Category Archives: Pondering

Generosity and rain

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Last night I went to the electrical shop just down the road to see if I could get a certain connection.  I failed, but the trip was certainly worth it.  The centre I went to was the more expensive one which has  a lot of fancy clothes shops especially, but I had heard previously there was a Spinney’s there also – a supermarket which is popular, although overpriced compared its competitors.  I had never seen the supermarket in my travels, but on this particular trip I saw one of their shopping trolley so I figure I’d walk a bit further to see if I could find it.  As soon as I got to the end of the street, and looked around the corner there it was in huge green fluoro lights.  I can’t believe I was so close, yet not ever seeing it before.  I had very nearly walked there quite a few times previously.

The good thing about Spinney’s and a few other supermarkets is that they have a noticeboard, which is handy as I’m currently looking to buy a car.

There were also plenty of other shops that would have been useful a while ago if I had known it was all there.  There was a kids entertainment place which we may utilise one of these days.

When I returned home I was a bit chuffed at my discovery, but that was nothing.  Our night time doorman had a bit of a grin on his face, and as I approached I noticed he was fidgeting through a stack of envelopes. With a big beaming smile he said this is for you Ryan.  It was an invitation to his wedding in India.  I think it was a bit tongue in cheek, but he proceeded to tell me about all the details, and how good India is to go to for quite a period of time I think he would like us to attend.  Unfortunately it’s too short notice, and probably not the ideal time to visit.  He also told me that he doesn’t give them to anyone, just his friends which was a nice touch. The pile of envelopes was quite high, so I figure he’s friends with just about everyone in our apartment.

This hasn’t been our first invitation to India, or Sri Lanka. Quite a few of the guys I work with have been very welcoming, and have offered to show me around their respective countries, and that they would love to show me around.  I’ll definitely take them up on the offer one day. One guy also made a deal with me to show me around if I take him to a cricket test match in Australia one day – which I obviously agreed to.

Thought I’d also mention, tonight it has been raining quite a lot. It’s rained so much that the road has flooded (probably 10 cm of “flooding”).  It’s been interesting to see the drivers reacting to water on the road, like it’s a deadly creek crossing. Actually the flooded road doesn’t necessarily indicate lots of rain as generally there hasn’t been much thinking or design for the effects of rain, as it’s not traditionally an issue.  With the effects of climate change, perhaps they should begin thinking. I mean, a couple of days before I arrived here it actually snowed in Ras Al Khaimer – a neighbouring Emirate.

Happy Holi

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For most of today I walked around work with red paint on my face. This was to mark the 12th day of Spring – a Hindi tradition called Holi (or Festival of Colours). As Spring brings out the most beautiful colours, Holi is about launching these colours in the form of natural paints, and some times coloured dyes. I felt a little odd, but my little dab of red was nothing compared to others. I saw a couple of guys in the office with white business shirts covered in so much red they looked like they’ve escaped some form of massacre. A nearby colleague arrived after the vandalism had occurred, but the ladies were able to get enough paint from my cheek to do him also. I was disappointed they didn’t go with my suggestion to apply it to his shirt’s collar in the shape of a women’s lips. Shortly after I was done I asked if I could wash it off, but I was warned not to as it would just mean I’d get done even more a second time.

It’s been good to experience a week with my family. It’s been really interesting to hear the things that they find amusing which I have become a bit blase about. An example is the constant use of car horns in traffic. My wife has found this a constant source of humour. In fact she has mentioned I don’t use ours nearly enough. It was kind of exciting when I drove and experienced getting horned for the first time. I believe it was because I was more than 30 centimetres from the car in front.

While I’ve become accustomed to the constant horning, yesterday afternoon I couldn’t help but chuckle. At a a cross-roads from work, there was an impasse of mass proportions with no one going anywhere. There must have been at least seven or eight cars involved. Around half were trying to get out and half were trying to get in, and each of these were going in different directions. The situation was totally hopeless. From my position away from the mellee I couldn’t work out how it got so bad, and how they could alleviate themselves from it. It seemed to me that they’d need a team of a dozen Mensas doing calculations on butcher’s paper to sort out this mess. But it seemed each of the cars thought the best solution was to sit there and use their horns, along with a few hand gestures. It may have taken me three of four minutes to walk past the scene, and the entire time there was a full chorus of car horns.

After work today I visited the post office for the first time. It’s quite a bit different from Australian post offices which go out of their way to sell everything and anything. I’m not sure if it was just this post office, but inside there was virtually nothing except a desk and the guy that worked there. They didn’t have envelopes for sale. A bit surprised by this I just had to ask if they had stamps. But the process was OK.

Tonight we went out for dinner. I carelessly chose a restaurant within a four year old’s eyesight from a kids mini-fair with loads of rides. The dinner was a pizza place, but Elle and I couldn’t go past their pastas. The service there was exceptional! They were all in love with Lewis, and looked after us very well. Our waiter guessed we were from Australia from our accent, and said he likes Australia and is a big fan of Tania Zaetta. I’ve never heard of that association to Australia before.

At the fair they had all the rides we’re used to. Our budget for Myles allowed him to go on five. Well four – I joined him on the roller coaster. While they were all the same as you’d expect at home, there were a few distinctive Dubai touches. For example, there were babies on the roller coaster with no protection. And I’m not used to being getting thrown around on a roller coaster while one of Muslim workers was on the ground below praying on his blanket. I hope he was praying for religious purposes, and it wasn’t due to his concerns about the ride.

A big hit with Myles was the four wheeler motobike. I wasn’t sure how long it’d take him to get used to it. He’s good at driving cars, but this thing had a thumb throttle. I shouldn’t have worried, he was a natural. Within a couple of laps he was tearing it up with sand flying everywhere. There were a couple of close shaves – particularly when he got so confident he started waving to us – but he managed to turn just in time to avoid the tyre walls.

After some initial naughty behaviour when he was obviously feeling the effects of the flight, Myles has been amazingly good. As a reward, tomorrow we’re going to Children’s City. We’ll report back later.

Conned again

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Last night I was conned on the street by Indian beggers.  The guy was holding a baby and with his wife, so his story of the family not having money for food or milk appealed to the senses of an absent father.  To be honest it felt a bit like a con (I mean I saw Slum Dog Millionaire), but when I asked if he was serious and how it could happen I couldn’t really take in his answer. I was just comparing the size of the little baby with my own son who has more than enough food (in fact this morning I heard for a 6 month old he’s off the growth chart!).

I gave them 30 AED before telling  him he needs to look after that baby. Then went on my way.  I was actually heading off to the Irish bar I found on my way home from work.  When I was there I asked the manager if he thought I was ripped off or not.  He shook his head at me, and said I definitely was.

It’s actually not the first time. Last week I met a guy nearly in tears cause apparently the taxi took off with his luggage, passport and all his money, and that he was so hungry.  After a long chat I gave him 50 AED to (allegely) get him through two days until his embassy will give him a ticket to go home. It sounded plausible at the time, and my doorman about said it was probably true. But the guy at the Dublin Arms said that’s a popular racket also.

The other one to watch out for, he said, is a single lady will come up to you asking for money, then right behind her another woman will appear and then they together accuse you of touching them. Then before you know it a whole herd of women come out to say they each witnessed it. The sting is that they say they’ll go to the police if you don’t give them all your money.

The guy at the bar said he’s had a few attempts against him, but the safest way to get around it is to say you’re willing to help, and that you’ll call the police for them.  You’ll be amazed at how fast they scurry away.  So now I’m equipped.

This evening when the guy had the baby, part of me wanted to just cut through the possible B.S. and take him to the shop and buy the food myself – like my brother does back at home – but I was already late, and didn’t want to go out of my way.

Otherwise the night was great.  I had a few pints and watched the Rugby League World Cup Challenge, where Australia’s Manly Sea Eagles beat the Leeds Rhinos. I find it hard to believe that it’s the first time an Australian team has won in six years.  I knew we were having a bit of a bad trot, like maybe two or three losses – but six?!

Anthony Watmou certainly deserved man of the match for his early efforts, although he fell a bit quiet.  Can’t wait for State of Origin, the only other time I like him.  There was an interesting exchange when Jamie Peacock was sin-binned. It was a small TV in a busy bar while I was eating, but it looked like it was Jamie that did the high tackle, threw the first punch, and appropriately got smacked around, yet Josh Perry had to join him in cooling off for 10 minutes.  Perhaps I’m just one-eyed when it comes to watching sport.  I think it’s a sure sign the football seasons have almost begun. 🙂

Go the Broncos and go the Lions.

Plenty of variety

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In the morning I had to get a few groceries from the local shop. The large shop I go to more often has a Carrefour – the French hypermarket, which is largest chain in the world. Walmart is only bigger in terms of revenue.

Carrefore is definitely a superior shop for variety to the ones close-by, but it takes over 20 minutes to walk, so when I do shop there, I try not to carry too much.  I made that mistake a few weeks back.  They have a fully-organised taxi waiting room, with guards making sure people take it in turns, however there is not nearly enough taxis for the amount of people needing them. Most of the time there’s a bit of a wait,  but on the day I bought my laptop, plus 3 or 4 bulky bags of things for the apartment it just had to be the night that the taxi line had a 40 – 50 metre line-up.

Rather than wait around, and the pain of having to keep moving my bags up as the line shortened I decided to go for it, and walk all the way.  By the time I reached home I think my arms were a foot or two longer.

I’ve learned my lesson, and now just get a few groceries, more often.  Or I just get what I absolutely have to from the big shops, and get other things from the gritty supermarkets nearby. Actually, it’s not that bad.

All shops here have so many different things from back home. Not a lot of pig product, obviously. But the fruit juices are a highlight.  I’ve tried quite a few different varieties which I’m not used to seeing in Australia. My favourite is kiwi fruit juice, closely followed by strawberry juice.  Honeydew mellon is OK, but I’ve learned to avoid anything with coconut or sugar cane. What was I thinking. Ewww.

Two steps forward..

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Today I came back to my apartment feeling like I had some success.  Mind you, this was the second time I returned home. The first time I felt absolutely frustrated.  Just like many other days when I’ve had to deal with a certain area involved in visa processing, etc.

But anyway, back to the positive. Not only did I walk a new way home from the nearby shopping centre without getting lost.  I also managed to achieve almost everything on my shopping and to-do lists that had failed me for almost a couple of weeks.

My trips to the shops have usually ended with me giving  up cause I can’t find what I’m looking for, can’t get in and out of the shops without waiting an enormous amount of time, or can’t find someone with even basic English skills or the willingness to answer a simple question. Actually quite a few of my trips have combined all three.

I talk about it like a tremendous success, but in normal everyday life getting some passport-sized photos enhanced and printed; and buying things like a dish drainer, water bottle, and cotton buds are pretty minor things.  But here, when I have searched the web for info, and gone into plenty of shops and failed to find these everyday things to the standard I want, tonight’s purchases seem like fossicking some huge gold nuggets.

Actually I referred to  not getting lost like it’s a strange thing for me. It actually hasn’t.  Elle refers to me having a bad sense of direction, but it hasn’t been an issue here at all. I guess there’s no alternative to finding my way around. I’ve even helped out the occasional limo driver, who haven’t known where basic landmarks are.

It’s not entirely related to the topic, but typing directions made me think of it. As I was walking through the carpark on my way out of the shop, I probably pass about 20 – 30 drive straight in car spaces.  I would say, tonight when I passed these spaces, almost a third of all the cars were pointing in various directions – other than straight ahead.  No word of a lie, a couple were driven in and left at around a 40 degree angle! This adds to the examples of bad driving that you see everywhere, and that I’ve written about previously.

A few of the guys have asked more than once when I’m going to change my driver’s license over and hire or buy a car. My position is getting more concrete everyday, I’m going to put it off for as long as humanly possible!

But in reality, once the family arrive, it would be a good time to get more daring. There’s more to see in Dubai than the vicinity of Deira and the creek, and where I’ve been able to impinge on the kindness of others who have driven somewhere else.

The prices to hire cars is quite expensive, so a couple people I know hire the small and basic cars.  It might be a good idea until we get used to the roads, driving on the other side of the road, but most importantly, all the other crazy drivers.

I thought Irish Village would be, well, a village

I survived my second week in the job, and joined a few Aussies at Irish Village for more than a few pints of Guinness. Until then I have been on a real health kick, and avoiding alcohol.

The Irish Village is a nice pub, in a semi-secluded spot. It’s near a couple of our offices, and the tennis courts where the Barclays Dubai Tennis Championships will be played later this month.

At the pub there was yet another case of, it’s a small world afterall. Initially there was just four of us at the pub, and my boss mentioned to one of the other guys, I should tell you, Ryan’s wife is from Tasmania.  I thought this was a bit abstract, but the guy made a bit of a joke, so I figured he may have been to Tasmania, or something.  But no! It turns out he’s from Ulverstone – the same town as my wife’s family. A town of less than 10,000 people. Now that’s getting a little freaky.

Ulverstone seems like one of those places though, like Toowoomba. If you’re having a chat with a certain number of Australians,  you’re more than likely to find someone with a connection to the place.  I remember Elle was working in a Brisbane bar a number of years ago, where she happened to work alongside someone also from Ulverstone – whom she had never met before.  What are the chances.

But anyway, The Irish Village was a nice place.  When I was in Australia considering whether to take the job or not, I did a fair bit of Google-ing to suss the country out.  One of my questions was whether they had anywhere that cooks some decent fish & chips. There seemed to be more than a couple of favourable references to the fish & chips at Irish Village.

It was funny how no matter what I searched for – no matter how obscure – there was always more than one web forum, or site where someone had asked the question previously.  I can’t think of all the questions now off the top of my head, but there were plenty of things like whether they had baby formula, childhood panadol, and things of that nature.

Google also helped me identify the sex of a person when I couldn’t discern it from the Indian, or Arabic name.  All you do is an image search on the name, and each and every time it displays dozens of images of people by that name. Presto.

Earlier in the day I did a fair bit of running around, finalising the joining stuff, such as attesting my marriage certificate. I caught a taxi from the Consulate to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and the guy was an absolute madman. Everyone on the roads here are obviously a bit crazy, but this guy took it to a whole new level. He actually had great skill with the way he could drive up to 100km/hr within 10 cm from the car in front, and stop suddenly at the lights. I was wondering why he was in so much of a hurry, and the only thing I could come up with was he going that fast to give him more time to watch himself in the rear vision mirros as he brushed his hands through his thick head of hair, and polish and straighten his shiny Ray Bans sunglasses. It was a bit compulsive. But he wasn’t just the king of speeding, he was also quite an expert at shepherding the other cars out of the lanes around him, and his use of the horn was quite special also.

In Dubai, people use their horns more than anywhere else I know. I would say on any built-up stretch of road, you’d hear a horn go off every 3 – 4 seconds. Most of the time, there are multiple horns going at once. There seems to be a number of contexts for people’s horning, and more than a few meanings attributed to it.  Yes, the humble car horn is a multi-faceted communication tool.

From what I’ve seen, people use their horns to say:

  • look out
  • hurry up
  • slow down
  • don’t cross there
  • hey, I’m driving here
  • LOOK OUT!
  • are you f-in crazy?
  • BOO!
  • you’re a mere pedestrian, don’t tempt me
  • this is your last warning. Grrrr; and
  • hey, it’s been quiet for three seconds – my turn.

The road rage statistics are actually quite low – if you believe the newspaper reports (which some have told me I shouldn’t do!)

We drove past some of the frantic construction of the Metro (Dubai’s first train system – expected to be running in Sept this yr). A sign on their wall caught my eye, “Know safety, no pain. No safety, Know Pain”. I thought this was quite insightful. Unfortunately it seems not everyone across the country has the same thinking. I was walking on a footpath, and at random intervals there were large and sudden drop-offs at least three feet in depth. I’d hate to be walking past there at night.

The night ended up going back to a birthday party of one of the expat gang. It was a pizza and trivia night party, where they used the Play Station 3 Buzz game. I was initially cynical, but it was extremely entertaining!  Particularly when the teams were split into guys and girls, and the guys would only take points from the girls – to ensure their demise.

Wow, what workers

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I wish I had earlier taken a picture of the scene across the road. It was a vacant lot, with a base of sand – like anywhere in Dubai where there’s nothing built, or planted and given a whole lot of water.  When the shops are open, it doubled as a car park.  And then it would be fenced off at other times, and people would walk through or stand in there for a chat.  Actually, it wasn’t quite a vacant lot.  It also had a single large tree – left there for the shade I imagine.

The other night when I was walking home, despite the near darkness, the lot was quite different. Instead of seeing the light colour of sand, there was clearly a layer of something that resembled oil roughly splashed all over. I stood out the front of the complex with our security guard hypothesizing what they could be doing. We both reached the conclusion that they were probably improving the car park.

The next morning when I woke-up just as the sun was rising at 5am, there was no doubt about it. 75% of the plot was covered in bitumen. There were about 6 or 7 men rushing around in the near dark.  They had a “Bessie” (for those familiar with the animated movie ‘Cars’ featuring Lightning Macqueen’); and four or five trucks waiting in the park with bitumen in their trailers. It was absolutely amazing.  By lunch time the entire car park was completed, with lines marked and fence posts cemented in.

You see a lot of  this in Dubai. The Sheik has had such amazing and grand plans, that there really is a furious pace from everyone to get it done in time. Some industries, more obviously than others. Construction work is primarily resourced from expat Indians. I’d really not like to be working in their conditions. You see whole mini-buses filled to the brim with the workers who pile out at the work site, to be replaced by the next shift so a lot of the sites are effectively working 24 hours a day. Mind you, I think that only requires two shifts in most places. Although some friends mentioned they no longer see the lights of cranes swinging about at night like they used to.

Although the conditions look extremely tough. Apparently they have improved somewhat over the years. Allegedly a few years back, instead of packed mini-buses, the workers would be packed into the back of a caged cattle truck.  I have heard people referring to it as modern day slave-labour.

Despite this, Dubai is still a fantastic place for a lot of the workers. Although they toil hard here to earn a meagre salary, it’s a huge improvement on what they would be enduring at home.

An example of this is our security guard, Manoj.  Manoj is from Nepal, and he has my utmost respect. Each, and every, day he works a 12 hour shift. He looks tired all the time, but he always has a smile for everyone and enjoys a good chat. I don’t know how someone can do it, then I learned he has a family back home – including a baby girl.  He told me he’s going to see them again in maybe July or August this year. 12 hour shifts x 7 days a week for the next 22 weeks or so, before he can see his family again.  Lots of people talk about making sacrifices, but I doubt they really know the meaning of the word next to some of the people I see.

Due to the financial crisis, the local press has been doing a number of exposes on how some example individual residents have been affected. It even detailed their incomes, and how it’s broken down. If the figures are accurate, some of the workers here are sending 100% of their incomes home while living in basic share accommodation, and eating whatever food the company provides them – which, if you see the battalions of labourers piling out of the buses, is a pretty small plastic bag full.

Some of the people the paper interviewed were illiterate so they didn’t know anything about the financial crisis, like how it was caused. All they knew is they were getting even less money for what they did before.

It’s a bleak picture I’m painting, but it’s one that still looks on the bright side of life. Despite working crazy hours here for not much, huge distances away from their families, these people are able to provide for their family like they may not have imagined back home. And still remain quite happy throughout it. Kudos and big props to them.

Happy Birthday honey

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Wow wifey, you’re old.  I think sleeping in til 11am on mywife’s birthday would usually be a no-no.  But with a seven hour time difference, and the safety of 12,028 kms, I can say it was entirely appropriate!  Apparently being awayin an entirely different country is not a sufficient present.  Luckily Dubai has everything for the woman who wants something.

The day was important for another reason, as it was my first dayworking for Emirates Group.  The morning was filled with meeting people,and learning what a lot of work I have to do. 

I’ve made a real effort in remembering people’s names, and it has been working amazingly well.  A while ago I think I did an advanced memory course, which taught some techniques which have really paid off. It involves changing the person’s name into words – particularly vivid picture words- then somehow associate it with the person’s appearance, so you can make the connection in future.  I really can’t get into what I’ve been coming up with for some of the sub-continental and Arabic names, but it certainly makes me remember.  Actually the names I’ve invented  are probably a little too vivid and memorable, as I honestly have to try not to laugh with some of the recall that comes when someone comes to see me.

The day also involved a bit of  a medical at headquarters,which involved yet another blood test.  With all the x-rays, blood tests, along with the eye scan at theairport,and yetanother blood test, I wouldn’t be surprised to come into work one day and see a clone of myself sitting next to me.  Well, actually Iwould be surprised.  Surely they could find something more valuable to clone, like a 20 year old baby sheep or something.

Out and about

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It should be unsurpring but today I just noticed that the Dubai escalators are around the opposite ways to what I’m used to.  They still go up and down, but like their roads people go on the right.  I noticed, however, there is no consistent (or any) convention followed while walking generally.  Actually from some reports, this is more like their roads.

I also did what I’ve said I’d never do and visited an internet cafe in my first week of going somewhere. At least I waited til after the airport arrivals section, and nearly got through the second day.  The only reason I broke this was I’ve been without a phone and wanted to get some info to family. There’s a wireless router upstairs, so I may not need to do this once I get a computer – whenever I find to research that one.

I visited an electronics and home entertainment store. Despite the loud speakers broadcasting at full volume from the nearby mosques early in the morning, I thought I should get an clock radio or something to make sure I wake up at the right time for work.  My sleeping patterns haven’t yet matured to sleeping in anyway.  But anyway, at the shop I heard the beautiful voice of a woman obviously demonstrating the karaoke machine. As I got closer I realised that the female voice was actually coming from a short pudgy Arab guy with a moustache.  Woops.

After shoping in a few clothing stores I’ve learned Dubai’s not great for Australian guys concerned about their waist size.  Pants here are labelled an average of 2 inches larger than at home.  OR, I made more of a pig of myself in Business Class on the way over than I first thought.

At the moment I can’t help but feel a bit like Guy Pierce’s character in the movie, Memento.  I’m in my apartment all by myself so I constantly have monologue running in my head, and being in a strange new country I’m unsure of everything.  It hasn’t yet got to the stage where I need to tattoo words to my body, or photograph people’s faces – but I have certainly been writing names down, and making loads of other notes.  Those who love Indian cinema may be interested to know a Bollywood version of Memento has been released. No, honestly!

To quantify a “handfull”

I was recently chatting with a colleague about our respective kids, when he started comparing our situations.  Ordinarily there’s no value in making comparisons.  But it was just interesting to see the difference in our ages.

Despite being almost ten years older than me, our children are set to be very close in age.  He made a comment along the lines of finding his kids quite a handfull, and it would probably be a lot easier for me to get around after my kid.  But in answer to him, I had to say I’ve never found it effortless.

Every year it seems there’s a new oldest mother in the world, often with a lot of negative publicity.  There’s a number of reasons why that’s not a good idea.  Most importantly in my eyes is life expectancy.  These mothers in their 70s would be doing exceedingly well to just be around to see their child’s 15th birthday.

But in terms of ideal age, I suppose it just made me reflect that it’s obvious to me that at no age a parent is going to find it easy to endlessly chase after and look after their kids while keeping them entertained.  Last year I was probably the fittest I’ve been in my life.  I was in marathon running shape so my stamina was quite high.  But I can honestly say my son was still a handfull. 

Perhaps the measure of a kid being a handfull is something they watch. Perhaps they are just able to guage how much energy a parent has,  sap it to the point of exhaustion, then they’re ready to go to bed.

I think this may explain how my older, non-marathon running colleague found his kids such a handfull, yet I did too. 

Guess it begs the question how much energy do our kids have.  I think in all honestly, there is a connection between how well you’re able to keep up with them, and how much energy they’re able to exert.

But the longer I’m in the game of being a parent I also see the value of being creative.  A game to keep them entertained is good.  A game that keeps them entertained while not involving you physically is better.  But a game that keeps them entertained, while not involving you physically, that helps with getting some of the house work done is clearly the best!  I can’t recall any of these examples off the top of my head, but I will certainly document them when I remember.