Palestinians

On the side bar of this blog you can always find the blog of my brilliant friend Trish Siplon who is a professor at St. Michaels College here in Vermont.  However, I wanted to also take the opportunity to send along a link to a recent blog post she wrote about the situation facing the Palestinians.  Trish spent the last year teaching at the University of Jordan, and made several trips to investigate the situation first hand, so, believe me, she knows what she's talking about.  The essay provides an insightful and thought-provoking analysis of the plight of the Palestinians and the complexity of their relationship with the Israelis - and should be must-reading for all Americans.  Further, this is the type of active, engaged scholarship that all of us in the profession should aspire to, and is a reminder of why Trish has been recognized as a Vermont Professor of the Year.

Adventures in the Desert, Kind Of

One of the advantages of travelling anywhere in the low season is that sometimes you can find really great deals.  Of course, you also have to factor in that maybe things are too quiet or all of the usual amenities aren't available or, for that matter, you even have trouble getting there.  Visiting Zanzibar in the low season resulted in a ridiculously low rate and sole possession of an entire resort - but also a limited menu and burger buns that were so old that they literally cracked.  It's hard to imagine being more out of season than Liwa during July - and during the beginning of Ramadan.  My sister Lisa, nephew Garrett and I ended up with a very good deal on a couple rooms.  The service and amenities at the Liwa Hotel were, as usual, great, with the only exception being that their usual huge breakfast buffet was reduced to three options (still good) in a room hidden away upstairs because of Ramadan (the waiter was highly - and unnecessarily - apologetic).  The only real problem we ran into on the trip was getting out to the Mareeb Dune.  Either Liwa had just had a massive sandstorm or the local officials weren't really interested in moving the sand out of the way because no one in their right mind would visit the desert in the height of summer (of course, that hardly applies to the Scudder even at our most sensible).  Often the road was reduced to one lane, with even the open lane compromised by lower bands of sand.  Luckily, we were driving the powerful Yaris and, with the exception of a little sliding, much as you would on snow, we made it there and back safely and in one piece.

On the previous trip to Liwa months earlier there were only a couple places where the sand had crept out to cover around a foot of road - so this was a bit of a shock.  And it was also a graphic reminder of the power of the desert.

Of course, when you have the Yaris you fear no obstacles.  Sadly, I didn't have any Speed Racer inspired buttons on the steering wheel (with random letters) that would have allowed me to jump over the dune.

This led to an inspired discussion of strategy between Garrett and myself in regards to what line to follow and how fast to go, while Lisa sat in the back and quietly, but urgently, promoted the virtues of turning around and returning to the hotel.  Fortunately cooler heads prevailed and she was ignored.

Idiots of Dune

And a few quick shots that my nephew Garrett send along (he took well over a thousand just here in the Emirates).  Here we are cavorting in the sand dunes outside of Liwa in the Empty Quarter.  Three of them were on a Friday afternoon, and it was the first time that Lisa and Garrett had ever seen the desert so they were almost giddy/goofy.  The other was shot in the early morning when Garrett and I climbed to the top of a sand dune to watch the sun come up.

Garrett is in the middle of a pretty epic trip his mother put together for him: England, United Arab Emirates, France.  Not bad for your first time overseas.  He loved the UAE.

My sister Lisa, per usual, playing the fool.  Doubtless I am restaging the speech I first gave when I was two years old, and repeated many times after that, when I tried to explain to my parents the advantages of only having one child.  That said, Lisa loved the desert, and I loved showing it to her.

As Archer would facetiously say, "Hurray for metaphor!"



A sight that any of my students - and my friends - would be familar with: me pontificating on something/anything.  Garret and I had been on that dune since 4:30 and the sun was finally just about up.



Garrett Marker: ISIS Agent

And another shot of Garrett in the desert waiting for the sun to come up (or at least that was his cover story).

Code Name: Duchess

Innocents Abroad

And here's a quick shot of Lisa and Garrett in front of the Atlantis Hotel at the far end of the Palm Jumeira (one of those famous man-made islands) in Dubai.  They were both blown away by Dubai.

The first trip to Dubai was a great success, especially considering that it was Ramadan so we were more than a little hungry and thirsty (but managed to keep our tempers in check - or at least they did).  And I only got lost once, which in Dubai I consider an amazing accomplishment.

Another of those Desert Loving English

Currently I am in the middle of a visit from my sister Lisa and nephew Garrett.  The time has flown by and sadly they are leaving tomorrow.  I have a lot of posts to get up, but I'll wait until I get pictures from my nephew.  Garrett is quite the photographer and he's taken hundreds and hundreds of pictures, with a really nice camera, so I haven't even bothered to bring mine along.  That said, here's a couple shots that I snapped yesterday with my Blackberry in the desert outside of Liwa oasis.  We had gone there the day before and made it all the way out to the Mareeb Dune (and that will require a separate posting of its own, complete with many pictures, because sand, sometimes three or four feet high, was covering much of the road, and it was quite the adventure).  Anyway, Garrett liked it so much that we got up at 4:30 the next morning so that we could be back out on a dune at 5:00 to watch the sun come up for more pictures (I'll be posting some of his shots soon).  Today is our last day together, and we're heading back to Dubai to go to the top of the Burj Khalifa, the world's tallest building.

Garrett prepping his camera for the hundreds of pictures he took.  When we climbed up to the top of the dune it was so dark we had to use the flash on his camera to see where we were going (and avoid snakes).

The view after the sun was partially up.  I"ll post more of the gradual progression once Garrett sends me his pictures.

And way down at the bottom of the sand dune is my faithful Yaris.  You can barely see our footprints, which disappeared very quickly in the sand that was so soft that it almost felt liquid - which made climbing a real challenge.

Visitors

Well, it took a year, but I finally have some visitors.  They, foolishly, have come at the most miserably hot time of the year and they are suffering - especially after arriving from rainy London.  Actually, as bad as it is today, it's also about the most pleasant day we've had in weeks.  My sister Lisa and my nephew Garrett arrived late last night.  They were exhausted, but I rousted them out of bed early so we could do some sight-seeing.  Our first stop was the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque, which they both really liked.  Of course, I am also having complete flashbacks to high school as I wait endlessly for my sister to get ready.  Here's a shot of her at the mosque wearing an abaya.  I think Garrett, who is quite the photographer, took more than a hundred pictures at the mosque.

"These are not the droids you're looking for."

Road to Orebic

Obviously, one of the great advantages to renting a car is that it frees you up to do some exploring.  Here's a picture I snapped in Croatia as I began the descent to Orebic to catch a ferry.  I chose this particular picture because, if you look to the right, you can just see the wall where I, forgetting that I'm fifty-two, jumped up onto and blew out both my knee and my hamstring - which led to some uncomfortable driving, let alone walking, later in the day.  Still, it is a beautiful picture.

Fortunately, the pain was not quite horrible enough for me to lose my balance and fall, although the phrase "fell to death from Croatian mountain" would definitely jazz up my otherwise dull obituary.

Summer

Universities are funny places.  During the school year they are constantly noisy and sometimes downright manic.  And then during the summer they are eerily quiet.  Although I'm busy working on my curricular redesign project here at Zayed, this is the first summer since 1984 that I have not taught a class - which adds to my feeling of being adrift (let alone the fact that I'm living in the UAE and Ramadan starts on Friday, or maybe Saturday, but almost certainly Friday).  I can remember living in my fraternity one summer at Franklin College and it was so dead that I talked the security guard into letting me make rounds with him.  Actually, I think he was happy to have the company - Old Main at midnight is more than a bit creepy.  And here's an odd thought that just popped into my head - actually, it's an old odd thought that's been swimming beneath the surface for a long time.  In Don DeLillo's brilliant novel Libra (required reading for all Americans) he sets part of it at Franklin College in the summer, and it is an accurate description of colleges in the summer.  I don't know if it's supposed to be "my" Franklin College, but it's a Franklin College set in the midwest and it seems awfully similar.  Anyway, things are very quiet here, and about to get a lot more quiet with Ramadan starting.  Working hours at the university will be reduced to 9:00 - 3:00 next week and the restaurants and coffeeshops on campus will be closed obviously.  I've already begun the process of getting all of my clearance signatures for leaving Zayed because things will slow down.  Actually, I'm really looking forward to being here for most of Ramadan.  For all of my travel in the Middle East, and my fascination with Islam, this will be my first Ramadan.  Doubtless it will inspire several blog posts, and hopefully something more profound.

The view overlooking the male campus on our beautiful new campus.  The female campus is, per usual, more busy,  but still awfully quiet.

Night in Croatia

Here's a nice picture I snapped from the dock outside of the walls of Dubrovnik.  The moon is rising over one of the nearby islands.  It's somewhere between amazing and infuriating that the pictures I take with my Droid or Blackberry are routinely better than the pictures I take with my camera.  Now, to be fair, the camera I own now is more designed to be indestructible than to produce award winning photographs.  After destroying/losing four straight cameras I decided that dependable was better than delicate.  At the same time as this picture I did use the destructo-camera to take dozens of shots of two little girls jumping into the water near the tall city walls - more on that later.

As the temperatures soar in Abu Dhabi I can't tell you how much I miss swimming in the Adriatic.

Cafe With International Flights

Someday soon I'll devote a blog to the lovely cafe culture of Zagreb (in addition to the amazing Caffe History Club, of course).  In the meantime let me post a quick picture that I took outside the Zagreb International Airport.  As befitting a city with just about the most laid-back atmosphere I can imagine, the airport at Zagreb is appropriately very relaxed.  Here's the cafe outside the side door, complete with cars leisurely parked out front and surrounded by trees (whose shade and green were greatly appreciated after a year in the desert).  It felt like a nice cafe which specialized in international flights, and I'm not certain I wouldn't go there on off-days just to grab a cup of coffee and dessert.  Oh, and even though it was the international airport of Croatia's capital city I think it was smaller than the Burlington airport, which is really saying something.  Again, I love Croatia.

"I'd like an Ozuksko, a cheeseburger and a round-trip ticket to Dubrovnik."

American Donut

I always think it's funny or sobering or humiliating or enlightening what your country is associated with overseas.  I guess this picture that I snapped in Zagreb, Croatia says it all.

All I know is that Andy Burkhardt and I would be eating here all the time.

Branding?

And here's an odd picture that I snapped at the store yesterday.  It's a hair product designed to give you the wet hair look.  It's odd because, as I've discussed before, here in the UAE, and throughout most of the Middle East, women who walk out in public with wet hair are usually considered to be of rather negotiable virtue.  This is one of the first things that ex-pat women learn, often to their chagrin, when they move to the Middle East.  Now, I guess it could be designed for men, although it doesn't say that on the container and it wasn't in the male haircare section.  Hmmm, maybe they are targeting the clueless westerner demographic, and lord knows there's enough of us.

Camel Milk

Because the UAE is so hyper-modern there are not many things that you can't get here that you might be able to get at home, and vice-versa.  Of course, there are always little local peculiarities, and here's a picture of one of them: camel milk.  I'm pretty certain that you can't get that at home, at least not in Burlington, Vermont.  It tastes much like cow's milk, with the exception that it is a tad salty (and it's not a taste I've adjusted to yet).  Several of the male students, especially if there are from one of the areas outside of Abu Dhabi or Dubai, actually own camels and will occasionally bring in fresh camel milk as a present for their professors.  It's a very nice gesture, although camel's milk doesn't agree with the western tummy.

I haven't braved camel milk shakes yet.

Tuesday Nights

As I've often suggested, one of the key factors in adapting to a new place is setting up a routine.  In India it was finding a place to work out and catching a matinee every Sunday.  Since I've been in Abu Dhabi for so long I've developed many routines.  Probably my favorite routine is spending over Tuesday night at the Sands Hotel participating in the weekly pub quiz at Harvester's, a pseudo-English pub in the basement of the hotel.  Our team, whose name has been deleted because of consideration for the more tender-hearted and politically-correct readers, has finished in the money every week.  Now, finishing in the money at the pub quiz at Ruben James back in Burlington means beer t-shirts and key-chains, but in the Emirates the swag is much more impressive.  We've won cases of beer and free dinners and all-day pool parties.  Our success is mainly because of the excellent efforts of the other three members of the team - Rob, Mel and Laura.  I mainly contribute in the music round exhausting my encyclopedia knowledge of music with comments such as "that is not Neil Young either."  The four of us constitute the consistent core and other folks slide in and out on a weekly basis.  Sadly, our host, yet another British Rob, is taking off for the summer so I fear this is my last pub quiz in Abu Dhabi (at least for the immediate future).  Amongst our group we have a constant argument about whether or not it is better to win the picture round (identifying pictures of actors or robots or flags) or winning the entire competition.  If you win the picture round your entire evening's meal and drinks are free, whereas if you win the entire competition you get your choice of swag (and also eternal glory).  I'm am the only one who sides with eternal glory, and, of course, I'm the only one who is correct.

Rob, Mel and Laura - three-quarters of the FHs.

"Quick to anger, quick to smile"

Those are the words of a Beirut taxi driver describing Americans - and I would be hard-pressed to come up with a better description (at least of me).  We were driving to a museum and carrying on a wide-ranging and free-wheeling discussion of Lebanon, the US and life in general.  It's one of the international conversations that I'll always cherish (and I've been fortunate to have many of them - unlike a lot of Americans I actually talk to people overseas).  Of course, barely two hours later Lebanon was forced to witness the other side of that rule when I blew up at another taxi driver for blatantly cheating me.  In the end, however, it was my own fault because I broke two cardinal rules of international taxi travel: 1) I didn't get him to agree up a fixed price before we took off (which is really important in some parts of the world where they don't use the meter - and I just had a feeling that it was a dodgy taxi from the beginning so I should have trusted my instincts), and 2) I only had large bills on me so I had to depend upon him for change.  Still, I did get my heart rate up, which I think is supposed to be good for you.

Caffe History Club

Back home I have a running debate with my friends over the identity of the best academic discipline.  While they make compelling arguments and I respect them and deeply appreciate their brilliant scholarship, heartfelt collegiality and dependable friendship, they are, of course, completely wrong.  History is the uber-discipline, and all the others are amusing little sub-disciplines.  The picture below, clearly, settles the argument once and for all.  I stopped at the Caffe History Club in Zagreb for a delicious and frosty Ozujsko, a Croatian adult beverage, and enjoyed the intellectual banter.  I passed the Caffe Anthropology Club, the Caffe Economics Club, the Caffe Sociology Club, the Caffe Political Science Club, the Caffe Literature Club, the Caffe Folklore Club and the Caffe Biology Club, all of which were sadly, and rightly, boarded up.  The Caffe Philosophy Club was open, although I think only for lunch - however, and appropriately, its bar was well-stocked.  I saw only two figures in the Caffe Philosophy Club, who looked suspiciously like David Kite and Alfonso Capone, alternately discussing the duality of good and evil and their recently completed squah match (which were somehow related), before eventually ordering another round.

The heart of Zagreb's entertainment and intellectual universe.

Goooaaaallllll!!

The European football championship was winding down when I arrived in Croatia but everybody was still insanely excited.  Croatia had been eliminated, sadly, but there were obviously a lot of Italian fans.  The matches were on all the TVs in the pubs and also broadcast on huge screens in the public squares.  And when I got off the plane in Dubrovnik I found this waiting for me in the restroom at the airport.

This is now tied with the sign I saw above a urinal in western China that read "move forward, like civilization" for weirdest bathroom humor.  Hopefully we can avoid a penalty kick.

Museum of Broken Relationships

The Museum of Broken Relationships in Zagreb, Croatia is easy to find.  Just head up to the upper town and follow the signs.

Here is a nice summary of the idea behind the museum, which apparently began as an exhibit but was so well received that the decision was made, wisely, to turn it into a permanent museum.

This is one of the first exhibits I saw, and it grabbed me right away.  I guess it's a duh statement to say that a museum devoted to broken relationships would be deeply personal, both knowing it and feeling it are two very different things.  It makes you think about the physical and emotional artefacts we leave behind as we pass through other people's lives.  What's that line from Lucinda Williams - "all I ask is don't tell anybody the secrets I told you."

This picture was written by someone from Bloomington, Indiana (the state where I grew up), and even though my sister Beth graduated from Indiana University she denies that she sent in the picture.

Not surpsingly there were several items representative of the more physical side of relationships, including an utterly bizarre set of styrofoam breasts.

Some of the items were actually very artistic, including this one where a woman glued a love letter to a piece of glass and then smashed it.

A lock of hair from a woman who, in the despair after a failed relationship, cut off all of her hair.

I'm a big fan of the Lonely Planet series of travel guides, and heaven knows how many of them I own now.  In fact, I think I have multiple copies for some of the countries.  That said, I'm an even bigger fan of just following my instincts when I'm overseas and seeing where I end up.  While walking around Zagreb I came across a sign for the Museum of Broken Relationships, which, for some unkown reason, didn't end up in my Lonely Planet Guide to Croatia - and it should have.  Initially I thought it might be one of those novelty museums, such as the Seriel Killer Museum in Florence (although visiting there did give me the opportunity to buy my nephew Garrett the absolutely coolest t-shirt of all time).  As it turns out the Museum of Broken Relationships is an amazing museum and has received several awards/recognitons for being the most innovative museum in Europe. Essentially it is a collection of donated items from broken relationships, along with short and highly personal back-stories.  Some of the items and related stories are very funny, while others are more artistic - and many are just heart-breaking.  Granted, it's not as magnificent as the Dental School Museum that Sanford and I stumbled across, and couldn't get into, along US 50 in the middle of Ohio, the Museum of Broken Relationships has become one of my all-time favorite museums.  I even bought the museum guide, which I almost never do.  So, if you're in Zagreb - and you should by all means go to Zagreb - definitely include a side trip to the museum.

Broken relationships create a lot of shrapnel, including this innocent garden gnome who was in the wrong place at the worng time.

This ax is from a woman whose female lover left her for another woman.  She used it to destroy one piece of her ex-lover's furniture every day, and by the time her ex returned to claim her now destroyed furniture she felt a lot better.

I found this one to be both devastating and also redemptive, which I guess you could say about the entire museum.

Paging Mr. Herman

You know that you are a VIP when the hotel sends a driver with one of those personalized signs.  This is the one that awaited me in Zagreb.  Despite the initial confusion I absolutely loved Zagreb.

After sending this picture along to my friends back home it took Mike Lange about seven nano-seconds to propose that the sign was supposed to say Douchebag.

Reflections on Things at Hand: Entering Montenegro

An odd email I sent to my friends back in Vermont as I was taking a break after entering Montenegro on the 4th of July.  I guess this would be the equivalent of a haiku from Basho in The Narrow Road to the Deep North, except written by an illiterate fool.  Either way, it's a snapshot of where I was at that moment, both geographically and intellectually (and maybe spiritually).


Reflections on the 4th:

1. Happy 4th of July!

2. Filled up my rental car today and gas was 7 dollars a gallon. Ouch.

3. Drove over to Montenegro today; as I crossed the border the B52's "Love Shack" was playing.

4. Montenegro does not have its own currency - it uses the euro although it is not part of the EU, much to the EU's chagrin.

5. Cruise ships dock at Kotor, Montenegro, where I have stopped in search of a hot dog.

6. Montenegro is small, odd, mountainous, out of the way, contrary, beautiful, not sure who it belongs to, and has a population of 600,000 - it may be Vermont.

7. America! (as my excellent friend Sanford would say)

Croatian Beasties

I love this sign.  It's a picture I snapped out on the Peljesac Peninsula on the way to catch the ferry out to Korcula Island.  It reminds me of camel crossing signs in Oman and moose crossing signs in Vermont, although probably more like the Vermont equivalent because I didn't actually see any wild boar (much like the fact that I've been in Vermont for over a decade and have seen exactly four moose).  Truthfully, I'm glad I didn't see any wild boar because they are supposed to be pretty mean-spirited.  It is nice to know that in spite of development there is still a lot of Croatia which is still unblemished.

The other reason why I'm glad I didn't see a wild boar is that I think I ate his cousin once in Vienna, and I suspect there would have been some attempt at revenge.

Squid

Not surprisingly, Croatia is a place where you can get some extraordinary seafood.  I think I ate more squid last week than I've eaten in the fifty-two years up to that point, and would go back today for more if I had the chance.  Here's a very simple and delicious meal that I had out on Korcula Island.  My friend Cyndi immediately wanted to know the recipe, which consists mainly of: throw the squid on the grill, don't make the mistake of grilling it too long (it gets rubbery - or even more rubbery), and then dash on some olive oil, lemon and salt.  Huzzah, you're done.

And this isn't even the best squid meal I had, but more on that later.  Does any blogger, who isn't a chef, talk more about food than I do?

Dubrovnik

And the first of many pictures of the trip to Croatia.  For a long time I'd heard about the beauty of Croatia, and still the advance press didn't do it justice.  I'll be posting many pictures of Dubrovnik, but here's one to get us started.  I snapped this one from the top of the amazing walls that surround the city, and protects it from both sea and land attack.  It's sad to think of the city being bombed during the bloodbath that accompanied the collapse of Yugoslavia.  I can still remember TV reports of the bombing at the time, but it was before I went overseas for the first time and it just seemed to be happening in a different universe.  Of course, this is one of the main reasons to travel abroad - so that you can gain some appreciation and empathy for the rest of the world (and it's the single biggest reason why I started the Global Module project in the first place).  I'm so happy that it has been rebuilt and that the region is at peace - and that I had a chance to visit this magical place.

With its natural beauty it is almost impossible to take a bad picture of Dubrovnik, although, of course, I did.  Happily, this is not one of them.

Hag Al Laila

A cool article in the Gulf News today by Noorhan Barakat:

Goody Bags Ring In Hag Al Laila
Mid-Sha'aban Festival Is Part of Ritual Welcoming Ramadan

During the past week various centres and Departments across Dubai and Sharjah celebrated Hag Al Laila or Gergei'an (the mid of Sha'aban celebration), in preparation for the arrival of Ramadan.

Hag Al Laila, is a traditional event celebrated in some of the GCC countries where children in traditional attire visit their neighbours in groups after Asr prayer until sunset, changin folkloric songs that are special to the occasion and collecting sweets, nuts and coins in their bags - almost like Halloween's trick or treat.

Children would say 'Atoona Hag Al Laila', which means "Give us sweets for tonight", when they knock.

Hag Al Laila is celebrated annually in mid-Sha'aban, the eighth lunar month, by people in preparation for the arrival of Ramadan two weeks later.

Sharjah Media Centre, Sharjah Museums Department, Sharjah Municiplaity, Sharjah Ladies Clubs, Children's City Dubai, Dubai Women Establishment and Dubai Ladies Club were just some of the locations where Hag Al Laila activities took place this past week.

Shaikh Sultan Bin Ahmad Al Qasimi, Chairman of Sharjah Media Corporation, underlined the importance of instilling a spirit of culture and heritage in the youth to keep future generations connected to their roots.

The festivities differed at the various locations, but the theme of heritage and giving ran through them.  The celebrations involved trivai about the UAE's culture and heritage, short skits and dances, traditional Emirati food and handicrafts, as well as disbursement of bags full of candy and nuts that were handed over to the attendees.

If It's the 4th of July This Must Be . . .

Montenegro.  I just returned from an absolutely amazing trip to Croatia, which will be dominating the blog for a while.  During the trip I rented a car, which gave me a lot more freedom to get around.  I did that for the first time on my recent trip to Salalah, Oman, and I'm now completely sold on the concept.  I had somehow convinced myself that renting a car overseas would be difficult, but nothing could be further from the truth.  I've now driven in Oman, South Africa, Croatia, Montenegro and Canada (although since I live in Vermont that probably shouldn't count).  Because I had the car I also had the opportunity to partake in one of my odd traditions: spending the 4th of July off the beaten path overseas.  It certainly didn't start as a conscious decision, but has grown into something akin to a quest.  Kotor, Montenegro has now joined the ranks of Agra, India; Bruges, Belgium; Bratislava, Slovakia; and Alexandria, Egypt.  This trip also shows how much I've grown as a foreign traveller.  It wasn't that long ago that my friend Michelle Miller was patiently explaining to me the difference between a passport and a visa, and now I feel comfortable enough to rent a car and skive off into Montenegro without a map and only the vaguest idea of their currency (by the way it's the Euro, although they're not a member of the EU, but more on that later).  Everyone I met in Montenegro was really friendly, and the border guard who stamped my passport was very pleased that an American was visiting, and jokingly asked if I was there to celebrate the 4th of July (yet another example of the dominance of American culture).  The country itself was stunningly beautiful, and seemed to be completely dominated by the ocean and mountains.  Here's a picture I snapped that might as well have been taken in Vermont.

A picture I snapped on the road to Kotor.  The main road winds along the Adriatic Sea that cuts deeply into the interior and forms, for lack of a better word, fjords.