خلاص - Khalas: [an Arabic] term used to mean that something is completely and irrevocably done, finished, and over.

From the plane, just before landing in Dubai, I found quite shocking the brutal change in landscape I could see from the highs. Desert and plain land encroached by concrete blocks of greatness aiming to reach God above the sky. The feeling of nonsense has prevailed during the four weeks.

Today is my last day in Dubai. Early morning I’ll be leaving to Turkey.

There are plenty of things I didn’t have time to tell you. For example, my detailed study about the ants living in my house (2 different species, though I only focused in the ones I liked most, the ones that tried not to bother me) - they offered an infinite bulk of data and expressed behaviours you could lose yourself in (nocturnal habits and selective photophobia, eternal fights against spider webs, burial rituals, the birth of a whole new generation...). I didn’t talk about that boost of adrenaline I felt when the cheetah licked my hand; or about the day we went out to fly birds with the richest European guy in Dubai (the president of the Emirates airlines) and his small family. Neither had I talked about how many CS’s I met, how nice they all were, and how little I felt as socialising with them. I haven’t even commented about the dead body found 100m away during that beach walk the BBQ night. Did I even mentioned the €65,000 (aprox, I don’t remember that well now!) cost of the Indian vultures we had as patients? I know I didn’t write about the invigorating feeling of bleeding that other cheetah from the jugular (each ml drawn into the syringe seamed to act as an elixir directly injected to my lungs. Once the syringe full, I came down to Earth and acknowledged that the results would come back on a dead animal...). Oh my! I’m writing from the nice little patch of outside area in front of my house and just found a new species of ants! It is early in the morning and you can tell that Autumn is here as it’s only 28ºC and you can actually enjoy being outdoors (it will still reach hellish temperatures later on, though). Bugs are coming back to live slowly. I was very surprised not to see any cockroach, or flies, or any other kind of bug other than my family of pet-ants. Now that temperatures are decreasing, you get all those suddenly arising from every corner and every dark spot whenever trying to concentrate on reading.

Eating her price after an amazing flight/performance

Waking up from the anaesthetic

Spraying water on their faces makes them poo :) (so we can collect a sample to check for pathogens)

CS beneffic BBQ night

Anyway, it’s been a great time here. As always, I’ve learnt a bit of everything (actual vet knowledge, feelings stuff, new behaviours on people, and different kinds of people’s interactions). I got cleaned in the beach (I’ll have my last session today :) ) both externally and internally. I got to get back in touch with many of you, all lovely friends I own my everything. I suffered selfishly (after months and months of pure happiness (well, this sounds familiar... Did I recently have a crisis that I’ve already erased from my mind?)) from an episode of uncontrollable sadness that I, of course, managed to control*. I’ve also laugh and laugh every night thanks to someone I don’t even know but definitely miss and makes me look forward dreaming; practiced some French during an interview and finally (¬¬!) decided I am going for a PhD (epidemiology, One Health, DRA of ID or similar). Aaand, I have also had amazing avocado and banana smoothies (sprinkled with cinnamon and cardamom powder), dates sweets, one of this (only the one!): pistachio and chocolate flavour with sliced almonds on top, some Lebanese food, Indian homemade delicatessen and a lot of canned and soggy food (no pics, sorry, but if interested in amazing food posts, talk to my bro!).

In a nutshell, a good experience.

Please, tell me I am not the only one seeing penises lined up carved in this column...

*Cómo puede ser que un par de frases trigger todo un huracán de sentimientos sepultados? Es como si el material nuclear enterrado en las entrañas de la tierra hubiera sido golpeado por un gran desastre ecológico y sacado a la superficie todo el material radioactivo. Me pregunto cuál es el tratamiento. Mi pobre cuerpito contrae los músculos en un intento de mantener los demonios encerrados. Qué narices está pasando, después de tanto, tanto tiempo con esta sonrisa que ya pensaba irrevocable? Por qué vuelve a mí, después del destierro? Es el sentimiento de soledad de nuevo? Es recordar lo que quedó atrás? Será el darme cuenta de la insignificancia de todo? O puede que sea el absurdo de una vida destrozada por insignificancias banales? Será, simplemente, cosa de las hormonas que esta vez se pasaron la línea al jugar conmigo?

Just to finish, just because I have this is my mind now and just because there are a lot of coincidences in live, just remember:

More and more human trafficking.

Quatar: http://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/sep/25/revealed-qatars-world-cup-slaves

Madagascar: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IYRLJXvmTfE

Pursue of excellence… till i get too tired of trying.

Several amongst you have previously asked about the meaning of the tattoo in my back. Whenever I speak the literal meaning, I feel a “Warning!”-like shield coming between us both. Luckily, the listener quickly forgets about it.

It is difficult to explain in one word or sentence, so here is what I believe a perfect explanation for each of the dark ink aliquots carved in my skin.

Let’s get you all updated regarding my current job.

As some of you may already know, back in June my 6 months probation period got prolonged on the basis of me “not being up to speed for the PDSA needs”. My boss was happy with me (not even one single complication in any of my surgeries, no complaints from any of my colleagues or clients, not important mistakes on medical treatments… spotless job), however she was concerned of my “time management”: I was too slow for the PDSA.

You have to understand that I like to do things the right way. I am careful and thorough in my job (especially in life-threatening situations, as all surgeries and several treatments are…), I take my time to achieve the best practice I can offer, as I think my patients deserve it.  Yes, I am a slower than others, but only because I don’t like making avoidable mistakes. I am not that experience in clinical medicine yet and adding that up to my innate lack of confidence, I rather err on the side of caution. Therefore, and based in those facts, I should say that I don’t want to become quicker. I want to enjoy my job, each of the surgeries and each of the consultations and, last but not least, I want to be able to sleep at night.

Again, I assume my limitations; but I need the rest to do the same.

I asked an increased in surgery load, as I was barely getting any (I find it difficult to get quicker at it if I don’t practice, don’t you?). In return they offered me “to volunteer for surgery” (yes, volunteering in my own working place U_U ) and a slight 25% switch from consultations to surgery during one month.

Just before coming here I reached (just!) all the surgical times they set for me at the appraisal and achieved the 10 minutes consultation-time they had set (with an average of 9.7min (ridiculous, in my view)). However, my boss pointed out that the other vets do ten more consults a day than I do and that there is still some time that gets lost somewhere in between operations [managing nurses (yes, it may take a bit longer when you command in a nice way, but in my opinion the much better working environment you get pays off) and dealing with emergencies (it’s difficult to finish in time a full scheduled crammed-with-operations-day when you keep getting road traffic accidents, bleeding abdomens and geriatric cyanotic cats)].  She also said they want me to do weekends on my own, though I’ve been doing so since April. It is true that I had someone on the other side of the phone if needed, but I must also say they were the ones calling to check on me. When real emergencies came along, I dealt with them. I didn’t take the phone to make a call. Having said so, I will “shit a brick” whenever I have to deal with a GDV or a splenic rupture on my own.

Last week I got my Oct rota and you know the rest.

I wrote my boss asking if they were planning to fire me. She took 5 days to reply the following:

“I think the best thing would be for us to meet soon after you start back to work, perhaps after your first weekend on call, so we can talk through the objectives and where things stand”

Today I was telling to Conor all about it and he got all pissed off with them. His point of view is that they are playing with me and I should not let them do that. They most probably are looking for my replacement (if they haven’t find it yet and are just waiting for that other person to get everything ready to start) and are waiting for the best moment (for them, of course) to fire me. He’s convinced that they hired me bcs as a “recent” grad, they can pay less than to an experienced vet. I asked my boss that question a few months ago; she said they hired me bcs she liked me. But companies don’t hire for those reasons, do they? (Oh, Carmen, tus sabias palabras retumban en mis oidos!)

Watch your back, because this world is rotten.

And there, my friends, lays the meaning of that external representation of blackness I have tattooed on my back.

It makes my blood boil when people are not faithful to goodness, when they play games of treason, when events are manipulated in order to achieve selfish goals involving detriment of others. And that’s when I get mad: When they do it; when you do it; when I, myself, do it.

Leave it all behind.

Overcome temptation and be consequent with your acts. If you fail to do it: rebirth.

We are, at the end of the day, only human.

Conor wants me to push them to give me a clear answer. For me the answer has already been given. I told him that I am much more practical than proud, and don’t care if they are “using me to fill the gap” till they get another vet. However short it takes, it is still a job and it provides me a very needed salary.

Anyway, I’m looking for jobs in my own field. Rational thinking wants me to apply for small animal jobs (the time will come that I get a WL job, but the question is when I will get it), however, every time I check the panorama, something dies inside me. Just imagining moving into one of those little mini-shires lost in the middle of nowhere-England drains my spirit. My movements must be forwards, not parallel or backwards. And, most important of all, they must be directed opposite to depressive thoughts :).

To me, happiness is not overrated.

Do you ever feel overwhelmed by life?

18.09.2013

Not being good at anything is exhausting. I asked Conor how long did it take for him to become confident at work. Of course, there is no simple answer [...]. Nevertheless, I always rebuke myself not having asked (¿?) Father Christmas for some of it. A mistake I make every year.

Being out of the comfort zone is, in a masochist way, appealing; however, when over stimulated we (I) become stressed, numb and useless. Thank God for learned helplessness (I guess...).

19.09.2013

It’s a pity I cannot go outside and write from there. But it is too hot and humid for my laptop to cope. It has been behaving strangely lately (meaning freezing dead and scaring the hell out of me). Therefore, I’ll have to write these lines under the engaging influence of fluorescent tube lamps that master my kitchen (internet in my room is even worse than the one I get here).

I’m a bit worried about my job back in Lnd. I am still in probation (final assessment on the 22^nd Nov). My boss was supposed to give me some overtime (to get the chance to become quicker (and boost my savings)); however, I’ve just got the October rota and... not only I didn’t get any overtime, but the few extra days that the H-PDSA can afford (wrt time and money) have been allocated to another new vet :(. I've asked my boss about it.
I’ll start applying for other SA (T.T) jobs, just in case, but that'd mean London life's is getting to the end. Time will tell. I must worry just enough. No more.

Yesterday was an intensive day. I had a wing amputation to perform (1. Me? New surgery on my own? 2. Wing amputation in a bird?), I scoped a lived falcon (and removed a serrato worm from one of the airsacs! Tía, no veas qué asquete!) and finished the day at the Old Dubai neighbourhood with Amed and his wife Aisha. They are an Indian Muslim couple (sweet as the treats they cook to fatten my belly) that has been living in Dubai for about 20 years. Amed works at the DFH (Dubai Falcon Hospital) and offered to be my entertainer and guide for a day. We got into the Dubai Museum (It goes back from the 3000 BC to the present times*), the spices souk (so many smells, textures and colours my salivary glands acquired a temporarily hypertrophy!), the textile souk (where I bought a lovely abaya) and the gold shouk, or as I would call it, the gold-fetishist paradise (see pics). To finish the journey we went to a veggie Indian resto to eat dosa. Yammy!

Amed and Aisha

From the taxi-boat

The smell here was breathtaking

Another Record Guinness.  Not for sale? I wanted to get it for the living room! 

I kept telling them they didn't want me as a customer. They wouldn't listen.

Toma nota!

Dedicado a Carmen

Yammy Dosa. So good!

Talking to my uncle Alicia the other day, I realised how confusing this area of the word can be with regards to political frontiers. I must clarify that I am not in Saudi Arabia (which takes most of the area in the Arabian peninsula). I am in one of the seven Emirates in United Arab Emirates (UAE), each of which (Abu Dhabi, Ajman, Dubai, Fujairah, Ras al-Khaimah, Sharjah, and Umm al-Quwain) are completely different to each other (being Dubai the most cosmopolitan and westernised of them). For example, Dubai found oil in the 1966, however, only small amounts of UAE’s oil comes this emirate (Wiki says: “[Dubai’s] revenue from petroleum and natural gas currently account for less than 6% of the emirate's gross domestic product”; be aware that “UAE oil reserves are ranked as the world's seventh-largest”, though). Dubai’s major source of money is tourism. This makes a whole difference.

*actually, the “present times” exhibition it is already obsolete as the “latest” news, videos and pics date from the early 2000’s and that’s when the real boost in massive constructions took place. Within 2004/8 Dubai’s landscape changed completely due to (in my opinion) the greed of getting as many World Record’s as possible. In 2008 the growth sped down because of the global economic crisis, however, although slower, growth remained patent till the present day. 

As it was, I had neither the consolation that I was free of guilt, nor the conviction that I could ever be forgoten

17.09.2013

Bueno mundo, bueno natxo,

I sometimes believe that I want to get a quiet job, something stable, from 9 to 5; a fixed schedule. Something that will pay the bills, give me some extra money to enjoy a movie or a dinner outside once in a while and, of course, a few weeks of travelling a year. Why, then, am I heading towards crappy-paid jobs that require ongoing thinking after “office hours” and that represent the antithesis of peacefulness of mind? Is this, again, a representation of my deep rooted habit of self-induced pain?

It might well be.

Skipping some previous days by now. You’ll have to pardon me.

Coming back to the idea of getting used to once-unthinkable facts, I want to tell you (tell me) about another episode of inner struggle.

Happy re encounter 

Earlier today, after meeting Nick (O.O), I walked to the beach (where it reads “walk” you’d rather read “crawled along”: that will give you a closer idea to reality) and let myself get cleaned by the purity of salty water*. Once fingers raisined, I started my journey home. I got into a closed-bus stop expecting no more that a heated chamber made with the solely purpose of decreasing humans blood pressure. To my surprise, the chamber was air conditioned and it offered shelter to poor pedestrians that, just like me, dare to challenge lavished temperatures.

a/c bus stop

Inside there was a man waiting for the bus. As I got in, he smiled and (un)consciously stared at my boobs (it wasn’t till I stepped out of the bus stop that I realised I had two large dripping patches of wetness screaming oot (out, sorry!) from my bikini top... Oops!). Acto y seguido, he tried to establish (a?) conversation. This time I was prepared: “I am not going to talk to strangers, it can be misleading and it will give me no more than trouble”. Therefore, while asking about my destination and other flawed piffle, I didn’t even looked at him and answered no more than monosyllables. I was being tough, assertive in my resolution of not smiling randomly and teaching myself not to be as nice as I wish: I looked at the bus map, realised that was not my stop, and walked away.

The ten endless minutes walk to the next bus stop were an autoimmune torture to my soul. Was I going to become a rude and mean person with everyone from now on? Was that part of growing up: caring less about people, being stingy and selfish? Did I lose my innocence (even though I once promised I would never do) as people lose virginity? My body shivered at the thought of it. Survival instinct (and a bit of tiredness of thinking everything I do is wrong!) helped convincing me(myself?) that that was the way it should be. In a blink, I was a fervent supporter of feelings ablation.

For a few minutes, I was bloodless. As I’ve said before, we just get used to anything.

When I finally got to the next stop I was ready to put in practice my new brand personality. Poco duró el cuento. I sat with three other guys in a bench and almost immediately one of them started to talk to me. In a 30 seconds stint I was less than 22 yo, was so fit that obviously I went to the gym everyday and everyone was surprised and disappointed that I was already married (of course). I swear that at the beginning I impeccably played my new role, however, within the 33rd second I was laughing in disbelieve to their words and we started a supernice talk. Imran, (I do remember his name, as we were talking for an hour) [oh, wait, there’s something wrong with the second part of that sentence... I still don’t remember some of the names of my workmates and I’ve been working with them for months...] he was 22, was the oldest of 4 brothers and had an 11 mo child back in India. This was the first time he left home and was missing his family like crazy (my empathy levels rose insanely when absent tears welled up in his eyes)... He’s only been in Dubai for 3 days. The same story repeats again and again. There are high unemployment levels in India for someone coming from an agricultural background and with no studies. Even if he got a job there, the salary was going to be so miserable that he decided to emigrate. Why Dubai? Because he had some far away relatives that could “invite” him into the country. An Indian taxi driver can make 9000 rupies a month. Here in Dubai (you’re already aware under which conditions) he can make 64000. No question to be posed, then.

Anyway, back to my selfish story...

It was so easy to ignore the first guy that I got scared and that, unfortunately, made me think. We are indeed able to block our feelings. How terrifying is that?

My thoughts can only go into concentration camps, slaughterhouses, prisons, and other diverse types of tortures. Can’t these people see the terrifying aspect of what they are doing? No, they cannot. They’ve learnt to survive: They’ve decided to ignore. We’ve decided to live our lives with our hearts closed. With our eyes shut.

Me myself, I do block my feelings every day... at work. It is a defense mechanism.

And there it goes, my scarce white cloths...

...turning blue!

I love life too much not to fervently wish to live it.

Peace

*amazing feeling, that of getting all the wounds in your body (and yes, you guessed: soul) sting as little daggers cutting into your mortal flesh.

Soothing mistrusts we let ourselves believe in order to face a daunting world

12.09.2013

I went to a comedy night with Sarah and some of her friends. The first act made me laugh so much that I lost track of time. When the show finished, I did my thing and left.

The tube (metro, in this wilderness) closes at about 23:33 but fortunately taxis are not as expensive as in Europe (let along London). My taxi driver was from Pakistan. As I’ve already forgotten his name, I’ll call him Sanobar. He’s been working in Dubai for the last 5 years. The last time he went to his country was almost 2 years ago: he works 12h a day, 7 days a week. No Sundays, no breaks, no holidays. He’s upset when his boss asks him what he is complaining about. With an English even more broken than mine, Sanobar tells me that he got married 2 months ago, however, his wife lives back in Pakistan with his mum and sisters. She has a PhD (he doesn’t remember what on) that is not recognized in Dubai. He adds: “In my city women are forbidden to work”. All his savings go for his ladies, then. Every penny he makes is to be sent via bank to feed and maintain them. Every single penny.

We then talk about music. He likes Pashto musci and shows me the difference between Urdu and Pashto songs.

This is one of the things that shocks me more about Dubai. This sector of society is completely ignored in the emirates. We know they are there, we know nothing would work without them, we see them working from the sunrise till sunset of our eyelids. Always patent but subtly disguised, omnipresent and invisible. We choose to ignore them. Life goes on and we flutter around the shiny lights as brainless moths. Blue ants, they are called. Little blue dots moving around frantically in the far away distance, barely perceived.

A total violation of human rights.

Close your eyes.

Welcome to Dubai.

It is amazing how adaptable human beings are.

I’m surprise I don’t vomit in repulsion everyday.

Indeed, I am enjoying the city.

I like the sun

I like the juices

I 

like

the shiny lights

Brain-less-moth.

“Every one of my books has killed me a little more” NM

Dearest you all,

I’ll need a little bit more reinforcement from the English speaker community reading these news. So far, only one charitable soul has corrected my writing. When working hard, a bit of feedback is very welcome. Bear in mind that writing in Spanish is easier, quicker and more satisfying to my person, so please, give me some help here!

As you can imagine, I have been keeping myself busy for the last few days :).

Last Friday I skyped with the director of the WCS (Wildlife Conservation Society – that is, a very, very important WL organization). Lovely man, very engaged with his work and worried about making the world a better place. He advised me to get some more field work experience if I want to pursue a career in the One Health field. No more rehab centers, he said. Therefore, I’ve already started my eternal quest for the next (hopefully)-right step: research assistant, PhD, anything that gives me that that I lack (wow, we could talk ages about this sentence!). My CV is already flying to Australia, Ivory Coast, the States, Canada…

As usual […].

Anyway, that same day in the morning we went to the Abu Dhabi International Hunting and Equestrian Exhibition. I had never been in such kind of place before. It was quite impressive. In the UAE the Emirati (local people) make up only less than 15 percent of the population: I think all of them where there that day (my camera run out of battery, Sarah (the nurse) got some pics for me: I’m waiting for them to be emailed). There was a nice heritage section where they showed the traditional way of living at the UAE: how men used to go out for pearl diving in a dhow (traditional boat), toasted and grained the coffee beans to make Arabic coffee in the dessert while hunting with the saluki hunting dogs and falcons and how women stayed indoors sewing traditional cloths and baskets.

Mongolian Eagle

Saluki dog

Young generation keeping falconry alive

Yes, those ARE diamonds

They like stylish camping

We got to see saluki dogs (one of them was even stained with henna!), a camel auction (O.ô), crazy hunting guns, painted artwork about UAE history and customs, and some fancy accessories (see pic below).

We met our Big boss (BB) there (the brother of the ruler), who joined us for the rest of the journey. We were stopped and invited to have Arabic coffee and chai everywhere we passed by. There are no written rules about tea, but regarding coffee, if you finish it and simply pass the cup to the guy who served it, you’ll get it refilled. If you want no more, you’ll have to shake with a little tilt the bottom of it! (the menace of loads of wee wees afterwards will teach you quick!). I pointed out the nice smell coming from one of the stands and 3 seconds later we all got a present each from the BB: a nice and expensive kind of incense.  He said that you can put your cloths over it while burning and they’ll get sweetly impregnated with its magnificent essence (nevertheless, it is to be used with caution:). After the unexpected present and once walking in privacy through the corridors, he remarked that I “have a great body”. A mí se me quedo cara de pez con esas.

Saturday was a day I spent with one of the vets from the hospital, Antonio (Italian). We first went to the Jumeirah beach (swimming in a 31-32^oC sea at 7.30am does induce sleep) followed by a visit to one of the (thousands of) mosques here in Dubai where we got an “Open doors, open minds” introductory session of Islam. They almost got my soul with all that love and respect but failed when tried to explain the scientific evidence of their religion… I still have to make another trip to Abu Dhabi to visit its mosque (according to Wiki: It is the largest mosque in the UAE and the 8th largest mosque in the world). Dinner was at a Lebanese (yes!) restaurant at another of the Dubai’s malls (I gathered enough leftovers to cover my food needs for two days!).  

Insiders

Una más

Ok... this was the car thermometer... but still quite impressive!

Jumeirah beach

On Sunday I met a CS who mistakenly thought we were going on a date. Good thing: I got a pretty foulard by the face!

We met at Madinat Jumeirah, another “resort” that comprises a couple of hotels, several villas, gyms, spas, a huge theater, a market (or Souk), ballrooms and over 40 restaurants and bars. We decided to spend some time in the traditional Arabic-style Souk and go for a drink after. How we ended up in a wedding ring shop, I do not know; but I can assure you that wearing a £1,200 yellow, white and rose-gold loop (rose?!) in my chubby ring finger was not part of my plans! The bar we went to was a nice latino-ambient dancing place, with the exception that people were not dancing, but drinking. We, however, did. During our second dance the bouncer came to us and whispered in my ear. I genuinely though he was going to ban me from dancing, as my dancing skills are conspicuous by its absence; anyhow, he politely “asked” me to wear my shoes again (yes, I do love barefooting (Toccoa, if you’re reading this, I want you to know that I feel your pain)). There was some more dancing after (which made me wonder again about my neperian hormons) and cinderella’s time called the night (O_ô).

To life.

Burj Al Arab

Ladies

Random note: I find it interesting the complicity that we women have with each other in this city. If lost or wandering alone at night (or during the desert torrid street at daytime) you always feel a deep feeling of reassurance when asking a woman for directions. You (well, I) feel safe and feel as if you were talking with an old neighbor who’s known you for ages and who’s always been there to lend you some eggs for baking. The other night an Italian girl stopped me for directions and we almost end up having dinner together (you’re warned: sometimes I enlarge upon certain events); such was our sisterhood feeling.

Vulnerability status: Fully embraced.

04.09.2013

I met Conor this morning. He’s an Irish guy (Steph, I’m thinking of you every minute) with crazy amounts of experience in the wildlife field. He’s done the WAH Msc, a residency in San Diego and plenty of other stuff. He’s now studying for another accreditation, on top of everything else. As cool as that sounds, it makes me reconsider the wildlife path again. Is there any sense for all this? Will I be looking for a secure place for the rest of my life and be in the hunt of jobs every few years? Probably yes. Don’t take me wrong, I love changes, but only if I AM the one deciding when to take them :). The idea of a PhD in Public/One Health is growing stronger…

Cuando estaba en el aeropuerto pude sentir los años pesándome en la espalda, en las canas, y hasta en el dedo chiquito de los pies. El macuto me pesaba mucho más de esos 11kg que marcaba la báscula. Afortunadamente, en dos días me he recuperado y vuelvo a estar en marcha para viajar indefinidamente. Qué susto!

Anyway… Today after work we went to a talk at Jumeirah hotel (the one about N.Forbes I told you about). The talk itself has been unremarkable (advertising of zoo animal’s food and recovery diets*), however, I got pleasantly surprised when Carlos R. (an old colleague from Uni) popped into the hall. We kind of lost track a few years ago and finally and randomly we met here in Dubai (we were 6 Spanish people in there! You can imagine how the chatting went on and on)! C&M came to my place to catch up over a coffee: again, thoughts about the future crumbled my brain. More aquaculture, private wildlife collections, living abroad, solitude, injustices due to money and sex gender, challenges of living in a male chauvinist society, peace of mind…

After the lovely reunion, I got a lift to meet with some other CSs at Desert Palm resort, where we watched a movie in a big screen while enjoying pop-corns (:)!) in the pool. The place took my breath away and made me reconsider the idea of getting married with a rich guy (who said love?). Below, some pictures. I wore my bikini (good thing I brought it!)and soaked in the water for hours. I think my soul finally got nicely hydrated (although some salty water from the Arabian Gulf will definitely have a longer and perdurable effect). The CSs were great and I got offered another lift home and unconditional support in the city (on top of the discovery of “pipper drink”).

Me!

Some of the CS that night

 

*Just a note about the talk: I asked the cute Dutch guy about the origin of the raw crops they were using as basic ingredients for their food. I was nicely surprised (aaa-gain) when he said it was grown by local farmers in Africa, as part of a sustainable project to recover the eroded land (eroded by formerly imported “exotic” (to the area) cattle and other hoofstock). Endemic flora was deplenished by exotic species and only unorganized mats of small unproductive bushes (and therefore land) remained. Farmers are now in charge of the clearance and proper management of that land at the same time that they make a living out of it. They produce the crop, take care of the land, balance the ecosystem with regards to little bugs and soil composition and become able to support themselves and families by trading the yield with Europe (yes, there’s the  footprint stuff, but I really believe that benefits overcome the pitfalls…). Nice.

Downtown

Nice contrast

I stepped into this shop, where they were playing  "Ella", de Bebe (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1VH6LG2WDD4)

As I had no friends backing me up, I took a pic to some strangers.

I will pay ANYTHING

03.09.2013

Today (Tue) I met our big boss (who's tuned out to be Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum's brother, my apologies for the wrong information provided yesterday!). He is a quite impressive Emirate, with big hands, vitiligo in lips and fingers, busy eyebrows, inquisitive and sincere eyes and such a cottony voice that makes you want to hug him and squeeze him ( I was happy with a hand shake, though). I, predictably, felt in love.

Besides his physical characteristics of a full-fledged man, he offered us a high quality brewed cappuccino, freshly picked dates (specifically picked for us!) and a velvety avocado smoothie. What else do you need to get your heart melted? We had a nice one-hour talk, with laughs, periods of silence and warmed intersperses sips of brevage. One of the funniest stories rose when talking about English language and us (foreigners) trying to learn how to speak it properly (a most of the times lost battle). The anecdote goes as follows: Both of them were having a high standard business meeting at a very posh restaurant with very VIP company (I think you get the idea) when his wife’s turn to ask for drinks came. Toda digna, she asked for a glass of cock (instead of coke). Inevitably, giggling and blushing happened. (Reading this now doesn’t sound THAT funny, but I promise it was when he told the story...).

After work I decided to go and explore “the big city” for the first time. I was brave enough to walk 30 min (and of course, get lost) towards the tube station under the scorching 39ºC sun. It is not surprising that Dubai is not peasant-friendly in any way: this heat can kill anyone who dares to defy the power of solar energy. To feel a bit more local (ex-pat local type!), I bought the NUL-card (Dubai’s oyster), valid for a whole year (it will be my legacy for the future interns). Even though it was pick hour, I was happily surprised of the spaciousness of the wagons. I had plenty of space and was almost able to sit. My eyes were on stalks (;)) when I left my head and saw dozens of men piled 5 meters away from my heavenly free of crowdiness (let me make up some words... it is called writer’s licence) carriage. I had stepped into the women-only-carriage without even noticing and I am afraid to say that I’ve become addicted to it. What a blessing... Apparently, the ratio male:female is 1:7, so it is paramount to keep as cautious and away from (single) men as possible :S. A simple smile can trigger an invitation to harassment. I’m finding it difficult not to smile in the street to random people or not to say good morning to the workers at my doorstep. But... I guess I just have to follow the rules I’ve been taught.

My destination reached, I got off the tube (or metro, as they call it here) and followed an astonishing 828m long concrete a/c tongue that took me straight to the Dubai Mall, in “Downtown Dubai”. (see pics, whenever I can download them...).  In this area you can find the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world (yesterday’s pic! Though you cannot see the tip at the end of it), the Dubai Aquarium (I met the director of curators, a Spanish girl from Jeréz, and will probably get the chance to get a private aquaculture-tour), and the Duabi Fountain, amongst others.

I finished the night with my first CS meeting in Dubai, where I met a really nice guy who reminds me loads to Yuri and who blew my mind when openly accepted that he was working in an engineer-full (oh, yes! more and more engies) ghetto in Iraq just for the money. Now I feel stupid for being THAT surprised, but still gets me the chills when thinking about it. I decided not to go for beer, and had a fresh watermelon juice instead. Yummy!

Oh, Canada! There’s a picture especially for you.