You might have noticed there's been a political shift in the Middle East.
And I have to tell you, it's pretty fascinating having ring-side seats. When the troubles started in Tunisia, it seemed like just another scuffle in North Africa. But after a few days, things really started to happen and everyone took notice.
When the protests came to Egypt, I was transfixed. I could not get enough news fast enough. I made the leap into the 21st century, signing up for Twitter just so I could have minute-to-minute (or second-to-second) access to news. I never really got Twitter before, but for something like this -- wow.
We cynical journalists began a pool to see when Mubarak would step down. A week passed with no winners and we figured the protesters would finally go home. But they didn't. This was so important to them, something we all take for granted, and they were determined. Freedom as the US knows it doesn't exist in the Middle East, and it hasn't for a long time. Imagine any one of our last six presidents with a 30-plus year term. It wasn't just students, or trouble-makers, or intellectuals. It was Egyptians, and that was something to see.
A friend of mine who lives in Kabul was inexplicably drawn to Cairo at this moment. She had to see the revolution. So she packed a small bag, made some contacts and went. It was her misfortune that after nearly a week there, Mubarak stepped down the following day.
After Egypt, there was talk of a domino effect. Who would be next? Would it come to the Gulf? Just in case, the King of Bahrain offered payments of $2,500 to each citizen. Surely that would make folks think twice about protesting.
Bahrain, like the UAE, is known for being pretty stable. They have a quasi-legislature with representatives from the minority Shia population. But Egypt gave people ideas. Surely if a peaceful protest worked in powder keg countries like Egypt and Tunisia, it would work in Bahrain. Until the police fired on their own people.
Libya was next. The chaos has been coming fast and furious, and I still can't get enough information. Because Libya is a totalitarian government, there was no foreign press in the country when their protests started. Their protests, too, started out peacefully, until their insane leader decided that bombing his own people was a good idea.
Libyans who were able to communicate with the outside world begged for attention. They wanted to know why nobody was covering their plight. Meanwhile, journalists were desperate to get visas to cross the border. A CNN journalist was the first to get into the country. I don't believe he made the crossing legally.
Libya has rather put a whole new face on things, hiring mercenaries to kill its own people. That, I think, is what helped save Egypt -- it was a conscript army that would not fire on its own people.
But the Gaddafi family is certifiable. I get that the father is a nutcase. But the son ought to know better, no? (My prediction --Gaddafi the elder dies, at the hands of a former loyalist, and Gaddafi the younger ends up being tried for war crimes)
Shortly after the incidents in Bahrain, Saudi Arabia essentially paid off its populace, too. But there are rumblings on the blogosphere that it is too late. There is supposed to be a Facebook-organized protest in March. I don't think anyone thinks Saudi protests will be peaceful.
In the UAE, several influential sheikhs made a tour of the poorer Northern Emirates. It was time, they said, to meet with the people. I suppose one could draw that conclusion.
And now Oman. Considered the most stable of all the Gulf countries, protests there are entering their third day. We are about 100 miles from the border of Oman, and the protests are in a port city away from Muscat. But Oman is not a large country. It is about the size of North Carolina. Or the size of Yemen (which is having its own problems and is also a neighbor of ours)
Omanis want jobs. A third of their population is expatriate workers, but Oman is not a rich country. People there are not content to spend time sitting around, and their educated populace is frustrated. I do not know if Omanis would do the jobs that expatriates do. But I do know they drive taxis, something you would be unlikely to see in any other Gulf country.
All of this is a long way of saying yeah, we're watching. We're OK. We're not particularly worried, but we're certainly paying attention (as is the government).
I told Paul the other day that this was the most exciting thing I had witnessed in my life. He was incredulous -- What about the Berlin Wall and all of Eastern Europe?
And maybe this isn't as momentous. But I was 25 and living in California. I had never been to Europe. I worked in a Sports section. It just wasn't relevant to my life.
But this -- I feel like I'm in the middle of history. I don't know how it will turn out. As Paul says, these things aren't fast. It takes time to see if these countries will be able to pull it off. For those who aren't plagued by protests, I think they will make more concessions to their populations. Maybe not great ones, but each step matters.
Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times tweeted: If democracy is OK for the US and Israel, why isn't it OK for the Middle East. It's an excellent question.
I worry that the American media is portraying this as a Muslim uprising. In fact, there has been very little religion involved in this, aside from in Bahrain, where the Sunni minority rules the Shia majority. (And despite claims to the contrary by Gaddafi's son) Sure, religion is a part of life here. But that's not what is driving the protests. It is the freedom of movement, from one Arab country to another. The option for a better life. For less corruption. For more jobs.
And this, my first post in over a month, is my long-winded and rambling way of saying don't worry about us ... we're watching from afar, and taking nothing for granted. And meanwhile, I'm glued to the internet, watching history being made.
February 28, 2011
January 25, 2011
Getting Things Done
I had a mid-week day off, something rare of late.
Everyone wants to have weekends off, but it's so hard to accomplish anything. Shops are either closed most of Friday or they're packed with other people who have weekends off. So Tuesday was the day to get things done.
I had grand plans: Go to the place that sold me the ESPN card and get it to actually work. Shop for groceries. Get the caretaker to bring in a plumber and fix the sink. Get out of the way of the housekeeper. Get a "free" blow-out at the hair-dresser (some special offer for January) Get a pedicure. Go out with girlfriends. It was all very carefully choreographed to meet certain times and appointments.
And then it all went to hell.
I got back from the TV guy and not only was it not "fixed" I had fewer channels than when they started. I called him, he said he'd come by at 1. That was when I scheduled the pedicure. Phone call to the salon to cancel.
Then I find the caretaker, and tell him I need the sink fixed. He says the plumber will come around 2 or 3. So I call and move the hair appointment to 4. I figure maybe I can get a pedicure after, if they have any openings.
The TV guy, who comes by on his lunch hour, actually shows up and the caretaker arrives at the same time. They chat a little in Arabic. I wonder what it's about. I think it has to do with the satellite on the roof judging from the gestures, but nobody fills me in.
I really want the plumbing job to be finished by 3, because he's making huge mess and the housekeeper comes at 3. I'd like him to be out of her way. And then I can get out of her way, I hope, and fill my afternoon with pampering, and my evening with fun.
But the way things have gone, I'm not making any hard and fast plans.
Everyone wants to have weekends off, but it's so hard to accomplish anything. Shops are either closed most of Friday or they're packed with other people who have weekends off. So Tuesday was the day to get things done.
I had grand plans: Go to the place that sold me the ESPN card and get it to actually work. Shop for groceries. Get the caretaker to bring in a plumber and fix the sink. Get out of the way of the housekeeper. Get a "free" blow-out at the hair-dresser (some special offer for January) Get a pedicure. Go out with girlfriends. It was all very carefully choreographed to meet certain times and appointments.
And then it all went to hell.
I got back from the TV guy and not only was it not "fixed" I had fewer channels than when they started. I called him, he said he'd come by at 1. That was when I scheduled the pedicure. Phone call to the salon to cancel.
Then I find the caretaker, and tell him I need the sink fixed. He says the plumber will come around 2 or 3. So I call and move the hair appointment to 4. I figure maybe I can get a pedicure after, if they have any openings.
The TV guy, who comes by on his lunch hour, actually shows up and the caretaker arrives at the same time. They chat a little in Arabic. I wonder what it's about. I think it has to do with the satellite on the roof judging from the gestures, but nobody fills me in.
I really want the plumbing job to be finished by 3, because he's making huge mess and the housekeeper comes at 3. I'd like him to be out of her way. And then I can get out of her way, I hope, and fill my afternoon with pampering, and my evening with fun.
But the way things have gone, I'm not making any hard and fast plans.
January 8, 2011
Paging Nick Flier
There is a reason I have had, essentially, one hairdresser since 1986.
In all that time, I have only been unhappy (and by unhappy I mean mildly annoyed but I got over it) with Nick's results once. And this is the same hairdresser who convinced me to cut my hair short by cutting a chunk of my hair short.
He took care of me through all lengths and styles, and was the first one to color my hair. It came out beautifully. I like to call it magazine hair. Even when I lived in Paris, I managed to get home twice a year to have Nick do his magic and then just muddle through in-between.
But if it were just a matter of finding someone to cut my hair, it would be no big deal. Hair grows back and I don't get too agitated about it. But as I am, ahem, aging a bit, I'm in need of a good colorist these days.
Make that desperate.
This summer I was made an unintentional blonde -- a Lebanese thing, I think. A lot of Lebanese women here end up blonde, it's like a thing or something. I was going for highlights, I thought. I know blonde covers the gray, but I didn't need that much coverage!
When I went to Paris in October, I had my Australian hairdresser there fix it. She did my hair for my wedding and is a rock star. She put on a color that covered the blonde and all was good.
And when it was time for a touch-up, I thought I had a fail-safe system. I would take the instructions from the Paris hairdresser and give them to the woman here.
How hard would that be? It's just paint by the numbers at this point.
Harder than I thought, obviously. I came home with nearly black hair. You know when the managing editor of your newspaper walks by you as you walk in with a new haircut and says "Hmmmmm, interesting" that you're in trouble. I can't say nobody noticed. Everybody noticed.
I hated it. I hated it every day for the last month plus and finally I couldn't stand it anymore and decided to do something about it.
I asked a few people for recommendations and came up with Waleed. I have seen Waleed's work (although I should mention the last place had been recommended as well, but not for color). The last place was frequented by demanding Emirati women. Maybe they don't go for color?
Waleed works in a fancy Western-style salon in a fancy Western neighborhood I didn't even know existed.
In order to fix the problem, first he had to destroy it. He stripped out all the color in my hair, and then re-colored it. That can't have been good for it. But it's shiny and smooth and, essentially, my normal color. No highlights. No blonde. Just a chestnut brown with a little auburn in it as the sun hits it.
It cost a bundle, even by Western standards. All I can say is I sure miss Nick.
In all that time, I have only been unhappy (and by unhappy I mean mildly annoyed but I got over it) with Nick's results once. And this is the same hairdresser who convinced me to cut my hair short by cutting a chunk of my hair short.
He took care of me through all lengths and styles, and was the first one to color my hair. It came out beautifully. I like to call it magazine hair. Even when I lived in Paris, I managed to get home twice a year to have Nick do his magic and then just muddle through in-between.
But if it were just a matter of finding someone to cut my hair, it would be no big deal. Hair grows back and I don't get too agitated about it. But as I am, ahem, aging a bit, I'm in need of a good colorist these days.
Make that desperate.
This summer I was made an unintentional blonde -- a Lebanese thing, I think. A lot of Lebanese women here end up blonde, it's like a thing or something. I was going for highlights, I thought. I know blonde covers the gray, but I didn't need that much coverage!
When I went to Paris in October, I had my Australian hairdresser there fix it. She did my hair for my wedding and is a rock star. She put on a color that covered the blonde and all was good.
And when it was time for a touch-up, I thought I had a fail-safe system. I would take the instructions from the Paris hairdresser and give them to the woman here.
How hard would that be? It's just paint by the numbers at this point.
Harder than I thought, obviously. I came home with nearly black hair. You know when the managing editor of your newspaper walks by you as you walk in with a new haircut and says "Hmmmmm, interesting" that you're in trouble. I can't say nobody noticed. Everybody noticed.
I hated it. I hated it every day for the last month plus and finally I couldn't stand it anymore and decided to do something about it.
I asked a few people for recommendations and came up with Waleed. I have seen Waleed's work (although I should mention the last place had been recommended as well, but not for color). The last place was frequented by demanding Emirati women. Maybe they don't go for color?
Waleed works in a fancy Western-style salon in a fancy Western neighborhood I didn't even know existed.
In order to fix the problem, first he had to destroy it. He stripped out all the color in my hair, and then re-colored it. That can't have been good for it. But it's shiny and smooth and, essentially, my normal color. No highlights. No blonde. Just a chestnut brown with a little auburn in it as the sun hits it.
It cost a bundle, even by Western standards. All I can say is I sure miss Nick.
December 19, 2010
December 11, 2010
Paradise Found -- Or What Passes For It
Sadly, I take few pleasures from life in the Gulf. But going to the beach in December is one of them.
It is the start of beach season here. After an eight-month summer, the lovely weather has finally arrived. Families are out and about, hitting the parks and beaches.
The country inaugurated winter with a four-day weekend last week, and I stayed away because of the crowds (ok and because we were moving and I was sick). Instead, I went to the beach today and it was beautiful. It wasn't a really nice day -- too much smog -- but being at the beach alleviates all that for me.
When I'm stretched out on a lounge chair, with a book (or a kindle) in hand, listening to the water lap the shore, there's nothing better. No matter how many times in my life I do this, I don't think I'll ever stop being surprised at how therapeutic it all feels.
We plan to make the most of the winter. Maybe get a barbecue for our new, more-spacious patio. And I plan to spend more time at the beach.
A New Year's resolution.
It is the start of beach season here. After an eight-month summer, the lovely weather has finally arrived. Families are out and about, hitting the parks and beaches.
The country inaugurated winter with a four-day weekend last week, and I stayed away because of the crowds (ok and because we were moving and I was sick). Instead, I went to the beach today and it was beautiful. It wasn't a really nice day -- too much smog -- but being at the beach alleviates all that for me.
When I'm stretched out on a lounge chair, with a book (or a kindle) in hand, listening to the water lap the shore, there's nothing better. No matter how many times in my life I do this, I don't think I'll ever stop being surprised at how therapeutic it all feels.
We plan to make the most of the winter. Maybe get a barbecue for our new, more-spacious patio. And I plan to spend more time at the beach.
A New Year's resolution.
October 23, 2010
Another Paris Interlude
Yes, yes, I realize it's been more than two months since I blogged. You see, I get these ideas and then ... I know, you don't care. You just want to see something, anything, written in this space.
I get that. Really I do. And my intentions are good. But I get an idea and then when I get to the computer ... I'd like to say it's age related, but I'm just kind of bad at remembering.
We are finishing up a three-week trip to France that has been very relaxing and easy-going. One week house hunting in the south, in the Languedoc region, and two weeks in Paris. The house hunting was interesting, but not terribly fruitful. And because two job leads fell through, not entirely practical, either.
Back in the city it feels like home to me. I'm oddly comfortable here. I probably wrote that in the previous post, too, and it remains true, even though the Paris of summer -- empty, warm, endlessly light -- has disappeared in October.
We went to the food fair -- my parents' excuse for visiting us here during this trip -- and came back with armagnac, foie gras and lovely fig chutney. And some death trumpets. Those are deep black mushrooms with an earthy taste and a bit of a chewy texture. The mushrooms have been one of the highlights of this visit. Being here in the fall brings with it so many good food things: pumpkin soup, fricassee of wild mushrooms, roasted figs ... It's my favorite time of year.
We also had the opportunity to go to Deauville to watch a friend's horse race. The horse, George, didn't finish in the money, but she is optimistic about his future. See below
In terms of being optimistic for the future -- what other options are there? We've had so much time to think lately, and ponder options and wants and needs. We're sort of sure what we want, we're not entirely sure of how to get it, and yet I am certain we will.
How's that for optimism?
I get that. Really I do. And my intentions are good. But I get an idea and then when I get to the computer ... I'd like to say it's age related, but I'm just kind of bad at remembering.
We are finishing up a three-week trip to France that has been very relaxing and easy-going. One week house hunting in the south, in the Languedoc region, and two weeks in Paris. The house hunting was interesting, but not terribly fruitful. And because two job leads fell through, not entirely practical, either.
Back in the city it feels like home to me. I'm oddly comfortable here. I probably wrote that in the previous post, too, and it remains true, even though the Paris of summer -- empty, warm, endlessly light -- has disappeared in October.
We went to the food fair -- my parents' excuse for visiting us here during this trip -- and came back with armagnac, foie gras and lovely fig chutney. And some death trumpets. Those are deep black mushrooms with an earthy taste and a bit of a chewy texture. The mushrooms have been one of the highlights of this visit. Being here in the fall brings with it so many good food things: pumpkin soup, fricassee of wild mushrooms, roasted figs ... It's my favorite time of year.
We also had the opportunity to go to Deauville to watch a friend's horse race. The horse, George, didn't finish in the money, but she is optimistic about his future. See below
In terms of being optimistic for the future -- what other options are there? We've had so much time to think lately, and ponder options and wants and needs. We're sort of sure what we want, we're not entirely sure of how to get it, and yet I am certain we will.
How's that for optimism?
August 17, 2010
Comfortable Again
We interrupt the usual Abu Dhabi whine-fest to detail the joys of being back in Paris.
Paris is a funny place. When I left, in 2006, I definitely needed a break from it. I suspect that is true of all cities, and maybe all places. Sometimes you just need to deal with a completely different set of circumstances.
In the last year or so, especially after we spent five weeks here last summer, we have been trying to return permanently. Paris, it is clear to me, is where my home should be. I am more comfortable here than I am in California. I know this place, and it suits me.
All sorts of ideas are cropping up in my efforts to figure out how to get back here, more or less permanently. How long must I work in Abu Dhabi to afford living here without constant work? What sort of company can I start that will fund a meager lifestyle? Is there anyone who needs a freelancer with my particular talents?
We stayed in the 11th arrondissement when we arrived. More than ten years ago, when I first spent time in that neighborhood, it was awful. Sketchy and dangerous. Now, it's more vibrant, a little more gentrified, a lot more expensive. There are still some dubious characters hanging around -- it seems to be a favorite spot for 20-something junkies and their dogs -- but it's nothing like it was in 1998. Or even 2004.
Part of this neighborhood wandering we are doing is to try to suss out where we would like to live. Some if it is pure daydreaming, but the reality is if we come back here, we won't be able to afford the old neighborhood -- the 7th -- and that's a shame.
Each trip back here we find new opportunities and get a little closer to life goals we weren't aware we had. And it's been a fabulous adventure.
Paris is a funny place. When I left, in 2006, I definitely needed a break from it. I suspect that is true of all cities, and maybe all places. Sometimes you just need to deal with a completely different set of circumstances.
In the last year or so, especially after we spent five weeks here last summer, we have been trying to return permanently. Paris, it is clear to me, is where my home should be. I am more comfortable here than I am in California. I know this place, and it suits me.
All sorts of ideas are cropping up in my efforts to figure out how to get back here, more or less permanently. How long must I work in Abu Dhabi to afford living here without constant work? What sort of company can I start that will fund a meager lifestyle? Is there anyone who needs a freelancer with my particular talents?
We stayed in the 11th arrondissement when we arrived. More than ten years ago, when I first spent time in that neighborhood, it was awful. Sketchy and dangerous. Now, it's more vibrant, a little more gentrified, a lot more expensive. There are still some dubious characters hanging around -- it seems to be a favorite spot for 20-something junkies and their dogs -- but it's nothing like it was in 1998. Or even 2004.
Part of this neighborhood wandering we are doing is to try to suss out where we would like to live. Some if it is pure daydreaming, but the reality is if we come back here, we won't be able to afford the old neighborhood -- the 7th -- and that's a shame.
Each trip back here we find new opportunities and get a little closer to life goals we weren't aware we had. And it's been a fabulous adventure.
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