Post the First

Goodbye Alberta!



Hello UAE!


Well, here we are. Wendy has decreed that every Friday (our Sabbath), we will spend a part of the afternoon updating all of you on our activities, telling funny stories, and posting pictures.

We have been here for 1 month. It has been a wild, wild ride thus far. Our flight left Calgary at around 13:00 on Sunday, Aug. 12. We changed flights in Minneapolis (dodging plump Yanks on every side) and Amsterdam (nearly choked to death, and are quite certain that at least one of us will get cancer from secondhand smoke), and arrived in Dubai at 20:30 on Aug. 13th. I must say that the reception was, well, more of a welcome than we've ever had anywhere else. The "Marhaba" delegation had "Dr. Jonathon" and family on their list. We were assigned a guide, placed on a transport, and driven to customs and immigration, passing by all the lowly, bleating, bewildered passengers who weren't fortunate enough to be expected. There we were escorted to the short line. Our guide stayed with us through the whole process, waited while we rounded up our luggage, and took us to meet Mr. Saber Roman, an HR rep from the university.

There we gathered with several other new employees: Drs. Ann Scholes, Imad (from Palestine), and a few others. Left the airport, entered the furnace (44 degrees C), loaded up on the bus (23:45), and headed to Al Ain. Wendy and I tried to stay awake, but the kids were out very quickly. Highways were incredibly clean and smooth, lined with beautiful date palms. Hit the Hilton at 1:10, and were re-directed to the Intercontinental (the better hotel, we were told). There were two rooms in our names, and a very genteel porter waiting to take all of our luggage (3 pieces each plus an extra rubbermaid tub). Tipped him. Settled into bed (2:00).

I started orientation that morning (9:30). Wendy and the kids didn't get oriented until, oh, 14:00. Story of my life.

Heartwarming welcome from Don Lacey, HR Director and fellow southern Albertan. Resembled a job fair: go here for your bank account, here for your utilities, here for your healthcare, here for your enema. Name was called first for the housing appointments--an efficient but somewhat secretive process during which one was driven to one's housing assignment, shown the place, and instructed by personnel to sign a housing agreement. Hmmm. Here's where things went sideways. I approached the housing director--a lovely Emirati named Mohammed Sayed--and he asked me to wait. And wait. And wait. Finally, at about 13:00, I was called to go and see the place: a rundown, sickly-looking 3-bedroom in a creaky 6-apartment compound who-knew-where. I hemmed. They (the other Mohammed--a prince of a man, legally blind but with a memory like a steel trap--and his driver, whose English was limited and whose name I never discovered) hawed. So we went to see the place assigned to the other faculty member with me--a better (we thought) 3-bedroom apartment in a dusty little community who-knew-elsewhere. This one had a garage, and consisted of two 4-apartment buildings. Thought it could work, and they didn't want it, so I agreed. Harmony restored.

Don Lacey and his wife Linda took Wendy and me to see it a day or two later. Not happy. I kept raising that we had been promised a 4-bedroom villa at minimum given our family size and my rank. Everyone just kept trying to convince us that we were in a good place and should shut up and like it. We tried. Ordered appliances, figured out how to have an office space, stiffened our upper lips. Not happy. Kept bugging housing. Tried several trades--all of them worse than what we had. Was promised a place in a new complex next year. Took it at its word. Discovered termites. Lost it. Told assistant director of HR Sheila McDonald (charming, lovely, helpful, Canadian, and one of the early reasons we didn't hop back on the plane) that I couldn't see staying under these circumstances, and neither could Wendy, and when Mama ain't happy . . . . So someone finally listened. Turns out they had miscategorized me as an instructor and thought we had only 2 kids. Ay caramba.

So Don and Sheila went into action at that point, and rallied the housing folk. We were offered three good places (one good, 1 great, and one off the hook, actually). The former was strange but community-oriented. The third was palatial (meant for a dean who had cancelled his arrival) and isolated (though near other members) and the second was a last-minute trade into the most sought-after complex the university uses: Al Andalus. Pool, gym, near a mall, 4 bedrooms and a large salon/dining room. Walk out balcony. Nice. I liked the third better, but the amenities won the day.

Filthy, but we weren't complaining. We moved the next day and set to. We've been here two weeks now. Hosted church twice (with primary today). Riley passes the sacrament, Wendy teaches Valiants, and I'm the assistant to the group leader. We'll be made a branch at Stake Conference in two weeks. Furniture arrived yesterday. Still no rugs or curtains. Like a freaking canyon, only smaller, and with a three-year-old let loose in it and nowhere to run. Ibuprofen.

Next time: schooling fiascoes and students in full veil. Also: call to prayer--better than any alarm clock I've ever used! Look forward to bits on designer clothes, abayas a' la mode, expat snobbery, Indian cabbies, speed "humps," "road surprises" (Beware!), tribal bureaucracy, the Potomac two-step (belly-dancing edition), men holding hands, nose-touching, and lingerie. This is quite a place. That's alright by us.