Week 2: Commonalities

It seems the smell of manure is universal. I’ve been in Dubai exactly 2 weeks now. As I walk to work everyday, I’ve marveled at how clean the city generally is. However, there is this one spot, this one corner, this one freshly potted area that, well, it smells like manure. And not just any manure, but cow manure. It must be the fertilizer that they’ve used on the potting soil in a newly constructed and planted area between the sidewalk and street.

The funny part is this smell of manure got me thinking that this place is not so different than other places I know. I certainly smelled my fair share of a multitude of manure varieties growing up – our farmhouse north of Afton had cow pastures on both sides and we had our own manure spreader to dispose of what we collected from horse stalls. There are other things too, like the hazy dust that seems to blanket Dubai each morning. I’m not sure if it’s just ocean haze or sand that ruffles up from the beach and construction sites, but to me it’s no different than the white cloud of gravel dust that descended on our house each time a car whizzed by.

Inklings of Chicago pop up here too – like when I’m crossing the street. There is an intersection between me and my office that requires me to cross 4 separate sections of street before I’m all the way across. Each time my toe crosses that invisible plane where the sidewalk ends and the street begins I wonder, will that car slow, give me a friendly wave and let me cross? Or will it hit the gas and honk as I narrowly escape death by tire tread? I can never be sure….and it feels just like home! There are also 3 Starbucks within walking distance of my apartment, which is also just like home.

This weekend we made a short trip to Muscat, Oman where we enjoyed a fabulous beach resort and quaint city.

The beach resort was truly great – nice pools, manicured beach, good restaurants, even a lazy river that you could float down from one area of the hotel to the next.

In town, we went to a traditional Omani restaurant where we had a private room, which is the norm when your party includes both women and men. We sat on cushions on the floor and ate off a mat.

The food – meat, fish, curry, bread and rice – was delicious and filling.

We also went to the local “souk” or market where men stood outside their stores and stalls becoming us to buy scarves, shawls, woodworks and silver jewelry.

Both the restaurant staff and the market men looked us up and down as we came and went, surely glad to see that we foreign ladies had at least covered our shoulders (Omani women usually cover their shoulders and hair; some cover their faces too). Where are the commonalities here, you ask? Well, I can think of a million times that an “out-of-towner” walked into a small town and found themselves as the identifiable outsider, welcomed mostly by stares. But both in the Omani streets and Iowa small towns, stares and wondering eyes are always followed by quick friendliness and polite help whenever needed. When I boarded the plane home from Muscat I was the one and only blonde passenger and I could finally relate to my college friend, Paresh, and how he was almost always the only non-white in my circle of friends. I guess a chance to be on the flip side of the coin is the best lesson in empathy one can ask for.

There’s one thing that’s definitely not a commonality: the toilets. When I lived in Spain, I always thought the widespread existence of bidets was just weird. Then I noticed they were pretty common in other parts of Europe, too. In Dubai, there are not so many bidets, but pretty much every bathroom has a little hose connected to the toilet, I presume for “personal cleaning.” So, now I’m wondering – are we Americans the only ones not washing our backsides in the bathroom? Hmm, I’m not sure I want to know the answer, but I suppose time and more global toilet inspections will tell.

Week 1: Contradictions

Yesterday I got dressed up in a skirt and heels for a 7 course meal with “afternoon tea” at one of the most expensive and swanky hotels in the world. Today I peed outside in a sand dune behind a shack in the desert. After my first (and pretty fabulous) week in Dubai, these types of juxtapositions, contradictions, ironies and irrationalities seem to be the norm. The city itself is somewhat of an anomaly – it’s a fast growing metropolis surrounded by a sea of sand. It appears western in so many ways – the architecture, the growing infrastructure, the commerce, the brands and chains, the lifestyle – yet it is indeed in a Muslim city in a Middle Eastern country. So, what’s up with that?

From what I can tell, much of the Dubai way of life comes from its very diverse population. Only a small portion of the people living here are local “Emiratis” (native to the United Arab Emirates or “UAE”) and in daily interactions, you don’t come across many Emiratis. Most construction and service workers appear to be East Asian – Indian, Pakistani, Indonesian, Malaysian, Nepali, Phillipino, etc. Business folks are often western – many Europeans and some Americans and Canadians. There are also many Lebanese and some Saudis, plus some South Africans, Australians and Russians. Emiratis, however, tend to hold senior positions and are the driving force behind the gargantuan push to develop this city right into the forefront of the world.

Speaking of development – the amount of construction going on here is seriously incredible. Everywhere you look there is a new skyscraper or hotel and another being built right next to it. While I was pausing at one stoplight, I counted 15 cranes in site. I’m not convinced that the rate of construction is healthy – who will fill the doubled amount of residential, office and hotel space in the next year or two? But, I’m not in charge here, a powerful, royal blooded Emirati Sheik is.

Along with the new and shiny residences in Dubai comes a surprisingly high cost of living. Restaurants, cabs, clubs, groceries, etc. don’t come with the “developing country discount” Americans often expect, but then again, Dubai is different. This high cost of living draws hard lines among the different social classes. The immigrant workers I mentioned above rarely afford to live in Dubai itself; instead, they commute ~2 hours each way from the neighboring Emirate, Sharjah.

Fortunately for me, my commute to the office is a 10 minute taxi to our formal office at the Dubai International Finance Center or a 10 minute walk to our alternate office overlooking the beach. Other than the freakishly hot weather, it hasn’t been that big of a change. I wear western clothes including shorts and a bikini on the weekend.

I lived in a serviced apartment (that means I have my own kitchen and laundry, but they still come in and make my bed for me everyday).

I haven’t run into a single person who couldn’t converse with me in English and the food selections I’ve found near my apartment and the office is similar to any sizable city in the US. If anything, I’ve already gotten to do a couple of cool things that I couldn’t do back home, like swim in HOT ocean water (think warm bath) and drive dune buggies across the desert.

Next week, I think I’ll try the indoor ski resort for a break from the sun. I mean, that’s what you’d expect in the desert, right?