Poking Around the Palace

Photo: Waiting for your chauffer outside the Emirates Palace Hotel.

I’ve been hanging out at the palace a lot this week. The Emirates Palace Hotel, that is.

Just GETTING to the Emirates Palace Hotel is an adventure for me. This is because if you have the clout and the cash to stay at the Emirates Palace Hotel, you certainly aren’t going to be schlepping there in a taxi. If you aren’t arriving via helicopter, a Jaguar, complete with chauffer, is the vehicle of choice.

Consequently, despite the fact that this is the most famous hotel in town, taxi drivers have a lot of difficultly taking me there. First of all, they don’t believe me when I tell them this is my destination. (I guess I don’t look with the jaguar-owning type known to hang out there.) Taxi drivers first try to take me to the Emirates PLAZA Hotel, which is a completely different category.

Now I have learned to give them the destination: Emirates Palace Hotel AND tell them “the big one on the Corniche.” Because they’ve never been there, I have to direct them to the one entrance to the extensive grounds. The 243,000 sq. meter building hotel is set on one million square meter private "park."

Once on the grounds, I have to direct the driver to the lobby entrance. The first time I went, the taxi driver and I drove around the grounds for 15 minutes through three checkpoints asking for directions.

Even though it’s a hotel, which you would think attracts visitors, there’s very little useful signage to point the way.

They make up for it at the hotel lobby entrance, where 10 to 15 staffers of different nationalities, all clothed in Chinese silk long jackets, are standing by, obstensively to help you find your way.

I was there for a tour and lunch, arranged by one of my expat women’s groups. Our tour guide, a very nice Asian woman with a voice that carried about three inches walked our group of 30 around. I assume she told us about the hotel but even standing next her, I couldn’t hear much so I didn’t even try. The fun facts I mention here, I gleamed from the Internet later. http://www.emiratespalace.com/en/FAQsEnglishFinal.htm

The architects were the same ones that did the Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas. The design incorporates traditional Arabian elements such as the grand dome and 114 smaller domes spread over the building. The colors of the building reflect the different shades of sand found in the Arabian Desert.

As for the interior, if you have a LOT of premium Swarovski crystal and 18k gold you need to use up, this is a pretty good example of how to do it. It’s definitely opulent without being grossly over the top.

In fact, my big gripe about the interior design, were the plasma screen TVs . There are 755 of them at the Emirates Palace, including one for each of the 302 rooms and 92 suites. (I was hoping to see one of the famous suites, but with the GCC conference and the King of Malaysia here, they were all occupied. I guess they didn't feel like dislodging him so 30 nosey expat women could wander through.)

After the tour we had a lovely lunch in two private rooms in one of the restaurants. Both rooms featured large screen TVs. Note to management: This AIN’T the Hard Rock Café. Lose the TVs.

Our set lunch with choice of entrees was a great deal at $35 and even included my after-dinner cappuccino. What I didn’t know was that the juice offered by the waiter before lunch cost me an additional $10. A glass of white wine turned out to be $15 but as Larry hasn’t has a chance to add me to his alcohol license yet, it is still illegal for me to imbibe.

Still, for the money, lunch at the Emirates Palace Hotel beats tea at the Burg Al Arab any day.

Photo: My almost too pretty to eat dessert plate at the Emirates Palace hotel.

Air Supply

While I love overseas travel, I am not so crazy about overseas flights. While nothing can make this experience enjoyable, at least not in coach class, I have finally learned to make it comfortable. Here are my hard-earned tips:

Drink lots of water. You need 8 oz. of water every HOUR of the flight. I buy a liter before boarding and start guzzling. I also grab a glass of the stuff every time the flight attendant offers. Okay, sometimes I’ll go wild and have vegetable juice or club soda with lime. But I avoid dehydrating sodas, coffee or alcohol. You feel so much better. And plenty of water plus sleep means I have fewer issues with jet lag than anyone I know.

I consider it my JOB on overseas flight to sleep as much as possible. It not only makes the time pass faster, it also leaves you with much less jet lag. Don’t do anything--drink coffee, watch movies, eat dinner, wear business clothes--that might interfere with your important business of sleeping.

As for food, I brown bag it. The airline may give you a “menu” that sounds very appetizing, but this is FALSE ADVERTISING. Airline food is yucky and heavy. Plus they use that big old plastic tray to trap you in your seat for hours.

I bring my own supply of goodies which includes fresh veggies with Ranch dip, mixed spicy nuts, assorted cheeses, and gummy bears. (I just don’t know how those gummy bears keep slipping inside my bag.)

With my own food supply I can eat whenever I want. And I usually eat early. This is not only because I have no willpower, but also because skipping that long first meal means I can get right to my job of going to sleep.

To help me sleep I take Melatonin. There’s a lot of complicated formulas as to when to take it depending on what direction you are going, the time of day and whether the moon is in Jupiter or Mars. I just take it about half an hour to an hour before I want to go to sleep which is usually with my snack.

After my snack, I slip off my shoes and put on my thick warm sockies. This is an idea I stole from business class passengers who are provided these in the special goodies bags they get that you don’t. Warm sockies are very comfortable. Plus trying to locate your shoes under the seat ahead of you after landing will give you something to do on the endless taxiing to the terminal.

Then I wrap up in my cashmere shawl. It’s big and warm enough to use as a blanket. But it’s thin enough to stick in my purse. In the rare event that I’m not freezing on the flight, I’ve also been known to wad it up and use it as a pillow.

I close my eyes and begin mentally counting in whatever foreign language I am trying to learn. (It use to be Russian, but I’m finding Arabic works just as well.) This usually puts me right to sleep.

After a good four to seven hours of shut-eye, I begin my waking up routine with the help of my make-up kit. I use my Brushups disposable toothpaste/brush. I spritz on some Evian spray, careful not to hit my fellow sleeping seatmate, and dab on some Eucerin lip cream.

Now that I’m refreshed, I get up and stretch. I walk to the back as flight attendants often leave out water and cups. In today’s security conscious age, flight attendants aren’t comfortable with you just standing around. So sometimes I stand in the long restroom lines just as an opportunity to stretch my legs.

Wherever you go, take care not to stray anywhere near Business Class. Flight attendants who disappeared the last four hours of your flight suddenly appear from nowhere to shoo you away.

If there's time, I get out a paperback book. I like to bring cheap used books so I can guiltlessly abandon them the moment they are finished, thereby lightening my travel load.

The airlines usually serve some kind of light snack or breakfast before landing and now that my job is done (sleeping), I get to break all my previous rules. I find that eating now, with juice or coffee if it’s morning in my destination, helps perk me up for my next ordeal--collecting my luggage and clearing customs.

Packing List

When Alec was just learning to read, he spied a can on the grocery store shelves. “What’s Spam?” he asked.

To his amazement, Larry and I both broke out singing the Monty Python song, “Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam…” in the middle of the grocery aisle.

Later, and with great pleasure, we introduced Alec to the joys of the Monty Python Flying Circus comedy group via VHS. Years later, we had to buy Monty Python stuff over again in DVD, but that is a small price to pay for having the “Dead Parrot” sketch at one’s fingertips.

Long after Monty Python disbanded, one member, Michael Palin, began making documentary series for the BBC of his adventures traveling the world. As far as I’m concerned, Michael Palin is the next best thing to being there.

This week I found a DVD of his first expedition, “Around the World in 80 Days” at an electronics shop at the mall. It was filmed in 1988 and even Amazon doesn’t stock it.

So I snatched it up, along with Palin’s “Pole to Pole” and “Himalaya” DVDs. Palin also did a series on the Sahara but the store didn’t have that one. I guess we see enough desert in U.A.E. so that one wasn’t of interest. (By the way, sahara means desert in Arabic.)

Even though we LIVE in a foreign country, we enjoy our armchair travel with Michael. It’s fun and fascinating to watch him--armed with humour, grace, and a camera crew--deal with the everyday issues of negotiating his way around a world where so much is outside our experience and beyond our control. And in those cases, a sense of humour is the best thing to pack.

Driven

Photo: Watching the traffic off our balcony.

Abu Dhabi is a great city for taxis. I walk out the door of my apartment building, extend my hand about two feet from my body and within minutes a taxi driver stops, prepared to chauffer me anywhere I want to go on the island for less than $2. No tip is expected.

And if I don’t have time to extend my hand, they’ll toot their horn just to let me know they’re available.

I also have the option of driving. Accompanied by a liaison of Larry’s company, I put my time in at the “Ladies Section” of the driver’s license bureau. The liaison was extremely helpful in verifying to the woman behind the desk that while I hadn’t brought my husband along, I did have a permission slip in Arabic signed by my husband giving his approval for me to drive.

But even with my new license and Larry’s official permission, I am reluctant to drive his new car. I would really prefer it get a dent or two, or at LEAST loses the new car smell, before I take it out. (Perhaps this is the same reason Taylor may be avoiding sitting on our new white microfiber sectional.)

I’m cautious about driving here because as terrible as the drivers were in Moscow, U.A.E. drivers are even worse. You just don’t notice it as soon because they have decent roads and nicer cars.

A lot of places I want to go are actually within walking distance, but not walking distance in this heat. Abu Dhabi appears to have bus stops, but no public buses. So taxis are my transportation choice.

But even in Abu Dhabi, taxi rides are not without issues. For one thing, taxis are all busy between 1 and 1:15 p.m. weekdays when many businesses start their afternoon breaks. And, of course, even when cabs are readily available, the quality of drivers varies.

Two days ago, my taxi driver slammed on his breaks at the intersection, almost knocking me into the floor. I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. (While taxis here often post signs in English asking you to fasten your seatbelt, it is difficult to comply as they usually have the seatbelts removed.)

After righting myself in the seat, I looked up to see that we had stopped on a green light. Yes, green lights DO mean go here. Then comes yellow lights, which last about one second before turning red.

And you better not get caught going through a red light. They are serious about red lights here. Used to be, you merely paid a humongous fine. However, this law is changing. Now if you run a red light you get a humongous fine AND you get your car confiscated for week. And that’s for your first offence.

My driver, erring on the side of caution, chose to stop on “stale” green light. But I understand the sentiment. Afterall, I'm the who's erring on the side of caution by choosing to ride and not drive.

Surrounded

Photo by Taylor Perkins: Nancy, a stranger in a strange land.

Along with our ballshoi televisor (big screen TV), we now have surround-sound.

When Larry and I discussed the cost, I thought it was very reasonably priced. After he bought it, I found out he was discussing the cost in U.S. dollars while I thought we’d been talking about the cost in dirhams! There are 3.67 dirhams to the dollar. (Note to self: In financial discussions first establish the currency.)

The Indian guys who installed it, put in our DVD of “Lord of War,” a Nicholas Cage movie about a second-generation American who runs guns out of Russia. What I mostly remembered about this film was Cage’s atrociously bad Russian accent.

I certainly didn’t remember that the title sequence includes a gunshot. Much to the technicians’ amusement, I jumped about three feet when I heard it in surround-sound.

When Larry and Taylor arrived home later that day, each was quite happy with our new system. I am sure it is some testosterone-deficiency on my part, not to think it is worth big bucks to have realistic gunfire reverberating around the media room. Especially as it now take THREE different controls just to turn the TV off or on.

As foreign as the Middle East is to me, sometimes it is equally foreign to live in a household with all males.

Whoppers

Yesterday I had a flyer on my door, advertising “Dial a Whopper.”

Yes, Burger King is in Abu Dhabi and they want to bring Whoppers to my door. With the availability and convenience of fast food, is it any wonder that U.A.E. is facing the same obesity epidemic found in so many developed countries?

In the U.S., I am often surprised to see overweight people, particularly young women, who are squeezed, sausage-like, into clothes that emphasizes every ounce of flab. Do they think this is flattering? Do they OWN a mirror?

On the other hand, in the U.A.E., locals (both men and women) wear long robes which certainly hides a multitude of figure problems. However, these are street clothes. What women wear underneath is apparently another story.

I am fascinated at the windows of some dress shops in the malls catering to locals. They display beautiful gauzy spangled outfits I can’t envision wearing them anywhere.

One thing is for sure, you can’t be eating too many Whoppers and hope to look good in that.

For the Rugrat

Larry and I have some beautiful handmade carpets. However, over the years they had become beautiful handmade dirty carpets. Cleaning them is not a light undertaking.

It’s not that they aren’t durable. In fact, it’s likely these carpets will someday grace the homes of our grandchildren and great grandchildren. (Assuming we have a grandchild who actually wants them. They may just end up gracing someone else's home after our heirs sell them all off at the International-themed garage sale.)

These rugs have to be cleaned carefully. Handmade carpets, like Persians, can be damaged by using chemicals. And don't even think of using a carpet steamer. These rugs need to be cleaned the old fashioned way, by hand with a mild soap until all the dirt is out. This is a relatively easy but very time-consuming process.

Now that we are back in the Middle East, where they know a thing or two about handmade carpets, I felt reasonably comfortable sending our carpets out to be cleaned by a local Persian carpet dealer.

Just to be on the safe side, I first let them have a go at our Chinese rugs, our Pakistani rug and our Turkoman. When those were returned okay 12 days later, I let them take the rest.

Another 12 days later, they were back with my clean carpets. They unrolled them one by one for my inspection. Everything was okay until we came to the 3 x 5 red Qum. It was red, alright. It was a 3 x 5. It was made in Qum. It just wasn’t MY 3 x 5 red Qum.

Because of these key similarities, it took me a little while to convince the delivery guys that this wasn’t my rug. Eventually, I found a photo of it. “This is my rug,” I said.

“Oh,” the guy looked at my photo like a police investigator. “Do you mind if we keep this photo? We’ll return it when we located your rug.”

I had a vision of the picture appearing on cartons of camel’s milk at my grocery store with the caption: “Have you seen this rug?”

The disappearance was especially upsetting to me as this was the rug we bought for Alec. As a middle school student, Alec spotted it as a carpet auction in Singapore. We got a really good deal on it and promised Alec that when he grew up, he could buy it from us for the same price.

Luckily, they found our Qum the next day. Having made the journey from Iran to Singapore to China to Arizona to Russia, it is now back in our apartment, just as beautiful as the day we bought it and all set for whenever Alec is ready to claim it.

Photo: Alec's Qum, currently at home in the North 40.