What's Up, Doc?

Now that I'm on "vacation" in the U.S., I have a year's worth of medical appointments to get through. In the past two weeks I’ve endured nine of them. This includes three eye doctor appointments plus those always fun-filled mammograms and gyncology exams.

I also met with my g.p. who informed me that both of my complaints (my bad knees and my warping fingers) were a result of aging and I better learn to live with it.

The lab to which he referred me for routine blood work did not take appointments. I arrived shortly after they opened the next day and was told there would be an hour wait. I was welcome to come back that afternoon, but I had to continue not to eat or drink until then. As I was already starving from having skipped breakfast and was developing a caffeine-withdrawl headache, I elected to wait.

When I was finally called in, the technician was unable to get enough blood out of my vein. She had to stick me a second time and insisted I “visualize blood flowing.” I dutifully thought about the restaurant scene in Kill Bill and she was able to fill up the two small vials. Frankly, I don’t think she was all that experienced. Her name tag was a yellow sticky note with her name penciled on.

I got the results back a few days ago. Not by anyone actually telephoning me. Instead, they record the information and send me an automated message that my results are ready to be heard. I then call the service, punch in my patient number. If I get the number sequence right, it lets me record my name, and it finally plays the message. I then have to punch in another key to purge the message from their system. This is quicker than a two-minute personal phone call?

It turns out my chloresterol numbers were excellent. But I doubt this will stop my mother from giving me grief about my low-carb diet.

I didn’t do too badly at the dentist’s office, either. I have one crown repair but no cavities. Taylor, however, did not fare as well. “Remember how adorable Taylor is,” the hygentist told me before giving me his results.

Finally, there were my two appointments with an audiologist. This resulted in finding out I am extremely sensitive to loud noises (duh!) and that I should stop using Q-tips. Oh, and as for my original complaint of being unable to hear well in crowded social situations, I was advised I should just get better at reading lips. Isn’t modern medicine wonderful?

The Good Life

I am enjoying telling people I came to Phoenix to escape the heat.

But it does feels substantially cooler here than in Abu Dhabi. And that's just one of the many things I'm enjoying about being back. Here's some more:


1. Low cost state-to-state long distance. I can call anybody in the continental U.S. for practically nothing. My AT&T card gives me more than 200 minutes if I use it to call my mother in Oklahoma. I only get 11 minutes if I dial Larry in the U.A.E.

2. Drivers almost always act in ways I can predict. They stay in their lanes. Not one person has suddenly turned left from the far right hand lane in front of me.

3. There are sales ALL the time, not just for three weeks out the year.

4. When babies and toddlers fuss, their parents try to calm them down. Sometimes they even take them away so they don't disturb you.

5. The roses have scents. I don't know what they did to knock that out of roses in the U.A.E.

6. Tex-Mex, New Mexico Mexican food, Mexico City Mexican food; It's all yummy.

7. Ice tea, not made from instant, and served everywhere ice cold in bucket-size glasses with free refills.

8. Dazzling Arizona sunsets.


9. My friends, bless them, are still holding a place open for me, despite my having been gone three years.

Meagan's Mom

I was walking back to my car at Kierland Commons in Scottsdale when I passed a store called Chicos. I'd never shopped there before, but two things in the window drew my attention. First, was a leopard-print wrap shirt. Second, was a sign that said, "Up to 65% off."

Lured by such irresistable draws, I entered and was greeted by a friendly saleswoman. After discussing the store's sizing, she asked if I wanted to be added to their mailing list. I declined, telling her I lived overseas. She asked. "Where?"

I replied, "Abu Dhabi," and awaited the inevitable follow-up questions. I'm not saying Americans are bad at geogrpahy, but yesterday someone asked me how I liked living in Europe.

The saleswoman, however, seemed to know all about Abu Dhabi. It turns out, her co-worker's daughter lives there. She told me the daughter was studying for her Ph.D. and was married to a military man. She was describing my friend, Meagan. Ten days ago, Meagan and I had coffee at our neighborhood Starbucks in Abu Dhabi. Now, half a world away, I've randomly walked into the boutique where her mother works.

What I really hate is that whenever stuff like this happens (and it happens surprisingly often), that Disneyland song, "It's a Small World" gets stuck in my head.

Meagan's mother wasn't working that day, but I'll probably meet her in September on the other side of the planet when she'll be visiting her daughter.

Back in the USA

After 30 hours of airports and planes, we are finally back in the U.S.A.

We did not get off to a good start. As our flight from Abu Dhabi to New York taxied out, I saw a four year old boy running up and down the aisles. His nanny either didn't understood that he was not going to be allowed to run around during take-off or didn't have the authority to discipline him. His mother was secluded in first class. Finally, three flight attendants swooped in but the kid threw a fit when told to take his assigned seat. He refused to budge until someone traded seats with him so he could sit in the bulk head.

Our flight left at 2 a.m. so Tay and I slept though the first meal service. When we woke up four hours later, all the flight attendants had disappeared for the remainder of the flight. I had to keep going to the back of plane to track them down for some water.

Upon landing in New York, immigration would not let us deplane until we had completed all our landing forms. But Etihad only had forms for first class passengers. The rest of us, now all loaded up to go and standing in the aisles after the 13 hour flight, had to push our way to the front of the plane to get the documents, fill them out and then show them to the waiting officials.

With the advantage of being close to the front AND only having one form to fill out, Taylor and I were some of the first coach passengers off.

We had no problems at customs despite the fact Taylor had a one-way ticket from the Middle East. I guess most terrorists don't have blue eyes and bring their mother along. From JFK we flew to Dallas and then caught a flight to Phoenix.

I picked up the rental car and drove to our rental condo. I was proud of the fact we were able to locate the complex, open the entrance gate with the code, find the correct building, input the bulding entry code to get in, find the elevator, input the correct elevator code to get to our "restricted" floor and then find the key the realtor had hidden somewhere.

I don't know why this place has THREE security levels before you reach the outside of my front door. You'd think we were living in South Africa rather than staid, safe Scottsdale.

We ate Taco Bell tacos for dinner and watched TV. We stayed up until 10 p.m. and fell asleep instantly. It's good to be here.

All's Quiet on the Front

A friend of mine mentioned that her husband, who works at an Abu Dhabi medical center, had his disability insurance skyrocket. When she called the company to find out why, they told her it was because they live in a “war zone.”

A war zone? They live in a lovely high-rise apartment on the Corniche.

It’s hard to think of Abu Dhabi as a war zone. Okay, in some circles (not mine), there may be tussles among ladies in high-end department stores over the latest must-have designer handbags. But that shouldn’t send insurance rates flying.

As for being blown up, that’s far more likely to happen in Great Britain than in the U.A.E. I wonder if people in London are facing increased disability insurance charges.

Almost all violent deaths in the U.A.E. are the result of automobile accidents, the leading cause of death in the country. To really reduce the risk of being disabled in this “war zone,” people should cross the street only at the crosswalk and to buckle up when in a vehicle. (The latter is difficult, as most taxis do not have seatbelts in the backseat.)

But I bet the insurance company is more concerned with the perceived dangers than the actual dangers. This is because the U.A.E. is, globally at least, in a bad neighborhood. As part of the Middle East, we are within spitting distance of plenty of war zones, even if you see absolutely no evidence of it in this rich, economically thriving country.

I wish everyone’s war zone was as peaceful as this.

Photo: The Abu Dhabi Corniche.

Good-Bye Dubai

Dubai Day Four

At checkout, I was presented with a mini bar bill for $150.

“Larry, did you take anything from the mini-bar while we were here?” I asked.

“Two beers,” he said.

I turned to the desk clerk, “That’s pretty expensive for two beers. Can I see a breakdown?”

It turned out we were charged for two beers—plus one vodka, one scotch, one bottle of white wine and one bottle of champagne. “My husband only had two beers,” I said. The clerk then tried to pin it on Taylor!

“When were these charges incurred?” I asked. The clerk pulled up the computer record. Everything but the beer was taken BEFORE we checked in. I declined to pay for the alcohol consumed by the previous guests and the clerk struck it from our bill.

We stopped at the Mall of the Emirates on the way out of town to get something to eat and visit Barnes and Noble. I was quite excited when Barnes and Noble opened a few months back even though they don’t accept my Barnes and Noble discount card. I didn’t buy anything as I am still working my way through an English translation of Palace Walk, a Mitchner-like family saga which was the first Arabic novel.

A few more hours on the highway and we were home. Dubai is a fun place to visit, but with that traffic, I’m awfully glad I live in Abu Dhabi.

Photo: With a backdrop of the Burj Al Arab, Taylor and Larry and Taylor bid salam to Dubai. The photo is a bit fuzzy as my camera lense fogged up from the humidity.

The Brunch Bunch

Photos: We do brunch.

Dubai Day Three

According to my guidebooks, the Fairmont had one of the best Friday brunches in town. I tried to get a reservation when we checked in on Wednesday, but brunch is so popular, they had to wait before being able to confirm us.

In the U.A.E., brunch is never served before noon, which gave Larry and me time to workout at the hotel gym. Maybe that would help justify the huge feast ahead.

Brunch was held at the hotel’s award-winning restaurant Spectrum. Spectrum has nine different open kitchens where a variety of cuisine was cooked to order. We were seated near the Japanese kitchen where sushi chefs were hard at work, along with a guy manning the teppanyake grill.

Before getting started, we surveyed the other eight kitchens which covered Indian, European, Chinese, and Arabic cuisine. They also had a fresh seafood section and a section which offered the most elaborate desserts I had ever seen.

Resisting the urge to start with dessert, I wandered back to the Japanese kitchen and joined my husband loading up on their high quality sashimi. Actually, although the brunch was expensive, I think we got our money’s worth just with the sashimi and free-flowing Moet Chandon alone.

I decided I didn’t want to waste any valuable room in my stomach on ordinary things. No waffles, omelets or duchess potatoes for me! I was eating truffle pate and grilled lobster. But I made an exception for the shrimp tempura after trying a bite of Taylor’s. It was yummy.

Larry zoned in on the seafood section, coming back to the table with a plate so full, Taylor described it as having “the entire cast of Saving Nemo.” Was Nemo heavy on raw oysters?

Larry moved on to the dim sum while I had a bit of tandori and made-to-order garlic naan. My India food was just okay but Larry’s dim sum rated his seal of approval.

We saved just enough room for dessert. We did a thorough job here, eating a few bites of a lot of different things. Taylor started with strawberries dipped in the chocolate fountain and moved to the Hagan Daas ice cream. I selected a pistachio/sour cherry pudding, a chocolate raspberry tart and crème brulee. While the brulee was nice I was appalled that someone with a heavy had had been turned lose with the blow torch. The caramelized sugar was burned. I HATE when that happens!

Larry’s chosen desserts were the prettiest. These included something in a white chocolate “bag” and a mango pudding with an elaborate chocolate butterfly perched on the rim.

Completely stuffed. I was then surprised to be given a box of chocolates on my way out. “Did you think I didn’t get enough to eat?” I joked. I got a blank look in response from the staffer. They also presented me with a hand written thank you note addressed to Mrs. Case, thanking me for dining with them and for being a President’s club member.

We decided we had just enough energy to lounge by the pool. I was surprised to see a number of young women concerned with modesty who were swimming in shorts.

That evening, we went to the Madinat Jumeriah Shopping center. This is an indoor shopping center built to resemble an Arabic town—only it’s filled with expensive stores. We saw some of the same kind of handicrafts and antiques we’d seen a few days before at the Blue Souq but with prices that were four times higher.

Astounded to actually be hungry again, we ate a light late supper at one of the cafes and headed back to the hotel.

Photo above: Madinat Jumeriah.

Photo right by Taylor Perkins: Outside Madinat Jumeriah.