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.