A foodie in the UAE: gross

I usually ignore fast food billboards. I rarely eat at fast food chains, so their ads just kind of blur into the scenery as I drive by. But in the past month I have begun noticing the most disgusting concoctions being hailed as the latest and greatest in culinary perfection. By virtue of their grossness, these ads have been jumping off the roadside and into my consciousness. It makes me wonder, first of all, is this going on back home as well? I mean, I realize Americans eat a lot of garbage, but at least it usually looks appetizing. So maybe (hopefully) these particular food items are just part of these chains’ Middle East divisions. Even still, it saddens me to think this is is being passed off over here as American cuisine, when actually we have such a rich culinary tradition to share, even when it comes to inexpensive food.

The second thing it makes me wonder is who is coming up with this stuff? Have the chains all hired a group of teenage boys and let them create whatever concoctions come to mind? Or maybe the industry has a sick curiosity to find out just how far it can push the limits. Perhaps they're sitting around at corporate headquarters looking at profit margins and laughing maniacally, "Ha, ha, the dulled masses will eat anything we put in front of them, as long as it's part of a meal deal!" 

Exhibit A: Burger King’s Pizza Burger (this one, please note, starred in a recent article in our local paper – take a look; have a laugh).

Exhibit B: Pizza Hut's Crunchy Cheesy Bites Pizza (I guess regular old stuffed crust pizza was too dull – now you can pretend your pizza is a medieval torture victim and pull off its fingers one at a time).

Exhibit C: McDonalds’ Pizza McPuff (I’m noticing a pattern here…apparently plays on pizza, while wholly unnecessary, are very en vogue. But this one was most perplexing to me. Why would someone pay McDonalds to heat up a hot pocket in the microwave? Don't people go out to eat so they don't have to eat frozen dinners?) 

Sam read a first draft of this post and decided I needed to do a bit more research before publishing such harsh criticism, so I came into the kitchen last night to find this:

"It was only 2 dirhams," he beamed. (That's about 56 cents).

So here is the carefully documented research process that followed --

Shannon takes a bite.

All her criticisms confirmed, she passes the rest on to Sam.

"It's not so bad," he says. "Kind of spicy." Pause. "Is that a pea?"

Yes, yes it is.

Okay, done with my rant. But seriously, people, wake up, and stop being gross. 

Lunch-break language barrier

Today I ate lunch at one of my new favorite spots – a tiny strip of manmade land, no wider than a two lane road that juts out from the main island of Abu Dhabi. I can park my car right along the water and get an unobstructed view of a small bay and the Gulf beyond. It’s still too hot to eat outside so I had to stay in my car with the ac going, but it was worth it for the change of scenery (plus I could listen to a podcast of This American Life while I ate).

The view from my car—

You’ll agree it’s a big improvement from where I spend the rest of my work day and often find myself eating lunch (there’s a whole other story behind that, and it’s not because I have too much work to do) —

Notice the “privacy panes” lining the 360 degrees of glass walls surrounding my desk. Do those stripes remind you of anything?

But I digress.

After I finished my sandwich I decided I could brave the midday sun for a few minutes and snap some better pictures of my surroundings. So I got out of the car and took these—

That's Marina Mall in the distance, our home away from home when we first moved here and were furnishing our apartment.

I grew tired of the mall, but I never get tired of that turquoise water.

Just as I snapped this last shot I heard the voice of a young man call to me from behind, “Hey!”

I ignored it at first, assuming it wasn’t meant for me; but, there it was again, “Hey!” 

I turned around to find a fancy white SUV, driven by an Emirati male, about 19 or so, attended by two of his buddies. He waved me over to the car.

I don’t usually go up to cars full of men when I’m by myself, but this was a very public place in broad daylight. I could tell their intent was friendly, so I walked a bit closer.

“You take picture,” the young driver said in broken English.

Trying to interpret his meaning, several scenarios quickly played in my mind: a) He could be commenting on the fact that I was indeed taking pictures (too obvious for words), b) He could be asking if he could take my picture (not likely given what I know of Emirati men), or c) He could be asking that I take a picture of him with his friends (except he wasn't holding out a camera to me).  

As the wheels in my head were turning, he kept repeating “You take picture,” with a goofy grin on his face.  Finally, I got it – “Oh,” I said, “you want me to take your picture and send it to you?”

A flash of confusion crossed his face, but he nodded slightly and repeated his phrase again, this time gesturing towards my camera.

I was also confused. What an odd request. I mean, now I would have to write down his email address and remember to send it to him, and then he’d have my email address and that would be awkward and probably inappropriate. As if to confirm my analysis, though, he said emphatically “You won’t forget.” And I thought, how presumptuous of him to ask for this favor and then demand that I follow through.

But it seemed he was determined so I figured I'd take his picture, and then try to discuss the logistics. I raised my camera to three smiling faces and said, “Cheese.”

Notice the Ray-bans and the Calvin Klein t-shirt. 

The driver asked if he could see the photo, flashed a huge smile of approval at what he saw on the camera viewfinder, handed it back to me, and just as I was about to get down to the business of obtaining his contact info, he drove off!

All at once it hit me what had just happened. He had noticed me taking pictures of the water, assumed I was a tourist, and thought he’d give me the best gift of all, a snapshot of a real live group of Emiratis in traditional dress. When he said “you won’t forget,” I thought he was telling me not to forget to email him the picture, but actually he was saying, “I will allow you to take my picture so you won’t forget your experience in Abu Dhabi.”  

Again, I thought how presumptuous he was, but kind of sweet in his innocent assumption that I would want this. And I do. So I guess he was right. 

Autumn in Abu Dhabi

I hesitate to admit this, but as part of my morning routine I typically spend a few minutes reading the latest posts on the Facebook Newsfeed. Coffee in hand, I find it fascinating to read what my friends back in the States were talking about while I was sleeping. I guess it helps me feel connected to my cultural roots. When you do this over a period of time you begin to notice themes, and over the past two weeks that theme has been the arrival of fall -- chilly weather, the Topsfield Fair, Halloween costumes, college football and tailgate parties, pumpkin spice lattes -- and I’m certain it won’t be long before the first mention of apple-picking. Just reading these topics conjures a particular kind of nostalgia for me, probably because of our experiences living in Princeton as well as Cambridge, both towns that I adore, both of which boast spectacular, sensory-overloading fall seasons.

The weather is also turning cooler here in Abu Dhabi, though this may be where my former expectations for fall now end. In the afternoons we’re down from the daily 117 to a respectable 102 or so, and last weekend we even ate a late dinner outside, sweating a bit but mostly comfortable. So for us fall no longer produces images of falling leaves or pumpkin patches, but rather it signals that we can emerge from our air-conditioned igloos and venture into the sun midday without vaporizing. Today, it being the first weekend of October, we thought we’d test the waters, so to speak, and see if we could survive a day at the beach.

It’s funny to be forced to wait out the summer for such an opportunity, given we live in the land of perpetual clear skies, and on an island no less, that is lined with white sandy beaches and surrounded by shimmering crystal-clear water. But we had waited long enough, and this morning we stepped onto our balcony to feel the air – a balmy 84 degrees at 7:30 – and decided if we left by 9 and lathered plenty of sunscreen we might be able to stay on the beach for an hour or two.

Arriving at our beach of choice we were greeted by this sign:

Not sure if it’s meant to be an invitation or a warning, but prophetic it was because bake we did. We had come prepared to sunbathe atop our giant beach blanket, but by the time we walked the quarter of a mile from the car to the beach, and then the 200 yards across the hot coals cleverly disguised as sand, we opted to spring for the lounge chairs for hire complete with oversized umbrella. But even sitting in the shade it didn’t take long for us to seek further refuge in the water, which looked and felt like a massive heated swimming pool. Not refreshing per se, but did the trick to take the edge off the intensifying sun.  

It was brief, but we made the most of our first beach day of the season, alternating between reading our respective novels and observing the odd collection of fellow beach-goers around us, listening to the distant buzz of jet skis and occasional peals of laughter, and reveling in the specific kind of calm that, for me, can only be found beside a body of water. As we returned to our car-slash-oven for the ride home Sam said to me “well I’m glad we did it but I’m glad it’s over.” True, it wasn’t the most pleasant of beach days, but the fact that we were able to go at all means that fall in Abu Dhabi has officially begun.