Dragon Boat Race

This past weekend we finally participated in the Dragon Boat Race. Hopefully in the next week before taking off for Eid break I'll be able to post a lot of pictures - in between the race and the post-race barbecue/Halloween party I took over a hundred pictures. Now, first off, it was a lot of fun. It some ways it was a typically odd Emirati event in that we spent the time shuttling between posh hotels (which made it different than most Emirati events wherein you're shuttling in between posh hotels and posh malls), which always makes everything feel pretty artificial. This is especially so when I read about my good friend Trish's amazing adventures this weekend in Wadi Rum in Jordan (and let me throw in my usual pitch for folks to read Trish's blog, which can be accessed from my blog list at the lower right).

Now, that said, the folks who made up the Zayed teams were great and we had a blast, even if it did drag on for hours. We had to report at 9:30 on Friday morning, and our first race wasn't until 12:00 and the semi-final was at 4:00. My suspicion is that everything was set up this way so that you were trapped there all day and forced to buy food and drink (and towels for 75 dirhams and robes for 100 dirhams) from the venders. Luckily we found a great shady spot under some palm trees and it made for a pleasant day, interrupted by swimming, napping, eating and sneaking inside the hotel to grab cool drinks at Starbucks. Everything went off without any problems, although there was some initial concern that our start time was too close to afternoon prayers, especially a big deal on Friday, but we made it work. Now, our team, after a couple great practices, rowed horribly in the first heat, leading to the appearance of the famous/infamous/epic Scudder teamper. I don't mind losing (much), but I hate being incompetent and we just were. We were much better in the second heat, but still finished well back of the pack. That evening there a fun barbecue behind Traders Hotel, which is maybe a hundred hards down the road from the Shangri-La Hotel where the race was run. Fantastic food, and some interesting costumes. Around half the costumes were devils, and I'm not certain of what to make of that.

Here are a few quick pictures to get things started. At the top I have one of those odd pictures which seems to capture the ridiculous and the sublime, which is an essential part of life in the UAE. In the foreground is one of the corporate teams heading towards the starting line while in the background is the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque. Then I've posted a picture of myself, which is something that I normally never do, but since it is apparently snowing back in Vermont I figured I had to post it if for no other reason that to tweak (or as my British friends here say, wind up) my friends back home in VT. Then there is a picture of my good friend Laura posing with the dragon, at a happier moment before they had a big falling out later that ended in accusations and threats/counter-threats (which she normallyu reserves for her running argument with the female voice of her GPS machine). Finally there is a fun picture of Liane and Tanja engaged in a very animated discussion. Definitely a great time, although it's left me moving pretty slow today.

Abu Dhabi Film Festival

I guess I should start off by explaining the picture. This is a picture taken on the way in to Abu Dhabi from Yas Island. There are a couple ways to get out there, and this is the newer road. Right now it is sparsely developed, although that certainly won't last. So why the picture? Partly, it relates to the number of times that I travelled back and forth to view films at the Abu Dhabi Film Festival. Plus, I just think it is an evocative shot, and sort of reminds me of the opening scene of Fargo. It also speaks to my general homesickness of late - it reminds me of winter in Vermont, with the ribbons of sand replacing the ribbons of snow on a wind-swept day. Now, the Film Festival itself. I loved it! For some reason I never went to the Green Mountain Film Festival back home, although if I make it back to VT I'll definitely be attending the next one. The film festival was more than a bit chaotic, and featured the usual unnecessary chaos which marks most aspects of life in the Emirates, but overall it was a great experience. I saw six films, and would have seen more if I had been able to make my schedule work: Monsieur Lazhar (Canada); Almost in Love (U.S. Independent); The End (Morocco); She Monkeys (Sweden); Troll Hunter (Norway); and Smiles of a Summer Night (Sweden). I really liked all of them, and they ranged from good to great. It was great to see Ingmar Bergman's Smiles of a Summer Night on the big screen. Fanny and Alexander closed out the Festival, but I was off participating in the second dragon boat practice so I couldn't see it. One think of Bergman films as being so deeply brooding, but Smiles of a Summer Night really displayed his humor - I laughed out loud several times. Of the newer films I think that She Monkeys was the best, although I liked it less after hearing the director talk at the end. That said, I think I liked all of them less after listening to the directors (maybe I don't really want to see what is behind the curtain). The female director of She Monkeys was clearly shocked that the film was chosen for a Middle Eastern film festival and it was her first trip to the region, and I think she might have been uncomfortable with what she could say or couldn't say, which is also understandable. However, to be fair, and to the credit of the film festival, the films were shown uncut. The most pleasant surprise was Troll Hunter. Think of a more clever, self-assured and funny Blair Witch Project and you'll have a sense of the movie. The director had the confidence to be scary, but also occasionally wink at the audience and say, essentially, "yeah, this is a movie about trolls so we can't take ourselves too seriously all the time." For example, there's a great scene where the troll hunter, followed around by a group of documentary film-making students, tries to capture a troll by placing first one, then two, and finally three goats on a bridge, and the troll comes up from underneath, and you would have to have been completely out of it to not get the Billy Goats Gruff reference. I saw the movies either by myself (I have always loved going to movies by myself), Laura (who can't stop talking about Troll Hunter) or Tanja (who is a huge movie buff, and who, in addition to knowing a lot more about movies than me, must have gone to a dozen films or more - and was a great person to spend time dissecting the movies with on the long drives back to Yas). I'm already missing the festival, although Shark Night 3D is opening soon (although I doubt it can compare to Shark Attack 3, one of the favorite bad movies that my son and I love).

Voodoo

So I was going through the pictures on my phone when I came across these funny shots from New Orleans. I posted so much about the Oklahoma and New Orleans trip on the OKexcellence blog, and didn't spend any time on those trips in this blog. Maybe I'll steal a few pictures and just write some commentary, especially about the Creation Museum outside Cincinnati, which still makes my head hurt. These pictures were taken at the Voodoo Museum in New Orleans, not surprisingly. We were discussing syncretic religions the other day in my class and I used voodoo as an example, so I'm doubly inspired to get the pictures up. The first is of me making a new friend. It is the pet snake of the museum owner/currator/voodoo priest, who was nice enough to let me handle the beast. The second shot is of the excellent Steve Wehmeyer posing with a mask at the museum. I can't say enough about Steve, who has quickly become one of my best friends and favorite people on the planet. He could not have been a better tour guide or truer friend on the trip, and I really should post an edited version of our crazy trip down Bourbon Street the last night with Andy's credit card (maybe this weekend). Steve has been travelling to New Orleans for years so I received the true inside scoop, and I can't wait to go back to Nawlins with him again.

Chicken Wings for Charity Redux

OK, so I should have completed this post a long time ago - and I certainly don't have time to work on this right now (finishing grades for my ZU students) - but with the world premiere of The Nostradamus Cycle upon us I can't put it off anymore. So, I will take the opportunity to post the pictures, with limited commentary (which is probably for the best anyway). This last Super Bowl Sunday we held our second annual Chicken Wings for Charity event, once again supporting the homeless shelter (at least the Gentlemen of Excellence supported the homeless shelter - lord knows that Cyndi's team probably pocketed the cash). There were some changes this year, starting with a new partner for the GOE. The most excellent Erik Esckilsen replaced the faltering Andy Burkhardt, and performed brilliantly, actually tying last year's record (55) for most wings consumed. The record didn't last long because I ended up eating 61, and suffered for days. This is definitely not an old man's sport, and Andy should have shown more loyalty to the team, unless he is trying to get the more senior Gentlemen of Excellence to die of heart attacks so that he can climb up the seniority ranks. The other new factor this year is that we lost, and pretty badly. Now, to be fair, the Eat More Kale Team, the Brandenburg-Vespas, did cheat like dogs this year. For one thing, it was four on two, so that even though Erik and I consumed the most individually, as a team we were thumped. Plus, the BVs allegedly made use of only one of the twins, but we suspected that there may have been some Twin Shenanigans, even despite the best efforts of the truly excellent referee Steve Wehymeyer to keep tabs on them. Finally, the BVs unleashed the little wolverine, Joey, who easily ate his body weight in wings. Still, we raised over $1100 for the homeless shelter, and it was a magnificent time once again. The question is, with me in the Middle East, who will step forward for the GOE and champion the team this year?

The most excellent Erik.

Team Eat More Kale. I have never understood the whole Eat More Kale concepts, or even kale in the first place, which is truly horrid. However, the shirts were cool. Again, you can see the Twins, and the potential for unlimited, spontaneous Twin Magic. And look at Joey - who knew he was such a bottomless pit?

I did feel good for Bill, who clearly redeemed himself after a faulty showing the year before - and having his shrewish wife throwing him under the bus in a newspaper article for failing to eat more. It was, as Sanford reminds us, a story of redemption.

The Wolverine, pictured below in his winter coat, and looking appropirately mischievious.

The logistics of such an operation were exhausting, especially keeping tabs on the rampant cheating of the BVs.

As always, the event drew a crowd of supporters, which was greatly appreciated. Among the crowd you can see the excellent Sanford Zale playing with a borrowed flip camera, which was the beginning of the filming of the soon to be award-winning The Nostradamus Cycle.

And, finally, Cyndi reveling in her victory, her accumulated swag, and her Machiavellian double knavery.

My Amazing Friends

I have made this point before, but I will make it again - I have the most amazing friends, certainly far better than I deserve. And yesterday I received a reminder, in fact two of them, of how great they are, and how much I miss them. First off, I received an email, copied below, from the amazing Sanford Zale (my partner in the now legendary trip to Oklahoma, chronicled in the blog which can be reached through my blog list) detailing the long-awaited world premiere of The Nostradamus Cycle. This film - well, actually, it is closer to an epic, and certainly far more than a movie - documents the second annual chicken wing eating competition for charity. The most excellent Sanford, Erik and Andy edited the film for over nine months, in fact I think it took longer to finish than Coppola's final cut of Apocalypse Now (a film of far more modest scope). It is now complete and I wish I were there to attend the world premiere. How it was not chosen for consideration at the Abu Dhabi Film Festival (more on that later) is beyond me. If that were not enough, when I arrived back at my room at the Radisson I found a letter mysteriously slid under my door. It was from the excellent Andy, who, in addition to a very sweet letter, also included the used cheese curd container from the A & W Restaurant in Middlebury, Vermont. Andy, Mike Lange and I had made a sojourn there last year (also recorded on this blog) and they were sending along a reminder of their own trip there recently, and letting me know how much I was missed. It was very touching, and you can still see the grease stains on the box. For those of you who are not familiar with a cheese curd - and, truthfully, if you are that unsophisticated how did you get access to the Internet? - they are fried cheese. They remind Mike and Andy of their upper midwestern roots, and, besides being utterly delicious, are probably the worst thing you could probably eat.

"Dear friends –


You are invited to attend one or both parts of a major Spectacle that will occur on Thursday, 20 October. The particulars are these:



PART ONE:

The world premiere of The Nostradamus Cycle, a movie about a chicken-wing eating contest, filmed by me and edited by Messrs. Burkhardt and Esckilsen, will occur at 5:00pm on Thursday, 20 October, in Ireland 017. This is a Work of Art, and it runs for about 13 minutes. Featured in this movie are the following thespians:

--Her Excellency Cinse Bonino;

--Cyndi Brandenburg, President of the Faculty of this College and chicken-wing eater;

--The aforementioned Burkhardt, one of the cinematographers responsible for all of this;

--Ben Cavallari, one of only two characters whose expletives had to be deleted, as this film is rated PG;

--Cinematographer Esckilsen, who in the movie is seen to be doing something that is disgusting;

--Dr. Michael Kelly, seen, among other things, to be drinking beer in this movie;

--Mike Lange, who has important things to say about salad in this movie;

--Well-known partier Megan Munson-Warnken;

--Excellent Norwich University librarians Ms. Heidi Steiner and Mr. Elliot Polak;

--Plenipotentiary Gary Scudder, captured on film prior to his having fled the country;

--Her Excellency Pat Suozzi *and* her husband, Bob;

--William Vespa, husband of the chicken-wing eating President of the Faculty of this College; also, their son;

--Mr. Kenneth Wade, in fact a thespian, who steals the show at a certain point in the movie;

--Steve Wehmeyer, following up his role in the movie Titanic with a speaking role in The Nostramadus Cycle;

--Sanford Zale, the other character whose expletives had to be deleted, as this film is rated PG.



PART TWO:

Cast and crew party, to which all recipients of this e-mail message are invited, at the Old Northender bar, following the airing of the movie. This bar is on the south side of North Street, near the intersection of North Street and North Avenue. One imagines that, at some point, those who would like to play poker, will.



Thanks – Sandy"

This has left me more than a tad homesick.

Some Things are Universal

I'm posting this mainly for my great friend Cinse at home, who introduced me to the vegan cupcake at Uncommon Ground back in Burlington. I was sitting in the provost's meeting today here at Zayed and had this realization that some things are just universal. Of course, I realized it because I was paying no attention to the presentation and was grading papers, which is what ALL professors do at ALL administratively themed meetings ALL over the planet. The universality of it reminded me of walking down to the female wing last week to buy Aya, my administrative assistant, her weekly treat, in this case a cupcake. Yes, one of the groups on campus was having the most universal of fund-raisers, the Bake Sale. And the cupcake was so good.

The Mist

The season is starting to change here in the UAE, and apparently one of the signs is fog. As one of the professors put it, October is a foggy month. The temperature is not as ungodly hot as it was, and for a while the humidity had broken, but the humidity has come back with a vengenge. Tanja and I were catching a late movie at the Film Festival downtown on Sunday night, and when we walked out of the theatre past 11:00 the humidity was so high that my glasses steamed up immediately. That set us up for yesterday morning when I woke to the thickest fog I have ever seen, which made getting into work more than a bit of a challenge (made worse by the fact that Emiratis tend to drive way too fast). The fog was so thick that you couldn't even see the Zayed University building, which is huge, until you were about ten feet away from it. We actually got lost in the parking lot getting to school. Amazing. Tony tells me that the appearance of the fog also means that everyone will get sick, which is an old wive's tale, but one that he is starting to believe. To be fair, it seems that everyone of us has a cold, so maybe there is something to it.

I also chose to entitle this blog post The Mist because that is apparently my new nickname, given to me by Tanja and Laura, which relates to my tendency to, like mist, come and go and sometimes just disappear altogether. Actually, I like it very much, and, sadly, it is utterly appropriate. Every one of my friends would have their own story of me suddenly disappearing from some social event because I just needed to be alone. As the great Canadian philosopher reminds us, "I need a crowd of people, can't stand them day to day." My one concern would be that the name sounds too much like Master Shake's alter-ego, The Drizzle.

First Dragon Boat Practice

But not the last. Unlike some people I could mention but won't, mainly because I'm sworn to protect the identity of this thirty year old British slacker who was doubtless sitting back in room 137 of the Radisson Blu Hotel rereading Anna Karenina (this could be anyone, of course), I showed up Saturday afternoon for our first dragon boat practice. Zayed University is actually sponsoring two teams, and our team, Team 2, the winning team, wasn't scheduled to practice until 4:00, which was better than the fate that awaited the first team, Team 1, the losing team, which had to practice in hotter weather at 2:00.

Truthfully, when I arrived at the insanely posh Shangra-la Hotel I was not in the mood for rowing out under the hot Emirati sun for two hours (and the mad dog and Englishmen, although obviously not certain Englishwomen, line really resonated). That said, it was actually a lot of fun. Champlain always fields a team for our dragon boat race at home, but, being by nature contrary, I have never participated, much to the chagrin of my friends who do. Why? I don't know. I've eaten chicken wings for charity and pulled fire trucks for charity and been dunked for charity, but somehow never participated in the dragon boat race. However, comrades, I am here making a pledge that if I return to Champlain I will definitely participate next year.

On our team's boat we had around twenty people, with only room for one more hypothetical Englishwoman. The first thing we needed to do was get some training on how to get on the boat and general safety, and then suddenly we were out on the water. Under the generally gentle prodding of our instructor we eventually figured things out, although at the beginning there was mainly a lot of splashing and so many oars clashing together that it sounded like an out-take from Robin Hood and Little John contesting for mastery of a log. I was seated next to a younger Zayed guy named Matt who was almost as big as me - and, logically, we were placed in the center, widest, part of the boat. Still, we also had to learn how to lift the oars is a very specific way, straight over our heads, so that we didn't end up braining the person sitting next to us. By the end we were doing a pretty fair job of it, although, truthfully, I think we were about one missing Englishwoman short of being truly amazing (I'm just saying). It was also a great experience because it gave me the chance to meet new people, which is not something I'm particularly good at doing. Luckily, I did know a few people, who introduced me to other people, and so my circle of friends is growing. Emma, a friend of Liane, and another Kiwi, was also on Team 2, and had the misfortune to be placed up front and instructed to shout out the commands of One Two One Two to keep us in rhythm, and by the end she could barely speak. It was hard enough focusing on breathing without having to also worry about shouting out cadence for the entire time, so thankfully I was not given that chore. By the end I was exhausted and soaked, in between splashing and sweat, from head to toe. After stumbling out of the boat I strolled into the Shangra-la as if I actually stayed there and took a shower, which made me a little more presentable when I immediately went off to the Film Festival (Emma was kind enough to give me a ride because she was also heading down to the Festival).

So, exhausting, but really wonderful. Just being out on the water and watching the sun setting over the Grand Mosque made the entire adventure worthwhile. One more practice next Saturday at 4:00, and then the race itself the weekend after. Oh, and when I was showering at the Shangra-la I actually got a cramp IN MY CHEST! Bloody hell, it hurt, and that was definitely a first. Nevertheless, I will be there next Saturday, doubtless in the company of a chastised and wiser anonymous Englishwoman.

The Wretched Vikings

Here is a great picture that my friend Andy sent me. He's decked out in the Vikings gear that I left him, including my thirty-five year old Fran Tarkenton jersey, to root for our mutual curse, the Minnesota Vikings. One of the things that I miss the most about home is meeting up with Andy and the excellent Heidi down at Ruben James for beers and chicken wings on game day. That said, I am not blaming him for the horrific state of the team this year in my absence. Over four decades ago I latched on to that woeful franchise as my favorite NFL team, and they have given me nothing but misery. Every other team that I have ever adopted has rewarded me with at least one championship (even the normally underachieving Reds have won the title three times in my lifetime), but the Vikings remain a blight on my existence. That said, I am no fair weather fan and will continue to support them, doubtless straight on into the grave. Well, at least we can support Heidi's favorite team, the Lions, with a clear conscience now.

It's Dr. Scudder, If You're Nasty

Yeah, I'll apologize in light of that remarkably bad pun (especially since I went out of my way to broadcast, and mock, that astonishingly bad Tsonga Sung Blue headline pun the other day). As I've been considering the idea of putting together a top fifty list of things to do in the UAE I was planning on including seeing a concert, although I was focusing my attention on Metallica's visit next week. As is so often the case in my life over the last few years, that plans changed. I was sitting around at the Radisson Blu happy hour on Thursday night when the amazing Rafael (more on him later - he deserves his own post) showed up with free Janet Jackson tickets. Now, I'm not a fan, but free is free.

The concert itself was held at an open air arena at the formula one race track about a ten minute walk from my hotel. Now, it took a lot longer than ten minutes, but that is because we drove, which led to a misadventure which turned the ten minute walk into an hour drive. The concert was OK. It was billed as a number one hits concert, although it was further proof of how little contact I have with popular culture because I didn't know many of the songs. Too many of the songs were slow ballads, which I'm not opposed to if you have the voice, but she, much like her brother, just doesn't have the pipes. Still, it was fun to get out of the hotel, and it launched what proved to be a crazy weekend.

I ended up spending my time at the concert with Tanja and Laura, usually just referred to as the Evil Twins (although I am promoting She Monkeys, which is related to one of the films playing at the Abu Dhabi Film Festival). On the surface they would seem to have almost nothing in common (Tanja is Serbian while Laura is a Brit), but they are fast friends and inseparable. It was great to go out with them, but they ran me ragged (although they dismissed it as a slow evening).

Blurry Weekend

In previous posts I've discussed the need to really try and get more involved in my life here in Abu Dhabi. In some ways I feel that I've held Zayed and Abu Dhabi at an arm's length since arriving, which is really not like me. Oddly, I think part of it relates to the fact that it would be very easy to just stay here now, and maybe I'm afraid of that possibility so I have not been as fully engaged in my life here as I normally would be. This week was truly an exception. The entire weekend was a blur, which I'll be dealing with in several posts. It started with an unexpected trip to a Janet Jackson concert of all things, and also featured a trip to a pub for fish and chips and several games of pool and watching a rugby match, an exhausting dragon boat practice, and two films as part of the Abu Dhabi Film Festival. It truly was an Abu Dhabi weekend, and it has left me excited but exhausted. Here's an appropirately blurry picture (I do love themes) of my friend Laura. One of the nice things about the weekend was getting to spend more time with her. She's another one of the Zayed folks staying out at the Radisson Blu, and she's the Remnant that I knew the least, so it was cool to hang out with her. She is every bit the reading fiend that I am so we had some great conversations, including this one at Gellar Chocolate at the Marina Mall.

Worst Pun Award

Headline in the Khaleej Times this morning recounting the tennis upset of Jo-Wilfried Tsonga to Kei Nishikori: "Tsonga sung blue." Now, I defy you to get the tune out of your head - it's been running through mine all day.

Khaleej Times Stories - 10 October

Because I'm ensconced in a business suite I wake up every day to a copy of the Khaleej Times hanging from my door. I try to read a little bit of it every day, but then catch up over leisurely breakfasts on Friday and Saturday mornings. The other Remnants scoff at the Khaleej Times, and, I suppose, if you're used to papers in London or Auckland, that is a valid criticism. However, if you're used to reading the utterly wretched Burlington Free Press then the Khaleej Times would be a good paper. Occasionally I plan to pull out a summary of a couple of the stories which seem to be representative of life in the Emirates.

Death for 2 in double murder linked to bootlegging rivalry

Two were buried alive; thirteen defendants involved in conflict

"Dubai - The Court of Appeals on Sunday upheld the dealth sentence of a bootlegger and escalated the life term of another to death for kidnapping and killing two rival bootleggers.
And Indian blacksmith, 26, had his death sentence upheld for his main role in the planning and execution of kidnapping and burying two rival bootleggers alive. . .
All the defendants, including 12 Indians and one Pakistani, were embroiled in a rivalry between two bootlegging gangs that resulted in the premeditated murder of two men.
According to the court records, the gangsters had planned the murder in advance and had procured sticks, swords, knives and iron rods to that end. After beating up the duo, who belonged to another gang, they buried the victims alive. The victims died of suffocation."

GS - Bootlegging is quite the problem here, which is especially interesting in that, as an Islamic country, you are technically not supposed to be drinking alcohol anyway. This is why all the bars are attached to western hotels. That said, there are liquor stores where you can go buy alcohol, although you're supposed to have a license to buy it. Anyway, there is quite the bootlegging war going on, and I just wish we had Sergio Leone to film Once Upon a Time in Dubai.

Beliefs hinder treatment of mental illness in UAE

Most patients refer to spiritual healers since families associate condition with religious faults

"Dubai - Age-old beliefs hinder peoper treatment of some mental cases in the UAE, opined experts in mental health.
A conference of specialists in the field revealed during a discussion on Saturday that most patients suffering from mental illnesses refer to spiritual healers because their families diagnose and associate their conditions with religious faults.
"This is a sensitive issue, but in our (Emirati) culture, many tend to turn to healers for mental cases because they think it may have something to do with being possessed by bad devils, having weak faith in God or being affected by black magic.
The healers are usually their first option but when they 'fail' to treat the patient, they come to us for treatment, but by that time, the condition of the patient becomes more unstable," said Dr. Khawla Ahmed, Senior Specialist Psychiatrist at Rashid Hospital, Dubai Health Authority.
She added that most families choose to keep the topic under wrap out of conservativeness and family members do not address mental illness as an actual medical condition.
"We want to raise awareness and we want people to know that mental illness is a serious issue here in the UAE. No one is immune to mental illness. It can affect anybody. We want people to realise that there is no shame in talking about these kinds of illnesses and to be open about it," she said."

GS - Another one of those articles that shows the amazing balancing act between the traditional and the modern that goes on every day in the UAE. Obviously, it's not that different than the view that was the norm not that long ago in the U.S. - or, for that matter, the view that is held in some circles in the U.S. today. The very fact that the issue is being addressed so publicly, and receiving major media coverage, also shows that the perceptions that the "west" have of the Arabic world are way too simplistic.

Jack and Jack Jack

Let me post a picture of one of my favorite people in the world, Jack Kelly. Here's a bit of photo-shopping that displays Jack's real nature. He's the middle child of my great friends Mike and Jame Kelly and he is a holy terror. We lovingly refer to the Kelly brood as The Barbarians for a reason, and Jack is the most barbarian. Mike, after some analysis, placed the over/under on number of stitches that Jack will receive by age 18 at 41 - I bet the over. One time Mike and I were playing with the boys down in the common room at Quarry Hill. Jack picked up a ball to throw to his older brother Nick, and in the process of throwing it he lost his balance, stumbled back three steps, fell, and hit his head on the one table in the room. It could not be explained by our understanding of physics and/or anatomy, and Mike and I just stared at each other in amazement. Only Jack Jack could find the one table in the room to collapse into. Another time I was watching Jack and his older brother while Mike and Jame were running errands with Sam, the youngest. At one point Mike called and asked how things were going. I had to admit that things were going great, and that there had only been a little blood (Jack, in the process of wrestling for a tennis ball, had fallen face first into a railing and bloodied his nose). Mike responded, without ever hearing the story or having the victim identified, "Another day in the life of Jack Kelly." I always refer to Jack as the Nature Boy, in honor of his Ric Flair like hair. Woooooooo!

Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque

Finally, I am getting around to posting pictures from our trip a couple weeks ago to visit the stunningly beautiful Shaikh Zayed Grand Mosque. As the old saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words so I won't sully the images by blathering on. Suffice it to say it is extraordinary. I think the mosque is either the second or third largest in the world, and the central courtyard can hold thousands of worshippers.

Here are a couple pictures of the Remnants, who were still fairly new to each other at the time. The mosque is very welcoming to non-Muslims. Most Islamic countries usually have one mosque which is open to the folks of other faiths, and this is the case with the Shaikh Zayed Mosque (named in honor of the country's founder). Women have to cover their hair, as is the case with all mosques, but this one takes it a step further and asks you to don an abaya if you are showing too much skin. Liane is a very experienced traveller and was dressed very conservatively, but there are clearly differences in the definition of conservative between New Zealand and the United Arab Emirates. I liked the fact that in this mosque if men were dressed inappropirately they were asked to put on a traditional dishdash.

There were several things which I found really amazing. One was the central courtyard, and not simply because it was so huge. The marble was almost unnaturally cool to the touch, which is a great gift considering that it is so hot in the Emirates and all worshippers must kneel on the ground. Most of the surfaces were decorated with designs formed by inlaid stones, which was much like the Taj Mahal. The mosque has the largest handwoven carpet in the world, and if you look closely at the carpet you can see the lines that are included to help the worshippers who are inside line up correctly. The use of nature themes is very common in Islamic iconography because of the prohibition on the representation of the human form. The chandeliers are some of the world's largest, if not the largest. Around to the back in a quite corner is the actual tomb of the beloved Sheikh Zayed. It is very simple and wonderfully understated, and almost reminds me of the even smaller tomb of the Mughal ruler Aurengzeb in India. It is a beautiful mosque and a must see for anyone visiting Abu Dhabi.

It also reminded me of my first trip to Jordan and my visit to the King Abdullah Mosque there with the most amazing group of friends. It immediately made me think of my great friend Faith (or Fa'Ith) from Kansas City, who, popping up much like a jinn, contacted me out of the blue shortly thereafter (which was a remarkably pleasant surprise).

Being both very spiritual and more than a bit of a pantheist, I tend to have very moving experiences in all sorts of places, both inside of mosques/temples/cathedrals and out. That said, I have a very special place in my heart for mosques. While the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque is pretty ornate, it still has, at its heart, a simplicity that really appeals to me. As we were leaving I made my way out to the center of the massive courtyard and just soaked it all in.

Quest for Chicken Wings

Not since I heroically traversed the wilds of the Silk Road in western China in pursuit of a cheeseburger has my life had such purpose. This time I am tracking down authentic chicken wings. It took a couple weeks and several cities in the Great Cheeseburger Hunt, and it make take as long here. My first attempt was at the Captain's Arms on Friday, when Tony, Peter and I took the excellent Rafael out for fish & chips. Since none of them had actually had chicken wings, and, frankly, scoffed at the idea, I made it my goal to bend them to my will (sort of like the donkey wine adventure in China, but that is another story). Eventually they gave way and the chicken wings were fairly tasty, although they didn't have buffalo sauce. I may have to wait until a return trip to Burlington next summer before I am successful. And speaking of which, I don't know who is going to take my place in the chicken wings for charity competition this year. I'm sure the Gentlemen of Excellence will field a team and continue our support of the homeless shelter. Now, if they would move the event from Super Bowl Sunday to earlier in the season . . .

Typical Abu Dhabi Scene

Let me just post a quick picture, mainly because it is very representative of life in the UAE. As part of our trip down to the bank today, and to reward ourselves for a job well done (at least we can hope so), we stopped at the Brauhaus for a quick beer. We were sitting in the bar when Peter looked outside and said, essentially, what the bloody hell is that? There is a huge construction project right across the creek - the creek which used to feature a quite little beach right outside the Rotana Hotel (where the Brauhaus is situated). Not any more. The bartender said he thought it was a couple hotels and maybe a hospital, but he wasn't really certain. Neither Peter nor Tony had been there in a couple years, and the last they had seen it there was a little dock where you could go swimming.

Success, Maybe, I Hope

OK, another Saturday, another trip down to HSBC bank in my epic quest to do something as simple as open an account - and something not so simple: wiring money back home. Some successes, theoretically: 1) wiring 25,000 AED (dirhams) back to my bank in Burlington. Syed, the very nice young Pakistani gentleman who was helping me asked if I wanted to send $25,000 back, and I could only reply, "I wish." Now, again theoretically, I could do this all online less expensively, but I like the idea of a bank official doing it and me having an official record. Even though I wired the money today (and put it in the bank a week ago, and was originally paid on 27 September) because of various holidays across two countries the funds might not make my account until Thursday - so I still have to wait to see if it works. 2) Raising the online limit for me to wire my own funds from 3680 AED ($1000) to 35,000 AED (an amount I will probably never actually wire, but I had to put something) - again, until I actually try and wire funds online myself, which I may never do, I won't know the success of this venture either. 3) Take money out of an ATM with my new HSBC debit card. This proved the easiest, with the exception that I had to choose a 6 digit PIN, which I had trouble wrapping my brain around since I have always had 4 digit PINs. It led to this question - so then I can't use this debit card in the US or Europe? The answer - of course, the ATMs in the US and Europe will just stop reading after four digits and all will be OK. Yeah, right. Still, it seems like a successful day. . .

Wet Headed Stranger

I'm going to borrow a story from my most excellent friend Trish, who is enjoying her Fulbright year at the University of Jordan. We swap emails daily on the trials and tribulations of the ex-pat existence, and, unlike mine, hers are always funny and insightful. She joined a local gym and goes to work out every morning, partially because she is a physical fitness fiend and also for the hot showers (sort of the same experience I had in India). Anyway, she would always leave the gym and walk home without drying her hair. Now, we're in the Middle East, so getting your hair to dry outside is not a problem. Trish never dried her hair because she is very dedicated to environmental issues and realized early on that hair dryers are really bad for the environment - one of those luxuries that we really should avoid. However, she noticed that people stared at her, many frankly unpleasantly, all the way home. She told the story to a couple of her fellow Fulbrighters with more experience in the area and they were amused/horrified. Apparently in Jordan if a woman is walking around outside with wet hair everyone assumes it is because she has just finished shagging some man; so, wet hair equals questionable virtue (which certainly does not apply to Trish). This left Trish with a real quandry, but in the end she decided to start using the hair dryer at the gym to avoid an uproar in the neighborhood. I told her that this should serve as a case study in ethics or international relations classes. Later I was telling the story to my friends here, and half-way through they started giving me these very knowing smiles. So, I asked, does this mean that there is the same societal view here in the Emirates? My friend Liane laughed and said, "oh yeah, total whore." It's funny the odd little societal rules that you pick up, some of which are pretty obvious and others of which are more complex and mysterious and often unfathomable.

Groan

OK, so I spoke too soon in my wild self-congratulatory posting on opening an HSBC account. I spent a couple hours online and on the phone last night trying to wire funds back to my account in the US, and not only failed majestically but also unleashed the first appearance of the epic Scudder temper on the poor folks of the Emirates. First off, the website was completely convoluted and it took a better part of an hour simply to register for online banking. Then it was really difficult to figure out how to wire money online (which was really the entire point of starting the account anyway). So, I did the responsible thing, and decidedly anti-male thing, and called for help. The woman in the call center told me that first we had to figure out what my transfer "limit" was - and at that point I knew it was going to be a bumpy night. According to her my transfer limt - that is, the amount of MY money that I could transfer was 3680 dirhams. Now, if you factor in that the official set exchange rate between dirhams to dollars is 3.67, you can see where this is headed. Essentially,I am not allowed to wire more than $1000. Of course, I can up the limit, but it is not a change that can be made at the HSBC website itself. Wait for it . . . you have to run off a form, fill it out, and then take it to the bank (yes, the bank that is an hour away) to make the change. Beyond the fact that this requires yet another trip downtown, it also makes you wonder how truly secure the website is if they include that many hoops to jump through. What I will probably end up doing, in addition to filling out the form and taking it to the main branch, is just go ahead and have someone there at the bank wire the money while I am sitting there (and doubtless refusing to move until it is completed - and those who have witnessed my infamous temper are probably cringing at this moment). All of this, of course, sort of defeats the purpose of "internet banking" in the first place. Groan. It would actually be easier to just have Zayed cut me a check, cash it at their local bank branch, and take the bloody money to Western Union. Opening a bank account, especially in a multi-national bank, was supposed to make life easier, and also give me more financial roots if I decide to stay here. The thought of all the work I did to set up direct deposit, so that I can in turn drive to the bank to take the money out, just makes my head hurt.

Success, I Think

Success! Well, at least I can dream. Tony, Peter, Liane and I made our way downtown on Saturday morning to take care of our banking needs. As is always the case here, it really was more difficult than it needed to be. First off Tony and I had to go to the DHL office to pick up our new bank credit and debit cards, that the "delivery" company could not deliver. It was pretty painless, although at a certain point Tony blew up and stormed out. It's very rare that I'm the sensible, patient one, but it gave me the chance to revel in the role. After that they wanted to go to a local branch of the Union Bank, which is the bank Zayed uses, to cash their checks, and they dropped me off at HSBC where I was going to put my check in the bank. This should have been simple, but it wasn't. I went up to the quick help counter at the front and asked the best way to put the check in the bank. The woman, who could not have been more pleasant, walked me over to the machines where you can deposit the check automatically, while discussing the fact that the machines are a wonder of the age. After swiping the check three times we discovered that the wonder of the age couldn't actually read it, and I was sent upstairs to the special Advance section (which I qualified for) because it would be quicker - there was a big queue downstairs. So, upstairs I went, to wait in another big queue, although one featuring Advance customers. There was probably a dozen different special desks for all sorts of amazing banking options, but only one person who was actually working as a teller. So, I took a number and waited, and called the Remnants to tell them to go ahead and take care of their banking and we'd meet later. A half-hour later I was finally able to get my check in the bank - and the long, national nightmare was at an end. Having said that, I'll believe it when I actually see the money in my account and have direct deposit works and successfully wire funds home. I calmed my nerves with a cooling iced mocha at the Seattle's Best Coffee shop in the lobby of the bank.

After that we drove over to the Abu Dhabi Mall because everyone had to do a little shopping. I bought a DVD player because I'm having serious withdrawl pains for lack of movies. Amazingly, it actually works and I knocked off the first two episodes of season one of Deadwood. I loved the Ian McShane character Al Swearengen on the show - we have a lot in common.

After buying my DVD player I ditched the others and met my friend Kate O'Neill and her brother Chris at the Brauhaus restaurant at the Rotana Beach Hotel, which is attached to the mall. I had not seen the two of them for a couple years so it was great getting caught up. Kate teaches with me here at Zayed but actually grew up in Burlington, Vermont. She came over ten years ago and eventually her brother followed her, and they have both flourished. After eating we walked back to the mall to meet her husband Scott and her three boys, who are all big gentle brutes (sort of older, more civilized versions of Mike Kelly's barbarians). The two older ones remembered me from a previous visit and that was really great. I love kids and it was fun to spend some time with them (and I suspect that baby-sitting duties may pop up in the future). Oh, and the food at the Brauhaus was very good, although the fried meatloaf with an egg on top ended up essentially being Spam with an egg on time (it reminded me of the Monty Python sketch).