En Medias Res

I didn’t want to start my blog in the middle of things. I had this whole thing worked out six months ago when I first started preparing myself to come here. I would blog a bit every day about the processes leading up to my actual flight out of my hometown and into the U.A.E. I would include lots of anecdotes and helpful tips to others who might come down this road later… I would add pictures and little nuggets of info and tell about the roadblocks that happened along the way. When I was in University, the night before they were due to turn in, I would write 20 page essays on books that I had also cracked open for the first time that same night. I always got A’s on those. The ones I fussed over and took weeks to write always came up short. I’ve always been a bit of a procrastinator in life really, which would explain why I’m 30, virtually single, not sure if teaching is my career of choice, not sure if I’m in love or hate, staring at loads of unwashed laundry, in a five star hotel room in Abu Dhabi. None of it makes a lot of sense. But if my life turns out to be an A+ like those papers I wrote with shaking hands, a palpitating heart, and bloodshot eyes over mugs of steaming espresso, then I might be winning. We’ll see.

So here we are then, in the middle of things. I’ve come to the Middle East to be a teacher. I’m in Abu Dhabi specifically, the capital of the United Arab Emirates. I’ve been here for about a week now, and I’m almost scared to say I love it. Why am I scared?  Well, because you know how when you say you have fallen in love with something or someone new, people immediately question you as if you’re extremely foolhardy and a bit too eager? Well, I may be feeling that way about my own feelings. But the truth is, for the 8 whole days that I’ve been here, I am in love. I’m in 100% in love with this country. I know it’s early. I know it’s too soon. I hope I don’t get my heart broken. 

I went to Dubai yesterday. It was like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. Splendor, beauty, poverty, and desperation all together in one steamy hot melting pot of culture that smells like expensive and exotic perfume, burning asphalt, incense, and grilled meat. Towering over the entire city is the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building and the tallest free standing structure in the world. I honestly don’t want to use the word breathtaking too many times, so I apologize in advance. There’s just no other word that will work. It’s not only tall and massive enough to dwarf anything within a nearby radius, it’s also beautiful. It has a three lobed Y-shaped bottom which apparently adds to its architectural stability, and the building is helix-y in shape as it propels upward. It also gets thinner as it gets taller and the top floors are actually occupied. Sickening….Breathtaking. I was in complete awe. 

Right now, it’s 12:25 in the afternoon here. I can hear the afternoon call to prayer because my patio door is slid open a bit to dry some clothes I’ve washed in my hotel bathroom and slung over an armchair. If you’ve not heard the Islamic call of prayer it will move you, whether you happen to be religious or not. The first time you hear it, you will stop what you’re doing and your head will inadvertently tilt to one side…and you will be moved in some way. The first one I heard was for Fajr, the morning prayer. It was 8 days ago, the first night I arrived in the U.A.E.  My plane had touched down at midnight. I was exhausted from sitting straight up in my coach class chair for 17 hours. We were shuffled to our hotel on an air-conditioned bus. The temperature difference between the inside of the bus and the Abu Dhabi atmosphere was so great that the entire vehicle was encased in a thick layer of condensation and you couldn’t see outside the windows. Well, do me a solid. Just try to imagine being on a bus in a foreign country and driving for what seems like forever in the middle of the night, and not being able to see outside of the bus that is carrying you to an unknown destination…. just try to imagine it. All I could think about were the stories from back home that people told me with their widened eyes and disapproving faces when I had first mentioned to them that I was coming to live in a Middle Eastern country to teach English. (Those stories are going to make up a completely different blog entry.) We arrived at a gorgeous and golden-hued hotel at around 2 am.  I don’t remember too much about that night, I was too knackered to even notice the exquisiteness of the 5 star digs. I got my keys from the concierge and went directly to my room. The porter brought up my bags and I gave him what I hoped was a sufficient tip…which turned out to be completely insufficient…again, a different blog entry. After a shower, I tried to lay my head down but I couldn’t sleep. Tired as I was, I couldn’t close my eyes. Was I really here? Did I really agree to do this? Am I dreaming? Am I stupid? The time passed and I turned over and over on the plush whiteness underneath me. Then just as sleep began to wrap its arms around me, it happened. It was around 4:45am. A singing. A luring. A calling. Rhythmic, patient, slow, compelling, and haunting. Allahu akbar. Allahu akbar. I heard my father's voice whispering, "Prayer is better than sleep, Prayer is better than sleep." I opened the patio door and stood outside. Stifling and scalding as the heat is, the ground does not burn your feet. I’m not exactly sure why. Perhaps it was the humidity.  It was the prettiest sound. Compelling is the best word for it; forcing you to reflect. It really is beautiful. I’m not being dramatic. It’s not just me this time.