I have to say that I am so sorry for not posting on a regular basis. I have been lucky enough to have something to do most nights. When I don't have something to do (and I should be 'blogging') I usually go over to my neighbors house and watch TV, because I have yet to buy one. Anyway, I digress...
Over the past few months, I have had the opportunity to get behind the scenes and live like a local man for a few nights. Now, I know this will spark several questions in people's minds, most of which I am sure are inappropriate. Let me assure you that I still a beautiful woman, all intact, and plan on remaining so for the rest of my time here on this crazy planet. No, what I was referring to was the hidden world of local Emirati men. It seems all so mysterious to the Western observer; tinted windows, crisp white kandoras, meticulously tied guthras on their heads sporting the all-important Ray Ban Aviator (think Top Gun) sunglasses. They speed through the streets, with no worries other than how fast they can wiz past the other cars. They steal a few quick glances at the foreigners surrounding them at the local market -- a minority in their own country. It really is intriguing to see the way they carry themselves and have such a presence about them. Their look is so very Arabian. Sounds redundant, being in the Arabian desert, but it is simply true. They do not look like what we think of as Middle Eastern. The men are mostly segregated from the women in their family. They go out at night, cruising the streets in their Toyota Prados and Range Rovers, while the ladies stay at home and relax. Sometimes they head out to their camel farms and drink tea and coffee in the desert with the other male relatives in their family. Most women in the family do not get the opportunity to experience the majority of the activities the men partake in. I say 'most' because their are more open families that do allow the women more freedoms, but they are the minority. As a western woman, I am immediately drawn to something that is off limits, so when invited along on my first local male excursion, I jumped on it immediately. Since then, I have been lucky enough to have several outings with the local men (all very innocent) and would like to share those experiences with you . . . or at least as much as I can share them with you.
My first outing was with the son of a prominent local family. We originally thought it would be with the Father of my adopted Arabic family, but his son (who shall remain nameless) was on his Thanksgiving break from the states (many local men go to college in the states) and offered to take us out to the Ghayathi Camel Festival. After chowing down on some lamb byriani, we hopped into the car ('we', being myself and two there girls that also visit with the family) and off we went. After switching cars and picking up his brother-in-law, we headed over to the local market and honked the horn. As we waited for the worker to come out to the car to take our order, our family's son commented, "this doesn't happen in the states, does it?" He was right, we don not honk our horn and wait for a worker to come out! You heard me correctly, the locals honk their horn, and a worker comes out to take their order, at pretty much any venue. We got our drinks, juices and other beverages and headed onto the highway towards Ghayathi. As soon as we pulled into the festival the parade had just begun to celebrate the winner of the Camel Beauty Contest. So, we joined right in on the crazy parade procession. Trucks (they love their large trucks and SUVs) roaring their engines, honking horns and hanging out their windows. The best part was seeing the locals faces when they caught us with our windows down, taking photos of the camel madness. We would hold our cameras up and if they shook their head, we did not take a picture. However, most were more than happy to be photographed. As the paraded cleared, we drove around for a little longer surveying the grounds. After about a half an hour, we headed back onto the highway and gazed out the tinted windows (which every car has here -- adds to the mystery) at the gorgeous sunset. As we were driving along, we commented at a house in the middle of the desert. Well, the son decided it would be fun to turn off the highway, onto a sand/dirt road and wiz down past this house. He turned off the sandy dirt road into the dunes, only to get stuck. And man, were we stuck. Now, the three of us have had some experience getting a car or truck stuck. Mind you, it is not usually sand, but the same basic principles apply. I am from the great 'icy' East, Daisha is from the freezing Montana badlands and Sara is from the great state of Colorado. We are pretty well-versed in the art of getting a vehicle 'unstuck'. However, being culturally aware, we decide to let the proud Arabian Bedouin princes go at it for a while. After about 20 minutes and the tires creeping slowly into the sand even further, I said that I would help dig out the tires. I got a facial look that resembled a plea and a typical favorite phrase of "No problem". I waited about 10 more minutes and then just started digging. After about 5 more minutes (and realizing I had to use the bathroom) the three of us said 'screw it', walked around to the front of the car and started to push. I informed the son that we were western women and were more than capable to help out. His brother-in-law grew a huge grin on his face and came up to the front to help us push. After about 10 more minutes and a random Indian man on a four wheeler helping us out, we were successful! The brother-in-law did a few doughnuts in the sand to release some pent up dude-anger and we headed back out onto the highway. Five minutes hadn't passed, when we were back onto the sand and heading towards a Camel farm. Here we gassed up (hidden in the truck, as the boys made extra sure the helpers did not see us through the tinted windows) and drove over to a small fire pit. We hopped out of the truck and walked over to the pit. Here, were the son's male relatives (uncles, cousins, etc.). We sat down and they immediately wanted our pictures. The uncle even put his head wrap on me. Amusing . . . We sat and talked (with the son translating - although I don't think he was keen on telling us everything they said, ha ha), drank coffee, ate dates and they even milked a Camel for us to try fresh Camel's milk (literally 2 minutes old). It was pretty damn good. Almost just like cow's milk, only a tiny bit more barnyard. After a marriage proposal and a half an hour passed (or so . . . time runs differently in the desert) we drove back into Madinat Zayed and stopped at yet another campfire, although this one was out in front of someone's house. Here we only stayed for about 15 minutes, because it seemed like the son was not as happy about translating everything the older uncles were saying, hmmm. Funny how men are the same anywhere you go. :)
*As a side note, I want to mention that when I say 'a local prominent family', I mean that he/she is from a family in the Bani Yas tribe that has been in that area for hundreds of years. In my area, there are two main families. In Al Ain there are others, as well as Abu Dhabi and Dubai.
Since that fun experience, I have been craving some guy's nights out. It was just like hanging out at home, and in a country where the women usually stay in the home, hanging out with the boys has been a treat. I have also had the opportunity to visit the father's camel farm with his youngest son. That was fun, and I was even privy to watching them recite and conduct their prayers at sundown. What an amazingly peaceful experience.
Right before the 'winter' break, a local girl I walk with every night gave me a number for one of her male friend's in Al Ain. I gave him a call and his wild brother answered and said that we would be dune buggy-ing in the desert at night. My local friend was not too pleased to hear this, so we just ended up driving around Al Ain on a local's tour (got into a little fender bender - was brushed off every quickly) and having a few sandwiches in the desert. It was a treat to just hang out and he was very polite and could not do enough for us. I am sure that my friend telling him he 'better be polite or else' had something to do with it. His brother was funny as anything, and it was especially interesting to be let in on little secrets like what they do while no one is watching (which is pretty much just the equivalent of what any given western man does on a Friday night -- except the repercussions here are slightly different).
Other than that, I've had the chance to go to an Ice Hockey practice with a friend of mine, who knows a player on the team. That was an awesome experience to sit there and see a sport I've been watching since I was a little girl in the UAE. They were definitely beginners (hee hee), but it was still great to here the sound of the skates scraping against the ice and forget for an hour or so I was in the desert. I managed to score a puck as well. I don't think the players were expecting me there, by the looks. But that made it slightly more satisfying - ha ha.
In mid-December, I went out to see the huge Liwa Camel Festival and races being set up with the father, two of his daughters (which was a nice treat) and their cousin. There are tents lining the street with vendors selling everything a camel rider would need or want. The surrounding desert has mini camps set up with their fenced in camels waiting to be paraded around. After our brief rest at one of his many camel farms, we drove down 'Million Street', which is a desert road off the Tilal Liwa stretch that signifies were all of the high roller ($) camels are sold and auctioned off. I was told by the father that this is were you become a millionaire camel owner. And he is not joking . . . camels are a big deal here, and can be compared to our country's sport of horse racing. People sped millions on horses and they spend the same on camels. Some camels are for racing and others for 'beauty', as they put it.
So, that is basically what I have been up to before I went to the lovely country of India in December (that blog will be coming soon). I have at least been putting my time to good use. When I am not going out into the desert or over to Al Ain to visit friends, I am over at my Arabic family's house (well, outside in their Bedouin tent next to the house) drinking tea, chatting with the ladies and ogling over their precious children. How lucky am I, to be given such a candid view into this private treasured world? And to be brought in and adored by a local family is such a privilege, that I am just enjoying this crazy life experience. It makes life out here in the desert so much more enjoyable and authentic. Although I cannot post photos of any of the locals (their faces), I hope you enjoy the pictures I can share. The only thing I ask is that you keep them for your eyes only, out of respect for the local culture.
Look for my upcoming blog on Nepal and India. I promise there will be absolutely, positively NO sarcasm involved in that post (yeah, right)...
Over the past few months, I have had the opportunity to get behind the scenes and live like a local man for a few nights. Now, I know this will spark several questions in people's minds, most of which I am sure are inappropriate. Let me assure you that I still a beautiful woman, all intact, and plan on remaining so for the rest of my time here on this crazy planet. No, what I was referring to was the hidden world of local Emirati men. It seems all so mysterious to the Western observer; tinted windows, crisp white kandoras, meticulously tied guthras on their heads sporting the all-important Ray Ban Aviator (think Top Gun) sunglasses. They speed through the streets, with no worries other than how fast they can wiz past the other cars. They steal a few quick glances at the foreigners surrounding them at the local market -- a minority in their own country. It really is intriguing to see the way they carry themselves and have such a presence about them. Their look is so very Arabian. Sounds redundant, being in the Arabian desert, but it is simply true. They do not look like what we think of as Middle Eastern. The men are mostly segregated from the women in their family. They go out at night, cruising the streets in their Toyota Prados and Range Rovers, while the ladies stay at home and relax. Sometimes they head out to their camel farms and drink tea and coffee in the desert with the other male relatives in their family. Most women in the family do not get the opportunity to experience the majority of the activities the men partake in. I say 'most' because their are more open families that do allow the women more freedoms, but they are the minority. As a western woman, I am immediately drawn to something that is off limits, so when invited along on my first local male excursion, I jumped on it immediately. Since then, I have been lucky enough to have several outings with the local men (all very innocent) and would like to share those experiences with you . . . or at least as much as I can share them with you.
My first outing was with the son of a prominent local family. We originally thought it would be with the Father of my adopted Arabic family, but his son (who shall remain nameless) was on his Thanksgiving break from the states (many local men go to college in the states) and offered to take us out to the Ghayathi Camel Festival. After chowing down on some lamb byriani, we hopped into the car ('we', being myself and two there girls that also visit with the family) and off we went. After switching cars and picking up his brother-in-law, we headed over to the local market and honked the horn. As we waited for the worker to come out to the car to take our order, our family's son commented, "this doesn't happen in the states, does it?" He was right, we don not honk our horn and wait for a worker to come out! You heard me correctly, the locals honk their horn, and a worker comes out to take their order, at pretty much any venue. We got our drinks, juices and other beverages and headed onto the highway towards Ghayathi. As soon as we pulled into the festival the parade had just begun to celebrate the winner of the Camel Beauty Contest. So, we joined right in on the crazy parade procession. Trucks (they love their large trucks and SUVs) roaring their engines, honking horns and hanging out their windows. The best part was seeing the locals faces when they caught us with our windows down, taking photos of the camel madness. We would hold our cameras up and if they shook their head, we did not take a picture. However, most were more than happy to be photographed. As the paraded cleared, we drove around for a little longer surveying the grounds. After about a half an hour, we headed back onto the highway and gazed out the tinted windows (which every car has here -- adds to the mystery) at the gorgeous sunset. As we were driving along, we commented at a house in the middle of the desert. Well, the son decided it would be fun to turn off the highway, onto a sand/dirt road and wiz down past this house. He turned off the sandy dirt road into the dunes, only to get stuck. And man, were we stuck. Now, the three of us have had some experience getting a car or truck stuck. Mind you, it is not usually sand, but the same basic principles apply. I am from the great 'icy' East, Daisha is from the freezing Montana badlands and Sara is from the great state of Colorado. We are pretty well-versed in the art of getting a vehicle 'unstuck'. However, being culturally aware, we decide to let the proud Arabian Bedouin princes go at it for a while. After about 20 minutes and the tires creeping slowly into the sand even further, I said that I would help dig out the tires. I got a facial look that resembled a plea and a typical favorite phrase of "No problem". I waited about 10 more minutes and then just started digging. After about 5 more minutes (and realizing I had to use the bathroom) the three of us said 'screw it', walked around to the front of the car and started to push. I informed the son that we were western women and were more than capable to help out. His brother-in-law grew a huge grin on his face and came up to the front to help us push. After about 10 more minutes and a random Indian man on a four wheeler helping us out, we were successful! The brother-in-law did a few doughnuts in the sand to release some pent up dude-anger and we headed back out onto the highway. Five minutes hadn't passed, when we were back onto the sand and heading towards a Camel farm. Here we gassed up (hidden in the truck, as the boys made extra sure the helpers did not see us through the tinted windows) and drove over to a small fire pit. We hopped out of the truck and walked over to the pit. Here, were the son's male relatives (uncles, cousins, etc.). We sat down and they immediately wanted our pictures. The uncle even put his head wrap on me. Amusing . . . We sat and talked (with the son translating - although I don't think he was keen on telling us everything they said, ha ha), drank coffee, ate dates and they even milked a Camel for us to try fresh Camel's milk (literally 2 minutes old). It was pretty damn good. Almost just like cow's milk, only a tiny bit more barnyard. After a marriage proposal and a half an hour passed (or so . . . time runs differently in the desert) we drove back into Madinat Zayed and stopped at yet another campfire, although this one was out in front of someone's house. Here we only stayed for about 15 minutes, because it seemed like the son was not as happy about translating everything the older uncles were saying, hmmm. Funny how men are the same anywhere you go. :)
*As a side note, I want to mention that when I say 'a local prominent family', I mean that he/she is from a family in the Bani Yas tribe that has been in that area for hundreds of years. In my area, there are two main families. In Al Ain there are others, as well as Abu Dhabi and Dubai.
Since that fun experience, I have been craving some guy's nights out. It was just like hanging out at home, and in a country where the women usually stay in the home, hanging out with the boys has been a treat. I have also had the opportunity to visit the father's camel farm with his youngest son. That was fun, and I was even privy to watching them recite and conduct their prayers at sundown. What an amazingly peaceful experience.
Right before the 'winter' break, a local girl I walk with every night gave me a number for one of her male friend's in Al Ain. I gave him a call and his wild brother answered and said that we would be dune buggy-ing in the desert at night. My local friend was not too pleased to hear this, so we just ended up driving around Al Ain on a local's tour (got into a little fender bender - was brushed off every quickly) and having a few sandwiches in the desert. It was a treat to just hang out and he was very polite and could not do enough for us. I am sure that my friend telling him he 'better be polite or else' had something to do with it. His brother was funny as anything, and it was especially interesting to be let in on little secrets like what they do while no one is watching (which is pretty much just the equivalent of what any given western man does on a Friday night -- except the repercussions here are slightly different).
Other than that, I've had the chance to go to an Ice Hockey practice with a friend of mine, who knows a player on the team. That was an awesome experience to sit there and see a sport I've been watching since I was a little girl in the UAE. They were definitely beginners (hee hee), but it was still great to here the sound of the skates scraping against the ice and forget for an hour or so I was in the desert. I managed to score a puck as well. I don't think the players were expecting me there, by the looks. But that made it slightly more satisfying - ha ha.
In mid-December, I went out to see the huge Liwa Camel Festival and races being set up with the father, two of his daughters (which was a nice treat) and their cousin. There are tents lining the street with vendors selling everything a camel rider would need or want. The surrounding desert has mini camps set up with their fenced in camels waiting to be paraded around. After our brief rest at one of his many camel farms, we drove down 'Million Street', which is a desert road off the Tilal Liwa stretch that signifies were all of the high roller ($) camels are sold and auctioned off. I was told by the father that this is were you become a millionaire camel owner. And he is not joking . . . camels are a big deal here, and can be compared to our country's sport of horse racing. People sped millions on horses and they spend the same on camels. Some camels are for racing and others for 'beauty', as they put it.
So, that is basically what I have been up to before I went to the lovely country of India in December (that blog will be coming soon). I have at least been putting my time to good use. When I am not going out into the desert or over to Al Ain to visit friends, I am over at my Arabic family's house (well, outside in their Bedouin tent next to the house) drinking tea, chatting with the ladies and ogling over their precious children. How lucky am I, to be given such a candid view into this private treasured world? And to be brought in and adored by a local family is such a privilege, that I am just enjoying this crazy life experience. It makes life out here in the desert so much more enjoyable and authentic. Although I cannot post photos of any of the locals (their faces), I hope you enjoy the pictures I can share. The only thing I ask is that you keep them for your eyes only, out of respect for the local culture.
Look for my upcoming blog on Nepal and India. I promise there will be absolutely, positively NO sarcasm involved in that post (yeah, right)...
 |
| The winning Camel being led through the festival grounds |
 |
| Camels! |
 |
| The men walking alongside with the cars and the camels |
 |
| The most beautiful camel |
 |
| Boys being boys |
 |
| The winning camel parade through the desert |
 |
| A tent selling goods |
 |
| Our lucky tour guides |
 |
| Voting on the most beautiful camel |
 |
| The boys walking the festival grounds |
 |
| What is so incredibly attractive about this? |
 |
| The camels crossing over into the festival grounds from the desert |
 |
| Camel stampede! |
 |
| Look at that face! |
 |
| Caravan selling goods |
 |
| Man selling something.... |
 |
| Livestock for sale |
 |
| The sun setting on the grounds |
 |
| Coffee tent . . . yes please! |
 |
| Sun setting as we're driving away |
 |
| Daisha, Sara and myself |
 |
| Desert picture one |
 |
| Desert picture two |
 |
| Desert picture three (tired yet?) |
 |
| Desert picture four |
 |
| Desert picture five (in case you missed the first four) |
 |
| Hey! A desert picture! |
 |
| Guess where I live . . . the desert. |
 |
| Camel farm in the desert |
 |
| Doughnuts aren't only for the snow... |
 |
| Trying to get us out of the sand |
 |
| Yeah . . . we got a little stuck |
 |
| Just a little stuck |
 |
| Dates, tea and coffee in the desert |
 |
| Hanging with the men, who insisted I wear their head wrap (it looks better on them) |
 |
| Washing the tea cups |
 |
| Freshly squeezed warm camel milk (it's actually not that different from cow milk) |
 |
| Driving out to our Arabic family's camel farm with father |
 |
| How majestic... |
 |
| Camel literally just walk through the desert |
 |
| Baby camel in her pen at one of father's farm |
 |
| Now that is a face only a mother could love |
 |
| Always have a water truck close by |
 |
| No words... |
 |
| Camel crossing on the way to the Camel Festival with the father |
 |
| The youngest daughter petting her camel |
 |
| Baby camels |
 |
| Sunset out at the Arabic family's father's farm (another one of his farms) |
 |
| Caught kissing on camera! |
 |
| Yes, there are different types of camels |
 |
| Dinner Time! |
 |
| Camel pen |
 |
| Traditional Bedouin tent that the father has at his farm |
 |
| Tea and coffee |
 |
| Waiting for tea and coffee inside the tent |
 |
| Camel settlements set-up across the desert waiting for the Liwa Camel Festival |
 |
| Yes, that says 'Camel Milking' |
 |
| Traffic Jam |
No comments:
Post a Comment