Of course it's like this when I have to drive the girls to school. It makes the driving super fun. It doesn't burn off like I'm used to. Today, it lingered until about 10:30 am.
11 December 2012
Visibilty - not good...
We get some crazy fog here in Abu Dhabi.
Of course it's like this when I have to drive the girls to school. It makes the driving super fun. It doesn't burn off like I'm used to. Today, it lingered until about 10:30 am.
Of course it's like this when I have to drive the girls to school. It makes the driving super fun. It doesn't burn off like I'm used to. Today, it lingered until about 10:30 am.
10 December 2012
Licensed to drive...
So it's December already, and I haven't posted anything for over a month.
I'll blame it on being a UAE-licensed driver. Now that I can drive myself around instead of calling a cab or waiting on my (awesome) husband to get home from work to take me somewhere, I just don't make as much time for blogging.
Not that I'm jet-setting around town or anything. But I could if I wanted to.
I think the real problem is that when I'm at home, I can think of so many other things I *NEED* to do instead of blogging. So this morning, I dropped the kids off at school at 7:40. I knew I had to go to Marina Mall, which is ALL THE WAY on the other side of Abu Dhabi from where we live. (I hope you felt sympathy for me there, although I sort of hope you didn't, because it's really only about a 30 minute drive from our apartment, and there are also about 15 malls in Abu Dhabi. HUGE malls. So I could have probably chosen some others to go to.) But, I digress... so after I dropped off the kids and stopped to get gas, I drove out to the mall. The only problem is, the mall doesn't open until 10, like most malls, and I didn't want to drive 20 minutes home, in the opposite direction, to turn around an hour later and drive again. So that's the reason I'm blogging today. Because I'm sitting in a Caribou Coffee (and they have something BETTER than a Starbucks Peppermint Mocha!) drinking a Mint Condition Mocha. And because I don't have twelve other things I could be doing at home... I'm blogging! Hooray!
Although the title of my blog post is "Licensed to drive," and I've written very little about driving here.
So here goes:
Driving here is crazy compared to most cities in the U.S. With that being said, I haven't driven in New York City, or Chicago, or a vast number of other major metropolitan areas. I have driven in Atlanta, Miami, St. Louis, and Nashville. =) And probably some other big ones that I don't remember. I have to say, though, that I LOVE driving here. Even though I got lost in Dubai (twice) and I've gotten lost many times in Abu Dhabi, I still love it.
If you've ever done any research about driving here, you'd know that most people think it's just crazy and out of control. And in a way, it is crazy (and sometimes out of control) but for the most part, people are just aggressive. And sometimes their aggressiveness makes them do things you and I might consider crazy (or stupid). Caleb told me when I first got here to just imagine in every situation what would be the most ridiculous thing for someone to do, and they'll most likely do it. And he was right.
I'm not a scientist, or even a rocket surgeon, but I think I've figured out why driving here is better (in my opinion) than in the U.S. Because although people are aggressive... they are attentive. Because people don't text and drive here. I have almost been involved in accidents (twice in one day, even) with people in the states who can't be bothered to pay attention to driving because they need to text "LOL" to someone.
I won't go into how I rolled down my window and yelled at one person to "Put the phone down and DRIVE!" while my husband and kids were in the car with me. (That's probably WHY I decided to yell at the guy.)
Back to driving in the UAE. People honk. A lot. It's not really considered rude... it's more of a communication tool. People honk before they cut you off... kind of as a way to warn you that they're coming into your lane even though there's not really room for them. However... you start to realize that people will always let you in here. They don't play that little game with each other where they inch forward and don't budge to allow someone in front of them. They let you in. And so you let them in.
I could probably write a bunch of other things that are different about driving here, but I'll save those for another day when I'm out and make time for blogging. Instead I'll just close with two sentences that came out of my mouth the other day while I was driving. (Both said very calmly, I might add...)
To all my friends with cell phones: Don't text and drive. Or I might beat you the next time I see you.
I'll blame it on being a UAE-licensed driver. Now that I can drive myself around instead of calling a cab or waiting on my (awesome) husband to get home from work to take me somewhere, I just don't make as much time for blogging.
Not that I'm jet-setting around town or anything. But I could if I wanted to.
I think the real problem is that when I'm at home, I can think of so many other things I *NEED* to do instead of blogging. So this morning, I dropped the kids off at school at 7:40. I knew I had to go to Marina Mall, which is ALL THE WAY on the other side of Abu Dhabi from where we live. (I hope you felt sympathy for me there, although I sort of hope you didn't, because it's really only about a 30 minute drive from our apartment, and there are also about 15 malls in Abu Dhabi. HUGE malls. So I could have probably chosen some others to go to.) But, I digress... so after I dropped off the kids and stopped to get gas, I drove out to the mall. The only problem is, the mall doesn't open until 10, like most malls, and I didn't want to drive 20 minutes home, in the opposite direction, to turn around an hour later and drive again. So that's the reason I'm blogging today. Because I'm sitting in a Caribou Coffee (and they have something BETTER than a Starbucks Peppermint Mocha!) drinking a Mint Condition Mocha. And because I don't have twelve other things I could be doing at home... I'm blogging! Hooray!
Although the title of my blog post is "Licensed to drive," and I've written very little about driving here.
So here goes:
Driving here is crazy compared to most cities in the U.S. With that being said, I haven't driven in New York City, or Chicago, or a vast number of other major metropolitan areas. I have driven in Atlanta, Miami, St. Louis, and Nashville. =) And probably some other big ones that I don't remember. I have to say, though, that I LOVE driving here. Even though I got lost in Dubai (twice) and I've gotten lost many times in Abu Dhabi, I still love it.
If you've ever done any research about driving here, you'd know that most people think it's just crazy and out of control. And in a way, it is crazy (and sometimes out of control) but for the most part, people are just aggressive. And sometimes their aggressiveness makes them do things you and I might consider crazy (or stupid). Caleb told me when I first got here to just imagine in every situation what would be the most ridiculous thing for someone to do, and they'll most likely do it. And he was right.
I'm not a scientist, or even a rocket surgeon, but I think I've figured out why driving here is better (in my opinion) than in the U.S. Because although people are aggressive... they are attentive. Because people don't text and drive here. I have almost been involved in accidents (twice in one day, even) with people in the states who can't be bothered to pay attention to driving because they need to text "LOL" to someone.
I won't go into how I rolled down my window and yelled at one person to "Put the phone down and DRIVE!" while my husband and kids were in the car with me. (That's probably WHY I decided to yell at the guy.)
Back to driving in the UAE. People honk. A lot. It's not really considered rude... it's more of a communication tool. People honk before they cut you off... kind of as a way to warn you that they're coming into your lane even though there's not really room for them. However... you start to realize that people will always let you in here. They don't play that little game with each other where they inch forward and don't budge to allow someone in front of them. They let you in. And so you let them in.
I could probably write a bunch of other things that are different about driving here, but I'll save those for another day when I'm out and make time for blogging. Instead I'll just close with two sentences that came out of my mouth the other day while I was driving. (Both said very calmly, I might add...)
- "Gee, I really hope that bus doesn't hit us."
- "I hope that lady doesn't decide to cross right now because she'll probably get run over."
To all my friends with cell phones: Don't text and drive. Or I might beat you the next time I see you.
25 October 2012
Big foot...
Just a warning... If you are a woman, and your feet are larger than a size 8, most stores in Abu Dhabi will not have shoes that fit you. They will also look at you either in awe, or with pity, wondering how you managed to get those big clown feet into their store without knocking over all the displays.
I know. I've been there.
My name is Lynn, and I have ginormous feet. US women's size 10 to be exact. UK size 42, which actually does sound kind of ginormous. And it's not like I knew that 42 was the UK conversion for US 10. The first store I went into had to look that up, because apparently no one has EVER come into the store looking for shoes that big before.
I was truly amazed when looking for shoes for Hannah. She's 13. She's 5'8". She wears an 8. Sometimes an 8.5. Apparently she has ginormous feet, too. It got to the point where we wouldn't even look at the shoes in the store we entered, we'd just ask if they had the size we needed.
Size 8. Really?
There are close to a bazillion malls here. For a place with so many malls, maybe they need to have just one store somewhere that sells shoes to people who haven't had their feet bound?
No photos of my feet in this post, because I'm guessing you would run away screaming in horror from the sheer size.
I know. I've been there.
My name is Lynn, and I have ginormous feet. US women's size 10 to be exact. UK size 42, which actually does sound kind of ginormous. And it's not like I knew that 42 was the UK conversion for US 10. The first store I went into had to look that up, because apparently no one has EVER come into the store looking for shoes that big before.
I was truly amazed when looking for shoes for Hannah. She's 13. She's 5'8". She wears an 8. Sometimes an 8.5. Apparently she has ginormous feet, too. It got to the point where we wouldn't even look at the shoes in the store we entered, we'd just ask if they had the size we needed.
Size 8. Really?
There are close to a bazillion malls here. For a place with so many malls, maybe they need to have just one store somewhere that sells shoes to people who haven't had their feet bound?
No photos of my feet in this post, because I'm guessing you would run away screaming in horror from the sheer size.
24 October 2012
The first time I ever got lost in Dubai...
There I was... all alone.. driving to Dubai to watch one of Hannah's volleyball games. I had already prepared myself for the drive by printing out the directions from Google maps, and by using the GPS on my old android phone. I should probably let you know that I had been a licensed UAE driver for, like, 5 days. What could possibly go wrong?
First, Google maps directions over here are ridiculously vague. Not really any street names to speak of. Honestly, the first four directions on my way out of my apartment building were:
Anyway, I make it all the way to Dubai, and, no lie... I am three minutes from my destination. I'm so proud of myself that I've made it this far. I would have been able to see the school I was going to had I known what to look for. I'm pretty sure you can guess what happened next. I missed a turn. My trusty GPS failed to tell me "slight left." And I couldn't actually pick up the printout from Google and read it right then.
The next thing I know... I'm completely lost in a city I've never been to before. A huge one, at that. One where lots of people speak English, but most of it is broken.
I ended up calling my husband. This is sort of how that conversation went:
It probably seems a little strange to be so worried about getting lost. When you're in a country where streets aren't marked well, and people drive like complete crazy people, and there's not always places to turn around, and there's entirely too much construction going on at one time, and you've been warned that one wrong turn can take you 50km out of your way... possibly into the desert... you kind of get a little freaked out. Anyway, that was a really long run-on sentence.
One thing you do here is take small victories whenever you can find them. I found where I needed to be, despite driving 30km in a giant circle, arriving at my destination 20 minutes late with smudged mascara. Score!
Oh, and just so I can post a photo... because blog posts are always more fun with a photo, and I didn't think to take one while I was there because apparently I was too busy crying... here is the school I was driving to:
First, Google maps directions over here are ridiculously vague. Not really any street names to speak of. Honestly, the first four directions on my way out of my apartment building were:
- Head north.
- Turn left.
- Turn left.
- Slight right.
Anyway, I make it all the way to Dubai, and, no lie... I am three minutes from my destination. I'm so proud of myself that I've made it this far. I would have been able to see the school I was going to had I known what to look for. I'm pretty sure you can guess what happened next. I missed a turn. My trusty GPS failed to tell me "slight left." And I couldn't actually pick up the printout from Google and read it right then.
The next thing I know... I'm completely lost in a city I've never been to before. A huge one, at that. One where lots of people speak English, but most of it is broken.
I ended up calling my husband. This is sort of how that conversation went:
- Me: (crying) I missed a turn and I don't have any idea where I am and my GPS lost it's signal and I don't even know what to do.
- Him: Woman. You can't see when you're crying. Find a safe place to pull over and call me right back.
- Me: (still crying) I've been driving around lost for over 20 minutes, and I haven't found a safe place to pull over yet. I'll call you back.
It probably seems a little strange to be so worried about getting lost. When you're in a country where streets aren't marked well, and people drive like complete crazy people, and there's not always places to turn around, and there's entirely too much construction going on at one time, and you've been warned that one wrong turn can take you 50km out of your way... possibly into the desert... you kind of get a little freaked out. Anyway, that was a really long run-on sentence.
One thing you do here is take small victories whenever you can find them. I found where I needed to be, despite driving 30km in a giant circle, arriving at my destination 20 minutes late with smudged mascara. Score!
Oh, and just so I can post a photo... because blog posts are always more fun with a photo, and I didn't think to take one while I was there because apparently I was too busy crying... here is the school I was driving to:
Photo from Gems World Academy
Nice, huh?
10 October 2012
Not quite PRIME, but pretty darn good...
One of the things I knew I'd really miss when we left the US was our Amazon Prime membership. It allowed me to purchase many things I probably didn't need but thought I did without ever having to leave my house. And then I'd receive it in two days. Because, you know, I probably couldn't have survived if I didn't receive it that fast. And then my loving husband pretty much sold all of it on craigslist. And then he wrote a book about it. And now I have to hear all about what an incredible author he is.
The point is... I love Amazon Prime. Alas, two-day shipping no longer applies to me. Turns out it was only five-day shipping to the UAE. That's pretty impressive, in my opinion.
The point is... I love Amazon Prime. Alas, two-day shipping no longer applies to me. Turns out it was only five-day shipping to the UAE. That's pretty impressive, in my opinion.
It cost a bunch, but we got what we needed. Or maybe we didn't really need it. But we got what we wanted and couldn't find (yet) over here.
09 October 2012
Leaving on jet plane (part 2)...
I figured I should get this part written before I forgot about the really fun parts of it. This is part 2 of our trip all the way from the US to Abu Dhabi. When we left off, we were sitting in O'Hare Aiport, and we had just finished our $100 dinner while sitting on the floor near our gate... waiting anxiously to board our flight.
The airline first announced that Business Class was now boarding. At that point in time, I kid you not, I have never seen anything remotely like what I saw. Virtually all of the people that were waiting in the gate area... a couple hundred, I'm sure, crowded into line in the walkway. And when I say crowded, it's because I can't even come close to thinking of a word to describe it. And I use the term "line" very loosely. It was seriously like cattle being herded. At that point in time, I had serious questions about how we were ever going to be able to board the plane in a timely fashion, let alone find any overhead storage space.
One thing I've learned over here is that there are some cultures that can not even comprehend the concept of personal space. AT ALL. They will seriously be all up on your back while you're waiting in line. I often wonder if, for the lack of a better way to describe it, someone ripped a really stinky SBD (silent but deadly) fart, if a little more space could be created. Alas, I can't accomplish that task on demand, so I may never know. Anyway, there are tons of people waiting in a huge, jumbled mass that doesn't even come close to resembling a line, and the gate attendants are literally SHOUTING for people to form a line and allow the people whose row numbers have been called to board. Not a chance. I'm not sure if it was just a language barrier, or if people just really didn't care. I seriously thought there might be a revolt. They called for families with children 5 and under to board. Praise God. Seriously. And then I sort of internally freaked out trying to figure out how we were going to get through all those people. Against all of my better judgement, I decided that since we were already sitting on the ground reasonably close to the front of the herd... we would just enter at the front of the line. Turns out, it worked, and we were able to leave the herd behind.
We found our seats... we had the four in the center section, and the aisle seat right next to them. I was worried when I saw our seat assignments online that since there was a wall (bulkhead?) behind us, we wouldn't be able to recline our seats at all. I was pleasantly surprised to find we could. The girls were also thrilled to find little pouches in their seat pockets.
The little pouch contained a sleep mask, some earplugs, a pair of socks, and a toothbrush with a single-use thingamajig of toothpaste. I can not even describe how awesome they thought these were. Until the flight attendants dropped off a little activity bag for each of the girls. It included things like cards, a puzzle, colored pencils, a game, a coloring book, and stickers. Way more awesome. Even more exciting, though, was that THESE little beauties were on the back of EVERY seat.
The airline first announced that Business Class was now boarding. At that point in time, I kid you not, I have never seen anything remotely like what I saw. Virtually all of the people that were waiting in the gate area... a couple hundred, I'm sure, crowded into line in the walkway. And when I say crowded, it's because I can't even come close to thinking of a word to describe it. And I use the term "line" very loosely. It was seriously like cattle being herded. At that point in time, I had serious questions about how we were ever going to be able to board the plane in a timely fashion, let alone find any overhead storage space.
One thing I've learned over here is that there are some cultures that can not even comprehend the concept of personal space. AT ALL. They will seriously be all up on your back while you're waiting in line. I often wonder if, for the lack of a better way to describe it, someone ripped a really stinky SBD (silent but deadly) fart, if a little more space could be created. Alas, I can't accomplish that task on demand, so I may never know. Anyway, there are tons of people waiting in a huge, jumbled mass that doesn't even come close to resembling a line, and the gate attendants are literally SHOUTING for people to form a line and allow the people whose row numbers have been called to board. Not a chance. I'm not sure if it was just a language barrier, or if people just really didn't care. I seriously thought there might be a revolt. They called for families with children 5 and under to board. Praise God. Seriously. And then I sort of internally freaked out trying to figure out how we were going to get through all those people. Against all of my better judgement, I decided that since we were already sitting on the ground reasonably close to the front of the herd... we would just enter at the front of the line. Turns out, it worked, and we were able to leave the herd behind.
We found our seats... we had the four in the center section, and the aisle seat right next to them. I was worried when I saw our seat assignments online that since there was a wall (bulkhead?) behind us, we wouldn't be able to recline our seats at all. I was pleasantly surprised to find we could. The girls were also thrilled to find little pouches in their seat pockets.
The little pouch contained a sleep mask, some earplugs, a pair of socks, and a toothbrush with a single-use thingamajig of toothpaste. I can not even describe how awesome they thought these were. Until the flight attendants dropped off a little activity bag for each of the girls. It included things like cards, a puzzle, colored pencils, a game, a coloring book, and stickers. Way more awesome. Even more exciting, though, was that THESE little beauties were on the back of EVERY seat.
Photo found here
Seriously? Best. Thing. EVER. They were entertained for the vast majority of the 14-hour flight. There were movie choices for adults or children... there were even games that they could play with the little phone/handset thing. With the exception of a few times I had to grab coloring books and crayons out of someone's backpack, these kept my children completely entertained.
No one ate dinner. I don't even know what it was, except that it was "vegetarian" because they ran out of chicken, and no one wanted fish or lamb. The flight attendants felt sorry for us, I think, and were sweet enough to find other snacks and stuff to feed the girls.
Everything went well for about the next 8 hours. For some reason, my children had the insane ability to stay awake for the entire day up until this point. As they started to fall asleep one after the other, things got really pleasant. For a little while. Then, bless their little hearts, they were just so uncomfortable to be sitting and trying to sleep that Hannah and I tried to come up with creative ways to keep them happy. I would hold one on my lap (yeah, there was so much room for that!) Hannah would trade her seat with one of them. At one point in time, the two littlest were laying (or is it lying? I can never remember that rule) next to each other in on the seats in between us.
About an hour before we arrived, I called Caleb from the airplane. That was fun... I was trying to be as quick as I could because it cost $6 a minute. He had told me before we left to go ahead and get the internet on the plane so we could keep in touch while we were in the air. Only... no internet on the plane. I HAD to speak with him because he was hoping to have our preliminary residence visas waiting for us at the airport, and I would have to have them stamped at immigration, along with our passports. I needed to know where to pick them up. So I tried to be really quiet while talking to my husband from something like 35,000 feet in the air.
Anyway, we made it. Finally. We got off the plane, got through customs and immigration, got our luggage, and found Caleb. We walked outside, and I gasped. It was so hot and humid, it literally took my breath away.
After about 10 minutes in the humidity, I decided that I would not be able to have bangs in Abu Dhabi. So I'm growing them out.
07 September 2012
I'll have a large soup sandwich, please...
OK, so I know some of you are anxiously (really?) awaiting part 2 of "Leaving on a jet plane," but I really have to get this all down while it's fresh in my mind. So I posted on my facebook page yesterday that we're supposed to be having our container delivered today. So exciting. I realized about 14 hours too late that I got a little bit excited about something that should be pretty straightforward... container arrives in port, clears customs, gets loaded on truck, truck drives to our building, truck gets unloaded, and stuff is delivered to our apartment. I may have missed a few things in between arriving in port and getting loaded on truck, but I'm not going to worry too much about it, because where I come into this story, the container has already cleared customs.
This is probably a good place to interject what some of you may have already deduced. I'm a little wordy. I don't really tell short stories. I kind of feel like the best parts of stories are in the details. I drive Caleb nuts because he'll tell me something in two sentences, and I'll ask him seventeen detail-oriented questions... none of which he can answer. So, feel free to stop reading at any time... it's just kind of the details in all of this that make it the soup sandwich that it is.
Anyway, that brings me to now. Here's how this morning has gone down: I had to tell Abdul (our awesome driver who takes the kids to and from school because I can't get my driver's license yet) that we gave the truck driver his name and phone number because the driver only speaks Hindi. Abdul is one of a very short list of people in Abu Dhabi whom I know well enough to ask a favor involving speaking Hindi. Abdul says he'll talk to him when he calls. Fast forward to 45 minutes ago. Abdul calls me to tell me Yousef, the driver, is almost at the security gate. I have already talked to the security guard to let him know we have a big delivery coming. As I go downstairs and walk outside, I see the truck with the container on it heading away from security. I'll give you a moment to picture the awesomeness of watching the truck with your container holding all of your belongings on it driving away.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Did you picture it? Great! So I call Abdul back. He tells me he's not sure where the guy's going... maybe to the other gate? So I hightail it to the other security gate on the other side of the complex. It's about a 5 minute walk... not far. Only it's 95 degrees outside with a "feels like" temp of 115. And 67% humidity. At NINE in the morning. So imagine my surprise, when I arrive dripping with sweat (imagine how glamorous I felt!) only to see... you guessed it... NO TRUCK! I proceed to tell that security guard that a truck is coming for us and please let him in. Then I head back to my building and come upstairs. I change my shirt, because, no lie, I am sweating more than I did in some basketball practices I've been through.
This is when I call Caleb and ask him to call the "Boss Man" to figure out what's going on. Caleb calls me back in a few short minutes to tell me the truck is at security again, and they won't let him in. Only this time, I grow a brain and decide to look off the balcony to check. I'm sure you'll be as surprised as I was to find that there wasn't a truck at the security gate I could see. Nor was there a truck waiting at the two security gates to the island, nor was there one waiting at the gate at the island next to us. There was one gate that I couldn't see, the one I had to walk to before, but there was no way I was going to walk to that one and have to change my shirt yet again. I probably would have redlined the stinkometer after that. Instead, I decided to go downstairs and talk to my friend Fez Ali. He's the concierge guy at another building. I mentioned him on facebook one time. He saved our beach towels from almost certain demise. But that's another story for another day. I am happier than a pig in poop to announce that I now know not one, but TWO people in Abu Dhabi who speak Hindi and will translate for me. The bonus is that I can understand Fez Ali way better. He called the driver and got the scoop. The driver is parked somewhere in a "good location." I honestly have no idea what "good location" in this situation even means, but I nod my head anyway. Apparently, security won't allow a big truck with a container loaded on it to deliver to our buildings because the roads are too narrow and too hard to maneuver. So now, Yousef is waiting in that "good location" for a smaller truck. They will then offload a small truckoad of stuff at a time, drive it through security, unload it for several trips in the elevator, and deliver it to our apartment on the 9th floor. After Fez Ali passes on all this information to me, I get a call from Abdul. He tells me to come outside, as he's in front of our building. Keep in mind that I only ever asked him to give Yousef directions if he got lost. Abdul had gone way above and beyond. Anyway, I walk over to his van, and he's got two guys from the delivery company with him, only he didn't really tell me who they were, so after a few awkward "Will you please speak slowers" on my part, I found out they were with the delivery company. In a nutshell, they tell me the same thing Fez Ali just told me.
Since there's nothing more I can do, I give one of the delivery company guys my phone number and tell him to call me when they need me to come downstairs.
A few hours pass, and I get a phone call. I come downstairs and see this, in all its glory:
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And then I see things like this:
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While this might not seem like a big deal, it is. That box is supposed to be not only closed, but taped shut. And see that greasy stain down the side? Yeah, not supposed to be there. As a matter of fact, there were a lot of boxes with greasy stains on them, some much worse than this one. Seriously, after I started wondering/worrying what had been ruined, I reminded myself that this was all just stuff. I was just hoping it wasn't a box of scrapbooks or photo albums with greasy stains on it.
There were about six guys helping altogether. About four of them were helping unload the truck. Someone was also loading the elevator and bringing the stuff up so he could unload it on our floor, and there was one guy upstairs with me... he was going back and forth from the elevator landing, where an elevator load of stuff was sitting unloaded for him to move into my apartment. Overall, it was a more efficient process than I ever expected given the fiasco earlier in the day. He was pretty good about delivering stuff to the proper rooms, and he was very nice and polite. The only problem is, THIS is how most of our stuff looked once it was sitting inside our apartment:
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And this is only a small sample of photos. I decided to just stop taking them... it was too depressing. It looks as if someone played a game of hopscotch across the tops of the boxes. Or maybe it was just more fun to see how far they could be thrown from four feet up in the container straight down to the ground. Any box that you see in the photos that has tan-colored shipping tape on it has been opened by customs. I have no problems with customs doing their jobs. Trust me. The only thing is that they opened almost every single box they inspected FROM THE BOTTOM. So my boxes that were labeled on top and were haphazardly taped back together had to be turned over again to figure out where they went. Not to mention, things that were in one box when they left my house were in completely different boxes when they got here. Believe it or not, in the 30 or so boxes I've unpacked, there have only been a handful of broken things. Some of you will mourn these with me: my neti-pot (also known as my self-waterboarding device), my DARK BROWN because it's been used so much Pampered Chef stone, a bowl that was part of a set of china I got from my mom (replaceable). There is also a small, broken piece of wood on the hutch that my great-grandfather made, but I think it could be repaired. The one thing I thought I had gotten a photo of but didn't: our fireproof safe. They ripped the hinges off of it to make sure there was nothing inside that shouldn't be, although now, as I'm sure you can guess, it's worthless. All I could think of as a caption to a photo of a safe with the hinges broken off is from lolcatz: "Ur doin' it wrong!"
I am interested to see what other little surprises I discover as I continue to unpack. The most exciting part of the whole process, though, is that we can now start to make this apartment look more like our home instead of this:
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It looks like a sad little bachelor pad with the soccer mom chair and the inflatable chair and ottoman, doesn't it?
This is probably a good place to interject what some of you may have already deduced. I'm a little wordy. I don't really tell short stories. I kind of feel like the best parts of stories are in the details. I drive Caleb nuts because he'll tell me something in two sentences, and I'll ask him seventeen detail-oriented questions... none of which he can answer. So, feel free to stop reading at any time... it's just kind of the details in all of this that make it the soup sandwich that it is.
Anyway, that brings me to now. Here's how this morning has gone down: I had to tell Abdul (our awesome driver who takes the kids to and from school because I can't get my driver's license yet) that we gave the truck driver his name and phone number because the driver only speaks Hindi. Abdul is one of a very short list of people in Abu Dhabi whom I know well enough to ask a favor involving speaking Hindi. Abdul says he'll talk to him when he calls. Fast forward to 45 minutes ago. Abdul calls me to tell me Yousef, the driver, is almost at the security gate. I have already talked to the security guard to let him know we have a big delivery coming. As I go downstairs and walk outside, I see the truck with the container on it heading away from security. I'll give you a moment to picture the awesomeness of watching the truck with your container holding all of your belongings on it driving away.
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Did you picture it? Great! So I call Abdul back. He tells me he's not sure where the guy's going... maybe to the other gate? So I hightail it to the other security gate on the other side of the complex. It's about a 5 minute walk... not far. Only it's 95 degrees outside with a "feels like" temp of 115. And 67% humidity. At NINE in the morning. So imagine my surprise, when I arrive dripping with sweat (imagine how glamorous I felt!) only to see... you guessed it... NO TRUCK! I proceed to tell that security guard that a truck is coming for us and please let him in. Then I head back to my building and come upstairs. I change my shirt, because, no lie, I am sweating more than I did in some basketball practices I've been through.
This is when I call Caleb and ask him to call the "Boss Man" to figure out what's going on. Caleb calls me back in a few short minutes to tell me the truck is at security again, and they won't let him in. Only this time, I grow a brain and decide to look off the balcony to check. I'm sure you'll be as surprised as I was to find that there wasn't a truck at the security gate I could see. Nor was there a truck waiting at the two security gates to the island, nor was there one waiting at the gate at the island next to us. There was one gate that I couldn't see, the one I had to walk to before, but there was no way I was going to walk to that one and have to change my shirt yet again. I probably would have redlined the stinkometer after that. Instead, I decided to go downstairs and talk to my friend Fez Ali. He's the concierge guy at another building. I mentioned him on facebook one time. He saved our beach towels from almost certain demise. But that's another story for another day. I am happier than a pig in poop to announce that I now know not one, but TWO people in Abu Dhabi who speak Hindi and will translate for me. The bonus is that I can understand Fez Ali way better. He called the driver and got the scoop. The driver is parked somewhere in a "good location." I honestly have no idea what "good location" in this situation even means, but I nod my head anyway. Apparently, security won't allow a big truck with a container loaded on it to deliver to our buildings because the roads are too narrow and too hard to maneuver. So now, Yousef is waiting in that "good location" for a smaller truck. They will then offload a small truckoad of stuff at a time, drive it through security, unload it for several trips in the elevator, and deliver it to our apartment on the 9th floor. After Fez Ali passes on all this information to me, I get a call from Abdul. He tells me to come outside, as he's in front of our building. Keep in mind that I only ever asked him to give Yousef directions if he got lost. Abdul had gone way above and beyond. Anyway, I walk over to his van, and he's got two guys from the delivery company with him, only he didn't really tell me who they were, so after a few awkward "Will you please speak slowers" on my part, I found out they were with the delivery company. In a nutshell, they tell me the same thing Fez Ali just told me.
Since there's nothing more I can do, I give one of the delivery company guys my phone number and tell him to call me when they need me to come downstairs.
A few hours pass, and I get a phone call. I come downstairs and see this, in all its glory:
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And then I see things like this:
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While this might not seem like a big deal, it is. That box is supposed to be not only closed, but taped shut. And see that greasy stain down the side? Yeah, not supposed to be there. As a matter of fact, there were a lot of boxes with greasy stains on them, some much worse than this one. Seriously, after I started wondering/worrying what had been ruined, I reminded myself that this was all just stuff. I was just hoping it wasn't a box of scrapbooks or photo albums with greasy stains on it.
There were about six guys helping altogether. About four of them were helping unload the truck. Someone was also loading the elevator and bringing the stuff up so he could unload it on our floor, and there was one guy upstairs with me... he was going back and forth from the elevator landing, where an elevator load of stuff was sitting unloaded for him to move into my apartment. Overall, it was a more efficient process than I ever expected given the fiasco earlier in the day. He was pretty good about delivering stuff to the proper rooms, and he was very nice and polite. The only problem is, THIS is how most of our stuff looked once it was sitting inside our apartment:
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And this is only a small sample of photos. I decided to just stop taking them... it was too depressing. It looks as if someone played a game of hopscotch across the tops of the boxes. Or maybe it was just more fun to see how far they could be thrown from four feet up in the container straight down to the ground. Any box that you see in the photos that has tan-colored shipping tape on it has been opened by customs. I have no problems with customs doing their jobs. Trust me. The only thing is that they opened almost every single box they inspected FROM THE BOTTOM. So my boxes that were labeled on top and were haphazardly taped back together had to be turned over again to figure out where they went. Not to mention, things that were in one box when they left my house were in completely different boxes when they got here. Believe it or not, in the 30 or so boxes I've unpacked, there have only been a handful of broken things. Some of you will mourn these with me: my neti-pot (also known as my self-waterboarding device), my DARK BROWN because it's been used so much Pampered Chef stone, a bowl that was part of a set of china I got from my mom (replaceable). There is also a small, broken piece of wood on the hutch that my great-grandfather made, but I think it could be repaired. The one thing I thought I had gotten a photo of but didn't: our fireproof safe. They ripped the hinges off of it to make sure there was nothing inside that shouldn't be, although now, as I'm sure you can guess, it's worthless. All I could think of as a caption to a photo of a safe with the hinges broken off is from lolcatz: "Ur doin' it wrong!"
I am interested to see what other little surprises I discover as I continue to unpack. The most exciting part of the whole process, though, is that we can now start to make this apartment look more like our home instead of this:
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01 September 2012
Leaving on a jet plane (part 1)...
So I started this post about 9 days ago, but never quite finished it. It's actually not the most pleasant thing to try to use your laptop on a plane when you're 6'2" and have pretty much zero leg room to begin with. I finished the post after we actually arrived in the UAE. This is a pretty long one, so be warned. Without further ado...
Today's the day. The one for which we've been waiting for MONTHS. We are leaving Seattle and flying to Abu Dhabi via Chicago. Today is going to be a long day. And when I say long, please know that I mean LONG... four hour flight to Chicago, three hour layover, 14 (yes, I just said FOURTEEN) hour flight to Abu Dhabi, UAE. I don't like to do anything for fourteen hours. Not even sleep (unless I'm really tired) so today is going to be a challenge, not only for me, but for the girls. I guess the good thing about all of this is that I won't be driving 14 hours, which is most definitely worse. Add to those fourteen hours an 11 hour time difference, and we're just begging for chaos. Anyway, you get the point.
So here's what it looks like in our hotel room right before we get ready to take the shuttle to the airport:
I realize this photo is small and of extremely poor quality, but it was taken by my phone camera in a poorly lit room at 7 in the morning. Cut me some slack.
While I love my husband dearly, it was probably a good thing he wasn't in my physical presence while I was packing. I probably would have punched him in the face if he had been at all near me. (All said with MUCH LOVE, honey!) He kept telling me from halfway around the world that I needed to pack lightly, and that I didn't need to bring much with us. How do you pack "lightly" when you're moving to the other side of the earth with your four kids? In all, we managed to get all of our stuff in 7 120 liter bags and 5 backpacks. I, myself, am pretty impressed with that feat.
Fast forward to the first four-hour flight. It was pretty uneventful. The whole flying thing was fresh and new, nobody complained. I was pretty happy about the Sprite served to my girls in those awesome little plastic airplane cups... no lids, of course... perched precariously on slippery tray tables ready to douse the nearest little lap with sticky goodness at any moment. I actually asked the flight attendant if we could just have 1 whole bottle of water that we could share between the five of us. She looked at me like I had 12 heads. Apparently, the water bottle police don't allow a whole water bottle (with a LID) to be handed over on an aircraft. Or maybe they do and I just asked someone who was having a bad day. Either way, I'm so happy to announce that there were no spills of liquids on the flight to Chicago, and we arrived safely and on time.
I don't know if you've ever flown through O'Hare before, but the international terminal is a separate entity there. Meaning, you have to take an elevated train to get to that terminal. That was fun for the girls. It accelerated at neck-snapping speeds, all while I am nagging the girls to hold on to the pole so they don't go flying to the back of the train car. That very well could be the only time I remind my girls to hold onto a vertical pole.
We arrived at the international terminal and the girls are starving. We have to check in with the airline flying us to Abu Dhabi before we can go through security, again. Yep, you read that right, we got to go through security TWICE on this super awesome long day of travel. I digress, though. When we go to check in, they are weighing all of the carry-on luggage. The girls are all okay, my backpack, however, is jammed with my laptop, an external hard drive, my camera and a couple of lenses, medical records that we're hand-carrying over, and miscellaneous other heavy things... none of which I wanted to place in my checked bags. I'm proud to announce my carry-on bag weighed twice the legal limit. Fortunately, I met an awesome supervisor named Mike who, after asking enough questions, concurred that none of the stuff in my bag should be checked, either. He graciously allowed me to place a few of the things in my bag into my girls' bags, which were all underweight, and that brought my carry-on to only 10 kg instead of 14. And he signed a special little tag saying I could bring it on the plane. My personal, heartfelt thanks to Mike, again, even though I'm quite sure he'll never see this blog.
Next step... security... again. I will say that although the line was long, it went pretty smoothly. Except Hannah had water in her brand new water bottle, I didn't take my external hard drive out of my bag (I didn't know I had to!) and my hands had to be swabbed, I'm guessing to check for residue of some sort? I don't really know... I just kind of try to keep my mouth shut and do what they tell me to avoid any long delays. I thought for sure the water bottle was going to have to be thrown away, because there was no way I was going to go empty it myself and go to the back of the security line. This has happened to me before, and those were my options... throw it away or leave security, dump it out, and go back through the line. Well, surprise of all surprises... the TSA agent dumped it out herself and ran it through the screener again, and let us take it. Another big deal seeing as how that was the FIRST time that bottle had ever held water. Thank you, TSA lady with common sense!
I mentioned before that my kids were starving, so after I get my shoes on, we decide to go eat. Except there don't appear to be any restaurants after security. Seriously, I about lost my mind. Of course, there were the standard little stores/kiosks that had snacks and bags of chips and candy bars and stuff. Not a single solitary restaurant. There was, however, a sandwich stand right by our gate. They also had cups of not 100% fresh (one or possibly two day-old) fruit and yogurt with fruit and granola. Five little meals, five bottles of water, and $100 less in my wallet later, we were snacking on the floor by the window by our gate. It was awesome. I had to keep reminding Hannah to have a positive attitude because I was kind of reminding myself as well. After we finished eating, we had just enough time to run to the bathroom in two different shifts so we don't have to take all of our crap with us. Then it's time for the real fun to begin... it's time to board. I'll continue that part of the story in part 2. If you made it this far... thanks for reading!
Today's the day. The one for which we've been waiting for MONTHS. We are leaving Seattle and flying to Abu Dhabi via Chicago. Today is going to be a long day. And when I say long, please know that I mean LONG... four hour flight to Chicago, three hour layover, 14 (yes, I just said FOURTEEN) hour flight to Abu Dhabi, UAE. I don't like to do anything for fourteen hours. Not even sleep (unless I'm really tired) so today is going to be a challenge, not only for me, but for the girls. I guess the good thing about all of this is that I won't be driving 14 hours, which is most definitely worse. Add to those fourteen hours an 11 hour time difference, and we're just begging for chaos. Anyway, you get the point.
So here's what it looks like in our hotel room right before we get ready to take the shuttle to the airport:
While I love my husband dearly, it was probably a good thing he wasn't in my physical presence while I was packing. I probably would have punched him in the face if he had been at all near me. (All said with MUCH LOVE, honey!) He kept telling me from halfway around the world that I needed to pack lightly, and that I didn't need to bring much with us. How do you pack "lightly" when you're moving to the other side of the earth with your four kids? In all, we managed to get all of our stuff in 7 120 liter bags and 5 backpacks. I, myself, am pretty impressed with that feat.
Fast forward to the first four-hour flight. It was pretty uneventful. The whole flying thing was fresh and new, nobody complained. I was pretty happy about the Sprite served to my girls in those awesome little plastic airplane cups... no lids, of course... perched precariously on slippery tray tables ready to douse the nearest little lap with sticky goodness at any moment. I actually asked the flight attendant if we could just have 1 whole bottle of water that we could share between the five of us. She looked at me like I had 12 heads. Apparently, the water bottle police don't allow a whole water bottle (with a LID) to be handed over on an aircraft. Or maybe they do and I just asked someone who was having a bad day. Either way, I'm so happy to announce that there were no spills of liquids on the flight to Chicago, and we arrived safely and on time.
I don't know if you've ever flown through O'Hare before, but the international terminal is a separate entity there. Meaning, you have to take an elevated train to get to that terminal. That was fun for the girls. It accelerated at neck-snapping speeds, all while I am nagging the girls to hold on to the pole so they don't go flying to the back of the train car. That very well could be the only time I remind my girls to hold onto a vertical pole.
We arrived at the international terminal and the girls are starving. We have to check in with the airline flying us to Abu Dhabi before we can go through security, again. Yep, you read that right, we got to go through security TWICE on this super awesome long day of travel. I digress, though. When we go to check in, they are weighing all of the carry-on luggage. The girls are all okay, my backpack, however, is jammed with my laptop, an external hard drive, my camera and a couple of lenses, medical records that we're hand-carrying over, and miscellaneous other heavy things... none of which I wanted to place in my checked bags. I'm proud to announce my carry-on bag weighed twice the legal limit. Fortunately, I met an awesome supervisor named Mike who, after asking enough questions, concurred that none of the stuff in my bag should be checked, either. He graciously allowed me to place a few of the things in my bag into my girls' bags, which were all underweight, and that brought my carry-on to only 10 kg instead of 14. And he signed a special little tag saying I could bring it on the plane. My personal, heartfelt thanks to Mike, again, even though I'm quite sure he'll never see this blog.
Next step... security... again. I will say that although the line was long, it went pretty smoothly. Except Hannah had water in her brand new water bottle, I didn't take my external hard drive out of my bag (I didn't know I had to!) and my hands had to be swabbed, I'm guessing to check for residue of some sort? I don't really know... I just kind of try to keep my mouth shut and do what they tell me to avoid any long delays. I thought for sure the water bottle was going to have to be thrown away, because there was no way I was going to go empty it myself and go to the back of the security line. This has happened to me before, and those were my options... throw it away or leave security, dump it out, and go back through the line. Well, surprise of all surprises... the TSA agent dumped it out herself and ran it through the screener again, and let us take it. Another big deal seeing as how that was the FIRST time that bottle had ever held water. Thank you, TSA lady with common sense!
I mentioned before that my kids were starving, so after I get my shoes on, we decide to go eat. Except there don't appear to be any restaurants after security. Seriously, I about lost my mind. Of course, there were the standard little stores/kiosks that had snacks and bags of chips and candy bars and stuff. Not a single solitary restaurant. There was, however, a sandwich stand right by our gate. They also had cups of not 100% fresh (one or possibly two day-old) fruit and yogurt with fruit and granola. Five little meals, five bottles of water, and $100 less in my wallet later, we were snacking on the floor by the window by our gate. It was awesome. I had to keep reminding Hannah to have a positive attitude because I was kind of reminding myself as well. After we finished eating, we had just enough time to run to the bathroom in two different shifts so we don't have to take all of our crap with us. Then it's time for the real fun to begin... it's time to board. I'll continue that part of the story in part 2. If you made it this far... thanks for reading!
27 April 2012
This just hurts my heart so much...
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| Ally and Rufus |
Rufus is the brown one. He's a Dogue de Bordeaux (a French Mastiff) He's like the dog in Turner and Hooch, only he isn't quite as bad with the drooling. We do keep the water bowls outside, though, just to keep things a little neater. Rufus just turned 8 years old on April 23rd. He was neutered young, so the vet seems to think he will live a longer life than if he hadn't been. He weighs about 100 lbs. He is really smart, and so sweet with kids. Just a little funny fact... when Gabby was younger she couldn't say Rufus, so she called him FooFoo. He totally looks like a FooFoo, doesn't he?
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| Rufus |
Ally (the black one) is a Neapolitan (Italian) Mastiff. She will be four years old this summer. She weighs 135 lbs. She, too, is smart, and she is excellent with kids as well. I remember when our youngest was a toddler, Ally would be laying (or is it lying... I can't ever remember that grammar rule) in front of the sofa. Gabby would literally step onto Ally's side to help her climb up on the couch. And Ally would never even flinch. She does have a bit of an anxiety problem, though. She has gotten so much better, but that's part of the reason I would like for her to stay with Rufus. She has been known to chew things if they're left on the floor. She does not chew things if we are home, it's only when her family is gone. I must say she has gotten so much better as she's gotten older. However, I know the stress of not being with Rufus (and us) could make her regress. We have a giant crate for her for when we have to leave the house and it's really hot or cold outside, but for the most part, we just leave the dogs outside when we are going to be gone. We also have a wireless pet fence because we don't have a physical fence in our yard... it's a transmitter about 10x10x8 that sits in our house. It sends out a wireless signal in a giant circle around our house and yard, and when the dogs approach the boundaries, their collars beep. If they don't turn around, they get a shock. The beeping is almost always enough to tell them they're too close to the edge of their circle. Rarely if ever do they require the shock. Anyway, the wireless transmitter and collars come with them, as does the XL crate and any other dog supplies we have.
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| Ally |
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| This is why we don't want to separate them... |
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| Apparently they like to snuggle a lot! That gray thing next to the basket is the wireless transmitter I was talking about earlier. |
They have been continually socialized with other dogs. French and Neapolitan mastiffs are fighting breeds, so it's very important to socialize them early and often so they don't have power struggles with other dogs.
Rufus can be walked with a leash, but he is pretty much completely voice-trained and will do whatever I tell him to even when not on a leash. Ally is also getting way better at the voice command thing, although when I walk her outside my neighborhood I still use her leash. I have definitely noticed that Ally's anxiety lessens when I walk her one or two times a day. Their favorite thing to do is walk with us to and from the bus stop in the morning and afternoon. I think they secretly love the extra attention and affection they get from the other kids in the neighborhood.
OK, so now the bad...
- They are big, and sometimes clumsy in that they can knock a child over accidentally. Our girls took some knockdowns when they were younger, but nothing serious, and nothing lately.
- They have really bad breath, Rufus especially.
- If you give Ally a lot of table scraps she will stink up the house with, for lack of a better term, her silent-but-deadly dog farts. I don't buy cheap dog food, partly for this reason, but also because they seem to have such shiny coats with the high-protein, no-grain food I get for them. Obviously, whoever takes them can feed them whatever they feel comfortable with. Your house might stink for a little while, though. =)
- The low windows in the front of our house never stay clean for longer than 2 or 3 days. There are just a lot of nose marks and slobber on them. That's an easy fix, though. I just clean them more often.
- They like to play fight outside occasionally, and it scares the dickens out of anyone passing by. It's funny to watch, though.
- They snore sometimes. In and of itself, that's not such a terrible thing. I must say, though, that they prefer to sleep in our room. They are, after all, pack animals, and since my husband and I (when he's not here) are the pack leaders, they like to be around us. They do, very often, though, sleep in any of the girls' rooms. And they still snore.
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| Fighting... |
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| Ally |
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| Rufus |
If you'd like to view an excessive number of rather cute photos of Rufus and Ally, click here.
Oh, and I completely forgot to mention that they are housebroken. I don't think they would have been members of our family for very long had they not been.
I'm sure I'll have to add to this post as I think of new things. If you think you or someone you know might be interested, please let me know. I am so worried about them having a good and loving home.
26 April 2012
Why my Easter was EXTRA special...
Well, I know it's several weeks after Easter Sunday, but I just got these photos from the wonderful friend who took them. I wanted to make sure to post them. My Easter was even more awesome and wonderful because two of my babies were baptized.
First was my sweet eight year-old Taylor... I adore the way she's looking at our good friend and pastor, Chad.
and coming up out of the water...
This one very well could be my favorite. I love the joy and excitement on her face.
Next came Lexi. She's six, and I have to admit, I wasn't exactly sure if she "got" why she would want to be baptized, but she does. She's told me several times since then why she chose to be. If anyone in my family has a heart for Jesus, it's her.
Coming out of the water...
And here she is when she got out of the water. I forgot to mention that it was about 20 degrees colder on this day than it had been for the last several days. We were all colder in our short sleeves than we thought we'd be. I think she's racing for the towel!
And just because I never post photos of myself... here's one of me. And I must admit I'm so glad I don't have the really ugly cry going on. I will say that I'm crying because I'm so proud of them, but it should be known that I also cry whenever I see people I don't even know get baptized.
So that's why Easter was especially awesome in 2012. I can't think of a better way to celebrate than to have two new sisters in Christ.
First was my sweet eight year-old Taylor... I adore the way she's looking at our good friend and pastor, Chad.
and coming up out of the water...
This one very well could be my favorite. I love the joy and excitement on her face.
Next came Lexi. She's six, and I have to admit, I wasn't exactly sure if she "got" why she would want to be baptized, but she does. She's told me several times since then why she chose to be. If anyone in my family has a heart for Jesus, it's her.
Coming out of the water...
And here she is when she got out of the water. I forgot to mention that it was about 20 degrees colder on this day than it had been for the last several days. We were all colder in our short sleeves than we thought we'd be. I think she's racing for the towel!
And just because I never post photos of myself... here's one of me. And I must admit I'm so glad I don't have the really ugly cry going on. I will say that I'm crying because I'm so proud of them, but it should be known that I also cry whenever I see people I don't even know get baptized.
So that's why Easter was especially awesome in 2012. I can't think of a better way to celebrate than to have two new sisters in Christ.
22 April 2012
Let's get it started (again!)...
So here it is, April of 2012. The last time I blogged was December of 2009. Nice. I can't make any promises to myself that I'll write here regularly. Obviously that doesn't happen. There are going to be a lot of changes in our lives over the next few months, and I kind of want to document them. You know, so I don't forget.
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