets. The night echoed with half-hourly prayers and the singing of the mullahs. Local TV stations stopped normal programming and switched to recitations of the Quran.
Businesses, shops, schools and government institutions have been closed. The flag is flying at half mast. All the coloured lights which decorate the cities many fountains have been turned off. The Ramadan signage has been covered in black cloth.
It is a nation in shock.
For me, the death of the Shaikh has prompted me to think about a number of things, which I’d like to hear your opinions on.
Firstly, how would our country react to the death of Nelson Mandela?
Secondly, can South Africa achieve in thirty years what the UAE did? From a patched together country with little to no infrastructure to an economic powerhouse?
And lastly, it makes me think of leadership. The Shaikh undoubtedly had an incredible vision for his country, and the leadership ability to get people to do what was needed. He inspired them, and got things done. Do we have the equivalent in South Africa?
I’m not sure. What do you think?
Desert Notes: Achin' for some bacon
I am sure you remember the scene from Lion King where Timon and Pumba try to distract the hyenas. It goes something like this…..
Are you achin’… (Yup, yup, yup.)
For some bacon. (Yup, yup, yup.)
He’s a big pig. (Yup, yup.)
You can be a big pig, too. Oy!
Unless you know where to buy it in Abu Dhabi, you’ll be achin’ for some bacon too.
Being a Moslem country, pork and pork products are not readily available. You need to go to a speciality store with a special pork section. In Abu Dhabi, Spinneys is your best bet. There, in a separate alcove, marked clearly “Not for Moslems” is the pork section.
It’s a Bavarian’s dream come true. Pork sausages. Pork chops. Pork roasts. Pork pies. Ham. Bacon.
And stuff with pork in it. Like Pea & Ham soup. Spam – the original version, not the e-mailed kind. Sauces. Soups. Cans. Even tins of baked beans with pork bits. If it has even been near a pig, it is in this section.
Of course, you pay an absolute premium for it too. Say 25 dirhams (make that around R40) for a big packet of bacon. From Kenya nogal. And that’s the cheap frozen stuff!
So if piggy meat’s your fancy, that’s where you shop. At Spinneys.
But that’s not to say you can’t order bacon and egg breakfast or a ham sandwich at a restaurant. You can. It just won’t quite be what you’re expecting. Mostly because it never contains pork. It is made from just about everything else.
And it tickles me every time. All cold meats are “ham” you see. Whether they contain pork or not. So if you fancy you could buy some chicken ham. Or turkey ham. Or veal ham. Or beef ham.
Same with bacon. Bet you never thought you’d see a real South African breakfast (as sold by Mugg & Bean) served with veal bacon.
And to be truthful, it is not that bad. The turkey versions are pretty okay. Same with the veal. The chicken ham on the other hand is just awful. Chickens do really bad pig impersonations.
Some of it is made so well it can fool into believing it’s the real thing. In fact, at Fuddruckers (the equivalent of Spur in Abu Dhabi), my husband and I argued over whether our Outback burger contained real bacon or not. Because it sure tasted real. It wasn’t of course, but it was damn close.
Guaranteed that if a group of South Africans get together for a formal meal, it’ll be roast pork. And on the braai, someone will have brought pork chops. I do mean chutney marinade that goes really well with pork chops.
The only thing they haven’t managed to translate properly is boerewors. There was a packet of what looked like wors, and was labelled “South African Boerewors” at the supermarket recently. So of course we bought a pack.
The tannies who make the real thing back home would have died of shame at the mere thought that this was boeries.
Did you know that boerewors is the only South African meat product to have its ingredients government gazetted? True, I swear. What we bought certainly hadn’t read the gazette.
It was mostly soya. Terribly disappointing. But we ate it anyway. Because it said boerewors.
When I go home in mid-November, I’ve placed my order with my family. I want a braai. With big fat pork chops and boerewors. And I’ll be at Wimpy the following morning for breakfast. More specifically, for a Hashbrown Splashdown. With extra bacon. Most definitely the piggy kind!
Are you achin’… (Yup, yup, yup.)
For some bacon. (Yup, yup, yup.)
He’s a big pig. (Yup, yup.)
You can be a big pig, too. Oy!
Unless you know where to buy it in Abu Dhabi, you’ll be achin’ for some bacon too.
Being a Moslem country, pork and pork products are not readily available. You need to go to a speciality store with a special pork section. In Abu Dhabi, Spinneys is your best bet. There, in a separate alcove, marked clearly “Not for Moslems” is the pork section.
It’s a Bavarian’s dream come true. Pork sausages. Pork chops. Pork roasts. Pork pies. Ham. Bacon.
And stuff with pork in it. Like Pea & Ham soup. Spam – the original version, not the e-mailed kind. Sauces. Soups. Cans. Even tins of baked beans with pork bits. If it has even been near a pig, it is in this section.
Of course, you pay an absolute premium for it too. Say 25 dirhams (make that around R40) for a big packet of bacon. From Kenya nogal. And that’s the cheap frozen stuff!
So if piggy meat’s your fancy, that’s where you shop. At Spinneys.
But that’s not to say you can’t order bacon and egg breakfast or a ham sandwich at a restaurant. You can. It just won’t quite be what you’re expecting. Mostly because it never contains pork. It is made from just about everything else.
And it tickles me every time. All cold meats are “ham” you see. Whether they contain pork or not. So if you fancy you could buy some chicken ham. Or turkey ham. Or veal ham. Or beef ham.
Same with bacon. Bet you never thought you’d see a real South African breakfast (as sold by Mugg & Bean) served with veal bacon.
And to be truthful, it is not that bad. The turkey versions are pretty okay. Same with the veal. The chicken ham on the other hand is just awful. Chickens do really bad pig impersonations.
Some of it is made so well it can fool into believing it’s the real thing. In fact, at Fuddruckers (the equivalent of Spur in Abu Dhabi), my husband and I argued over whether our Outback burger contained real bacon or not. Because it sure tasted real. It wasn’t of course, but it was damn close.
Guaranteed that if a group of South Africans get together for a formal meal, it’ll be roast pork. And on the braai, someone will have brought pork chops. I do mean chutney marinade that goes really well with pork chops.
The only thing they haven’t managed to translate properly is boerewors. There was a packet of what looked like wors, and was labelled “South African Boerewors” at the supermarket recently. So of course we bought a pack.
The tannies who make the real thing back home would have died of shame at the mere thought that this was boeries.
Did you know that boerewors is the only South African meat product to have its ingredients government gazetted? True, I swear. What we bought certainly hadn’t read the gazette.
It was mostly soya. Terribly disappointing. But we ate it anyway. Because it said boerewors.
When I go home in mid-November, I’ve placed my order with my family. I want a braai. With big fat pork chops and boerewors. And I’ll be at Wimpy the following morning for breakfast. More specifically, for a Hashbrown Splashdown. With extra bacon. Most definitely the piggy kind!
Desert Notes: Mehboob Watch Shop
There is no need to keep your cash in your wallet in the UAE. The national pastime appears to be shopping, and there are a number of malls at which you can fulfill your every desire.
While you may find the well-known brands at the big malls, by far some of the more interesting shops are the little ones located on the ground and mezzanine levels of most apartment blocks.
Generally speaking, you will find at least some of the following in any given block:
The Grocery. This is the UAE equivalent of a corner café and spaza shop. These tiny little shops can barely fit more than three people in at a time, but are crammed from floor to ceiling with every imaginable goodie. From bread and milk to washing powder and toothpaste. You name, they’ll have it. And the amazing thing is, you don’t even have to leave your car. All you do is park outside and hoot. Someone will come running out, find out what you need, go and get it, and bring it to your car!
Photocopy and Typing shop. An absolute essential when it comes to dealing with the red tape that Abu Dhabi loves so much. Here you can get your official documents typed in Arabic and have the appropriate number of photocopies done.
Photography Studio. Again, an essential part of Abu Dhabi red tape. For every document, you’ll need at least 4 passport sized photos.
Saloon. No, this is not a pub, but a barber shop. There are hundreds of hair saloons around town, where you can get a haircut and a shave with a straight razor. Some even do men’s facials and hair dyeing. Ladies saloons are generally not visible from the street because of the requirement to cover up in public.
Automatic Laundry. Unlike a do-it-yourself Laundromat, here you drop off your clothes for washing, drycleaning or ironing. And can collect again within 24 hours. Very convenient.
You are also likely to find a butcher, a tailor (again, men’s and ladies shops are often separate), video stores and internet gaming cafés.
Often specialty shops are grouped together in informal districts. In one street, for example, you’d find all the car-related products: window tinting, car upholstery, spare parts, tyre shops et cetera. In another, it will be back to back jewelry stores, or carpet shops.
But by far my favourite thing about these little shops are the signs. As English is seldom the first language of the proprietor or sign-writer, you get some terrific names. Our local grocery is the Aroma Grocery. My husband gets his hair cut at the Green Ruby Saloon. The photography shop near our first flat was called The Lovely Studio.
I first started keeping an eye out for funny shop names and signs when I spotted Mehboob Watch Shop. I had a mental picture of a little old man with opera glasses carefully watching the passing boobs…..
On the way to Khor Fokkan (a seaside resort town) one weekend, I saw the Al Kanaris Bird and Fish Shop. Unfortunately I didn’t have my camera ready, and couldn’t take a photo.
I also wasn’t able to take a photo of the Green Goat Butchery (lovely image) or the Laughing Chicken Butchery. I really don’t know how much laughing the chicken was doing, but I hope the butcher himself is laughing all the way to the bank.
I am not sure what exactly the Families Roaster offers, but I am not sure whether I’d actually choose to eat there.
And despite its name, I think Rasim Rasul Puncture may actually be a tyre repair shop. At first my husband wondered whether punctures were imported to compensate for the excellent conditions of most roads.
Because of the various language issues, spelling can also be a problem. I am quite sure that this Day Spa may actually be a “Wellness Centre” as opposed to a “Willness Centre.”
And after much pondering, we figured out that what the Al Falah Natural Treatment Centre was offering was in fact a physical, as opposed to the advertised pizhichil.
Nothing, however, could top the one we spotted on the way home from the Post Office. I’m dying to try out some traditional Arabic sweets and pastries, but I’m really not sure whether I want to buy them from the Butt Sweet House.
I think I’ll do a taste test somewhere else.
While you may find the well-known brands at the big malls, by far some of the more interesting shops are the little ones located on the ground and mezzanine levels of most apartment blocks.
Generally speaking, you will find at least some of the following in any given block:
The Grocery. This is the UAE equivalent of a corner café and spaza shop. These tiny little shops can barely fit more than three people in at a time, but are crammed from floor to ceiling with every imaginable goodie. From bread and milk to washing powder and toothpaste. You name, they’ll have it. And the amazing thing is, you don’t even have to leave your car. All you do is park outside and hoot. Someone will come running out, find out what you need, go and get it, and bring it to your car!
Photocopy and Typing shop. An absolute essential when it comes to dealing with the red tape that Abu Dhabi loves so much. Here you can get your official documents typed in Arabic and have the appropriate number of photocopies done.
Photography Studio. Again, an essential part of Abu Dhabi red tape. For every document, you’ll need at least 4 passport sized photos.
Saloon. No, this is not a pub, but a barber shop. There are hundreds of hair saloons around town, where you can get a haircut and a shave with a straight razor. Some even do men’s facials and hair dyeing. Ladies saloons are generally not visible from the street because of the requirement to cover up in public.
Automatic Laundry. Unlike a do-it-yourself Laundromat, here you drop off your clothes for washing, drycleaning or ironing. And can collect again within 24 hours. Very convenient.
You are also likely to find a butcher, a tailor (again, men’s and ladies shops are often separate), video stores and internet gaming cafés.
Often specialty shops are grouped together in informal districts. In one street, for example, you’d find all the car-related products: window tinting, car upholstery, spare parts, tyre shops et cetera. In another, it will be back to back jewelry stores, or carpet shops.
But by far my favourite thing about these little shops are the signs. As English is seldom the first language of the proprietor or sign-writer, you get some terrific names. Our local grocery is the Aroma Grocery. My husband gets his hair cut at the Green Ruby Saloon. The photography shop near our first flat was called The Lovely Studio.
I first started keeping an eye out for funny shop names and signs when I spotted Mehboob Watch Shop. I had a mental picture of a little old man with opera glasses carefully watching the passing boobs…..
On the way to Khor Fokkan (a seaside resort town) one weekend, I saw the Al Kanaris Bird and Fish Shop. Unfortunately I didn’t have my camera ready, and couldn’t take a photo.
I also wasn’t able to take a photo of the Green Goat Butchery (lovely image) or the Laughing Chicken Butchery. I really don’t know how much laughing the chicken was doing, but I hope the butcher himself is laughing all the way to the bank.
I am not sure what exactly the Families Roaster offers, but I am not sure whether I’d actually choose to eat there.
And despite its name, I think Rasim Rasul Puncture may actually be a tyre repair shop. At first my husband wondered whether punctures were imported to compensate for the excellent conditions of most roads.
Because of the various language issues, spelling can also be a problem. I am quite sure that this Day Spa may actually be a “Wellness Centre” as opposed to a “Willness Centre.”
And after much pondering, we figured out that what the Al Falah Natural Treatment Centre was offering was in fact a physical, as opposed to the advertised pizhichil.
Nothing, however, could top the one we spotted on the way home from the Post Office. I’m dying to try out some traditional Arabic sweets and pastries, but I’m really not sure whether I want to buy them from the Butt Sweet House.
I think I’ll do a taste test somewhere else.
Desert Notes: The Veil
With the United Arab Emirates being an Islamic country, I expected to see women dressed from head to foot in black outfits. And, as a modern woman, I expected it to be a very negative thing, undermining women’s rights and their individuality. What I discovered was completely different.
The traditional women’s outfits in the UAE are made up of two primary items. A long black coat worn over clothing, called an abaya, and a head covering, known as a sheyla.
Underneath the abaya women traditionally wear a jabalaya (also known as a kandoura). The jabalaya is often brightly coloured floral or patterned material cut in a kaftan-like style, with decorative embroidery around the neck and cuffs. Many women wear Western-style outfits underneath – but never short skirts or pants, and seldom short sleeves.
The sheyla can be a simple headscarf covering the head. It is also occasionally worn with a veil, leaving just the eyes visible. Some women, though it is rare, will also wear black gloves and black stockings.
There is also the chador, which is the type of covering preferred in places like Iraq, as it is all-enveloping and completely disguises the woman’s shape. In the UAE, the chador is more often worn by older woman, and occasionally worn with a burqua. The burqua is a stiff gold-coloured leather mask. There is a thin strip across the forehead, connected to a strip down the nose. Another piece forms a horizontal strip just below the nose. It looks like it is made of metal. And despite the fact that the burqua covers far less of the face than the veil, it is the only item of clothing that makes me uncomfortable to see.
The abaya and sheyla on the other hand have opened up a whole new world of femininity to me. And this surprised me totally. Every abaya is unique. It is made up of a soft, lightweight black fabric, and if you look closely, the hemline and cuffs are covered with the most delicate of embroidery, beading and other decorative effects.
Often the sheyla is decorated to match. The variations on how the sheyla is wrapped around the head and neck are astounding. There seem to be half a dozen different ways of doing it, from a simple flip over to folding and wrapping.
The delicacy and the variations are absolutely amazing, and give each woman her own unique style. And the way the lightweight fabric moves around the women as they walk is far more feminine that you could imagine. And the hint of the bright colours underneath the abaya as they move is also very evocative.
I have also developed a far greater appreciation for the role perfume can play in defining femininity. I’ve never had much of a nose for scents, and could never really tell if someone was wearing any particular fragrance or not. But over here, the scents seem stronger, richer, earthier, and more sensual and I think it is amazing. There are plenty of traditional perfumeries as well as plenty of Western perfumes. It has made me understand a line from Shakespeare’s Macbeth far better: Lady Macbeth says “All the perfumes of Arabia could not sweeten this little hand.”
The sheyla and the veil also have a way of highlighting a woman’s eyes, and the application of kohl (black eyeliner) only emphasises how much of a role they play in the overall picture.
I have never been a shoe-person. But because often all you see of the designer outfit beneath the abaya is the shoes peeking out from the black, it has given me a new appreciation of their appeal!
Another element that adds to the whole feeling of complete femininity, despite being covered from head to foot in black, are the intricate henna patterns painted on to hands and feet. Henna painting is mostly reserved for special occasions, though in the more rural areas most women will have some kind of decoration on their hands or feet. It is mostly done by hand, though stencils are also often used. It takes a long time to do, and lasts for between 4-6 weeks. I’d love to try this out.
I still haven’t learnt the significance of who wears what style of outfit, but I have learnt that there is no way that the clothing makes the women anonymous. It is highly individual, chic and very extremely feminine!
The traditional women’s outfits in the UAE are made up of two primary items. A long black coat worn over clothing, called an abaya, and a head covering, known as a sheyla.
Underneath the abaya women traditionally wear a jabalaya (also known as a kandoura). The jabalaya is often brightly coloured floral or patterned material cut in a kaftan-like style, with decorative embroidery around the neck and cuffs. Many women wear Western-style outfits underneath – but never short skirts or pants, and seldom short sleeves.
The sheyla can be a simple headscarf covering the head. It is also occasionally worn with a veil, leaving just the eyes visible. Some women, though it is rare, will also wear black gloves and black stockings.
There is also the chador, which is the type of covering preferred in places like Iraq, as it is all-enveloping and completely disguises the woman’s shape. In the UAE, the chador is more often worn by older woman, and occasionally worn with a burqua. The burqua is a stiff gold-coloured leather mask. There is a thin strip across the forehead, connected to a strip down the nose. Another piece forms a horizontal strip just below the nose. It looks like it is made of metal. And despite the fact that the burqua covers far less of the face than the veil, it is the only item of clothing that makes me uncomfortable to see.
The abaya and sheyla on the other hand have opened up a whole new world of femininity to me. And this surprised me totally. Every abaya is unique. It is made up of a soft, lightweight black fabric, and if you look closely, the hemline and cuffs are covered with the most delicate of embroidery, beading and other decorative effects.
Often the sheyla is decorated to match. The variations on how the sheyla is wrapped around the head and neck are astounding. There seem to be half a dozen different ways of doing it, from a simple flip over to folding and wrapping.
The delicacy and the variations are absolutely amazing, and give each woman her own unique style. And the way the lightweight fabric moves around the women as they walk is far more feminine that you could imagine. And the hint of the bright colours underneath the abaya as they move is also very evocative.
I have also developed a far greater appreciation for the role perfume can play in defining femininity. I’ve never had much of a nose for scents, and could never really tell if someone was wearing any particular fragrance or not. But over here, the scents seem stronger, richer, earthier, and more sensual and I think it is amazing. There are plenty of traditional perfumeries as well as plenty of Western perfumes. It has made me understand a line from Shakespeare’s Macbeth far better: Lady Macbeth says “All the perfumes of Arabia could not sweeten this little hand.”
The sheyla and the veil also have a way of highlighting a woman’s eyes, and the application of kohl (black eyeliner) only emphasises how much of a role they play in the overall picture.
I have never been a shoe-person. But because often all you see of the designer outfit beneath the abaya is the shoes peeking out from the black, it has given me a new appreciation of their appeal!
Another element that adds to the whole feeling of complete femininity, despite being covered from head to foot in black, are the intricate henna patterns painted on to hands and feet. Henna painting is mostly reserved for special occasions, though in the more rural areas most women will have some kind of decoration on their hands or feet. It is mostly done by hand, though stencils are also often used. It takes a long time to do, and lasts for between 4-6 weeks. I’d love to try this out.
I still haven’t learnt the significance of who wears what style of outfit, but I have learnt that there is no way that the clothing makes the women anonymous. It is highly individual, chic and very extremely feminine!
Desert Notes: How to catch a taxi
After having caught more than a few taxis since my arrival Abu Dhabi, I’m beginning to believe that all taxi drivers the world over must share the same DNA. This genetic link predisposes taxi drivers to firstly, drive over the speed limit; secondly, forget how to use indicators; and lastly, to stop suddenly when and wherever they choose.
There are some differences though. Abu Dhabi taxis are generally cars and not combis or minivans, and are generally far more roadworthy than their South African counterparts. The taxis are also metered, which as far as I am aware, is practically unheard of in South Africa.
There are a few things to be aware of when catching a taxi in Abu Dhabi.
The first is that you can find one just about anywhere, though you probably find one far more quickly at an intersection or main road. Any government building, bank or mall will generally have a few in the immediate vicinity, so waiting around is rare. The longest I have ever had to wait has probably been about five minutes.
You can also “order” a taxi through one of the two more upmarket taxi operators. These are generally much smarter cars, and of course, you pay much more for them.
To hail a taxi, simply stick your hand up when you see one approaching. If they flash their lights at you, it means they are occupied already. If the driver gives a short sharp blast on his hooter, it means he has spotted you and will immediately swerve across as many lanes as necessary and come to a screeching halt in front of you. Or just past you if they were really motoring.
It does help to be a woman though, and it certainly helps to be a woman with children. Taxi drivers will unload male passengers, whether they like it or not, in order to help you out. Most male passengers are quite accommodating of this, and will simply wait for the next one to come along.
It is however, better practice for a woman to sit in the rear of the taxi, rather than upfront with the driver. Men generally sit in front with the driver, rather than the American-style “passengers in back” situation.
The next important point is to remember than not all taxi drivers have a good command of English. They are generally from the sub-continent (Pakistan primarily) and as such, speak Arabic or Urdu, with a smattering of English. The one taxi driver’s command of the English language extended to random repetitions of “Hello. How are you?”
Some speak English very well, and if my husband is traveling with me, will often strike up a conversation – generally about your origins, how long you’ve been in the country, and how many children you have. Children are important here, and thus the premature exit of male passengers to assist a woman with kids. You are definitely unlikely to get this random chatter if you are a woman traveling without a man. It would be considered highly inappropriate, and very disrespectful to the woman concerned.
That said, one of my more recent taxi trips alone, did engender a conversation of sorts. I even learnt how to say “hospital” in Arabic. Moo-stash-bah. That’s how it sounds. How it is spelt is completely beyond me.
The reason I ended up learning this word, was firstly because the driver spoke minimal English, and secondly, because of the way in which directions are given.
You never say “Villa number 3 on Tenth Street please.” You use landmarks instead.
My taxi driver didn’t know what the word “hospital” was. So when I asked him to take me to the Zayed Hospital, he shook his head. So I used the nearest landmark, which is the Pepsi Cola factory. This he knew, and once at Pepsi Cola, I was able to direct him to the hospital. Which he did know. And then he said, and I quote verbatim:
“You no Araby? Next taxi no English, you Moo-stash-bah Zayed.”
And so I learnt to say hospital in Arabic.
Another important thing to remember about giving directions is that not all roads are known by the names listed on the signboard. For example, the apartment we first stayed in was just off Fourth Street, in the Yabhooni block. But if I had to tell the driver to take me there using those words, he’d be very confused. Because Fourth street is known as Muroor Road. So to give directions to my old place, I’d have to say “Airport Road, left at Pepsi Cola off Muroor Road, opposite the Quadiysa School.” And that would get me there. And Muroor/Fourth is just one example!
The taxis themselves are all in the same livery, except for the ones you “order”. They are white with gold corners and a green sign on the door and roof. But you do have to be careful. Because the driving schools are also white with gold corners and a green sign on the door. The only difference is the red “L” on the roof sign. So an unsuspecting newcomer could get the shock of his life if he tried to hail one of those!
Like the South African taxis, the Abu Dhabi versions are often highly decorated inside, and with bumper stickers and decals on the exterior. Inside the car (normally a Nissan Sunni or Toyota Corolla), the seats are likely to be covered in brightly coloured fabric (like those big thick flowery blankets) and plastic or vinyl sheeting on top of that. The rear window ledge will probably be packed with artificial flowers, tinsel or similar shiny stuff. There will be CD or prayer beads hanging of the rear view mirror. The dashboard will be covered in fabric, as well as with more plastic flowers and what-have-yous.
The mudflaps will probably have decals, often of falcons. Some may have more shiny stuff on this as well. The bumper stickers will vary, but I’m generally very loathe to catch the taxis with the stickers for Abu Dhabi Racing or Kakimoto Racing.
‘Cos those dudes race everywhere. Most taxis are fitted with a little alarm which pings repeatedly if the driver goes over a 100 kph. The speed limit is generally between 60 and 70 kph. But I’ve heard that “pinging” a lot more than occasionally. Especially over or under any of the bridges.
You also need to be aware that your taxi-driver will often unexpectedly open the driver’s door and expectorate noisily onto the road. I have Issues with snot, phlegm and other associated nasties, and this one gets me near-heaving every time. I’ve learnt to focus solidly on the view from my window.
So if you can deal with learning a new directional vocabulary, coping with hocking up goolies, wild gesticulating at other drivers, speeding, and rapid lane changing, you’ll do just fine when hailing a cab in Abu Dhabi!
There are some differences though. Abu Dhabi taxis are generally cars and not combis or minivans, and are generally far more roadworthy than their South African counterparts. The taxis are also metered, which as far as I am aware, is practically unheard of in South Africa.
There are a few things to be aware of when catching a taxi in Abu Dhabi.
The first is that you can find one just about anywhere, though you probably find one far more quickly at an intersection or main road. Any government building, bank or mall will generally have a few in the immediate vicinity, so waiting around is rare. The longest I have ever had to wait has probably been about five minutes.
You can also “order” a taxi through one of the two more upmarket taxi operators. These are generally much smarter cars, and of course, you pay much more for them.
To hail a taxi, simply stick your hand up when you see one approaching. If they flash their lights at you, it means they are occupied already. If the driver gives a short sharp blast on his hooter, it means he has spotted you and will immediately swerve across as many lanes as necessary and come to a screeching halt in front of you. Or just past you if they were really motoring.
It does help to be a woman though, and it certainly helps to be a woman with children. Taxi drivers will unload male passengers, whether they like it or not, in order to help you out. Most male passengers are quite accommodating of this, and will simply wait for the next one to come along.
It is however, better practice for a woman to sit in the rear of the taxi, rather than upfront with the driver. Men generally sit in front with the driver, rather than the American-style “passengers in back” situation.
The next important point is to remember than not all taxi drivers have a good command of English. They are generally from the sub-continent (Pakistan primarily) and as such, speak Arabic or Urdu, with a smattering of English. The one taxi driver’s command of the English language extended to random repetitions of “Hello. How are you?”
Some speak English very well, and if my husband is traveling with me, will often strike up a conversation – generally about your origins, how long you’ve been in the country, and how many children you have. Children are important here, and thus the premature exit of male passengers to assist a woman with kids. You are definitely unlikely to get this random chatter if you are a woman traveling without a man. It would be considered highly inappropriate, and very disrespectful to the woman concerned.
That said, one of my more recent taxi trips alone, did engender a conversation of sorts. I even learnt how to say “hospital” in Arabic. Moo-stash-bah. That’s how it sounds. How it is spelt is completely beyond me.
The reason I ended up learning this word, was firstly because the driver spoke minimal English, and secondly, because of the way in which directions are given.
You never say “Villa number 3 on Tenth Street please.” You use landmarks instead.
My taxi driver didn’t know what the word “hospital” was. So when I asked him to take me to the Zayed Hospital, he shook his head. So I used the nearest landmark, which is the Pepsi Cola factory. This he knew, and once at Pepsi Cola, I was able to direct him to the hospital. Which he did know. And then he said, and I quote verbatim:
“You no Araby? Next taxi no English, you Moo-stash-bah Zayed.”
And so I learnt to say hospital in Arabic.
Another important thing to remember about giving directions is that not all roads are known by the names listed on the signboard. For example, the apartment we first stayed in was just off Fourth Street, in the Yabhooni block. But if I had to tell the driver to take me there using those words, he’d be very confused. Because Fourth street is known as Muroor Road. So to give directions to my old place, I’d have to say “Airport Road, left at Pepsi Cola off Muroor Road, opposite the Quadiysa School.” And that would get me there. And Muroor/Fourth is just one example!
The taxis themselves are all in the same livery, except for the ones you “order”. They are white with gold corners and a green sign on the door and roof. But you do have to be careful. Because the driving schools are also white with gold corners and a green sign on the door. The only difference is the red “L” on the roof sign. So an unsuspecting newcomer could get the shock of his life if he tried to hail one of those!
Like the South African taxis, the Abu Dhabi versions are often highly decorated inside, and with bumper stickers and decals on the exterior. Inside the car (normally a Nissan Sunni or Toyota Corolla), the seats are likely to be covered in brightly coloured fabric (like those big thick flowery blankets) and plastic or vinyl sheeting on top of that. The rear window ledge will probably be packed with artificial flowers, tinsel or similar shiny stuff. There will be CD or prayer beads hanging of the rear view mirror. The dashboard will be covered in fabric, as well as with more plastic flowers and what-have-yous.
The mudflaps will probably have decals, often of falcons. Some may have more shiny stuff on this as well. The bumper stickers will vary, but I’m generally very loathe to catch the taxis with the stickers for Abu Dhabi Racing or Kakimoto Racing.
‘Cos those dudes race everywhere. Most taxis are fitted with a little alarm which pings repeatedly if the driver goes over a 100 kph. The speed limit is generally between 60 and 70 kph. But I’ve heard that “pinging” a lot more than occasionally. Especially over or under any of the bridges.
You also need to be aware that your taxi-driver will often unexpectedly open the driver’s door and expectorate noisily onto the road. I have Issues with snot, phlegm and other associated nasties, and this one gets me near-heaving every time. I’ve learnt to focus solidly on the view from my window.
So if you can deal with learning a new directional vocabulary, coping with hocking up goolies, wild gesticulating at other drivers, speeding, and rapid lane changing, you’ll do just fine when hailing a cab in Abu Dhabi!
Desert Notes: Desert Time
I grew up in a very punctual household. You had to be On Time. For example, if my dad said we were leaving at 7am, he actually meant that you needed to be sitting waiting in the car at least five minutes before that. And it has become pretty much an ingrained habit. I am always On Time, I get up early and go to bed at a reasonable hour. This, while admirable, is completely useless in the Arabian Gulf.
Time here flows differently. Or at least, it feels that way to me.
The first thing newly arrived expatriates have to get used to is that it is two hours ahead of South Africa. This is fairly easy to get used to, and by your second day in the country, you’re probably settled.
The fact that the week runs differently is a lot harder to get used to. The week starts on a Saturday and ends on a Friday. In other words, your weekend is on a Thursday and Friday. So by the time your family at home in South Africa are getting ready to have their weekend braai, you’re already back at work or taking the kids to school.
At first, I dealt with this by calling a Thursday a Saturday and a Friday a Sunday. But that doesn’t work for long as you end up getting totally muddled as to what day of the week it actually is. You have to just get used to it. But its quite hard to do, and an American expatriate friend, who has been here three years already, admits she still gets confused.
I dislike Wednesdays the most. Because despite the fact that I know the following two days are going to be weekend, it still feels like mid-week to me. And hearing the neighbours children play outside till late on a Wednesday night still bothers me. I half want to shout out the window that it’s a school night, and they should go to bed!
But at least our household all runs on the same week. Not all households do. Because some international companies, still run on a “Western” week, which means that the parents may not have the same weekends as their children! And some companies choose rather to have their weekends on Fridays and Saturdays. So in essence, one family’s weekend can stretch over four days!
Shopping hours are also extremely varied. The Post Office stays open from 7 am to midnight. Except on weekends and public holidays, when it stays open from 7am to 2pm, and then opens again from 5pm to 8pm. Banks are open from 7am to 1pm. And some are open in again in the evenings. Government departments are open from 7am to 2pm. Except for Tuesdays, which are “long days”. Which means that some (not all) government departments will stay open until 5pm.
The big shopping malls are generally open from 8am to 11pm. Some shops (and the smaller shopping centres) are open from 8am to 2pm and then again from 4pm to 11pm. But some shops in the malls only open at 10am. On Fridays, the smaller shopping centres only open at 4pm.The peak shopping times on any day of the week are from 5pm to about 10pm. Its simply too hot to go out during the day in the summer, so everything is tailored around doing things when its cooler at night. Even the public play parks only open at 3pm.
And apparently things change again during Ramadan, when most shops, and all food shops, are closed completely between sunrise and sunset.
Its damn confusing.
And then you have the way people “speak” time. Every country appears to have its own time language – South Africa, for example, has the concept of “now now” or “just now”, which means to South Africans “in a little while”. It confuses the hell out of non-South Africans. “Now” means “this minute” or “immediately” to others, and when Saffies here tell someone they’ll be there “now now” it causes instant perplexity.
The UAE is no different. It also has its own time language. For example, if someone says to you “I will meet you today itself” it means they will actually be there today. If the speaker is being even more specific, they will say “today morning” or “today afternoon.” However, if the speaker says “today inshallah” it could actually mean anytime between now and never.
“Inshallah” literally means “god-willing” and you will find it peppered throughout peoples conversations. But when used in conjunction with time, you can bet your bottom dollar that it will be a case of “hurry up and wait.”
Our electrician and air conditioning repairman are prime users of the phrase, and when one of them says that they will be at your house at “9 or 10 inshallah” you can be sure to expect them at 5pm. Or the next day.
And as frustrating as it is to hear (and to have to wait), you have to get used to it. And expats who have been here for a long time have completely accepted it. For example, a friend was waiting to get their DSL line installed at home. They were given a date two weeks ahead on which the line was to be installed. It wasn’t. He was incensed. He said that if they had said to him “two weeks inshallah” he would have known not to get uptight, but because they didn’t use the phrase, he expected it to be done on the day.
For a punctual person, it takes some getting used to. But I’ll get there. Inshallah.
Time here flows differently. Or at least, it feels that way to me.
The first thing newly arrived expatriates have to get used to is that it is two hours ahead of South Africa. This is fairly easy to get used to, and by your second day in the country, you’re probably settled.
The fact that the week runs differently is a lot harder to get used to. The week starts on a Saturday and ends on a Friday. In other words, your weekend is on a Thursday and Friday. So by the time your family at home in South Africa are getting ready to have their weekend braai, you’re already back at work or taking the kids to school.
At first, I dealt with this by calling a Thursday a Saturday and a Friday a Sunday. But that doesn’t work for long as you end up getting totally muddled as to what day of the week it actually is. You have to just get used to it. But its quite hard to do, and an American expatriate friend, who has been here three years already, admits she still gets confused.
I dislike Wednesdays the most. Because despite the fact that I know the following two days are going to be weekend, it still feels like mid-week to me. And hearing the neighbours children play outside till late on a Wednesday night still bothers me. I half want to shout out the window that it’s a school night, and they should go to bed!
But at least our household all runs on the same week. Not all households do. Because some international companies, still run on a “Western” week, which means that the parents may not have the same weekends as their children! And some companies choose rather to have their weekends on Fridays and Saturdays. So in essence, one family’s weekend can stretch over four days!
Shopping hours are also extremely varied. The Post Office stays open from 7 am to midnight. Except on weekends and public holidays, when it stays open from 7am to 2pm, and then opens again from 5pm to 8pm. Banks are open from 7am to 1pm. And some are open in again in the evenings. Government departments are open from 7am to 2pm. Except for Tuesdays, which are “long days”. Which means that some (not all) government departments will stay open until 5pm.
The big shopping malls are generally open from 8am to 11pm. Some shops (and the smaller shopping centres) are open from 8am to 2pm and then again from 4pm to 11pm. But some shops in the malls only open at 10am. On Fridays, the smaller shopping centres only open at 4pm.The peak shopping times on any day of the week are from 5pm to about 10pm. Its simply too hot to go out during the day in the summer, so everything is tailored around doing things when its cooler at night. Even the public play parks only open at 3pm.
And apparently things change again during Ramadan, when most shops, and all food shops, are closed completely between sunrise and sunset.
Its damn confusing.
And then you have the way people “speak” time. Every country appears to have its own time language – South Africa, for example, has the concept of “now now” or “just now”, which means to South Africans “in a little while”. It confuses the hell out of non-South Africans. “Now” means “this minute” or “immediately” to others, and when Saffies here tell someone they’ll be there “now now” it causes instant perplexity.
The UAE is no different. It also has its own time language. For example, if someone says to you “I will meet you today itself” it means they will actually be there today. If the speaker is being even more specific, they will say “today morning” or “today afternoon.” However, if the speaker says “today inshallah” it could actually mean anytime between now and never.
“Inshallah” literally means “god-willing” and you will find it peppered throughout peoples conversations. But when used in conjunction with time, you can bet your bottom dollar that it will be a case of “hurry up and wait.”
Our electrician and air conditioning repairman are prime users of the phrase, and when one of them says that they will be at your house at “9 or 10 inshallah” you can be sure to expect them at 5pm. Or the next day.
And as frustrating as it is to hear (and to have to wait), you have to get used to it. And expats who have been here for a long time have completely accepted it. For example, a friend was waiting to get their DSL line installed at home. They were given a date two weeks ahead on which the line was to be installed. It wasn’t. He was incensed. He said that if they had said to him “two weeks inshallah” he would have known not to get uptight, but because they didn’t use the phrase, he expected it to be done on the day.
For a punctual person, it takes some getting used to. But I’ll get there. Inshallah.
Desert Notes: Wish List
All expatriate South Africans have things they miss, and speciality stores all over the world do a roaring trade in things like Mrs Ball’s Chutney and Pronutro. After reading some posts on the forum this week about mayonnaise, Cape Town vs. South Africa, I was compelled to write my own “Expat’s Wish List.”
Family. This would have to be at the top of my list. Although the weekly phone calls are great, it is not quite the same as being able to go up and give someone a big hug. And you end up missing stuff too – like birthday parties, celebrations, special achievements, bad days and good days. I can’t wait to see them all in November.
Decent toilet paper. Seriously. The toilet paper here is terrible. In SA I was quite happy to buy relatively inexpensive stuff; after all, it is what you use to wipe your butt. But because of cultural differences, toilet paper here takes second place to tissue and water. Most homes are fitted with a bidet for post-toilet washing, and public loos have a hand-held sprayer thingamabob. So cheap toilet paper doesn’t matter to those comfortable with the watery route. But it doesn’t work for me. So after some experiments with the cheap stuff, I gave up. Now we buy French toilet paper that smells like vanilla. It’s expensive. But it’s worth it!
Mayonnaise. I love mayonnaise. And it is available here. But it is generally American, and it is generally terrible - bland and boring, and doesn’t have that “tang” that SA mayo does. So I had my sister post me some. Seriously. I bet the customs official thought I was crazy. On the odd occasion that Spinneys (a supermarket chain that sometimes stocks South African products) has real mayonnaise available, I go mad. And buy as much as I can. But it’s never enough….
Chutney. Obviously. But I’m not as fussy as some, and would quite happily settle for Wellingtons or Mrs Balls. My sister sent me some of this too. But we’ve run out, and Spinneys hasn’t had any in for AGES. I’ll give out my postal address to anyone willing to mail me some.
Pikitup. For those outside of Gauteng, Pikitup is the local municipal refuse removal service. And I never thought I’d miss it. It’s those neat little wheelie bins (one per household) and the regular weekly collection. Because what we have here bugs the hell out of me. Four or five villas share two dumpster type efforts, which are emptied at irregular intervals. And pretty much anything can be dumped into them – from furniture to last night’s supper. And not everyone uses rubbish bags. And not everyone has sufficiently good aim to actually get their rubbish into the dumpster. So all the neighbourhood strays, rats and other pests treat it like their very own restaurant. And the bloody dumpsters are parked in the street outside our villa. Not nice at all.
Jellybabies. While you do get jellybaby-type sweets here, they simply do not taste the same as SA jellybabies. So I had my mom send me some. And they were delicious. Except I was horrified to see that there were no black jellybabies. And they are my favourite! Is it a political correctness issue?
Squashes. As in vegetables. Things like gem squashes and pumpkins and similar veggies are difficult to get here. While there is a wide variety of other fruits and veggies, there is very little available in the squash family, except for the occasional butternut.
Variable weather. While living in a permanently sunny place is great, it really does get a bit much at times. The weather journalist in the Gulf News tries hard to make it interesting, but there is only so much you can do to describe the weather here: hot and sunny; plenty of sunshine; hot and windy; hot and humid; bright sunshine etc etc. I’d love a good thundershower. Complete with lightning and thunder and big heavy splashes of rain. I can’t say I miss the cold of winter, but a bit of a change would be nice.
The South African expat community here has an ongoing grapevine about what SA products are available. If Spinneys gets in stock of Pronutro, Oros, Weetbix, Maltabella, Black Cat peanut butter, Mrs Balls or Cross & Blackwell, you’ll hear about it quickly. But you’d better be even faster at getting to the shop. Because the products arrive so sporadically, people tend to stock up, and leave the shelves empty. One expat admitted to me that she bought about 6 boxes of Pronutro, just because she could!
But just in case you think I’m miserable here, there are plenty of things I like too. For example:
Free local phone calls. Yep, the monopoly service provider Etisalat does not charge for local calls: i.e. calls in the same area code. And as the whole of Abu Dhabi has just one area code (02) it works out pretty well!
The inter-nationality of its people. It’s amazing how many different nationalities there are over here. In one day you could chat to a person from Russia, as well as to people from India, Pakistan, the Philippines, France, Australia and the US. In my daughters class at school I know of at least four different nationalities already.
The inter-nationality of the groceries. Because very little is produced locally, the majority of the things in shops came from somewhere else first. And they always specify on the labels where exactly they came from. And it never fails to amaze me. For example, in my last grocery shop, my potatoes came from Lebanon, my tomatoes from Holland, my butternut from Jordan, my bananas from The Philippines and my grapes from South Africa! I often buy SA products just because I can, even though they are not always the cheapest. Hey, I’m proudly South African all the way.
But the absolute best thing for me about living in Abu Dhabi is the fact that I get to be a Stay At Home Mum. I never thought I’d be the housewifely type, but an incident just before we left sealed the deal for me. I was driving my daughter to nursery school, and myself to work. A daily two-hour commute to work, and an hour and a half home. In the traffic one morning, I spotted a very professional looking lady in a really spiffy car checking her child’s homework over the steering wheel, and I thought to myself – “hey, that could be me in a few years time.” And the thought was horrifying. I love my new life as a SAHM. I am able to be so much a part of my children’s lives, and it is very unlikely that I would ever be able to afford to do so in South Africa. So although I miss so much of South Africa, I’d rather miss that than miss out on being with my girls.
Family. This would have to be at the top of my list. Although the weekly phone calls are great, it is not quite the same as being able to go up and give someone a big hug. And you end up missing stuff too – like birthday parties, celebrations, special achievements, bad days and good days. I can’t wait to see them all in November.
Decent toilet paper. Seriously. The toilet paper here is terrible. In SA I was quite happy to buy relatively inexpensive stuff; after all, it is what you use to wipe your butt. But because of cultural differences, toilet paper here takes second place to tissue and water. Most homes are fitted with a bidet for post-toilet washing, and public loos have a hand-held sprayer thingamabob. So cheap toilet paper doesn’t matter to those comfortable with the watery route. But it doesn’t work for me. So after some experiments with the cheap stuff, I gave up. Now we buy French toilet paper that smells like vanilla. It’s expensive. But it’s worth it!
Mayonnaise. I love mayonnaise. And it is available here. But it is generally American, and it is generally terrible - bland and boring, and doesn’t have that “tang” that SA mayo does. So I had my sister post me some. Seriously. I bet the customs official thought I was crazy. On the odd occasion that Spinneys (a supermarket chain that sometimes stocks South African products) has real mayonnaise available, I go mad. And buy as much as I can. But it’s never enough….
Chutney. Obviously. But I’m not as fussy as some, and would quite happily settle for Wellingtons or Mrs Balls. My sister sent me some of this too. But we’ve run out, and Spinneys hasn’t had any in for AGES. I’ll give out my postal address to anyone willing to mail me some.
Pikitup. For those outside of Gauteng, Pikitup is the local municipal refuse removal service. And I never thought I’d miss it. It’s those neat little wheelie bins (one per household) and the regular weekly collection. Because what we have here bugs the hell out of me. Four or five villas share two dumpster type efforts, which are emptied at irregular intervals. And pretty much anything can be dumped into them – from furniture to last night’s supper. And not everyone uses rubbish bags. And not everyone has sufficiently good aim to actually get their rubbish into the dumpster. So all the neighbourhood strays, rats and other pests treat it like their very own restaurant. And the bloody dumpsters are parked in the street outside our villa. Not nice at all.
Jellybabies. While you do get jellybaby-type sweets here, they simply do not taste the same as SA jellybabies. So I had my mom send me some. And they were delicious. Except I was horrified to see that there were no black jellybabies. And they are my favourite! Is it a political correctness issue?
Squashes. As in vegetables. Things like gem squashes and pumpkins and similar veggies are difficult to get here. While there is a wide variety of other fruits and veggies, there is very little available in the squash family, except for the occasional butternut.
Variable weather. While living in a permanently sunny place is great, it really does get a bit much at times. The weather journalist in the Gulf News tries hard to make it interesting, but there is only so much you can do to describe the weather here: hot and sunny; plenty of sunshine; hot and windy; hot and humid; bright sunshine etc etc. I’d love a good thundershower. Complete with lightning and thunder and big heavy splashes of rain. I can’t say I miss the cold of winter, but a bit of a change would be nice.
The South African expat community here has an ongoing grapevine about what SA products are available. If Spinneys gets in stock of Pronutro, Oros, Weetbix, Maltabella, Black Cat peanut butter, Mrs Balls or Cross & Blackwell, you’ll hear about it quickly. But you’d better be even faster at getting to the shop. Because the products arrive so sporadically, people tend to stock up, and leave the shelves empty. One expat admitted to me that she bought about 6 boxes of Pronutro, just because she could!
But just in case you think I’m miserable here, there are plenty of things I like too. For example:
Free local phone calls. Yep, the monopoly service provider Etisalat does not charge for local calls: i.e. calls in the same area code. And as the whole of Abu Dhabi has just one area code (02) it works out pretty well!
The inter-nationality of its people. It’s amazing how many different nationalities there are over here. In one day you could chat to a person from Russia, as well as to people from India, Pakistan, the Philippines, France, Australia and the US. In my daughters class at school I know of at least four different nationalities already.
The inter-nationality of the groceries. Because very little is produced locally, the majority of the things in shops came from somewhere else first. And they always specify on the labels where exactly they came from. And it never fails to amaze me. For example, in my last grocery shop, my potatoes came from Lebanon, my tomatoes from Holland, my butternut from Jordan, my bananas from The Philippines and my grapes from South Africa! I often buy SA products just because I can, even though they are not always the cheapest. Hey, I’m proudly South African all the way.
But the absolute best thing for me about living in Abu Dhabi is the fact that I get to be a Stay At Home Mum. I never thought I’d be the housewifely type, but an incident just before we left sealed the deal for me. I was driving my daughter to nursery school, and myself to work. A daily two-hour commute to work, and an hour and a half home. In the traffic one morning, I spotted a very professional looking lady in a really spiffy car checking her child’s homework over the steering wheel, and I thought to myself – “hey, that could be me in a few years time.” And the thought was horrifying. I love my new life as a SAHM. I am able to be so much a part of my children’s lives, and it is very unlikely that I would ever be able to afford to do so in South Africa. So although I miss so much of South Africa, I’d rather miss that than miss out on being with my girls.
Desert Notes: Let's Go Shopping
My daughter E, who is one year old, doesn’t speak very much. One of her few really clear words is “shopping”. Its not surprising really, since the national pastime of the UAE appears to be just that – shopping.
Whether you fancy haute couture or bargain buys, Abu Dhabi offers the shopping experience you are looking for. Apart from the many malls that are found all over the island, there are small mini-retailers on the ground floor of most apartment blocks. There are also the traditional markets or souqs (or souks).
The souqs are the places to go if you like bargain hunting, and of course, if you like to haggle. In Abu Dhabi there are a few options: the Central Market, the Fish Market, the Fruit & Vegetable Market, the Livestock Market, the Carpet Souq and the Iranian Souq. There is also a Camel Souq but that’s out of town, somewhere near the camel-racing track.
The Central Market sells just about everything you could possibly imagine – from small household appliances to souvenirs. You can even buy a fake Rolex if you wanted. It was here that I made my first attempt at haggling. I bought a couple of very touristy type items to send back to the family at home – a fluffy camel that sings in Arabic and some Abu Dhabi t-shirts. The t-shirt vendor was the most fun to haggle with. It worked something like this:
I examined the t-shirts I was after, put them back and started to walk away. The enthusiastic vendor stopped me with an exuberant “Good day madam” and offered me another t-shirt to look at. I put on my most skeptical face and asked how much? The vendor pulled out a giant calculator and hastily tapped in some numbers then presented it with a flourish saying “For you madam, I give you the t-shirt at a very special price – only 45 dirhams”. I responded with a polite “No thank-you, that’s too much” and walked away slowly. The vendor called me back and pulled out the giant calculator again. More finger tapping and another offer - “Only for you madam, I make a price. For today only. 30 dirhams.” Now it was time to get down to real business. “How much if I want to buy 3 t-shirts then?” I asked. Out came the giant calculator again and after much to-ing and fro-ing, with some extravagant finger tapping and dramatic calculator flourishing we settled on 30 dirhams for all three t-shirts. And both the vendor and I walked away happy.
The general rule of thumb for tourists is to settle for half of what the vendor originally offered.
Unfortunately there was a rather large fire in the market recently, and many of the shops were destroyed. However, the mini-retailers are still at it, even though there are some sections of the market that are decidedly unsafe. Plans are in place to rebuild the market, this time fully covered, with air conditioning and designed more to look like a traditional Arabic marketplace.
While most of the other souqs are fairly self-explanatory, you may be wondering what an Iranian souq is. And no, unlike the Fish Market selling fish, the Iranian market does not sell Iranians. It sells everything else. A lot of plasticware – like garden tables, chairs, dustbins, much like what is sold alongside the roads in Johannesburg. There is also the usual assortment of small household appliances and electronic toys. Mostly manufactured in China. But the Iranian souq is actually more well known for its terracotta pots – lovely big ones!
If you don’t fancy sweating it out in the sun at the souqs, and are after a little more style and class, along with air conditioned comfort, then you can choose from the many malls around the island.
By far the biggest mall in terms of floor space and retail outlets is the Madinat Zayed Shopping Centre and its neighbour, the Madinat Zayed Gold Centre. The Gold Centre itself is dedicated almost entirely to jewelry stores. The only exception is a food court, a homewares store and the Daiso (a Japanese value chain). The entire first floor is dedicated to gold. Unfortunately you are not allowed to take photos inside, but it really is quite phenomenal.
The next two biggest are Abu Dhabi Mall and Marina Mall. These are the malls to visit if you are in to well-known brand names like Guess, GAP, Alfred Dunhill, Tiffanys, Bvlgari, Ikea, Radioshack, Starbucks et cetera. You mention a big brand and you will probably find a store to match it. It’s a dedicated shoppers paradise. For homesick expat South Africans, there is a Mugg & Bean at Abu Dhabi Mall and a Woolworths (regrettably no Woolies Foods) and a Truworths at Marina Mall.
There are plenty of other malls, mostly of the mini-mall variety – it all depends what you are looking for. Some malls focus exclusively on a particular area. There is one dedicated to traditional souvenirs, antiques, and carpets. Another is primarily clothing and shoes.
Almost every apartment blocks first two floors are taken up by some kind of shops. Whether it be the Rolls Royce dealership, a Marks & Spencer or your local corner grocery and hair “saloon” (more on these in a later column) there are shops everywhere selling almost anything you could possibly want. Except maybe for alcohol!
And I haven’t even BEEN to Dubai yet – which, from all accounts, is an even greater shoppers paradise! So if shopping is your passion, the UAE is definitely the place to be.
Whether you fancy haute couture or bargain buys, Abu Dhabi offers the shopping experience you are looking for. Apart from the many malls that are found all over the island, there are small mini-retailers on the ground floor of most apartment blocks. There are also the traditional markets or souqs (or souks).
The souqs are the places to go if you like bargain hunting, and of course, if you like to haggle. In Abu Dhabi there are a few options: the Central Market, the Fish Market, the Fruit & Vegetable Market, the Livestock Market, the Carpet Souq and the Iranian Souq. There is also a Camel Souq but that’s out of town, somewhere near the camel-racing track.
The Central Market sells just about everything you could possibly imagine – from small household appliances to souvenirs. You can even buy a fake Rolex if you wanted. It was here that I made my first attempt at haggling. I bought a couple of very touristy type items to send back to the family at home – a fluffy camel that sings in Arabic and some Abu Dhabi t-shirts. The t-shirt vendor was the most fun to haggle with. It worked something like this:
I examined the t-shirts I was after, put them back and started to walk away. The enthusiastic vendor stopped me with an exuberant “Good day madam” and offered me another t-shirt to look at. I put on my most skeptical face and asked how much? The vendor pulled out a giant calculator and hastily tapped in some numbers then presented it with a flourish saying “For you madam, I give you the t-shirt at a very special price – only 45 dirhams”. I responded with a polite “No thank-you, that’s too much” and walked away slowly. The vendor called me back and pulled out the giant calculator again. More finger tapping and another offer - “Only for you madam, I make a price. For today only. 30 dirhams.” Now it was time to get down to real business. “How much if I want to buy 3 t-shirts then?” I asked. Out came the giant calculator again and after much to-ing and fro-ing, with some extravagant finger tapping and dramatic calculator flourishing we settled on 30 dirhams for all three t-shirts. And both the vendor and I walked away happy.
The general rule of thumb for tourists is to settle for half of what the vendor originally offered.
Unfortunately there was a rather large fire in the market recently, and many of the shops were destroyed. However, the mini-retailers are still at it, even though there are some sections of the market that are decidedly unsafe. Plans are in place to rebuild the market, this time fully covered, with air conditioning and designed more to look like a traditional Arabic marketplace.
While most of the other souqs are fairly self-explanatory, you may be wondering what an Iranian souq is. And no, unlike the Fish Market selling fish, the Iranian market does not sell Iranians. It sells everything else. A lot of plasticware – like garden tables, chairs, dustbins, much like what is sold alongside the roads in Johannesburg. There is also the usual assortment of small household appliances and electronic toys. Mostly manufactured in China. But the Iranian souq is actually more well known for its terracotta pots – lovely big ones!
If you don’t fancy sweating it out in the sun at the souqs, and are after a little more style and class, along with air conditioned comfort, then you can choose from the many malls around the island.
By far the biggest mall in terms of floor space and retail outlets is the Madinat Zayed Shopping Centre and its neighbour, the Madinat Zayed Gold Centre. The Gold Centre itself is dedicated almost entirely to jewelry stores. The only exception is a food court, a homewares store and the Daiso (a Japanese value chain). The entire first floor is dedicated to gold. Unfortunately you are not allowed to take photos inside, but it really is quite phenomenal.
The next two biggest are Abu Dhabi Mall and Marina Mall. These are the malls to visit if you are in to well-known brand names like Guess, GAP, Alfred Dunhill, Tiffanys, Bvlgari, Ikea, Radioshack, Starbucks et cetera. You mention a big brand and you will probably find a store to match it. It’s a dedicated shoppers paradise. For homesick expat South Africans, there is a Mugg & Bean at Abu Dhabi Mall and a Woolworths (regrettably no Woolies Foods) and a Truworths at Marina Mall.
There are plenty of other malls, mostly of the mini-mall variety – it all depends what you are looking for. Some malls focus exclusively on a particular area. There is one dedicated to traditional souvenirs, antiques, and carpets. Another is primarily clothing and shoes.
Almost every apartment blocks first two floors are taken up by some kind of shops. Whether it be the Rolls Royce dealership, a Marks & Spencer or your local corner grocery and hair “saloon” (more on these in a later column) there are shops everywhere selling almost anything you could possibly want. Except maybe for alcohol!
And I haven’t even BEEN to Dubai yet – which, from all accounts, is an even greater shoppers paradise! So if shopping is your passion, the UAE is definitely the place to be.
Desert Notes: Now where is that exactly?
When my husband was first offered the opportunity to work in Abu Dhabi, all I knew for sure was that it was the place to which Garfield used to mail Nermal and that it was somewhere near Dubai.
Of course, being an internet addict I started trawling web pages to find out more. Abu Dhabi, it turned out, was both the capital city and the name of the largest emirate within the United Arab Emirates (UAE). The UAE itself is made up of 7 such emirates, which also include Dubai, Sharjah, Ajman, Umm Al Qaiwain, Ras Al Khaimah and Fujairah.
The largest portion of the UAE coast is on the Arabian Gulf (known mistakenly by many as the Persian Gulf), while a short stretch of coastline edges into the Gulf of Oman. Its nearest neighbours are Qatar, Saudi Arabia and Oman. On the opposite side of the Gulf is Iran.
Map of Middle East
So I now knew where Abu Dhabi was. And I knew that it was the economic hub of the UAE and that it originally supported a community of fisherman and pearl divers. Plus I knew from family friends who had worked that that it had two malls. And that it was hot and humid. For some reason all rational sense flew out of my head and I imagined Abu Dhabi as a sort of "Nelspruit-by-the-sea" in terms of its weather, its population and city life.
What had failed to register in my house-moving addled brain was the words “economic hub”. And the fact that Abu Dhabi city was in fact an island. A rather large one. In fact, the emirate itself (including the island city) occupies nearly 85% of the total land mass of the UAE.
So needless to say, when we eventually arrived in Abu Dhabi I was amazed. Not only was the city much, much larger and far more crowded than I had imagined, but the fact that it was surrounded by water made me completely lose my sense of direction (my husband would tell you I didn’t have very much of one in the first place).
http://www.whoop.com/AbuDhabi1.jpg (Abu Dhabi skyline)
The total population of the UAE is around 2.8 million, with around 930 000 of them based in Abu Dhabi emirate and around 500 000 of that figure in the city itself. Only 19% of people living in the UAE are actually citizens (known locally as UAE nationals). The remainder are expatriate workers from around the world: Gulf/Arab states (23%), South Asian (50%), other expatriate (Western and East Asian) 8%.
The two malls I had been told about referred only to the two newest malls – Marina Mall and Abu Dhabi Mall. But these are not the only ones, and nor are they even the biggest. We have been here over 6 months and I STILL haven’t been in all of them! It’s a shopaholic’s paradise….
Despite having that typical “it-could-be-anywhere” big city skyline, it is unmistakably different too. The architecture has retained much of the traditional middle-eastern/Islamic style, and slick steel and glass constructions are delicately decorated with arches and minarets.
It is very cosmopolitan, and on any given day you can hear Arabic, Persian, Urdu, Malayam, Tagalog, French, Russian and English being spoken all around you. You are just as likely to see a long-legged blonde in a micro-mini as you are to see a woman covered from head to foot in her black gown (known here as an abaya) with just her eyes peeking out from behind her sheyla (veil).
The smells are different too. You get the sea smell, along with a “swampier” note from the vegetation covered sandbanks in the khors (creeks) that surround the island. In the malls you are welcomed by the scents of sandalwood and oud (frankincense) sold at the local perfumeries. And don’t forget the sweetly spicy apple flavoured tobacco scents from the sheesha pipes that waft past on lazy weekend afternoons.
The sounds are typically big city with added car horns for emphasis and punctuated at regular intervals by the five-times-daily calls to prayer that echo out across the city from the mosques that literally are found on every street corner.
It’s an interesting place to be, and I look forward to sharing my experiences with you over the next few weeks!
Of course, being an internet addict I started trawling web pages to find out more. Abu Dhabi, it turned out, was both the capital city and the name of the largest emirate within the United Arab Emirates (UAE). The UAE itself is made up of 7 such emirates, which also include Dubai, Sharjah, Ajman, Umm Al Qaiwain, Ras Al Khaimah and Fujairah.
The largest portion of the UAE coast is on the Arabian Gulf (known mistakenly by many as the Persian Gulf), while a short stretch of coastline edges into the Gulf of Oman. Its nearest neighbours are Qatar, Saudi Arabia and Oman. On the opposite side of the Gulf is Iran.
Map of Middle East
So I now knew where Abu Dhabi was. And I knew that it was the economic hub of the UAE and that it originally supported a community of fisherman and pearl divers. Plus I knew from family friends who had worked that that it had two malls. And that it was hot and humid. For some reason all rational sense flew out of my head and I imagined Abu Dhabi as a sort of "Nelspruit-by-the-sea" in terms of its weather, its population and city life.
What had failed to register in my house-moving addled brain was the words “economic hub”. And the fact that Abu Dhabi city was in fact an island. A rather large one. In fact, the emirate itself (including the island city) occupies nearly 85% of the total land mass of the UAE.
So needless to say, when we eventually arrived in Abu Dhabi I was amazed. Not only was the city much, much larger and far more crowded than I had imagined, but the fact that it was surrounded by water made me completely lose my sense of direction (my husband would tell you I didn’t have very much of one in the first place).
http://www.whoop.com/AbuDhabi1.jpg (Abu Dhabi skyline)
The total population of the UAE is around 2.8 million, with around 930 000 of them based in Abu Dhabi emirate and around 500 000 of that figure in the city itself. Only 19% of people living in the UAE are actually citizens (known locally as UAE nationals). The remainder are expatriate workers from around the world: Gulf/Arab states (23%), South Asian (50%), other expatriate (Western and East Asian) 8%.
The two malls I had been told about referred only to the two newest malls – Marina Mall and Abu Dhabi Mall. But these are not the only ones, and nor are they even the biggest. We have been here over 6 months and I STILL haven’t been in all of them! It’s a shopaholic’s paradise….
Despite having that typical “it-could-be-anywhere” big city skyline, it is unmistakably different too. The architecture has retained much of the traditional middle-eastern/Islamic style, and slick steel and glass constructions are delicately decorated with arches and minarets.
It is very cosmopolitan, and on any given day you can hear Arabic, Persian, Urdu, Malayam, Tagalog, French, Russian and English being spoken all around you. You are just as likely to see a long-legged blonde in a micro-mini as you are to see a woman covered from head to foot in her black gown (known here as an abaya) with just her eyes peeking out from behind her sheyla (veil).
The smells are different too. You get the sea smell, along with a “swampier” note from the vegetation covered sandbanks in the khors (creeks) that surround the island. In the malls you are welcomed by the scents of sandalwood and oud (frankincense) sold at the local perfumeries. And don’t forget the sweetly spicy apple flavoured tobacco scents from the sheesha pipes that waft past on lazy weekend afternoons.
The sounds are typically big city with added car horns for emphasis and punctuated at regular intervals by the five-times-daily calls to prayer that echo out across the city from the mosques that literally are found on every street corner.
It’s an interesting place to be, and I look forward to sharing my experiences with you over the next few weeks!
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