Circles in Amman

The first thing that comes to mind when I think of Jordan: dates. A co-worker at JP Morgan went to Jordan every year and brought back savory dates – chocolate covered, cinnamon laced, almond filled. Sorry to digress, but dates in the Middle East are just heavenly. After sampling many types of these delicacies, the top two are Kimia (Iranian dates) and Saudi madjoul dates. These both are the softer versions and slowly melt in your mouth as your eat them…yum.

Walking around old Amman near my hotel, I felt very self conscious. The people were staring as there weren’t many women walking around and especially alone. And when they spoke to me in Arabic, I pretended to understand, just like in Dubai and Lebanon. I notice the poverty in Jordan, which is a bitter contrast to the extravagance of Dubai. This country was not as lucky as its oil rich neighbors and has limited natural resources. But the uprisings here have not been as intense as other countries in the region as King Abdullah is making efforts for reform, but we will see how long that lasts or how it pans out. I walked to the Roman amphitheater and to the Sheikh Hassan mosque but a bad time, since it was close to iftar; at 7, I see people running around with large trays of food in preparation to break fast. At around 7:30, people are all together inside of their shops sharing this traditional meal. It is nice to see this togetherness during the holy month of Ramadan. Some of them even invite me to join them as they think I am fasting as well.

I had made plans to meet my friend Hana (another summer intern from Dubai) as she is from Jordan. Hana and her friend show me around old Amman, and the circles of the city. It is built on 7 mountains with 8 circles, which kind of reminds me of Amsterdam and the circles of canals (though those are more reminiscent of the concentric circles of hell from Dante’s Inferno). As we drive up and down the narrow streets of the circles, I see how alive the city is at night, similar to any other cities in the region after iftar. They take me to this charming outdoor restaurant on top of the 3rd circle which affords a view of the entire city, the mountains and the citadel. As I mention my future travel plans, I learn that my friend is actually Palestinian but her family had moved to Jordan in the 30’s. She was saying how lucky I was to be able to visit Israel and Palestine, something which would be nearly impossible for her. And apparently even if you are Jordanian, it is difficult to visit Israel. Which came as a surprise to me since Israel has peace treaties with only 2 Arab nations (Jordan & Egypt), but folks were not allowed to move into and out of these countries freely. I suppose these countries are just a conduit for tourists from other nations to visit Israel. That’s the one convenient aspect of living and traveling in the Middle East, I am able to get a more in depth understanding of each of these countries and how they differ. Just because shit is blowing up in Syria (which shares a border with Jordan), does not mean it is unsafe to come to Jordan. So we bid each other farewell at the end of the night, wondering when we will meet again.

Last Days in Dubai

Ok, I won’t even deny it, I went to the bathroom to drink water. It is the holy month of Ramadan and it is illegal in Dubai to eat or drink in public during the day. I repeat, it is illegal and a jail-able (is this even a word?) offense. I was running errands all the day in anticipation of leaving Dubai and I was parched. Out in public, I could not drink water in front of anyone, so I ran to the restroom in the mall and took a swig out of my water bottle. An hour later I am walking around and here the familiar prayer sound and hurriedly look at my watch, realizing it is 7pm. It is time for iftar, I peer down from the 3rd floor and suddenly I see people eating. Thank God! Things you would never think twice about in life, here I am..thinking about them.

On my last day of work I sat at my desk, again staring at the marina and the wonder of Palm Jumeriah for insight into my current state of mind. If I didn’t have the best of experiences this summer then why am I somewhat sad about leaving? Perhaps it is sadness for my experiences not matching my expectations by a long shot. And reconciling these differences has been a challenge of sorts. But Dubai isn’t all bad…two good points being minimal crime and diversity of people here (as I had mentioned before). But anyway I don’t think I can think about this place with a clear head until I am back home.

I finally get up from the iftar tent filled with hundreds of MBA alumni, bid farewell to friends from my summer internship and get ready for the next leg of my journey.

So I leave Dubai with more than the future prospects of getting lung cancer; I leave with a sincere appreciation for civil liberties and freedom that comes with living in the USA, insights into the culture and how to do business in this region.

Some interesting learnings worth mentioning:
- KSA does not mean “Kellogg Student Association” to the rest of the world…(Kingdom of Saudi Arabia)
- Remove any mention of Israel from any presentation

Goodbye Dubai..this summer has been, let’s say “out of the ordinary”. Maybe I’ll see you again one day. Inshallah.

Kish Island Dilemma

My friend Ayan (yes I am calling you out) put the crazy idea in my head to visit Kish Island, aka Iran while here in Dubai. Kish is a tiny island off the coast of Iran that is a free zone, which essentially means that foreigners (including US Citizens) can enter without a visa. The standard response, when I excitedly divulged plans to people was, “ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?!?”. I even consulted my dad, who is an immigration lawyer on if this was a good idea. He said I could go, but I should be very careful, not go alone, and leave as soon as possible. So initially I conducted some basic research, but everything I found out seemed shadier by the moment. Below is a summary.

1.Kish Air website – There once used to be a boat from Dubai to the island, but it no longer runs. You can’t buy airline tickets from the website. You need to call travel agents and buy tickets 10 days before you want to fly; that is when the tickets become available. However, the travel agents have no other information regarding the island other than that folks go there for visa runs. Shady.
2.Opinions – I ask my friends in Dubai and co-workers (who are all very well traveled). Nobody has even thought of going there or has known anyone who has gone. Several co-workers had gone to Tehran a few years back, but they were French. Actually, one friend mentioned that his Filipino friend had gone for a visa run, but alas she is not a US Citizen. Shadier.
3.Kish Island Tourism – I call Iran from Dubai. Yes , I call Iran, this is exciting. No answer from the Kish Tourism board, or any hotels located on the island. Nobody picks up the phone. I called and emailed the US consulate in Dubai, and I get a generic response 3 weeks later to refer to the website. Useless. And Shady as hell.
4.The News – The international news is splattered with headlines about the 2 American hikers who have been imprisoned in Iran for 2 years for mistakenly hiking across the Iraq/Iran border and could be sentenced for another 8 years. Shadiest.

Conclusion – There is a fine line between thrill seeking adventure and reckless stupidity. This trip may undoubtedly cross that line. Kish Island and Iran will be saved for some other lifetime. The thought of being subject to an Iranian prison is daunting, especially after reading Maziar Bahari’s tale of 118 days in the notorious Evin prison, and he’s Iranian.

Unreal Mountains in Oman

tbd

People Watching in Dubai

Dubai is probably one of the most interesting places in the world to people watch. Of course there is a plethora of expats dressed in their very best at the entrance at any of the hottest clubs (which I have frequented many a time). While trying to figure out who is a prostitute at a club is engaging, people watching Arabs and Emirati’s to be even more intriguing. Interactions with Emiratis (the locals of the UAE with make up around 5% of the population) are quite limited, unless you happen to work with them or have a random chance meeting with them.

And the women, whenever you see a flash of their shoes or clothing underneath the burqa, it is always something fascinating. The eye makeup they wear is captivating, even I get lost in their gaze. The Lebanese woman at MAC in Beirut even gave me some tips on how to create the intense “Arab eyes” look. In the malls, I have seen the tightest burqa’s, maybe they were spandex..making me wonder what the point of wearing it was in the first place.

Castello’s, known to be the best hookah lounge in Dubai is my favorite place to people watch. I watch the Emirati men and women smoke sheesha and play on their gadgets. Here I noticed the “man-scaping” that is a distinct feature of the Arab men. Never have I seen such fine layering of beards, mustaches, and gotis. They give the 5 o’clock shadow a whole new meaning.

As we sit at Castello’s, I feel a nice buzz and a general numbness from the sheesha and in a trance from the sounds of the live Arab musician. Perhaps numbing my feelings on being in this country, and the reality of my experiences here relative to my expectations. Somehow the conversation takes an unpromising turn to recent nightmares of getting arrested in Dubai for seemingly trivial actions, camel racing and stoning (look it up should you be curious).

Sigh of Relief in India

The Real Deal

“It’s amazing how deep and superficial you can be at the same time. One minute you are burning your face with flaming drinks, and the next you are quoting Rousseau."

…says a friend in Dubai. This couldn’t be more true. My life as it is now feels like a mélange of my trio of all time favorite books (Camus’ La Chute & L’Etranger, and Sartre’s Le Nausee). I am Clamence, a Parisian lawyer who evaluates his own existence and consciousness only to realize that every triumph in his life was a failure. I am Meursault who is disconnected and is severely affected by the sun and the sea. And I am Roquentin who feverishly writes and writes and feels a constant discomfort called “nausea” about everything in life.

Dubai is a city that seems like any other western cosmopolitan city. On the surface you have beaches, malls, partying, and fun activities for expats to easily to meld into. But underneath this façade is an oppressive regime that is inherent in many of these Arab nations. There is a little detail called “freedom” that you don’t truly value until you live outside of the United States. Unknowingly, I was thrown into the caste system of the UAE, going from an inconsequential MBA student, to “maam”, what the worker class called us expats. There are 3 classes of people here, Emiratis (only ones who are citizens of the country), Expats, and the Workers. But the divide between each class is exponential and opening your eyes to how the workers are treated here is quite unsettling. I see them every day. On my way to work, on the way back, at the grocery store next door and sometimes from my cushy 26th floor office. Walking home at 9pm in the suffocating heat of Dubai, rows and rows of them are sitting there waiting for the buses to take them to the labor camps. Our eyes meet, and I see an inherent sadness in their eyes, I cannot bear to look anymore. I see them toil and sweat in 100+ degree heat and 85% humidity all for measly wages and accommodations. And to watch something to the effect of slavery in front of your eyes, and do nothing about it? How do you just look the other way? I certainly cannot.

Not to mention the complete insanity that is work. Loads and loads of work keeps piling up, and hours and hours in the office. What is day, what is night? I don’t know anymore. I spent 27 hours straight at the office…working throughout the night, seeing the sunrise from the office. So not ideal. So consumed in work I feel lost. I go home, sleep for 4 hours and frantically wake up to make the most of the weekend. I am exhausted, but no! I must spend money and do something…anything. 500 dirhams for bottle service? Sure why not. I make money, but I don’t have time to spend it. You feel like you just need to spend money on anything, as another consultant says. I can’ think straight, who am I, what have I become. I feel this place eating away at my soul, caring about things I don’t really care about. Partying, pretenses, indulging in materialistic bliss like nothing before. As another friend said, here we are spending money on things he only imagined we would be doing 10 years down the line..fancy boat cruises, hundreds of dollars on brunches. I have 4 different currencies in my wallet and it all feels like monopoly money.

How can this place ever be sustainable? The culture is fake, the people are transient, and there is ZERO incentive to make a life here. But I guess some people get sucked into the black hole of indulgence here and forget the realities of life. You will never be a citizen or remotely equal to the Emiratis here. The only motivation is to come here, make some tax free money and leave.

As the gold coating around everything in Dubai starts to fade away, I am sick. I feel nauseous. I think I will throw up now.