Here's a link to a great website for the women's organization called Peace by Peace. Located in DC, the women at Peace by Peace do everything they can to reach across borders and boundaries to create support networks and peaceful lives for women around the world.
Please do check it out!
Click on the link on the right, or copy and paste the link below.
www.peacexpeace.org
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Speaking Omani Driver
George and I turned onto the main highway (which is one way each way) after a morning of rock climbing. We are quite accustomed to the interesting driving practices which are commonplace in Oman. Passing when there is less than a foot left between you and the oncoming car. This is not an exaggeration. In fact, sometimes the traffic has to go three cars wide. Tailgating within inches while flashing your brights. That happens when they think you should move. Needless to say, the driving can be quite intimidating. Today, however, held some new lessons for me.
As we were driving, two cars in a row flashed their brights. Given the odd, yet consistent, behavior described above, I wasn't too surprised. But for what this time? We couldn't possibly have been annoying them, we weren't even in front of them! Then it happened again. We thought, and dismissed it as just more daily bizarreness. And then bam! In front of us, the same color as the sand, is a camel standing right in the middle of our lane. George slammed on the brakes, and avoided nearly hitting an animal three times the size of a North American deer. Of course, we realized, that's what the lights were about. As we continued on, more lights flashed, and we learned the language. George flashed his at the next driver coming our way, and the man flashed back and jovially waved as he passed. Again it happened, and again, as we negotiated passed another clueless herd on the road, each time the driver lifting his hand in appreciation of our warning. George smiled and exclaimed, proud of his new communication abilities, "I speak Omani driver!"
And it's true, there is a language of the road here in Oman. More often than not it sends a message of superiority and is motivated by pride and self-righteousness. It was encouraging to learn today that this language is sometimes used for good, and speaking it can lead to helping others, and not just getting ahead.
As we were driving, two cars in a row flashed their brights. Given the odd, yet consistent, behavior described above, I wasn't too surprised. But for what this time? We couldn't possibly have been annoying them, we weren't even in front of them! Then it happened again. We thought, and dismissed it as just more daily bizarreness. And then bam! In front of us, the same color as the sand, is a camel standing right in the middle of our lane. George slammed on the brakes, and avoided nearly hitting an animal three times the size of a North American deer. Of course, we realized, that's what the lights were about. As we continued on, more lights flashed, and we learned the language. George flashed his at the next driver coming our way, and the man flashed back and jovially waved as he passed. Again it happened, and again, as we negotiated passed another clueless herd on the road, each time the driver lifting his hand in appreciation of our warning. George smiled and exclaimed, proud of his new communication abilities, "I speak Omani driver!"
And it's true, there is a language of the road here in Oman. More often than not it sends a message of superiority and is motivated by pride and self-righteousness. It was encouraging to learn today that this language is sometimes used for good, and speaking it can lead to helping others, and not just getting ahead.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Running Pains
Running here for a woman is quite difficult. I live in a conservative little neighborhood on the outskirts of town. Everyone (well, almost everyone) is very friendly, but that does not go to say, however, that they understand my bizarre western tendencies. The ladies in the village do go for strolls together in the evening, and one even wears a pair of sneakers while she walks briskly. She's clearly exercising, and that's odd enough. My strange outfit of loose pants and a tight long-sleeved wicking top is weirdly masculine. Why would I wear pants??
I don't run by myself much, and if I do it's through the sandy paths behind our building, but it is hard to run on because of all the rocks and pits. The road is better, but the stares from the women are really overwhelming. I feel like a freak. I am here. Sometimes I feel a self-righteous joy building in me as I run that I am broadening their horizons. That the next time they see a woman running, they won't be quite so disapproving. That said, it's still very uncomfortable, and I don't like feeling culturally pompous.
When I do run it's usually with my husband. Although the companionship makes it easier to handle to women glaring and the children racing at your heels, it adds another difficulty of its own. Why am I doing this manly activity?...with a man?...dressed like him?...It's almost as if our running partnership is some sort of high-speed athletic sex. Their astonishment is a brick wall that I haven't succeeded in breaking through yet. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I do hope that some day my constant and freakish presence will open their eyes a little to the ways of life outside their village. I work every day to accept and enjoy our differences and their quirks. Shouldn't they too?
Bearing the onus of culture adaptation is perhaps the most challenging psychological aspect of living in a very forgein place. It's all on you, or so it seems.
I don't run by myself much, and if I do it's through the sandy paths behind our building, but it is hard to run on because of all the rocks and pits. The road is better, but the stares from the women are really overwhelming. I feel like a freak. I am here. Sometimes I feel a self-righteous joy building in me as I run that I am broadening their horizons. That the next time they see a woman running, they won't be quite so disapproving. That said, it's still very uncomfortable, and I don't like feeling culturally pompous.
When I do run it's usually with my husband. Although the companionship makes it easier to handle to women glaring and the children racing at your heels, it adds another difficulty of its own. Why am I doing this manly activity?...with a man?...dressed like him?...It's almost as if our running partnership is some sort of high-speed athletic sex. Their astonishment is a brick wall that I haven't succeeded in breaking through yet. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I do hope that some day my constant and freakish presence will open their eyes a little to the ways of life outside their village. I work every day to accept and enjoy our differences and their quirks. Shouldn't they too?
Bearing the onus of culture adaptation is perhaps the most challenging psychological aspect of living in a very forgein place. It's all on you, or so it seems.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Giggles and Faux-Fur
Strong men waving swords on Arabia steads. Dignified and quiet fathers. Violent and irrational avengers. All of these are stereotypes of Arab men. Not well-know, however, is the oddly kitschy and sentimental stereotype that thrives in closer circles here in the Middle East. Although no stereotypes can be applied to everyone, in this case, there is at least a smidgen more than a grain of truth, at least in the Gulf.
At first it is startling, the electronic baby's giggle coming from the pocket of the man standing next to you. Then he picks up his cell phone and starts a normal conversation. The longer you stay in the Gulf (in my experience), the more common-place this becomes. If not a baby giggling, it's a squeaky version of the 'Happy Birthday' song or 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'.
Although I have never been, I am told that in Cairo, taxi drivers cruising in 1980s Fiats have wired their cars' to play a beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep rendition of "It's a Small World After All" whenever the brakes are pressed. It starts over too every time they are pressed again. Of course the car's atmosphere is completed with teddy bears and "I love you" stuffed pillows lining the back window. In Oman as well, men's cars are often decorated with bright yellow faux-fur seat and dashboard coverings. Don't forget the pink heart decal hanging from the rear-view mirror too.
Odd indeed, but where does this trend come from? Why is this bizarrely effeminate and overly sentimental behavior so common in normal (I think), straight (again, I think) men? I don't have an answer to that question yet, and I'm not sure I want to delve too much deeper...
At first it is startling, the electronic baby's giggle coming from the pocket of the man standing next to you. Then he picks up his cell phone and starts a normal conversation. The longer you stay in the Gulf (in my experience), the more common-place this becomes. If not a baby giggling, it's a squeaky version of the 'Happy Birthday' song or 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'.
Although I have never been, I am told that in Cairo, taxi drivers cruising in 1980s Fiats have wired their cars' to play a beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep rendition of "It's a Small World After All" whenever the brakes are pressed. It starts over too every time they are pressed again. Of course the car's atmosphere is completed with teddy bears and "I love you" stuffed pillows lining the back window. In Oman as well, men's cars are often decorated with bright yellow faux-fur seat and dashboard coverings. Don't forget the pink heart decal hanging from the rear-view mirror too.
Odd indeed, but where does this trend come from? Why is this bizarrely effeminate and overly sentimental behavior so common in normal (I think), straight (again, I think) men? I don't have an answer to that question yet, and I'm not sure I want to delve too much deeper...
Sunday, January 25, 2009
The Emerald City: Part 3
Dolled up and wearing my very Gulf-hip skinny jeans, some fancy heels and long-sleeved party top, I was pumped and ready to hit the famed Dubai night life with my gorgeous husband. Or was I?
Before leaving the hotel, we spent quite a while pouring over review after review in the handy TimeOut Dubai magazine. Would we even be able to get into all these sexily exclusive clubs on the top floor of beachfront hotels? All of a sudden I felt like I didn’t belong. I can rock South Bend, Indiana with my eyes shut and fit into Chicago’s classy nightlife no problem, but could I hack Dubai’s competitive and elitist party scene? Perhaps I just felt intimidated—maybe I could pass unnoticed. But for even a seasoned big-city clubber, Dubai can be a bit of a shock. The drink prices listed were astronomical and nearly every review said that if you weren’t a Brangelina lookalike and sporting the right labels—forget about getting in. Maybe the movie-star standards are flexible and a drink or two would suffice, but since when did having a night out become a designer-label, richest-date competition?
Don’t get me wrong, I love to get decked out and drop a bit of change now and then going out. Feeling like a million dollars and looking amazing has its place, but if you can’t find a friendly, fun bar to wile away an evening with your favorite people and get a buzz without going bankrupt—and without it being a favorite prostitute hangout—then there is something lacking in a city’s nightlife.
This being said, as we were scouring the TimeOut Dubai for a classy joint that didn’t require us to have the paycheck of consultants or actuaries, we happened across a review for a one-of-a-kind spot in the city. Without seeing this article, we might have had to live in the city for months, maybe years, before finding this gem of a place. Tucked away in the Crown Plaza, with a lot less show and publicity than the supposedly hotter joints, we found the Belgian Beer Café. It was a haven of excellent beer, excellent service, and most importantly, excellent company. The clientele were clearly regulars and the sound of engaged conversation roared over the chill background music. For more on this place, see my new blog, Expat Eating.
www.expateating.blogspot.com
Despite my new favorite bar, and perhaps a few others, Dubai’s nightlife is a place to show-off, spend a lot, and hopefully “get seen”. This begs the question: how trivial or insecure is most of Dubai’s expat population? How did being seen rise above having a good time? This question could be analyzed by sociologists and therapists alike, but to me the answer is evident. People adapt to their environment, or they leave. Dubai was brought up on money, thrives on money, and will likely die when it runs out. A place where glitz and consumerism dominate over culture and intellectual deepening only knows how to offer what it has been given. Dubai’s extravagance demands to be noticed, as do its peoples’.
Before leaving the hotel, we spent quite a while pouring over review after review in the handy TimeOut Dubai magazine. Would we even be able to get into all these sexily exclusive clubs on the top floor of beachfront hotels? All of a sudden I felt like I didn’t belong. I can rock South Bend, Indiana with my eyes shut and fit into Chicago’s classy nightlife no problem, but could I hack Dubai’s competitive and elitist party scene? Perhaps I just felt intimidated—maybe I could pass unnoticed. But for even a seasoned big-city clubber, Dubai can be a bit of a shock. The drink prices listed were astronomical and nearly every review said that if you weren’t a Brangelina lookalike and sporting the right labels—forget about getting in. Maybe the movie-star standards are flexible and a drink or two would suffice, but since when did having a night out become a designer-label, richest-date competition?
Don’t get me wrong, I love to get decked out and drop a bit of change now and then going out. Feeling like a million dollars and looking amazing has its place, but if you can’t find a friendly, fun bar to wile away an evening with your favorite people and get a buzz without going bankrupt—and without it being a favorite prostitute hangout—then there is something lacking in a city’s nightlife.
This being said, as we were scouring the TimeOut Dubai for a classy joint that didn’t require us to have the paycheck of consultants or actuaries, we happened across a review for a one-of-a-kind spot in the city. Without seeing this article, we might have had to live in the city for months, maybe years, before finding this gem of a place. Tucked away in the Crown Plaza, with a lot less show and publicity than the supposedly hotter joints, we found the Belgian Beer Café. It was a haven of excellent beer, excellent service, and most importantly, excellent company. The clientele were clearly regulars and the sound of engaged conversation roared over the chill background music. For more on this place, see my new blog, Expat Eating.
www.expateating.blogspot.com
Despite my new favorite bar, and perhaps a few others, Dubai’s nightlife is a place to show-off, spend a lot, and hopefully “get seen”. This begs the question: how trivial or insecure is most of Dubai’s expat population? How did being seen rise above having a good time? This question could be analyzed by sociologists and therapists alike, but to me the answer is evident. People adapt to their environment, or they leave. Dubai was brought up on money, thrives on money, and will likely die when it runs out. A place where glitz and consumerism dominate over culture and intellectual deepening only knows how to offer what it has been given. Dubai’s extravagance demands to be noticed, as do its peoples’.
The Emerald City: Part 2
My feet hurt. I was wearing my new high-quality hiking shoes in preparation for a day of racing around a new city, but this was just wear and tear from the mall. The massive Mall of the Emirates, perhaps one of the largest malls in the world, had taken its toll, financially as well as physically. Best know for its indoor ski-slope, you can get lost wandering for hours on end. I laughed to myself as I thought of my grandmother who sometimes goes to her local mall during the winter months to get her exercise. She could sure get in shape here.
Everyone who enjoys shopping and isn’t too concerned with shedding a bit of the silver lining would love this place. It’s all-consuming and luxurious, not to mention a great place to people watch. Like an international airport, you have fully masked Saudis on one side, Lebanese hotties in tight jeans on the other; an Indian-Pilipino couple on your right, a young German mother with twins on your left. It attracts everyone. But can a mall be too big? Will consumerism be the foundation of this city and also its demise?
The Mall of the Emirates is only one of many unmercilessly expansive and lavish shopping centers in Dubai, and all of them are busy and successful. Today, the industry is booming. People flock there, spend money they don’t have, then come back to do it again. It seduces you with its extravagance, which is indeed impressive to see. But how long can one city maintain this level of consumerist frenzy? Will people keep coming, or will Dubai’s overpowering and otherworldly development become too much to handle? In light of the economic recession spreading across the developed world, Dubai’s carefree and rapid-fire luxury expansion might out-do itself. Granted, the majority of the expats living in the United Arab Emirates (which is only about 20% Emirati), have money to burn, but these days even the rich are being touched by falling stock rates and job loss. Dubai isn’t a city that knows how to tighten the belt. When the oil runs low, and the budgets get smaller, what will happen to the Emerald City? Dubai does what it does well, but it can only do so if the spenders keep spending. It will be interesting to see in the coming years what happens to this city. Will it remain a safe haven of luxury and decadence despite the hurting economy, or will we witness the crowning jewel of the Gulf turn into a 162 story high ghost town?
While it’s still booming, the city is certainly worth a trip. It may only have a few years to go, so put on your walking shoes and indulge in some of the consumerist extravagance that only Dubai can offer. You might drop a few pounds along with your money.
Everyone who enjoys shopping and isn’t too concerned with shedding a bit of the silver lining would love this place. It’s all-consuming and luxurious, not to mention a great place to people watch. Like an international airport, you have fully masked Saudis on one side, Lebanese hotties in tight jeans on the other; an Indian-Pilipino couple on your right, a young German mother with twins on your left. It attracts everyone. But can a mall be too big? Will consumerism be the foundation of this city and also its demise?
The Mall of the Emirates is only one of many unmercilessly expansive and lavish shopping centers in Dubai, and all of them are busy and successful. Today, the industry is booming. People flock there, spend money they don’t have, then come back to do it again. It seduces you with its extravagance, which is indeed impressive to see. But how long can one city maintain this level of consumerist frenzy? Will people keep coming, or will Dubai’s overpowering and otherworldly development become too much to handle? In light of the economic recession spreading across the developed world, Dubai’s carefree and rapid-fire luxury expansion might out-do itself. Granted, the majority of the expats living in the United Arab Emirates (which is only about 20% Emirati), have money to burn, but these days even the rich are being touched by falling stock rates and job loss. Dubai isn’t a city that knows how to tighten the belt. When the oil runs low, and the budgets get smaller, what will happen to the Emerald City? Dubai does what it does well, but it can only do so if the spenders keep spending. It will be interesting to see in the coming years what happens to this city. Will it remain a safe haven of luxury and decadence despite the hurting economy, or will we witness the crowning jewel of the Gulf turn into a 162 story high ghost town?
While it’s still booming, the city is certainly worth a trip. It may only have a few years to go, so put on your walking shoes and indulge in some of the consumerist extravagance that only Dubai can offer. You might drop a few pounds along with your money.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
a note from the office
Before posting my part 2 Dubai entry, I feel compelled to write a bit about what's going on at my workplace right how. I am sitting in my office at the college. For the second day in a row, there are no students. Yesterday was the first day of the second semester, but everyone's still at home. Despite similar happenings last semester, it still shocks my western sensibilities to experience such a laissez-faire attitude to education. This is supposedly one of the top colleges in Oman, and no doubt, there are some stellar students here. But how can a country hope to really bolster its international reputation and encourage the success of its young generation if there are no consequences for delinquent behavior? The students decide when school is in session and when it’s not. The students decide the dates of their final exams, and often their final grade itself. The power is in the hands of those being educated. This seems like an progressive, avant-garde approach to education, but it only works if the students are motivated en masse to succeed and move forward. The fact that the majority of the women here will graduate and promptly get married and start families, and the majority of the men will follow in their father's footsteps, means that their years at college are something of a blip on their life tracks. I do not mean to generalize. Many students here use this opportunity to their best advantage and go far. Many study late into the night, and accept a bad grade as a result of their failings, not as a typo to be changed with a bribe. This being said, there are a lot of things that definitely need to change around here before top-tier education is offered at local Omani colleges.
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