in my search for a place in Dubai, I came across this ad for a labor camp:
Date: Monday, May 12, 2008
Category:
Region: (al quoz)
Description: Labour Camp al quoz
32 Toilets
32 Shower
01 Kitchen
01 Dinning Hall
Rent Dhs. 4700 (about $1,300)
Possession
5% Security deposit
5% Agency fees.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Thursday, June 7, 2007
marhaba from damascus
It's Friday afternoon in Damascus and most things are closed, but I'm hanging out in a big cafe that seems to be a hideaway for the cool kids - there's free wireless, plenty of shisha in the air, and Sean Paul coming from the speakers. I just ran into a guy I recognized from Yale, small world as always. I've been having a great time so far and insha'allah I think I'm going to learn lots of Arabic and enjoy life here.
Damascus is a a good place for walking and my housing search gave me an incentive to get to know the central areas of the city quickly. I wore out my feet by walking from 6:30AM (thanks, jetlag) until 11PM on my second day (minus breaks for tea, Turkish coffee, and various juices with real estate agents and landlords). Damascus is both livelier and more cosmopolitan than I anticipated; it helps that I set the bar so low by spending last summer in Yemen.
I started off by seeing rooms for rent with families in the old city with the help of a local from my Arabic school. I'd expected that this might be a good option, but after seeing plenty of small, dark rooms featuring foam mattresses that had known many of my sweaty Arabic-studying predecessors, I decided to do some searching on my own. After inflicting my broken Arabic on shop owners and the old men who congregate on corners, I saw some much nicer places. The old city is lovely, but it is also very used to tourists and seems like the kind of place where the roles of both sides (local/tourist) are entrenched, for good and bad I suppose. I lived in the very beautiful and much less touristy old city of Sana'a last summer, so I decided to try something different.
I didn't know how to go about finding an apartment and I ended up trying lots of things – including accosting an American woman I spotted on the street (blond, wearing shorts and a t-shirt…which seems sort of okay in the fancy embassy neighborhood she was in). No good leads there, but I did find some good options through a real estate agent. I'll skip over the details of how, in order to see two apartments, I spent more than 4 hours sitting around drinking tea and chatting with him and all of the other characters that passed through
his office. My vocab has expanded to include some dirty words. I think I might start hanging out there...seriously.
I settled on a tiny studio in a lovely neighborhood called Muhajarin on a hill overlooking the city. The family who owns my place lives in a big, lovely apartment next door and has had me over twice during my 24 hours there, so I hope to have some of the benefits of living with
a family along with luxuries like privacy and my own kitchen. I have a slice of a view of the city from my window and it's a short walk downhill to shops and the minibuses that will take you all around the city for a few cents. The area is really pretty - mainly small apartment buildings divided up by tiny alleys- and the hills are so steep that many of the sidewalks have steps built into them.
When I took my first walk around to explore the neighborhood, one thought was on repeat: I want to eat that. There were mounds of chickpeas about to become falafel and hummus, 20 cent pita-sized pizzas, cherries in neatly arranged piles, little snack shops that carry all varieties of nuts (including the cornnut - I'd always thought they originated in a warehouse in Jersey or something; i guess that could still be the case, but they're ubiquitous and available by
the kilo here), as well as people wheeling around other delicious looking things like corn on the cob.
Damascus is a a good place for walking and my housing search gave me an incentive to get to know the central areas of the city quickly. I wore out my feet by walking from 6:30AM (thanks, jetlag) until 11PM on my second day (minus breaks for tea, Turkish coffee, and various juices with real estate agents and landlords). Damascus is both livelier and more cosmopolitan than I anticipated; it helps that I set the bar so low by spending last summer in Yemen.
I started off by seeing rooms for rent with families in the old city with the help of a local from my Arabic school. I'd expected that this might be a good option, but after seeing plenty of small, dark rooms featuring foam mattresses that had known many of my sweaty Arabic-studying predecessors, I decided to do some searching on my own. After inflicting my broken Arabic on shop owners and the old men who congregate on corners, I saw some much nicer places. The old city is lovely, but it is also very used to tourists and seems like the kind of place where the roles of both sides (local/tourist) are entrenched, for good and bad I suppose. I lived in the very beautiful and much less touristy old city of Sana'a last summer, so I decided to try something different.
I didn't know how to go about finding an apartment and I ended up trying lots of things – including accosting an American woman I spotted on the street (blond, wearing shorts and a t-shirt…which seems sort of okay in the fancy embassy neighborhood she was in). No good leads there, but I did find some good options through a real estate agent. I'll skip over the details of how, in order to see two apartments, I spent more than 4 hours sitting around drinking tea and chatting with him and all of the other characters that passed through
his office. My vocab has expanded to include some dirty words. I think I might start hanging out there...seriously.
I settled on a tiny studio in a lovely neighborhood called Muhajarin on a hill overlooking the city. The family who owns my place lives in a big, lovely apartment next door and has had me over twice during my 24 hours there, so I hope to have some of the benefits of living with
a family along with luxuries like privacy and my own kitchen. I have a slice of a view of the city from my window and it's a short walk downhill to shops and the minibuses that will take you all around the city for a few cents. The area is really pretty - mainly small apartment buildings divided up by tiny alleys- and the hills are so steep that many of the sidewalks have steps built into them.
When I took my first walk around to explore the neighborhood, one thought was on repeat: I want to eat that. There were mounds of chickpeas about to become falafel and hummus, 20 cent pita-sized pizzas, cherries in neatly arranged piles, little snack shops that carry all varieties of nuts (including the cornnut - I'd always thought they originated in a warehouse in Jersey or something; i guess that could still be the case, but they're ubiquitous and available by
the kilo here), as well as people wheeling around other delicious looking things like corn on the cob.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Ahlan to Sana'a
Marhaba from Yemen, where the tops of motorcycles and dashboards of cars are required to be adorned with a big ass piece of animal fur (whereas rear view mirrors and brakes are optional). Let there be no doubt, this looks sexy.
And as you have heard, tourists are sometimes kidnapped in Yemen. Here is what the state department forgot to tell you:
And as you have heard, tourists are sometimes kidnapped in Yemen. Here is what the state department forgot to tell you:
Once upon a time during the last two years, some Westerners were kidnapped by a Yemeni tribe. A member of the tribe had heard that Westerners needed to consume alcohol daily or they would die. When he told this to the leader of the tribe, a group was dispatched to the Taj Hotel in Sana'a to procure 30 cases of beer! Beer is rare here, costs around $6 per can and is only available at fancy hotels (and
this random Chinese "restaurant," which may or may not serve food). Anyway, I'm trying to think of ways I might increase my appeal with kidnappers.
Sometimes the crowded, life-filled streets of Sana'a remind me of India, but that similarity is based on superficial things like the noise, pollution, the stares I get, and the ridiculous range of things for sale on the streets (from spiced potato sandwiches to scandalous underwear -- both dispensed from wheelbarrows).
Nearly all Yemeni women wear abayas and burqas. Up until last week, when I was lucky enough to be invited to a local wedding (men and women have separate events and the bride and groom meet for the first time at the end), the only Yemeni woman whose face I'd seen was that of my teacher. I'm wearing kurthas over my normal clothes (fulfilling my life long dream of becoming a drag king). Most of the Western women at my school wear abayas and cover their hair. I'm not doing this - I don't think it is necessary to do so to be respectful of local norms (or to be as respectful as I care to be) and I am happy to provide another example of what is possible for women in public life.
I'm living in a really fantastic tower house in the old city. It's an oooooooold building, but recently renovated by some expat with design flair. I have a living room filled with windows overlooking a huge garden (more like a farm) and beyond that, the old city is visible in every direction. The apartment has really amazing details, like ancient wood shutters, the traditional Yemeni stained glass designs above all of the windows, and these crazy really steep
and totally uneven stairs. The key to the front door is about 6 inches long and the key to another door is like a big wooden hairbrush. The first two levels of the house contain things like the stable and a room with big vats for grain storage. It's my very own mini-castle. There are nightly power outages, during which time I often go out on to the balcony with an oil lantern and read.
The old city itself is pretty amazing. There are these narrow winding stone roads - most too narrow for cars - and it is a total maze. I'm always getting lost, but always eventually stumble upon my quarter. There are still camel operated mills here - a blindfolded camel walks in circles all day to power the mill all the while thinking that he is roaming the deserts of Arabia.
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