We’ve been here a week already. So much learned; so much more to know. Here’s a random sampling of the highs and lows:
JETLAG and EXTREME HEAT create EXTREME LAG and JET HEAT. I feel faint if I go outside between 11 and 3 p.m. Today, I had to wait OUTSIDE at David’s school to pick him up. I sat down in the shade and took some selflies to prove that I am, in fact, here. I realized that I hadn’t posted anything of me yet. I could be in Switzerland for all you know. I AM NOT IN SWITZERLAND. And my extreme jet-heat lag is slowly wearing off.
Our corporate hotel is very sweet, though I believe we are growing out of it. Not that we are growing, but our stuff is overflowing. We’re working on phase two of the domicile decision.
In the meantime, I must bring our housekeeper to your attention. He does a great job, and every day he rearranges David’s stuffed animals into a different diorama. David and I can’t wait to get back to see what he’s done. Yesterday reined supreme–the pandas facing off the camel and a minion in a game of radish ball. TheTime Out magazine was placed off sides. Subtle genius.
We are quite enjoying the British Club in the three days we’ve been members. Until yesterday, that is. Of course, the water was still spectacular and moderately refreshing. David and I tried to catch tiny fish. At one point, I happened to notice a spectacularly beautiful woman on the beach with her son. I said to myself, “Do not sit anywhere next to her.” She was like a size 0 and oh-so brown in a monokini with belly chains. It was crazy how pretty she was. Probably a model.
Anyway, Pretty Lady’s son came and asked David to play. They goofed off with two other kids at the club, running to and fro. I was happy for David. Meanwhile, I hid on my lounge chair poolside. Earlier in the day, I had purchased a cheapo cover-up at the mall in an attempt to fit in with the classy dames at the club. Instead, compared to Pretty Lady, I looked like a pink striped bass. I think what I bought may have been a nightgown. I’m not sure.
Wouldn’t you know it, Pretty Lady comes over to speak with me. Let me rephrase that: Beauty Lady comes to give me a monologue in her monokini.
Turns out Pretty Lady is not so pretty on the inside. She hates Abu Dhabi. She hates everything. She hates the club. She hates her son’s fat belly. She hates the parasites on the Club’s cats. Really, she said all those things and more. Each statement more astonishing than the previous one.
This was the first bad experience I’ve had here, and it was courtesy of an angry expat. It had nothing to do with this country. Fortunately, the kids returned and we dispersed.
I donned my pink nightgown and went back to the sea where I picked up a pretty seashell as a reminder of the natural beauty in the world. Of the beauty in this very place. Abu Dhabi isn’t a supermodel in a monokini.
Abu Dhabi is pretty in the same way my beach cover-up is. Abu Dhabi is like the housekeeper who rearranges David’s toys in a new playful manner every day.
Abu Dhabi suits me.