How hot was it?

It was sooooooo hot, that . . .

45 degrees today: bam! For those of you without a concept for this, 45 above means that stuff actually heats up, in or out of the sun, to the point that it becomes uncomfortable to hold. Case in to-the-point: cell phones (or mobiles, as we continentals call them). You stand outside IN THE SHADE, and the thing gets warmer and warmer in your hand.

Now, we realize there's a very simple principle of thermodynamics at work here--the phone contains metallic components, and it does not have an in-built cooling system--but knowing about it and experiencing it live are entirely different matters. Poolside is like being in an oven with the light on. Cancer on a stick. Hyperthermia served hot and spicy.

We look forward to Italy, and having things cool down to 40 degrees in July.

So what will August bring, you ask? Over 50, latest prediction. We are oh so glad we are not construction slaves. And we will make a practice this summer of carrying around boxes of water to hand out at roadside sites.

Christopher's piano is here, full bore. We'll give him a week and then record something so grandmas can be proud.


Finally, had a visit this week from a smashing fellow on an internship in Dubai. He's in BYU's Middle East Studies program, and spent a day with me on campus making contacts here. Very helpful, and I think we now have the will to move on it for next year.

While he was here, we took him up Jebel Hafeet, and were summarily swarmed by some smiling Omanis. Not because he was there, but he was, and they engaged, and he trotted out the ol' Arabic and impressed them. Mobile numbers were exchanged, and a gift was made of a cassette (yes, cassette, even though they have cds here) of some funkadelic Omani tunes. Sweet.

Pics (including, in the last frame, our friend Ahmad, which is pronounced Ah-h-mahd)--guess which one's the white guy:











A lady came up to Wendy's window (she'd stayed in Merv to keep out of the heat) and engaged her in what she deluded herself was English, but actually included three English words and some very excitable Arabic. Eventually, Wendy just started nodding in assent and saying "Oh, really?" We're learning Arabic this year. Halas! Anyway, couldn't get a picture of her because she was wearing a Groucho Marx and it would have been offensive if I'd asked.

They followed us part-way down the mountain, actually: like they wanted to show off their insane switchback drag-racing skeelz. Anyway, we ducked in to see the Mercure Hotel near the summit, and veered right to catch another view (closed, as it turned out). They followed us in and then bailed. Maybe they thought we were frightened. Maybe they just wanted their tape back.


One day, when we leave here permanently, we'll blog about our codes for the various getups, illustrated appropriately. But here's a taste: Groucho Marx, Skater Chic, Ichabod Crane, Ninja-sahn, Prom Night, Mumpsies. Them'll be good times. Stay tuned.

Cahoondom II

As Wendy tells below, two weeks ago we had our first (and probably only) guests. While the rest of you lily-livered panty-waists (International Women's Day is long past: back to sexisms) were "safe" in your xenophobic western pantheons to redneckism, Grandma and Grandpa Knievel were here, with us, risking life and limb in roundabouts and going googly-eyed over the shear enormity of money-spendage.

We'll spare you the gruesome details, but let's just say it was a Drewdle trip from start to finish. They were on their way back from Uganda, after organizing a platoon of volunteer dentists to do some training, etc., and made it out of the airport at 3:00 a.m. on Sunday morning, which put us home by 4:30 a.m. Some of us--namely those of us who went to the airport to get them, namely Jon--had to work the next day. Ay caramba.

84 hours later we deposited them at the Stewart Hotel, every one of us spent and stuffed. Here are the pics Wendy promised. Those of you with access can find a few more on her facebook page.

Most of the group shots resembled a U2 album cover, but I think this was accidental, not artistic: Hobbles McCoy, lagging behind, eyes full of the place, would suddenly demand we turn around, which we would do in turns as the message made its way to the front lines, and then he'd snap before we could assemble (or suck in, sometimes). But we like the results.



Ghosts in the Mosquine. Or Shades of SHeikh Zayed Mosque. Some of you will ask the inevitable question, even though the picture above answers it. No, women are not required by law to cover up, except when entering the prayer rooms of a mosque.



This mosque is massive. The pictures, because of mechanical perspective, don't do it justice. You come over the Maqta Bridge into Abu Dhabi and it dominates impressively. Better during the day right now, but soon, with all the lighting, it will be impressive at all hours. We'll try to get a better shot of the whole thing, though there's some early video . . .

Riley's first ride. Was going to make a joke about camel . . . feet, but decided against it. Too easy.



Against the Abu Dhabi skyline, taken squinting into the Arabian sun just above the dock where we boarded a water taxi to go to Lulu Island, an unimpressive resort island that bored us silly.



Monkeys: Gramma C still has game.



Proof! He does read!



Jo getting ready for his modeling debut.



I am to be seeing beeg future for hees.



Chrisp ibn Goohnathon, Sheikh of the burning sands.



Cool.



Add one last album cover, taken like the last four at the Al Ain Palace Museum, which we have blogged about before.



That last one is more Beatles than U2, you know, if the Beatles were only three, and two of them were women carrying purses and they were trespassing on museum grounds despite the signs saying "Please No Treading on Grass." I think, secretly, Wendy wants to get us deported.

Anyway, sorry about the delay. We had platform issues all last Friday, and then just, you know, had life happen to us. By the way, more Christmas music today.

And we're extending the competition, so it's not too late. The choices are lame, except for Greg's (Hey, Greg and Melissa!), which I'm inclined to disqualify not because it isn't technically valid, but because he doesn't live in any of the places he mentions, except the last one, which is lovely but boring, and because Johnny Cash already wrote that song. Or at least he sang it. It was Arthur Miller that wrote the play. So that's been done.

Isn't it Easter?

Okay, I (Wendy) am back and confused...
This morning as we were speeding down the road, out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a big sign in a flower shop window that said "Happy Mothers Day". I thought to myself, "Wow. They're on the ball." (Seeing as Easter is not observed by most people here, Mothers day would be the next... holiday?)
Then I was in the grocery store and there was a huge display with bouquets of roses and a banner that said "Happy Mothers Day" right as you walk in.
As I worked my way through the store I noticed a special display of Arabic treats and a sign all in Arabic. I had never seen these treats for sale there before so, figured since they are celebrating Mohammed's birthday (yesterday) it must have been brought in special for that event. Which by the way is observed as a day off for some.
Then I noticed that Christmas tunes were playing over the speaker. What the?
As I was leaving I noticed in the store beside the grocery store a (few) Easter items.
So I ask... which holiday do I celebrate? What a party!
Speaking of party, my parents came for a visit.! A much anticipated visit. They swung through on their way out of Africa, where my father has a humanitarian project he oversees.
We showed them around our town and the kids school, introduced them to Maneesh (which they liked), even had Tabouleh, Hummus, Fatoosh, and Uhmwahlee. Took a couple of road trips. One to Abu Dhabi. Saw The Palace, rode in a water taxi on the Persian Gulf, laughed at camels, over-ate at Fuddruckers, and saw the amazing Sheikh Zayad Grand Mosque. Where my mom and I donned Abayas.
They were impressed by our beautiful pool, which we had to ourselves in the a.m. And witnessed the attention a blonde, blue eyed, small westerner got... Jonah gets a lot of attention AND treats from the Arabs. A box of cookies, 2 bags of chips, several hair ruffles, and the occasional kiss. Riley and Christopher are chopped liver I guess.
In Dubai, we drove as far as we could on the Palm (man made island in the shape of a palm tree), drove around the construction at the bottom of the Burj (tallest building in the world which will always be under construction in case any one dares to build a higher one then they will be able to go higher and higher and so on), walked around Mall of the Emirates (where the indoor ski hill is), had dinner with the Stewarts (wonderful friends from Red Deer), where we left them tearfully and they stayed until they caught their flight early the next morning. It was sooo very wonderful to have them to ourselves and we felt the void when they were gone. Jonah was the most disappointed to say goodbye (no one to listen to his incessant chattering an more). The next morning I asked him what he liked about having Grandma and Grandpa here and he replied.."they are happy and fun" That sums them up to the tee! What a blessing to have great relatives!
Over and Out to Lunch, Wendy
P.S. I will have Jon post some pictures later.