The Sojourner

After living with Indian ex-patriots for almost two years, I have three conclusions about the British influence on the sub-continent.

1. The greatest thing that the British got from the Indians was tea.
2. The greatest thing that the British did for themselves while they ruled India was develop India Pale Ale for their troops.
3. The greatest thing that the Indians got from the British was cricket.

For the American readers, cricket does not refer to the soothing insect that chirps after twilight and is great bait for trout.  It is a sport that is played with a bat and a ball.  It never caught on in America, perhaps because it is akin to slow baseball.  It is hard to imagine anything slower than baseball.  A British pundit described the American reaction to cricket as "How can I hit the ball when I'm so busy eating grits and seeing my psychologist?".

The Indians and Pakistanis are absolutely passionate about cricket and have brought their love for the game wherever they have settled.  When we first acquired satellite television in America, we inquired about the pay-for-view sports packages.  The salesman for the broadcast company informed us that the most popular package by far had nothing to do with the NHL, NBA, NFL, or NASCAR.  It was cricket.

Today, I feel a little like the Jewish toy merchant who celebrated a successful retail season by taking the family to Antigua while the Christians had their Christmas in the cold.  This Christmas morning dawned brightly in Dubai to a cool 19 degrees C. (66 degrees F.).  I watched the world news with a cup of coffee to learn of record chill and snow in Europe and North America.  Air travel was suspended in many locations and snow was anticipated as far south as Atlanta, Georgia.  Brrrrr!

After a good swim under the bright Arabian sun, I dressed and walked the half kilometer from my flat to the Irish Village Pub in the Aviation Club.  The temperature had warmed to 26 degrees C. (79 degrees F.) and it was perfect for a meal in the garden.  For a reasonable sum, the pub was hosting a Christmas buffet lunch with all the trimmings.  Fortunately, I had not eaten anything before that time for it was truly a feast.  My first plate held turkey with cranberry sauce, roast beef with horseradish, mashed potatoes with gravy, and rotini pasta with meatballs and sauce.  The second plate featured British dishes, including steak-and-Guiness pie, bangers and mash, brussel sprouts, cauliflower with cheese, and julienne carrots.  Had I been twenty years younger, I could have held out for a third plate but I had to give in and bravely move onto the desserts.  I managed to savor Christmas pudding topped with clotted cream, a slice of Yule log pastrie, and a mincemeat tart.  Whew!  That was what I called a proper Christmas lunch.

Fortunately, I do not frequently succumb to such bouts of gluttony, but it truly made the day.  Needless to say, the walk home seemed like ten kilometers but it served as a non-alcoholic digestif.  The holiday in this Islamic land became memorable for the meal.

May you all enjoy similar repasts with family, friends, and football.  It seems that the world now has a little hope after coming out of a very rough time.

When living as a stranger in a strange land, the unusual and unexpected becomes commonplace.  After an initial adjustment period, life becomes routine although it takes a little longer to adapt when moving from Florida to Dubai than from Florida to Arizona.  Regardless of how normal the world seems to be, there are events that serve as poignant reminders of geography.

Last Thursday night, I was joined by a mate from Zimbabwe to watch the finals of the 2010 FINA Short Course World Swimming Championships.  The event was held in a brand-new natatorium at the Sheik Hamdan bin Mohammed bin Rashid Sports Complex.  (Sheik Hamdan is the Crown Prince.)  Attendees to the event included several members of the royal family who sat in their VVIP section.  The crowd was truly international with fans from Japan, Russia, Tunisia, Australia, Brazil, Sweden, and at least one American, yours truly.

The United States has long been a powerhouse in swimming and has turned out such greats at Mark Spitz, Michael Phelps, Rowdy Gaines, Randy Reese, and Marc Nadeau.  The U.S. team did not disappoint at this meet.  Ryan Lochte gave a world record performance in the 400 M individual medley.  Rebecca Soni out-touched Leiston Pickett of Australia by 1/100th of a second to win the 50 M breast stroke final.  Natalie Coughlin took the gold medal for the 100 M backstroke.

As impressive as these performances were, the event that knocked me off my seat was hearing the Star Spangled Banner played three times.  As an ex-patriot Yank, I have not heard my national anthem once during the last two years.  Not only did I get to see Old Glory raised to the rafters but I witnessed the Emirati royalty and the others in the arena stand respectfully during the playing of our national hymn.  Let me tell you that the kids on the podium were not the only ones who choked up.


To add to the surreal vibes of the whole experience, Lynard Skynard's Sweet Home Alabama was played as Ryan Lochte exited poolside and The Beach Boy's Kokomo was cued up during Natalie Coughlin's departure from the podium.  Hearing those songs at a nightclub would have had little significance but hearing them in this formal, international sporting event was fantastic.

The events of the evening drove home the reality that I was an American who drove across town to watch an event that was 12,000 kilometers from home.

The ADA clearly does not stand for 'Arabian Disabilities Act'.  Those in America and Europe are familiar with the ubiquitous special entrances, ramps, bathroom stalls, and parking spaces for physically handicapped individuals.

Here in the Emirates this is not a common site.  Handicapped parking is generally only found around government buildings and in a proximity to tourist hotels and attractions.  Regardless, this does not reflect a lack of compassion or caring in the society.

The majority of inhabitants of the Emirates are ex-patriots.  Local residents make up only 5% of the population.  Ex-patriots have come here primarily to work so they must be of sound health and ambulatory in order to pass the medical exam that is required to obtain a work visa.

There are very strong family bonds here.  The elderly and the handicapped are generally under the care of their family and friends.  I found these same values in Japan where handicapped persons are not ostracized but cared for by loved ones

For years in America and Europe, we have decided to have the government take over many of our social responsibilities.  Many rely totally on the schools and teachers to raise their children and openly blame them for problems caused by their own shortcomings as parents.  The same dependence on the government is expected concerning the elderly and the handicapped.

In wealthy nations, there was revenue available for many of these social services that poor nations did not possess.  Today, many nations are bankrupt or are running huge deficits.  Does it make sense to follow the example of traditional and developing countries and take more personal responsibility for our children, our elderly, and our handicapped?  Obviously, there will always be a need for social service for institutionalized persons, rehabilitation, and to assist in providing equal opportunities for the handicapped.  If we aspire to truly have less government, we need to shoulder more responsibility ourselves.  This should start with our own families.

It is refreshing to live in a country formed from a multitude of cultures that collectively possess family values and self-reliance that has been lost in much of the West.

Living in this polyglot state often brings interesting clashes of cultures.  Today, people from around the world are drawn to the same activities that pull them from their traditional lives.  Last Thursday was National Day here in the Emirates where the young nation recognized thirty-nine years of existence.  Since it was a state holiday, it provided a good opportunity to observe people relaxing and having fun.

While driving north to Ras Al Khaimah, I observed a "pick-up" cricket game in a large empty lot beside the freeway.  Often on Fridays or on public holidays, it is possible to witness Indians and Pakistanis enthusiastically playing their favorite sport.  It was interesting to note that several of the players were wearing izaars, which are a skirt-like garments that extend well below the knees.  I did not stop to watch the game but I imagined the humorous spectacle of seeing these players running at top speed in these restrictive outfits.

After having a good flight up the base of the Musandam peninsula to Oman, I turned onto the ramp from the runway at Jazirah Aviation.  In the usually empty parking area were several of the same Ukranian microlight that I was taxiing.  In the FBO, I was informed that these were private aircraft whose owners were participating in a club flight around the Emirates.  They did this every year on National Day after making special arrangements with the local civil aviation authority.  All of the participants were local Emirati dressed in traditional dishdashas (ankle-length shirt dresses) with sandals.  This attire would definitely make flying challenging.  At least these particular planes are equipped with yokes for directing the ailerons and elevator.  I imagine that piloting a plane with a control stick would be virtually impossible in such an outfit.

On the way home, I stopped by a Starbucks to pick up a quarter kilo of their choice coffee beans.  At the check-out, I was behind a local couple with cute baby girl in a stroller.  The little one was talking up a storm to me in that mysterious language that infants are so adept at speaking.  Being a sucker for babies, I smiled and waived to the little one who continued with her soliloquy.  At first, I received a stern look from her folks, who were obviously not happy at having their little darling talking to an infidel.  However, the love of parenthood overcame suspicion and both broke into smiles.  Since they were traditionally dressed, I could see father's grin but I could only see mother's smiling eyes behind her burka.  At this point, my inappropriate attire was overlooked.


It is interesting to see that as humans we all enjoy the same things in life, including sport, club activities, and family.  The fact that we carry our cultures with us does not hamper our passion or enjoyment.  Our attire may be inconvenient but is never improper.

One thing about living in the Emirates that is not commonplace in the West is the ubiquitous royalty.  In America, we eschewed our monarch in 1776.  Royalty in Europe where it still exists only surfaces on certain occasions including birth, nuptials, death, and scandal.

The seven Emirates are ruled by the royal families who have controlled them for centuries.  Individual sheikdoms range in size from Abu Dhabi with several million inhabitants to tiny Umm Al Quain with a population of only 65,000.  Primogeniture is the rule of the day, so the crown princes inherit the thrones.  With polygamy, there are a whole lot of princes and princesses in the families.

There is no national congress.  The control of the nation is wielded by the family leaders.  Until 1971 this part of the Middle East was known as the Trucial States of Oman.  With Bedouin ancestry, this worked for a long time but they decided that it would serve their interests to join together as the United Arab Emirates. The sheik of Abu Dhabi is the president and the leader of Dubai is the vice president of the United Arab Emirates.  The other emirs contribute to the direction of the nation; however, in their own sheikdoms they are truly kings.

With the rigidity of Islamic law and benign monarchs, everything works very well.  It is a very safe place to live.  From time-to-time, stories emerge about how the kings exhibit their power.  With delays for an appointment, a friend-of-a-friend who was conducting business with one of His Highness-es indicated that he had to depart to catch his flight.  The ruler signaled to an aid for the phone and instructed the tower to hold the plane on the tarmac until this gentlemen arrived.  Whether or not this really happened, it makes for great urban legend.

The royals are housed in sumptuous palaces.  The two companies with which I have worked have contributed to the appointments of several of these.  I have seen many from the air and from the road but I cannot share any images, since it is against the law to photograph these abodes.  In a later installment, I shall post a few pictures of a palace of Sheik Zayed in Al Ain.  This home is now a national museum since Sheik Zayed was the George Washington of the Emirates.

Unless there is a pre-arranged event, the closest that most persons come to the royals is watching them fly overhead.  Most travel by helicopter for security and since it is the fastest way to get around.  This is the same for heads of state everywhere.  It is a spectacle seeing the big choppers chugging away in the sky as they barely manage to stay aloft in the high density altitudes of the hot Arabian summers.

Occasionally, royals travel by car.  Yesterday while commuting to work, I came upon a big new BMW sedan with special plates doing 50 kph on Sheik Zayed Road.  This is the main freeway through Dubai and the slowest vehicles move along at 80 kph.  At the wheel was an elderly gentlemen in a dishdasha (shirt dress), keffiyeh (headress), and agal (holds the keffiyeh in place).  He was gesturing wildly to the other occupant of the vehicle and not paying attention to the road.  I imagined a conversation like, "Abdul, no helicopter today. Let's drive."  Of course Abdul thought that he would be driving.  All other drivers gave the big black car wide berth.

In the words of Mel Brooks, "It is good to be king!"

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Islam, salah or daily prayer is part of practicing the faith.  Sunni Muslims, who are the predominant sect in the Emirates, participate in prayer five times each day.  The first prayer is Fajr, which starts at ten to fifteen minutes before sunrise.  Dhuhr is recited at celestial noon.  Asr is remembered in mid-afternoon.  Maghrib is prayed just after sunset.  Isha'a is the last prayer and takes place during the early evening.

The faithful are called to prayer at the appointed times by the muezzin.  This gentleman sings the salahs.  His chants are broadcast from the minarets of the mosques.

This is the mosque that is across the street from my flat.  The minarets are the two towers to the left of the dome.  For a long time, the muezzin had to be a hearty soul who climbed to the top of the towers and called the believers to prayer with his own powerful voice.

I have no issue with any salah, except Fajr.  Fajr occurs just before sunrise.  Since it follows the sun, this means that the faithful are called to prayer at around 4:00 AM on mid-summer's day.  By the time of the winter solstice, the prayer begins at around 5:45 AM.  Even for me that is very early to be roused from sleep.  Sometimes I am able to fall back to sleep, but that is not a given.

The only other prayer that is quite invasive is Dhuhr on Friday.  Friday is the Islamic sabbath.  Life for the faithful does not really start until after Dhuhr on Friday.  Following prayer, the microphone is handed over to the Imam, who is the worship leader of the mosque.  The volume is cranked up and a fire-and-brimstone sermon is then delivered in Arabic.  It can be rather unsettling.

My wife has always told me that I could use a little "churching up", but I never envisioned that it would take place in this way.  Life can be a little crazy.

I agree with the sentiment that to really get to know a place, you have to sample the street food.  Those of you who are aficionados of the video journals of Anthony Bourdain will appreciate this.  Dubai has its share of trendy places in the shopping malls and along the promenades and corniches that are frequented by the tourists and yuppie ex-pats.  Those who boast about eating in these places are like people who travel in an RV and tell their friends that they went camping.

Real street food is found in the older parts of the city like Deira, Bur Dubai, and Al Karama.  When walking through these places, it is not unusual to discover that you are the only Anglo-Saxon on the street and that you cannot understand any of the cacophony of languages being spoken.  Dubai is a very safe city so there is little fear of areas that are seldom frequented by tourists.

I live in an old suburb of the city called Al Garhoud.  It is more of a residential area and is not characterized by dozens of small shops with the proprietors living in the flat upstairs. Just down the street from my flat is a little shop called the Eat & Drink.

The restaurant serves a mix of ethnic cuisine including Lebanese, Tandoori, Indian, and Pakistani dishes.  It is something of an icon in Dubai, because it is very popular with the taxi drivers.  I never have any difficulty getting home when I tell the hack that I live next door to the Eat & Drink.

My favorite meal is the Chicken Shwarma, which consists of brazed chicken, lettuce, tomato, and a white sauce wrapped inside a flat bread.  Two of these sandwiches cost seven dirhams (US$1.90).  I have had more than I could count over the last two years.  I walk up to the big guy with his back to us in the photo and say my few words of Malayalam.  I get a big smile while he carves meat for the meal.

Several of my Western friends have looked squeamish when I mention my meals from the Eat & Drink.  To my knowledge, I have never gone away with more beasties in my gut than the chicken or lamb in the meal.  The place is kept very clean.

If you travel, do not miss out on eating with the locals.  It is one of the only ways to truly have a taste of the city.

During my weekly visit to my local Indian grocer, Choithram, I became aware of the festival of Diwali.  All of the staff were dressed up and they had a small shrine with gifts below.

Diwali (or Deepvali) is a five-day celebration in Hinduism, Sikhism, and Jainism.  It is known as the "Festival of Lights".  Move over Hannukah.  Suffice to say that it is the only festival of lights celebrated on the Arabian Peninsula.

The word Deepvali translates into a row of lamps in Sanskrit.  Diwali involves the lighting of small clay lamps filled with oil to celebrate the triumph of good over evil.  Diwali commemorates the return of Lord Rama along with Sita and Lakshman from his fourteen year long exile and vanquishing the demon-king Ravana.

While Judeo-Christrian America will be enjoying Thanksgiving turkey with dressing and pie in November, Marcus of Arabia will be having a chapati cooked in ghee with curry rolled inside.  Yummy!  The festival is also marked by the sharing of sweets.  When I offered a Happy Diwali greeting to my Indian friends, several of them offered me candies.

I do not know about the significance of the swastika in the shrine in the photo.  Do you think that the little guy spent some time on the sub-continent before conjuring up the thousand-year reich?

Imagine that you are taking a hypothetical road trip (thanks, Ace Man) on a multi-lane highway.  You suddenly find yourself between two fuel tankers that you know are loaded with high-octane gasoline.  In which of the following scenarios would you feel safer?

Scene 1

You are traveling northbound on I-75 in Tennessee at a speed of 70 MPH.  To your left you see an Exxon tanker being hauled by a Peterbilt tractor.  The driver is wearing a ball cap with a Purina Feed logo on the front and a long mullet in the back.  On the window behind the passenger seat is a full height graphic of a Confederate flag.  The tractor is outfitted with mudflaps with the silhouette of the curvaceous babe with a huge rack and no neck.

On your right is a Shell tanker trailer being towed by a Mack tractor.  Stenciled on the driver's door is a verse from the Bible.  The driver is sporting a ball cap with "Jesus Saves" on the front.  There "Yosemite Sam--Back Off" mud flaps on the truck.

Scene 2

You are traveling northbound on the E311 (Emirates Road) in Sharjah Emirate doing 105 KPH.  To your left you see an Emarat tanker hauled by a Renault tractor.  The driver with a full curly beard is wearing a kurta (pajamas) and a turban.  Tied to the outside of the truck are prayer flags that almost touch the road.

To your right is an Adnoc tanker trailer pulled by a Mercedes truck.  The driver has a short stubbly beard and is wearing a dishdasha (shirt dress) with a taqiyah (skull cap).  Across the top of the windshield in formal Arabic script, the words "God is Great" is emblazoned.

How strong are first impressions?  How much do you stereotype?

You are probably aware that water is a prized commodity, whether it is in South Florida or in the Arabian desert.  Here in Dubai we boast one of the highest water consumptions in the world.  Daily usage is in the order of 750,000,000 liters per day (200,000,000 U.S. gallons).  Over half of that comes from desalination of the waters of the Gulf.  Here is what 550 liters per person per day makes possible.




It does not look like desert does it?

It is also worth noting that the people living in the Emirates are among the thirstiest people on the planet.  With an annual per capita consumption of 265 liters of bottled water, we are staying well hydrated.  Most of this water comes from underground springs in the mountains.

Regardless of this conspicuous consumption of water, it is used for the maximum effect.  Virtually all watering is by ground level or subterranean drip irrigation.  Even the plants growing alongside the roadways are hydrated in this manner.  (These greenbelts along the highways serve to hold back the shifting desert sands.)  The relatively lush vegetation is a haven for many species of native and transient birds.  One of the early acts of Sheik Zayed (the founder of the modern Emirates) was to import over 100,000 birds to populate the kingdom.

The greatest drawback of creating this abundant fresh water is the energy required to pump and purify it.  This sin is shared by anyone with exorbitant water demands, whether it is a kibbutz in that country to the north of here or a booming community in Florida or Arizona.  Reality is that there is no such thing as a drought if you are wealthy enough to be able to alter nature.  Tell that to those poor sub-Saharan nations.

Whether I'm right or whether I'm wrong,
Whether I find a place in this world or never belong,
I gotta be me, I gotta be me,
What else can I be but what I am.

Sammy Davis Jr.

On Monday, I flew to Muscat, the capital of Oman, to accommodate residency issues with my visa.  The flight on Oman Air was a short fifty-minute hop to the shores of the Indian Ocean.  Distance-wise, it is about the same distance from Tampa to Miami.  As we headed southeast, we crossed the red sands of the desert and the Hajar Mountains.



The cabin crew aboard the 737-800 was all Thai.  They were all lovely young women or transgenders.  (I cannot tell the difference.)  A remarkable event that took place during the flight was meal service.  When was the last time that this happened to you on a fifty-minute flight in the U.S.?  The Arabic airlines generally offer superior service in comparison to Western carriers.  Furthermore, they are terrorist-free since there would be no point in blowing up a load of "homies".


Muscat is a city of about one million inhabitants.  It is slow-paced and laid back in comparison to Dubai, but this is a nice change.  It is a pleasant amalgam of desert, ocean, and mountains.  The area reminded me a little of part of the coast of Southern California.







The airport was nicely done with Islamic architecture.  The terminal was not large but outfitted with Western restaurants including Costa and Dairy Queen.  It is a small world.  I looked for a souvenir shot glass for my oldest son since he collects them.  Good luck with that shot glass thing in an Islamic state.  The most abundant souvenir was frankincense.  Apparently, the Omanis have been producing this fragrant product since Biblical times when it was worth more than gold.

I returned to Dubai on the shores of the Gulf in late afternoon.  The little journey was a nice respite from the usual routine of work.  I have a place in my heart for the Omanis since they were very instrumental in the release of a young American hiker who was being held by the Iranians.  It was good to visit this ancient sultanate.  When my wife visits early next year, we may arrange a return trip.

Today did not start well as I awoke to a splitting sinus headache.  I put this behind me after taking a Panadol Sinus (Australian Tylenol) and swimming for a kilometer.  I was able to face the day with a clear head and the hope of good things, since it was my day off, Friday.  (Remember that this is the Sunday of Islamic countries.)

It turned out to be a magnificent day with respect to the weather.  The sky was clear blue and clouds were forming.  This was in stark contrast to our usual dust-filled vistas.  The last time that I savored such a day was last August while having an outdoor lunch in Hampshire in southern England during a business trip.

After my traditional Friday breakfast of toasted waffles, I drove to Ras Al Khaimah to go flying.  If I had been flying a glider, I would not be writing this  entry, because I would still be up in the sky.  I flew the little Ukranian microlight that I usually fly, which is very lightweight but a lousy glider.  The thermals were everywhere.  I saw six dust-devils (visible thermals) which was unprecedented for me.  There were cumulus clouds forming all across the sky that was also rare in the Emirates.


It turned out to be a great day for the beach.  The camels were enjoying the waters of the Gulf as I flew over them.  Some were walking through the mangroves and apparently grazing.  This was new to me.  The flamingos were present in great numbers in the flats as they showed off their pink and white wings that were trimmed with black.

I flew north toward the Omani border before turning around to return to the airport.  The wind had shifted to the northwest and I was feeling lift off the sand dunes along the shoreline.






I was having much more fun than the folks in the expensive homes along the dunes.

Maybe someday the sheiks will allow gliders that silently ply the sky on currents of air, but until then I am thankful for these rare clear days in the Arabian desert when it is possible to enjoy an out-of-glider experience in a little microlight aircraft in Allah's airspace.

This entry will be most appreciated by my fellow pilots.  I thank you groundlings for sharing the joy of my flight.

Driving in Dubai and the Emirates can be a challenge, apart from the erratic and often dangerous practices of fellow motorists.

The highway system in the Emirates has been produced in less than fifteen years.  It was largely designed by engineers from the West.  The most prominent traffic control feature is the roundabout.  Roundabouts have been adopted because it is believed that four-way stops would totally baffle the local drivers.  Some have interesting features like four lanes in and three lanes out.  When you are aware of these quirks, it is great to study the neophyte drivers.

Another memorable traffic control feature is the speed bump.  They are everywhere and often in series of two or three.  They are serious big humps that will destroy the suspension of an unwary driver.  After one-and-a-half years of driving, I hardly notice them anymore.  I just slow down subconsciously.

Since the road system has been constructed so quickly, there are relatively few cross streets. Sometimes you will drive past your destination on the wrong side of the median and are forced to drive fifteen or twenty kilometers to find a U-turn to change direction.  Being an aircraft pilot helps because it is necessary to "fly a pattern" by planning the correct routes to your destination.

To make driving more challenging, there are no street addresses in Dubai, which is a city of one-and-a-half million people.  Consequently, navigation is by landmarks.  The only city that I found more frustrating was Tokyo, which has street addresses but they are in chronological not numerical order.  Landmarks are a must there as well.

You may ask, why don't people just use GPS's?  Some have these miraculous little devices, but they are of little use here because the streets are so new or still under construction.  I have found that a road map and a dashboard-mounted compass to be the best system for navigation.

Sometimes I have to find places from "outer space".  I use Google Earth to determine the coordinates of my destination.  If the new place is in a totally unfamiliar area, I punch the latitude and longitude into my aviation GPS.  There are no streets in a flight GPS but the arrow still points to the destination.  I have successfully found my way to camel racetracks in the middle of the desert in the middle of the night with this method.

Every country has its driving challenges.  If you are not up to them in the Emirates, take a taxi.  They are very inexpensive.

At this time of year, many of my friends from the American West have their pulses quicken with the advent of the first big winter storm that blows in from the Pacific.  They are anxiously anticipating the first snowfall in the high elevations of the Rockies, since this is the first harbinger of ski season.

Here in Dubai, we can only say "been there...done that."  Ski season for us is as easy as a trip to Emirates Mall.  You are able to do practically anything that you can imagine at one of over thirty malls.


If you get tired of the sultry days with the mercury over 50 C and the sky full of dust off the desert, don your cold-weather abaya or kandoora and have a respite from the heat in our winter wonderland.  Eat your heart out Aspen!

As you may know, pork is conspicuously absent in Arabia.  I have to savor the "other white meat" when I travel.  My day-to-day fare usually consists of flat bread, goat, yogurt, and dates with hot tea.  Seriously, most Western foods are available here.  After living on your own cooking, every now-and-then you have a craving for a beef steak cooked on a grill.

Last night, I shared this experience with friends at a restaurant near the Aviation Club, which is within walking distance of my flat.  I was accompanied by my mate from Zimbabwe, who is of Scottish descent and was born when the country was known as Rhodesia.  We were later joined by an old friend from my former company, who is also a Scot who lived in South Africa for a couple of decades.  He brought his stunning girlfriend, who is a Russian ex-patriot that has lived in Dubai for sixteen years working in the travel-tourism industry.

We dined in the courtyard.  The temperature is finally cool enough to go outdoors once again.  Now daytime highs have lowered to around 38 C.  It does not get cold in Dubai...it just gets "not-hot".  Our conversation touched on our experiences from living around the globe.  It is great to savor the lives of others vicariously, because the world is too big to visit everywhere oneself.

After a good meal of tasty New Zealand beef steaks, we walked a short distance to the Irish Village for a couple of pints.  This is an authentic Irish pub that provides us infidels with ties to the West in the form of libation...Guiness and Kilkenny, as well as good conversation.  It is the center of a major celebration on St. Patrick's Day.

Sustained with good food, drink, and conversation we were ready to go back to our everyday lives. 

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blockin' out the scenery, breakin' my mind
Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?

Five Man Electrical Band

I am an American glider pilot working as the engineering director of a marine outfitting company that builds interiors in Dubai and then transports them to superyachts being built in shipyards around the world.  I live in a studio flat near the Khor Dubai ("The Creek") in Al Garhoud.  I work daily with Brits, Aussies, Kiwis, South Africans, Philippinos, Indians, and Sri Lankans.  As of now, I am the only American in my company.

After living in the Emirates for one-and-a-half years and sharing my photojournals with you, I have been asked to pass on my experiences, reactions, and thoughts about my life as an ex-patriot.  A book did not seem appropriate because my experiences are on-going.  Sharing a daily journal can be tedious and dull.  I am not quite hip enough for a Facebook page.  I have decided to document my stories through this Web log.  I hope that you will enjoy visiting from time-to-time and sharing your comments.