Life in the Fasting Lane

The holy month of Ramadan has started here. This is a very significant time for Muslims, on both a religious and cultural basis. But as an outsider, I tend to think of Ramadan as “Upside Down Month.”

For the entire month, Muslims abstain from eating, chewing gum, drinking (even water), and smoking during daylight hours. And this is easier to do if you are asleep. So people sleep more during the day and are awake more at night. Offices and schools, even Western-based ones, abbreviate their hours to accommodate sleeping-in and late afternoon naps. The American School, for example is open 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. during Ramadan.

Don’t try to pick up your morning latte at Starbucks. They are closed during daylight hours, along with almost every venue that sells food and drink. (Grocery stores are an exception.) This is actually not that big of a deal as even non-Muslims must resfrain from eating and drinking in public during daylight hours. And that includes drinking water at the gym.

I know that food venues are closed during the day. But it’s the other businesses and services that confuse me. Most of them have some daytime hours, but they vary from business to business. The only time I KNOW stores will be open are at 9 p.m. which is when we usually are eating dinner.

At sundown, when everyone is inside breaking their fasts with family and friends, the city is like a ghost town. On the other hand, the streets are alive with people out and about at 2 a.m.

I enjoy living overseas in part because of the opportunity to explore cultural differences. So until mid-October: Ramadan Kareem (Happy Ramadan).

Puppy Dog Tales

Expat wives are returning to Abu Dhabi from their summers abroad and activities are ramping up again. Newcomers are hitting the coffee morning circuits to make contacts. This year, I am one of the experienced Abu Dhabi expat wives. I have become the kind of woman I tried to meet last year.

Want to know how much to tip the grocery guys? Where to buy canned black beans? What to do with out-of-town houseguests? What places still serve coffee during Ramadan? You can ask me. Here’s my best tip for dealing with the heat here: Stay inside from 1 to 4 p.m. (There’s a reason things are traditionally closed every afternoon.)

This fall also marks my debut as an empty-nester. To compensate, I have deliberately escalated my volunteer activities. I figured this was better than Taylor’s suggestion that Larry get me a puppy.

Last week was the American Women’s Network annual Welcome Back Dinner. Anne, the AWN President, thanked me for organizing the evening. She then introduced Joan, the AWN Newcomers Chairman. Joan announced the Newcomer’s Get-together which would be hosted by… me.

After that, Anne introduced Amanda for an update on the AWN book club. Amanda stated that I was taking over as the book club coordinator and the first meeting was to be held at my apartment. At this point, I jumped in, “Look, my youngest just left for college!”

Maybe I ought to look into that puppy thing, after all.

Chemistry Lesson

Last week I went to a baby shower. While the recipient might have had a need for bibs or sockies or receiving blankets, what she got were cute-as-a-button but impractical dressy baby outfits.

This is one of the hazards of having older friends. We walk right by those useful sleepers to purchase the frilliest of clothes. (And this is for a boy.) But being older does offer one great advantage: We’ve mastered the pregnancy horror story chemical.

You see, after giving birth, there’s some kind of a chemical residue in your brain. This chemical lies dormant until you make contact a pregnant woman. Then the chemical activates, compelling you to tell her all the gritty details of your birthing experiences.

You KNOW you shouldn’t be talking about how your labor lasted 36 hours to this woman who is eight months pregnant, but somehow you can’t help yourself. And the more horrible your experience, the stronger the compulsion. It takes years of practice to control this but I finally can keep my pre-eclampsia to myself.

But this chemical residue isn’t unique to childbirth. I just found out that it exists after other scary and difficult experiences, like traveling through London Heathrow Airport.

I mentioned at a dinner party that my Thanksgiving trip was routed through Heathrow and was SWAMPED with horror stories. They ranged from needing three hours to change planes to luggage that was lost for weeks. These people KNEW they shouldn’t be telling me these stories--my ticket was booked--but they couldn’t help themselves.

It’s that chemical residue and it’s hard to resist.

Travels with My Suitcase

Packing up for my return trip to Abu Dhabi was no small task. I had stocked the kitchen in our Scottsdale condo, thinking I would actually cook. Unfortunately, I quickly adopted Taylor’s philosophy of “Why cook when there’s Taco Bell?” On my way to the airport, I dropped off about six bags of groceries to Alec.

I also left him a sack with four pair of shoes I couldn’t fit in my luggage. It wasn’t my fault I bought so many pairs. There was a 75% off sale at the Bass Outlet.

That left me with just four suitcases: my large roller bag, my large duffle, my roller briefcase and my carry-on duffle. In Phoenix, the rental car return is located way west of the airport, about halfway to San Diego, I think. Schlepping all my luggage from the rental car return on one floor across the facility to the airport shuttle bus on another floor was an exercise in both weight lifting and endurance. It’s a good thing I’ve been working out.

At the airport, I threw all my bags off the shuttle onto the sidewalk and hailed a porter. After struggling to load everything on his cart, he wheeled my load over to be weighed. Like me in the U.S, my roller bag had put on a few extra pounds. It weighed in at a whopping 73 pounds, a $50 overweight fee. If I didn’t want to pay however, the porter had a proposition: If I helped him out (nudge, nudge, wink, wink), he’d help me out.

I suddenly flashed back to nine months ago. I was at another airport with another overweight bag on the other side of the world. I’d heard the same thing from the airline check-in clerk in Cambodia. There, I slipped the clerk a “bribe” concealed in my passport. Today, I just handed the porter a generous “tip.” In both cases, my bags were instantly checked with no additional fees.

I long to be the woman who travels just a carry-on. But as long as I live overseas where I have to import my own Tums, copper cleaner, Prescriptives makeup and clearance sale Talbots and Ann Taylor clothes, that won’t be happening anytime soon.