Wednesday 31 October 2012

Oddities and Observations

"Is it just me or is this weird?"  That's what I'm often asking myself these days.
I have definitely stepped into another world when I moved from the Occident to the Orient.  Not only the weather required some getting used to - I've been here very nearly 3 months now and have not experienced a single drop of rain, unheard of in Germany or the UK - but also various other customs.


(1)  In Abu Dhabi most streets have at least 2 to 3 names, for example the main road from my home on Al Reem Island to work is officially called Hazaa Bin Zayed the First Street, but is also registered as 11th Street, also commonly referred to as Defense Road.  Obviously this confuses anyone, not just newcomers like me but taxi-drivers, couriers and delivery-men alike.  Even less helpful is the sheer lack of any house-numbers.  This means you always need to give some kind of landmark (e.g. opposite Al Wahda Mall, next to Marks & Spencer, in the same building as Jones The Grocer etc).  Our temporary office is in Al Odaid Tower, a name no-one knows, and directing someone there is easiest giving the name on the big company sign attached to the building.  Right, here's my predicament:  the company's name is Al Wifaq.  Try saying it to a taxi driver without blushing, I always kind of mumble the "faq"-bit and hope he still understands whilst I point and say "the blue sign, the blue sign on the tall brown building" (remember, Abu Dhabi is the city made of Fifty Shades of Beige)  Here's proof that I'm not making this up


(2)  There are no taxi ranks to speak of in Abu Dhabi, so taxis keep roaming around (unfortunately not so much on Al Reem Island where I live) and are seldom stationary.  This is surely a city built for cars, pavements are rare and very crooked and usually only found in "central" Abu Dhabi.  I've always been an avid walker and would've rather walked for 30 minutes in any kind of weather than say going down several flights of stairs and squeezing onto over-crowded stuffy tube trains.  However, walking or running home the 5km is not an option without pavements or even cycle routes plus totally and utterly completely mental drivers on these roads, to call it reckless speeding would simply be an understatement, too many nationalities and ways of driving don't mix well.  So, I try to walk to the nearest mall at lunchtime or even towards home in the evening to stretch my legs.  Yet, these leisurely strolls are frequently disturbed because taxi-drivers seem incredulous that any person would actually chose to make use of their legs.  It's not that I look around with a helpless look on my face or stand on the kerb frantically waving my arms about trying to flag down a cab, no, I'm minding my own business and am walking straight ahead.  Nevertheless, some taxi-drivers see me walking and assume I am in dire need of their service, so they honk their horn and pull up beside me.  I have already given up indicating that I am not interested in a taxi-ride and just keep striding on ignoring them.  I just mutter under my breath "where are you when I actually do need a cab getting anywhere from my home?"  tsk


(3)  I am still oh-so-very-German in the sense of bringing my sturdy reusable bag when grocery shopping instead of using the supermarket's plastic carrier bags.  So you can imagine the little battle I regularly have to fight with those bag-packer-helpers at the registers.  Despite saying that I do have a bag, they happily start packing away my shopping into the plastic carrier bags.  But this packing is not even done economically or with any sense.  You could find the washing powder on top of the nectarines or, if you are "blessed" with a generous helper, you get one carrier bag per item, which makes me wonder whether this chap gets a kick-back from the company providing the supermarket with the carrier bags.  Yet, I will continue to bring my own bag for grocery shopping to make my small contribution to saving the planet and will shoo Mr. Shopping-Packer elsewhere.

(4)  One thing I have come to really appreciate:  delivery- and maintenance-men will take off their shoes before they enter your flat.  this is a normal action and they don't even seem to think twice about it.  Only once, when my shipping from London was delivered, they walked into the flat with their shoes (quite understandable as they were still unloading the lorry) and I could see the dirty shoe-prints clearly marked on my white floor-tiles.  I didn't like that!  Maybe this socked/barefooted apartment-access is a custom other countries' handymen could adopt as well?

I'm sure there will be more than these 4 things I'll find noteworthy to point out as being different.  Keep your eyes peeled...

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