5/10/09
If you have never done any shopping in the Middle East or North Africa before let me walk you through it. Let’s say that you want to purchase some grapes. Merchant A has a little space outdoors with all kinds of grapes, crates, and various packages strewn about his little area. Now merchants B through Z have the exact same set up for what appears to be the exact same product. Merchant A realizes that he has competition so he needs to advertise. He advertises by screaming his head off. Merchant B realized that Merchant A has the upper hand with this sophisticated advertising so he realizes that he must now advertise by screaming a little louder. Merchant C does not want to give up his market share so he screams a little louder than merchants A and B. This starts of a chain reaction and now merchants D through Z try to scream louder than the previous 3 and now we have a cacophony of grape merchants that sounds like a beehive of yelling and screaming.
It is actually pretty funny and I enjoy the chaos of it.
Now if you have never driven in the Middle East or North Africa let me walk you through this. The bus is really a van that is designed to transport about 10 people. That would be a mortal insult to the driver as it is his mission statement to get about 100 people and various livestock in the little van that could. So as you are walking along the street he pulls up beside you and says something in Arabic that I do not understand. After about 5 minutes of trying to explain where I want to go I hop in with heavy pack and pay the 40 cents to travel about 6 miles. The silent people that are already in the van sit patiently as the foreign guy hops in the sweltering, beat up van with no doors, cracked windows and chain smoking passengers. About a nano-second passes and the friendly driver leans on the horn. The cadence is about 9 short blasts and one long one. This sets off another chain reaction and anyone vehicles within hearing range responds in kind. Now the driver moves forward about 3 feet and starts yelling in Arabic that he needs more passengers. More passengers get in and now we are about 50% over capacity which according to the driver code is 100% under capacity. More hustling for passengers, more yelling, more cargo, more live stock, more chain smoking passengers.
More horn blowing, more yelling, more passengers coming from everywhere and now there is about 50 people in the 10 passenger van. We come dangerously close to moving 10 feet and the driver pulls up to the side of the curb and leaves for about 15 minutes. Now with the temperature rising to the center of the earth, everyone smoking but little Frankie, the chickens are clucking, the donkey is braying and the goat is naying (or whatever sounds a goat makes) and the passengers are really reefing on their one dollar a pack cigarettes. I can practically feel the tumor growing on my lung (s). The driver comes back and makes one more push for another load of passengers. 4 more get in with various cargo and now I am pressed so far against the window that I cannot breath.
We make our way downtown and no one says a word. Damn it, I said to myself in Gaelic, I need out as my stop is only a block away. Excuse me Mr. 300 pound chain smoker, excuse me Mr. intently gazing man, excuse me Mr. goat and donkey. I make my way out with about 25 people standing on the side walk as they had to get out so that I could get out. They are quite use to this it seems and no one says a word. I pay my 1000 pounds (about 40 cents) and other than the tumor that is on my lung I enjoy the chaos of it all.
610/09
When we fly from Canada we get into Dubai about 12:00 am and need to rise the next day for a 7:00 am flight. So it is basically strait to bed with the hopes that you can get some sleep considering the jet lag. Today I got in at 3:00pm so I have 27 hours to kill in Dubai. We stay in the airport hotel (meaning we don’t clear customs) and can’t leave. I was thinking what do I do for 27 hours. Now keep in mind that I probably have been to Dubai at least 50 times over the past 5 years. Would I go duty free shopping (no thanks), go for a stroll through the uber modern Terminal Three (nope). Read a book, (I read a lot when I travel as I don’t get access to tv or movies and probably read about 5 books in the past 4 week but maybe) and than I remember there is an Irish Pub in Terminal One. That is where I am now. Drinking Guinness and writing one last blog entry before I go back to Yemen for 5 weeks. Nothing like a pretty decent Irish pub in Dubai before I return to Yemen while I contemplate my next trip to India.
Onward,
LFSOAB
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