I had no idea.

Last night was one of those nights that you just love. The kind that starts out so differently than it ends. The plan was to visit the Iranian souk and find Indian food on the way back to the hotel. We set out to grab a taxi to get out to the port (to the souk). We weren’t really thinking. Finding a cab on a Friday night is nearly impossible. After about 20 minutes, Aaron said, “I wouldn’t usually do this… but I really want someone to just offer us a ride right now.” (Offering people rides isn’t all that unusual here). Not 2 minutes later and man pulls up and rolls down his window… offering a ride.

We took it.

Turns out, our new friend and driver is an amazing character. He agreed to drive us down to the port to visit the souk where we were meeting a few more friends. Once at the souk, he offered to wait for us until we’re ready to go. Nice… there are no no no cabs in this area. We visit the souk and he heads out to look at the city lights while he waits.

Ok, this story is impossible to tell. Please realize that.

After awhile at the souk, which was basically a flea market type place with household goods and plants, we call our new friend. We explain that we have 6 now but that we are going to dinner and would love for him to join us. We suggest getting a cab for the extra people but our friend is determined that we all ride together. So we did. All seven of us.

The dinner was excellent and the conversation was lively and enthralling. Our new friend is from Jordan but has been living in Abu Dhabi for several years. He’s a civil engineer currently completing work on the new airport in town, as well as a few others in Oman and Sudan. Not to mention the property he’s developing in Jordan. He’s a published author as well. Of course, when the bill came… he paid it. For all of us. He was so grateful to have new friends to spend time with that he thanked us repeatedly for the dinner invitation.

After dinner he offered us a ride back to our hotel (still no apartments for us!) then requested just 10 more minutes. We pull up to the private yatch club in the marina and he takes us out on his boat (Dad, it’s a Galstron!) for a little night time view of the city. Amazing.

It was a crazy night that no one saw coming. We now have tentative plans for a day of boating, overnight island camping under a full moon, the Arabian horse club, and a trip to Dubai where he actually lives.

We call him, “Uncle Roy.”

It’s crazy the people you meet.

I knew this was coming.

It’s funny how quickly a person can adjust to a new situation. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that the world goes beyond my immediate reality. Somehow through all my stress and the days turning over, it turned into October, my favorite month.

I’m desperate for the fall.

I’m finding that what I miss about home (in addition to the obvious friends and family) is the hominess of it. I want to be harvesting the last little bits out of the garden. I want to be heading to the pumpkin patch. I want a few days of chilly windy weather and weeks and weeks of gold and red leaves.

How are you spending my very favorite days of the year stateside?

xo, jill

I don’t do this on purpose. Seriously.

Last week we were exited from our deluxe rooms at the 5 star InterContinental hotel. We were transported across town to an area known as, Tourist Club. It’s a bit seedy. I wasn’t pleased with my room so much… but you know, it’s hard to take a step down in stars. Turns out, I wasn’t the only one feeling disgruntled.

I did take notice that the men in other parts of town, although they will stare at you, typically won’t speak to you. However… in this part of town I was getting little whispers and whistles as I walked by. Rumor had it that prostitutes like to frequent the general area of the hotel. I didn’t see any. But, it seems that this new hotel has a bit of a reputation.

Tuesday I came home from work to find a notice under my door stating that all of the female teachers were being moved to a new hotel across town. The reason: Apparently some people’s tolerance of prostitution is quite low. (Mine I guess, is pretty high, considering my record*). A few of the female teachers came together to complain about the living conditions. Other floors in the hotel were much busier than mine it seems… doors opening and closing all night, loud fights, crying and vomiting sounds, loud bass from the night club downstairs, and one teacher had a man slip her his number under her door. Gross.

And I was just annoyed at the incessant flute music.

*If you missed the story it could be summed up as: Peru, me, Shauna, hostel?, brothel!, porn.)

Here’s hotel #3:

xo, jill

I no longer cry when experiencing intense frustration. But it would be nice to snuggle a kitty. This stray looked so much like little Roo.

xo, jill

Actually, not at all.

I finally received a paycheck… 2ish weeks later than the rest of my colleagues, but it’s in the bank! This is the brief story: I went to the bank to collect my pay advance a few weeks ago… only to be told that the money had moved to the main branch. The main branch has the convenient hours of being open from 8am to 1pm during the week. Lucky me, I work until 1:30pm, 1 hour outside the city. I had to wait until Saturday to visit the correct branch only to be told, “You’re not on the list.” Not only was I not on “the list” for a pay advance, I didn’t have an account with the bank. The bank manager was nice enough to bring me into his plush office to tell me that he wouldn’t help me until I contacted my employer. Of course my employer is closed on Saturdays. When I finally made it to my employer on Tuesday (or so), I was told that the two people who could help me are on holiday but will be back “maybe Sunday.” Woot. I sent out a few emails and was just feeling content to wait it out. Today I went back to my employer and while waiting in the lobby found that I had been emailed back! That never happens… I mean, unheard of. Emails go out into the internet abyss never to be seen again. It seems that a nice chunk of dirhams had been deposited into my account. A fellow teacher sitting nearby suggested I go to the bank (after hours, mind you) and try to charm my way in. I wouldn’t say I was very charming, but it totally worked. The same bank manager brought me into his office to tell me that he would help me! Cha-ching!

Of course they cashed me out in 1,000 dirham bills which no cashier will acccept… but for the minute, I’m feeling quite rich.

xo, jill

Oh, this is bad.

In general, I’m not the type of lady who wears jewelry. I’ll even admit to sneering at the jewelry commercials that air near Christmas, Valentine’s, or Mothers’ Day because they imply that all women love and need jewelry. This woman gets on just fine without it. Mind you, I have some special pieces from family members… but on a day to day basis, no.

Now, I’m not a fan of jewelry in general… but I hate rings in particular. I don’t want an engagement ring or a wedding band. And I’m pretty firm on that. I know this is weird… but I don’t even like touching rings. Someone’s finger has been in that. And trying on each others’ rings… shudder.

So what was I thinking?

Greetings are a big deal over here. In the US you shake someone’s hand when you meet them the first time. Here, you shake someone’s hand every day. Every day. And you make it a point to go all around the room shaking hands. It’s a bit unnatural for me but I’m trying to make an effort. So during midday break I realized that I had not greeted one of the teachers. I walked up to her to shake and very casually complimented her ring in an attempt to be extra friendly. Um. She took it off her finger and put it on mine. “Oh you like? You take. It’s gift. Gift so you think of me.” Um.

This is the point where I mention how gaudy the jewelry is here. I mean, really.

Lesson learned. Genuine compliments only.

xo, jill