Mahna Mahna (A Fractured Fairy Tale)

Once upon a time, there was a Princess who wore an imaginary crown and traveled the world whenever her busy schedule allowed. Due to the Al Isra Wal Miraj holiday, the princess planned a weekend getaway. It’s always fun to visit a kingdom, she thought. I don’t know why but it makes me feel special, even if I’m only wearing an imaginary crown. And with that, she hopped over to the island of Bahrain for the weekend.

Once arriving at the capital city of Manama, the princess took her first of four overpriced taxi rides to the hotel. Hmmm, why does the meter show one price but with a push of a button the fee doubles?  the princess wondered, but it turns out she couldn’t get a straight answer to that question for the rest of the weekend.

I know! I’ll just walk to the souk instead of getting ripped off again.  And with that, the princess adjusted her imaginary crown and ventured out toward the popular shopping venue, armed with enough dinar for her usual paltry souvenirs.

It seemed lovely at the time

It seemed lovely at the time

I wonder if all eyes are upon me because I’m a princess, she questioned.

“No!” a voice boomed. It was a military man brandishing an AK-47. “You’ve completely disregarded the dress code of this country. Exactly who do you think you ARE?”

“OMG, sorry, sorry, sorry! I’m a princess, and didn’t realize I couldn’t make up my own rules in life. I guess I should’ve given that more thought during my three-minute packing session.”

“Away with you!” the man seethed as he waved his weapon in the air. “Everyone! Leer at this slut until she returns to her hotel!” And so they did, and the princess slunk back to the Sheraton with her eyes fixed on the ground while the gazes of many burned holes through her exposed knees.

Back in the safety of the hotel, the princess spotted other tourists who were also inappropriately dressed, and she instantly felt more at home. I think I’ll just chill at the bar and forget about this afternoon’s unfortunate string of events. Sipping her 42 dirham vodka tonic, she was approached by a regal-looking man dressed in white.

“Foolish lady, why are you in this bar? Can’t you see this is a popular hangout for certain men? Who do you think you are?”

“I’m sorry,” the princess winced. And she adjusted her imaginary crown before slithering back to her room.

Well, at least I booked the hotel club lounge for my stay. I’ll head over there for snacks and happy hour, the princess reasoned as she tried to lower her anxiety level without the aid of a Xanax.

This is super-enjoyable, the princess cried as she settled into a comfy chair, armed with an appetizer spread of spring rolls, quesadillas, and a nice glass of cab, her elixir of choice.

Then all of a sudden, the princess heard a blood-curdling scream. What the…? She looked at the other club patrons but they were as puzzled as she. Then… in bounded 4-year old Mariam (aka the human tornado) screaming with arms flailing, followed by five other members of her family. Noooooo, lamented the princess. Don’t set this crew up next to me!” Surely the waiter could see the princess’ imaginary crown. He wouldn’t dare do such a thing… or would he?

For the next hour, the princess witnessed the systematic unfolding of Mariam’s meltdown. The cookie assortment, orange Fanta, and hot chocolate only fueled her ability to snag ice out of the community bucket bare-handed, manhandle every stir stick at the bar, and rearrange plates and bowls that her family had no intention of using. In fact, they seemed unfazed by the whole lengthy show. After the room had been successfully destroyed by a half dozen sugar packets dumped on the table, chair, and floor, Mariam’s family departed, probably to wreak havoc in the pool area (even though it was outside operational hours). The cleaning crew immediately descended upon the destruction and proceeded to tidy up the mess.

After the vacuum was turned off, the princess muttered, “Why was SHE allowed to do those things while I’ve been ostracized for EVERY misstep I’ve made today?”

“Because she is a princess,” one of the workers answered matter-of-factly. “And you… well, you must be a teacher here on a long weekend. We can spot your type a mile away. You often confuse where you live with who you really are.” The waiter smiled, brought over the bottle of cab, and filled up the princess’ glass.

“Thanks. Can I take this to my room?” she asked.

“Certainly, “ the waiter responded. “And, hey, don’t forget your imaginary crown.”

 

(Cast photos below)

Advertisements

Two Sisters

We’re short-staffed at work, so everyone’s been swamped lately. I’ve even been tackling work duties at night and on the weekends, which I haven’t had to do in quite some time. There. That’s my excuse why my post detailing my sister’s visit is long overdue.

After a year and a half, I wasn’t sure Jackie would make it to the UAE, but the plan finally came to fruition. Since she was only here for a week, we charged full speed ahead from day one. Yes, I ran my sister ragged, but there were a million things I insisted she “needed” to see in order to better understand my life as a desert-dweller.

 We began with the good stuff- sun and sand at Saadiyat Beach,

followed by a sunset pilgrimage to the Grand Mosque.

We taxied to Cooper’s for trivia and scored a 4th place “victory.”

Day 2: After a stop at Heritage Village, a great place to buy souvenirs,

we hopped over to Emirates Palace.

Unfortunately, the gold ATM is still out of order. I was disappointed because Jackie’s probably the only visitor I’ll have who would’ve actually contemplated making a purchase (gold shoes would’ve sealed the deal.)

Next, we headed across the street to Jumeirah at Etihad Towers for afternoon tea.

Food here often looks better than it tastes, and this was no exception (“If you ever wanted to make a prawn sandwich that tasted like nothing, you’d make this.”)

But the hot and cold teas were both good and, BONUS! we found a mirror in the lobby that made us look like toothpicks.

We wound down the afternoon at the prosecco bar at the Intercontinental, my home away from home when I first arrived in Abu Dhabi.

The following day I insisted that we hit up the Qasr Al Hosn Festival, which showcases Emirati culture past and present. But to be honest, it’s all about the people-watching.

Later in the week, we “Mexican brunched” ourselves at El Sombrero. She had several hours to meet and chat with my amigos; from here on out she’ll know who I’m talking about and why I love them all.

We ended the week with a stop at Mushrif Central Park because I was hell-bent on her leaving with the quintessential falcon photo.

Disappointed that there wasn’t a handler in sight, we were lucky enough to spot an owl (which, blame it on my blindness, I assumed was a falcon until I got up close and realized I was mistaken). Still, super-cute… we’ll take it.

The following day, it was time to have one last chicken shawarma and say good-bye until July. Not my strong point, I kind of drop-kicked her out of the car at Dubai Airport. I told one of my friends on the phone the other day when she asked how happy I’d be to return to the U.S- yes, I’ll be happy. But I must say, after the first six months in Abu Dhabi, the insanity here became my “normal,” so there will be sadness along with an adjustment period back to my former life. I’m thrilled that I’ve hosted a few friends/relatives over the past year and a half because they’ve shared some of my UAE experiences. They’ll agree that it’s good living in Abu Dhabi and the people I’ve been fortunate enough to meet are absolutely awesome, just like everyone back home.

Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque

Accompanied by two fellow teachers, I visited the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque, where Muslims and non-Muslims alike are welcome to learn about and explore Muslim art and history. Immediately upon arrival, Ashley (pictured below) was admonished by a guard for wearing a “transparent” blouse; my capris were not up to code, either. The guard directed us to a rental area, where Ashley was lent a short abaya (since she had jeans that covered her ankles) while my capris earned me a floor-length one. I felt like I had just been chosen for Slytherin; our hooded abayas looked nothing like the elegant, traditional gowns worn by local Muslim women. It took us a good five minutes to regain our composure, which we immediately lost again when we returned to the main entrance and met up with our buddy Chris. He was inappropriately dressed in shorts but somehow passed dress code inspection while we were now covered head-to-toe. After taking a few photos, we toured the mosque. This massive structure consists of open, columned halls flanked by shallow pools in addition to rooms adorned with Swarovski crystal chandeliers, mosaics, and marble. We didn’t enter any of the prayer rooms but were allowed inside the main prayer hall after removing our shoes. The mosaic marble floors that lead the way to the hall are incredibly beautiful, but only the white sections are cool to the touch. After we initially burned the bottoms of our feet, Chris decided to hop from one white section to another to avoid further pain. Aside from that, and a run-in with another guard because Ashley stepped in a forbidden zone to have her picture taken, all went smoothly. Sort of. With the 100+ temp and the double-layer of clothing, I was drenched by the time we made our way back to Platform 9 3/4. My hair was plastered to my head and my regular clothes were soaked through. Next time we’ll know better and will visit later in the day (a running theme here), appropriately dressed. All in all, a good day of learning, laughing, and living it up before school starts next week!

At the Grand Mosque

Archives

Follow suzannainthesand on WordPress.com
%d bloggers like this: