Moving Camels

The longer I stay here in Dubai, the more appalled I am at the ways of the society. I don't mean the way the women dress in all black from head to toe, or the way that men hold hands (as friends) here. I don't mean the fact that I don't live in a Democracy and women don't really have a say over who they are, what they do or who they marry...

I'm referring to the little crazy things that go on here. Like camels in the bed of a pick-up truck.

I grew up in a little tiny town in Texas where it's pretty common to see people coming home from the grocery store on their tractors. Not too abnormal for me...husband goes to work in the cotton field, wife calls husband on his cell while he's in the cotton field because she forgot butter, toilet paper or tampons; husband then has to "run" to the grocery store on his way home from the cotton field on his tractor. Seems pretty normal to me.

But camels in the back of a pick up truck?? A WHOLE CAMEL? What exact situation warrants this? Was there a camel emergency and the driver had no other way to transport the poor awkward thing but to shove it in the bed of his truck? It wasn't even a big truck like the ones we have in Texas with 19 extra wheels on it. It was just your average Toyata sized truck...very normal sized 4 x 4, but with a full size camel in the back.

The poor thing looked like its legs had been turned into giant noodles that were then wrapped and contorted around him so as to fit his abnormally sized and designed body into an equally abnormally small sized box.

Add to that the 140 or so km per hour that the driver was going and you really have the makings of something special.

Ahhh, Dubai.....oh, how I love thee.

One Year in Dubai...

My One-Year-in-Dubai Anniversary recently passed and somehow...somewhere...after a near year-full of wishin' and hopin' and dreamin' of the moment that I would be able to hand my final boarding pass from Dubai to San Diego to the Emirates cabin crew.........I'm still here.

Not only am I still here....but, I'm staying.

Not only am I staying.......

....but, I'm in love.

Two things I honestly thought would never happen. Not here...and not now. But here it is, here I am....and here HE is. Everything I thought I found in another person, that I now understand wasn't there at all. Not even a little bit. Everything I hoped for, but was so very surprised to find wrapped up in the person that it came in.

And my heart is happy....for the first time in approximately 4 years, give or take a few days....I'm really, really happy.

Thank God....

And while I'm at it, I'd like to also thank Him for star-kissed nights in the sand, whispered Hail Mary's in French, Jim Morrison's lyrical poeticism being sung in all the wrong keys, whiskey no-no's, dances in turquoise and quite possibly the cutest dimple-framed smile that there ever, ever was. Oh and "winters" that consist of flip flops, beach days and bathing suits.

It's really not so bad here after all.

HOME!

I'm on my way home tomorrow....and Dubai will be lucky if it sees me back here after being in San Diego for 2 weeks. If I can give any advice worthwhile here, it's to look around your life and say "thank you" for every little thing in it. As Americans, we have NO idea how good we have it....and I will never again question it.

With that said....my bags are packed, ticket printed and lips puckered to kiss the California ground that I will soon walk on. :)

sleeping in a sea of drowning prayers

This morning I had the oddest in-and-out of sleep experience yet while living in Dubai. I live in the area of Dubai known as "Downtown". It would be equivalent to living on the 15th floor of a mid-rise tower on the Strip in Las Vegas...or perhaps at the corner of Times Square and 42nd street in NYC. It's a far, far cry from the peace-filled surroundings of my San Diego condo, or the quiet Texas farm that I grew up on.

Every morning, around 4 am, at the nearby Mosque you can hear the sounds of the morning call to prayer...and then a bit later, the actual prayer being sung by a local Islamic man....pouring over the tops of villas and bus stops and construction sites like smoldering ash, seeping into the crevices of dreams and closed eyelids.

Most of the time, I can't hear it....but this morning I woke up to an unfamiliar voice billowing out from the speakers of the mosque and into my single paned windows, waking me.....calling me...a near begging of me.

Sheikh Zayed Road is the busiest thoroughfare in Dubai...and my room is perched above it like a nest that never quite got nestled, due to the ongoing construction of other nests surrounding mine. Frequently, I'm awakened by the sounds of banging, hammering, sawing, craning, nailing....but rarely to that of a prayer such as this one this morning....such a surreal prayer that I could only liken it to that of a drowning victim. Calling...almost as if with water already filling up their mouth...out for anyone in the near vicinity to hear. This man's prayer, was not being drowned in a sea of water...but in a sea of traffic. Cars flying to and fro...like the crashing of waves back and forth on the sea's edge, and a lone voice in the midst of it all, wanting...pleading for safety, serenity and peace.

Dubai is interestingly akin to this picture that was created in my mind. A culture of face-paced business people, speeding through life...and the traditions of the Islamic culture, trying desperately to slow it down. To have a voice above the traffic of the Dubai life. Similarly to the prayer this morning...it often goes unheard in the midst of the development and growth; the expats and tourists; the flash and opulence...the crashing of the waves of a society that wants somewhere to be new-worldly and old-world-like at the same time.

And somewhere amidst the droning sounds of the summoning voice that continued to drift in and out of the waves of traffic passing by....I fell back to sleep in a sea of drowning prayers.

my latest musical obsession

Itunes led to Pandora led to Blip.fm......what's next? I'm addicted to this!!

http://blip.fm/givememusicorgivemedeath

Culture Stew - and the amazing sounds of it.

One of the things I love most about being here is the colorful, robust "stew" of cultures that I immerse myself in on a daily basis. Languages, habits, rituals, traditions, expressions...and music that I have only yet begun to learn and understand. It's so beautiful to me. There is almost a language here all it's own...one created from so many other languages that while walking or dancing or eating you overhear a conglomerate of sounds coming from the myriads of people surrounding you. It's an orchestra of culture...a symphony of the world, and I'm in love with it.

As the world surrounds me here and my love of music is expanding as far as the lines of latitude and longitude, I've been asking my friends here to send me their favorite music and here is just a tiny bit of what I have found here that I love...(more to come):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGMS_nHyr0A

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJt3DFHnlW4&NR=1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hsSh2_o_1zU

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rm4uDmIdkaY

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a3onBZ5C95g

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZFd-ODwC1FA

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Is-C7szcdGc

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJt3DFHnlW4&NR=1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZFd-ODwC1FA

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eaarYY62_BQ

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2YBy8eKcLCA

I haven’t written in a while. Not here…not in my book. Not at all really. Until this past weekend. As I had mentioned, I was having some “page fright”. To say it more honestly, I was afraid the words wouldn’t be good enough…or that there would be too many of them. I was afraid people wouldn’t get them, or that I wouldn’t communicate what I was trying to say “funny” enough…or emotional enough…or non-emotional enough. Honestly, I was afraid that they wouldn’t be “Perfect” enough.

One word that I would consistently use to describe me throughout my life has been “Perfectionist”. As I live in a city that has perhaps been seen more often as a perfect 3D rendering than a real-life city, I draw a strong line of parallel between myself and this city of Dubai that I live in. This city strives for perfection at every turn. It’s never-ending thirst for growth and expansion is something that I understand. It’s desire to be the best, the biggest, the tallest, the most perfect is something that resonates deep within my personality.

However, in living here…I see something of Dubai that is quite different. As I drove around yesterday cursing the construction that aides the endless development of this fast-growing, but slow-to-learn city, I saw beyond the scaffolding something familiar. I saw Myself.

This city is somewhat of a metaphor for my own life. I have rendered my life to perfection in my mind. It’s shiny and soft around the edges. The sunlight is beaming from a perfectly silver-lined cloud onto the building of me that is the tallest and brightest in the world. The air surrounding me is clear and peaceful. Birds are flying around at the top of my beautiful exterior. The buildings surrounding me look like bright white land angels…sitting at my feet, listening to the brilliant stories that I tell. Of course, there is music…and nothing else to hear. The streets are clean and lined with greenery as bright as anything you have ever seen. The flowers are blooming…the beach is clear blue and people everywhere are happy and at peace. Everything is perfect here in the 3D rendered life that lives in my imagination.

However, in my “real life”, there is a dingy dust-filled background filled only of noise and debris….and scaffolding that reaches tall into the air, covering that shiny building that is yet to be finished. The sky isn’t blue. In fact, there is hardly any color to the sky at all as the sandstorm that frequently takes over the city has blown trash and left-over remnants of wood and cloth into the street and sky, leaving it to have little-to-no color at all. The buildings surrounding me are not stark-white, but have a layer of sand on them, as do all of the cars. Nothing looks clean. The streets are littered with spittle and trash and dirty water. The air is not clear, but smells of unbathed peoples from all over the world. There is no music, only the sounds of sanding and sawing and hammering and honking and screeching and talking in languages that I cannot understand. Nothing is clear….and nothing is Perfect here in my “real-life” life.

Though, what I've found here in all of this...is Beauty. A beauty that is unique all on it's own. It's a beauty of Process. It's a beauty of growth. The beauty of constructing a new City, over and over, expanding it in every direction, pushing vertically and horizontally, and even on diagonal. It’s a beauty of change, and a beauty of Blossoming.

Perhaps Dubai will never be Perfect…..and for certain, neither will I. But I’m slowly learning to embrace the Beauty of Imperfection. I’m learning to accept the beauty of my own growth. I’m learning to accept that there are things that I can change and things that I cannot. I’m learning to accept the scaffolding that surrounds my ever-growing building, and I’m learning to like the noise of the construction that means work is endlessly being done. I’m learning to accept that nothing is perfect, nor will it ever be….least of all Me.

That’s not to say that I will give up. I think Dubai and I will continue our stretch at being the best that we can be….and hopefully we can both accept the Perfection that already exists beneath the noise, debris and scaffolding.