The Blog YOU Care About

The Encounter with Yet Another Soul-less One

2012-01-18T14:00:00.000+04:00

I know I haven't written anything since we went on vacation. It's been a little over two weeks since we came home; things have been quite chaotic around the apartment, what with the ex-maid who might or might not have a party in our apartment during our absence, or cooked for a thousand people using our kitchen supplies - we'll never know. Oh, and she un-potty trained our dogs as well.

Like I said, things have been a bit chaotic and hopefully everything goes back on track soon and so will my blog. I have quite a number of things lined up that you will probably find interesting.

Today, I just want to write a quick rant about the construction worker situation around our building. I won't say where these people are from; but let's just say they are definitely from not-so-rich countries. However, regardless of ones background, everyone has common sense. Or so I thought.

Imagine this; the dogs were out doing their business in front of our apartment building (where some construction is going on, but the area is fairly clean and safe) when Jester got spooked by a certain pajama-like-wearing worker who kept staring at us. This guy wasn't anywhere close to us or I would've said something. Here's the thing about Jester; it seems that he could see into a person's soul and he could pick out the one evil dude from a cluster of 10 dudes - and wants to tear him to shreds. Anyway, Jester didn't like this pajama-wearing dude. He started barking with lifted hackles. The pajama dude walked away but Jester was already on alert mode and this got Ginger (the calmer, more submissive of the two) spooked as well and she wouldn't go potty.

So, I had to walk them to another spot. And this was where the "scene du jour" happened. A worker (with soul-less eyes) started moseying towards us. For some reason this guy immediately got Jester hyped up again. So he started barking and growling with hackles up. What does this guy do? No, nothing like you would do. He continued moseying forward, eyes unblinking, staring at the dog, isn't this one of the important lessons that parents teach their children? If you see an angry dog, do not make eye contact, do not run, and of course, everyone knows not to approach the dog! This guy kept coming closer! And at this point Jester was ready to attack. I had him on a very short leash and even I was afraid that he would turn and bite me. When this guy got within Jester's reach, he stopped moving and get this; he kept staring!

I've had enough so I started yelling at him to go away. He stared at me with his soul-less eyes, so I gestured for him to leave. After about two minutes, he finally got it and walked away, but even as he was crossing the street, he kept turning back to stare!

Of course, as this was going on; lots of barking, lots of stupidity and lots of yelling, 20-30 workers crept out from the street corners to watch - me and my doggies; the stars of the show. Now they could all go home happy because they got to watch something exciting besides staring at construction materials day in and day out.

Pesto and Cheddar Stuffed Chicken Recipe

2011-12-16T14:40:00.001+04:00

It's only two days till we leave for vacation! Destination; the beautiful island of Georgetown, Penang (Malaysia) or rather; my home.

Before we go on vacation, I always take it upon myself to use up the food in the refrigerator - leftovers need to be eaten, and everything that would spoil within the duration of our absence need to be thrown out or well... eaten!

Today, out of the things in the refrigerator, I made this;

(Eric's Special Pesto and Cheddar Stuffed Chicken with white sauce)

How I Made It:
(Recipe Serves 2)
2 chicken breasts
1-2 tbsp store bought or homemade pesto
1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese (or any cheese of your choice)
2-3 tbsp all-purpose flour (for coating chicken)
Olive oil for pan frying chicken

For the sauce (optional):
1/4 cup butter
Italian Seasoning
3 tbsp all-purpose flour
1/2 cup milk

1. Butterfly the chicken breasts and lay a sheet of plastic wrap over each half. Pound to about 1/4 inch thick with a mallet. I don't have a mallet so I used my wooden rolling pin. Works just as well - I think.

2. Spread a thin layer of pesto over the chicken. Followed by some shredded cheese. Then, starting from the wider side of the breast half, roll them up carefully. Coat each chicken roll in flour.

3. Heat olive oil in a skillet (I wouldn't use a non-stick pan for this because I found that in previous attempts, the pan does not get hot enough therefore under-cooking will occur). Pan fry each chicken until meat is no longer pink. Lay out on paper towels to absorb access oil.

4. Meanwhile, for the sauce, melt butter in a saucepan, stir in Italian seasoning. Once butter is melted and seasoning releases its aroma, whisk in flour, making sure the lumps are smoothed out. Once you have a smooth mixture, whisk in the milk. Keep whisking until thicken (or until sauce coats the back of a spoon). Season well with salt and pepper.

5. Lay out chicken rolls on dinner plates and spoon white sauce over them.

This would probably count as my first time writing out a recipe which I had just thrown together in the kitchen. Hope this works out for you.

Happy cooking!

My Kitchen Adventures

2011-12-15T13:12:00.001+04:00

Many may not know that I love to cook. In fact, I went to college to learn cooking techniques and may have picked up a few recipes along the way, like the very hearty mushroom soup which I never get tired of making.

Anyway, living with my parents for the first few years after graduating made it difficult to experiment with different cuisines. One reason being my dad has hopelessly-Chinese-taste buds and would only eat Asian food. His most "daring" venture into a non-Asian dish is any kind of pasta in a tomato based sauce - WITHOUT the Parmesan (or any kind of cheese). Once, Eric made my parents some spaghetti and meatballs and my dad drizzled soy sauce all over his pasta. Eric's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. And the other reason? Well, my mom usually cooks whatever suits the family (meaning my dad), so I grew up eating my mom's Asian dishes at home and whenever I crave the occasional pizza, or anything other than home-cooked Chinese food, I ate out.

Oh, my mother has a broken full size oven that was never fixed for about 15 years (and counting). So I sometimes baked batches of cookies at my parents' house with a toaster oven which was never used for years until my sister found it nesting among all the other unused electrical items in our storeroom - no one knew how it got there or who had bought it.

My passion for cooking really started when I got married and moved to Korea. However, there was only one major problem; Koreans don't bake (in general) therefore stove tops don't come with an oven attached. They do sell ovens separately but these were so overpriced it made it completely senseless buying one since we never intended to live in Korea permanently nor have any room in our tiny apartment's kitchen.

If you don't feel like clicking the link above, here's a picture of Eric standing in the said kitchen;

Yeah, there was NO way to fit a full size oven in there, was there? So I made do with a little toaster oven that we picked up from one of our trips to New York.

Yes, the toaster was little, but it was the little toaster that COULD! I made countless recipes in it. Yes, I had to half the recipes and often had to bake in several small batches, but everything came out just fine. I loved that oven. I would still use it as a toaster now if only it didn't need a step-down transformer to function (it uses 110 V while the voltage here is 220 V). The transformer takes up as much room as the toaster. So I tucked it away.

So here we are; from my parents' Chinese kitchen to my little toaster oven in Korea AND Oman, we arrive in Abu Dhabi where I finally have a working full size oven. I now plan to share some of My Kitchen Adventures with you.

Stay tuned for more of these;

(Pictures of dishes I've made over the years. Visit my Facebook page For more details on the name(s) of each dish.)

When There's Dog Kicking...

2011-12-14T17:14:00.000+04:00

It seems that a day cannot go by without a dog-related incident.

It was 4.30pm. A time of day where construction workers gather along street corners to catch up on how many bricks they laid that day or to compare who has had the most street-corner-gatherings that day; we would never know, would we?

Anyway, at 4.30pm today I took the doggies out for their late afternoon potty-time. There was an atypically small gathering by their usual spot. So I decided not to walk further. While Jester was circling, a group of three construction workers approached; one of them whistled to get the dogs' attention.

The dogs (and I) ignored it at first, but the worker kept whistling and then started snapping his dirty fingers. So, Jester and Ginger, being dogs, responded - they approached the whistling, finger snapping man. I didn't do much to stop them because whatever it was, the worker must have had it coming, right?

No.

The worker got startled that a dog came as he whistled and snapped his fingers. Yes! So his reaction was to bend his foot as if he was getting ready to kick Jester in the face.

(Like this, see. Except Jester isn't so small. And the other dog on the right is Ginger. She just stood there watching as all of this was happening)

So I snapped.

I started yelling "YOU KICKED MY DOG? YOU CALLED THEM, THEN YOU KICKED MY DOG?" as he ran away. Yes, the coward ran away as Jester started barking and growling at him thinking that I might have been in danger. All the gathered workers started paying attention to the scene that was being created. One of the stupid worker's friends ran after him while the third one stayed behind and tried to control the yelling woman - me. I kept yelling that I was going to call the police. The third worker then backed away too.

So, I don't get it. WHY? Why call a dog if you are afraid of it even coming near you? WHY?!

Anyway, Jester was so riled up after that that he couldn't get on with his business, so I had to walk them further. Which brings us to the second idiot of the day. On the way back, we encountered another construction worker who just stood by the street corner and stared at me - which is another thing I don't get. Okay, so you find a (wo)man attractive, so you look, not stare and creep him/her out. And again, Jester being my little hero, turned around and started barking at the man. I know this his behavior isn't one that should be praised, but in my heart I smiled a happy smile - Jester, my little hero.

The Man Who Barked

2011-12-12T13:18:00.001+04:00

Here's today's short story.

I was taking the babies to go potty outside. When the elevator doors opened, a father was inside carrying his (maybe 2 year old) daughter. I immediately said "Go ahead, we will take another one" - like I always do, but his immediate reaction was to hit the ">l<" (close) button while saying repeatedly "No, no, no.no, no..."

I guess by now I don't have to say the nationality of the father-daughter pair.

Anyway, right outside the apartment building, there they were again; father and daughter standing in the car park, the father was just watching the little girl stare at the street. Cute little girl actually. As soon as they saw us, the father picked up the girl and get this - STARTED FOLLOWING US DOWN THE STREET.

I really wouldn't mind it as much if the father is not also making (and teaching) barking sounds. I get it, maybe they don't see dogs much and he wanted to teach the girl animal sounds, but this guy followed us across the street and watched the doggies pee!! All the while barking and making mock growls. I tried my very best to ignore them.

As soon as both of them finished their business, I turned to the man, who had by then been standing only 2 feet away from us (you'd think he was afraid of dogs) and had the following friendly conversation with the man;

Me: You really shouldn't be teaching your daughter to bark at dogs. Some dogs would jump at her and hurt her. She's only a little girl

Man: Oh ok, but they are nice huh?

Me: Yes, but other dogs, I don't know *smile*

Man: Ok, thank you

So, it sounds like I have done my part in educating someone today - even though the lesson will surely be forgotten the next time the man sees a dog.

The Bottomless Pit and the Grouchy Brother

2011-12-06T09:28:00.001+04:00

My two little doggies; they're like two little children. Here's why.

Of late we've noticed that Ginger seems to be idolizing Jester. Like a younger sister who copies whatever her older brother does, she follows him from room to room, tries to play with his toys (which Jester doesn't allow) and cries when Jester takes her toys away from her.

And of course, Jester is the grouchy older brother who loves his sister dearly but would not admit it and would protect her with his life. Every time we walk them, Jester is always on the alert for street cats, cars, motorcycles, and garbage pickers who might harm his little sister; who's a little bit of a scaredy cat - which is ironic, because Ginger is bigger and stronger than Jester.

Anyway, Ginger is dubbed the "Bottomless Pit" because she would gobble up all the food in sight within a few seconds during their meals while Jester slowly and regally chews his food. Generally, unlike most dogs, food is not a major issue with Jester. Before Ginger was adopted, Jester would often skip meals altogether. With her around, he would usually eat 3/4 of the food in his bowl and leaves her some (because in his mind, his parents are mean and don't feed his sister enough, that's why she's hungry all the time). It took weeks, but we finally taught her to finish her food, then sit and wait for Jester to finish eating, then walk away from his bowl before she dives into his food.

The past two days however, I've noticed that Ginger is doing something so cute that I want to shriek and hug her so tight that I might choke her. Like I said before, she likes to copy whatever Jester does; she had been leaving a few bits of food in her bowl too (remember, she's a Bottomless Pit!)!! So she leaves the food, backs away from it, sits and waits for Jester to finish his 3/4 bowl. Then after he finishes, she gobbles up whatever they both left!

I can't honestly say that I love anything more in my life right now than these little babies.

(Ginger laying on the green blanket that is now torn to shreds and Jester snuggling on her)

The Rude Maid

2011-11-21T08:59:00.001+04:00

I had to tell off a maid who is working in our building today. Yes HAD to. I'm not proud of it but I would be lying if I said I didn't draw some satisfaction from giving her an earful.

Here's why.

First of all, I don't get why a large number of people think that elevators would arrive sooner if they hit both the "Up" and "Down" buttons at the same time. Yes, the elevator would come sooner, but then it would take you the wrong direction, so why do that? Just hit the right button and wait! Anyway, both buttons were already hit when the doggies and I came into the apartment lobby yesterday.

We were going up, so when the doors to the elevator which was going down opened, we continued waiting. Then, out of nowhere (well, from outside really), the maid ran into the lobby, pushed past us, and took the elevator (which was going up) that just arrived. And because she pushed past us and startled the dogs a little, Ginger got close enough to sniff her clothes as she was brushing past us. She gave me a look with the utmost annoyance as the elevator doors closed. I get it, she didn't want to be in the elevator with the dogs (and hates dogs - and therefore hates humans), but;
a) she has to wait her turn and
b) I would have let her have it first if she hadn't pushed past us

I was not happy.

I'm not being petty. We treat everyone in the building with respect, be it they are residents or their help. I personally do not agree with the way some of the domestic helpers are being treated here and I want to do my part in treating people like human beings. Both Eric and I have held doors opened for this particular maid even though she has never said Thank You. Many times after we held the building doors open for her, she would march past us and straight into an elevator. I've even smiled at her several times but only gotten either blank expressions or scowls back.

I would look past the rudeness (she probably never had a proper upbringing) if not for the pushing.

I saw her again this morning as I was heading into the lobby.

Me: Hey, listen, I didn't like it when you RAN in from outside and PUSH past us and RAN into the elevator yesterday. They're shared elevators, you can't just run in and push past people, you have to wait. What is wrong with you?

The Maid: *indignant look* I didn't run

Me: Ok, then you can't just WALK in from outside and PUSH past people and WALK into the elevator like that. We were here first, you have to wait your turn.

The Maid: *continues staring at me*

Me: You better not do that again, I don't like that

She didn't answer.

I think I was being very polite about it. I didn't even call her a b*tch. I only did that in my head.

How else should I have handled this? I shouldn't get pushed aside by a domestic helper!

The Mysterious Fire

2011-11-20T10:21:00.001+04:00

You know how if there's a fire, the fire alarm goes off and everyone runs out of the building and gather at an empty space nearby until further instructions?

Well here in the Middle East, that might not always be the case.

There was a fire in our building last Tuesday and we didn't even know about it. At about 6.15pm, as usual, the doggies were hanging out in Eric's study where there's a sofa/bed near the window; which happens to be their favorite spot to sit (or rather, stand on the hind legs) and look out the window. As their "mom", I would usually join them and ask "What are you looking at? What are the workers doing?". They usually lose interest after a while, get off, run around a bit and then jump back up for another look. That day they were staring out the window for a really long time. So, I got curious and went to look too.

That's when I saw about two firetrucks (and a little station wagon) lined up across the street. Then a few moments later a third one pulled up.

(Fire trucks across the street from our building)

(The third fire truck)

But what struck me as strange was that the firemen (and street spectators) were just standing there, staring up at our building.

(Firemen starting to leave the scene. Moments ago, they were all staring up at our building)

(This is a favorite "hang out" spot for construction workers, the fire surely provided some entertainment. Oh, this is also Jester and Ginger's favorite pee-pee-doo-doo spot. Hmm...)

No one was spraying any water and of course, no ringing fire alarm. I immediately thought maybe someone fell off the building or committed suicide. Wouldn't you think that? It's the only logical explanation! So I grabbed Eric and we both headed downstairs to ask the watchmen what was going on.

Then, we were greeted by smoke in the hallway;

Okay, the smoke was faint and it doesn't really show in this picture. There was however a strong burned smell. The elevators seemed to be working and we are on the 1st Floor so we hopped into one.

When we got down to the lobby, there were firemen (just) standing around; chatting with each other. We asked the first one we saw if there was a fire, he said "Yes, but only small one, no problem". Really? There was a fire in the building - an apartment building and no one was evacuated? Great!

We went out to the streets and joined a few of our neighbors, it turned out that the fire was on the 10th floor, it was indeed a small one and it had been put out. No one was hurt.

However, what concerns me is that;

a) there was a fire in the building and we didn't know about it

b) no one hit the fire alarm - what if the fire grew and we only knew about it when we saw smoke in the apartment and it was too late?

c) if it was really just small fire, why were there at least 20-30 firemen and three firetrucks (and a small station wagon)?

Anyway, we spoke to the watchmen later that night and were told that;

a) the fire alarm never went off because they turned it off

b) why? Because people were smoking in the hallways and fire escapes and it could trigger the fire alarm all the time

c) they would turn on the fire alarm the next morning

d) no one should smoke in the hallways and fire escapes and people should not even burn incense in their own apartments because the fire alarm system is VERY sensitive and somehow smoke will seep out from under closed doors and trigger it

I've since then burned a huge amount of incense in the house and it hasn't triggered the fire alarm - YET.

Oh, it seemed that a news crew came that day after the fire was put out, but since we don't watch local TV, we'll never know if we were on the news.

(Another station wagon - belonging to the news crew)

Thus ends another unexplained story from the Middle East. Enjoy!

Neatness is your Friend

2011-11-13T11:26:00.001+04:00

Ever had to play wire maze with your cables? Y'know, needing to unplug something from the power source but because all your computer wires are entwined together in an impossible knot, you have to grab a random one and follow it back to the source? Kinda like when we were kids and had to connect the dots with a crayon to help the rabbit to its carrot (or a mouse to its cheese). Yeah, like that.

Well, I never had this problem because when I set up my computer/laptop myself, I make sure to twist/zip tie the cables individually according to length so that they don't dangle and/or tangle themselves. I don't understand why they don't teach this in school. It's so convenient, neat, and say, if there's a fire and you need to save your beloved keyboard (or mouse), you know exactly which cable to pluck!

Anyway, Eric set up my desktop computer when we moved here, and let's just say that he never learned how to tie-up cables in school. For weeks (okay, I procrastinated!) I see the giant knot of wires dangling from behind my work desk and for weeks I'd say "today I need to tie those up", but every time I wanted to get into it, I panic just a little because the knot is GIANT and every cable is curled around another. Once my webcam stopped working and needed to be unplugged and plugged in again. I couldn't find which USB port its cable led to, so I got very angry, ran away from the computer and took a nap with the doggies. What if I didn't have doggies?!

I love my husband but I don't know how he sleeps at night!

This morning, I realized that I couldn't concentrate on my Zuma Blitz game on Facebook because the nagging at the back of my head gets louder every day that I don't get those wires in check.

So I got to work. I turned the computer off, crawled under my table, played wire maze and helped each rabbit find its carrot - without crossing into another rabbit's path.

Oh, and of course, after organizing the cables, I went a step further and made little labels for each of them; because, like I said, if there's a fire, I could easily save my portable drive loaded with precious pictures, music, movies, etc.

To make labels;

1. In intelligible writing (or print), name wires on a piece of paper

2. Cut paper into desired size(s) - (I used graph paper so that every piece is the same height)

3. Wrap labels in clear tape (or laminate if desired)

4. Attach to cables. Voila! Done!

And always remember; dear readers, organizing is fun!!

Kitchen Joy

2011-11-07T09:07:00.000+04:00

An egg tray is something you'd never think you'd need, but once you get one, you won't know why in the world you never owned one before - putting one of these in your refrigerator instantly makes it classier; or at least the way I see it.

(Porcelain Egg Tray from ©Lakeland)

After hearing about this "kitchenware" store in one of the new malls here in Abu Dhabi from several friends; and an invitation to share a taxi with one of our neighbors to the mall, we headed to Mushrif Mall yesterday. It was Eid, and the place wasn't at all crowded (malls here are usually crowded), in fact, in some of the sections were quite empty. I love Fridays and holidays around this part of the world, on Fridays, the workers get a day off from the construction sites around our apartment and I suppose the residents either chill at home or crowd the malls; either way, the streets are empty and I always call it "ghost town". Sometimes a Styrofoam box/piece would roll along like how tumbleweeds do in the ol' towns.

Anyway, one will find most of the baking necessities in the supermarkets here, however, some items are hard to come by and some are non-existent. One of the non-existent items are Madeleine trays. Since leaving mine is Korea when we moved, I've been searching everywhere for these. I've always taken a peek at baking aisles "just to check" if they restocked. Of course, they couldn't restock something that they didn't order. Lakeland's not only had the trays, they are great quality ones! And to quote their website is, "a heavy duty construction that will not twist or warp, with a double layer of durable Quantum 2 non-stick to see you through years of home baking"

(The tray I got. Original website here)

As soon as we got home, I baked a batch of these;

The tray worked extremely well; why? Because I forgot to butter and flour the tray before spooning the batter in and nothing happened! I did the same thing once in Korea with my tin tray and the whole batch was ruined. Luckily that tray was stupid and only had five molds. I mean, why FIVE? Even if people were making half a dozen, it would have to be six!

I got a few other little things from the store because everything was irresistible. There will be a lot of cooking and baking this week; specifically; hosting two dinner parties. I better get to work.

Till next time!

Unfathomable Stupidity

2011-10-15T22:35:00.000+04:00

I've been walking our two dogs the past couple of weeks and I must say that it wasn't easy. Yes, we recently adopted our second shelter dog and her name is Ginger. Anyway, it wasn't that walking Jester and Ginger is hard, it's the dealing with the blue collar workers that is the difficult part.

The area in which we live is still under development. As it is, we are surrounded by apartments and office buildings, but more of these are still being built. Therefore, construction workers gather at almost every corner of the streets surrounding the apartment, and most of these workers are afraid of dogs.

So, being a person who is afraid of dogs; would you
a) make kissing sounds to attract the dog(s)
b) make clicking sounds and snap your fingers as you walk very closely behind the dog(s)
and/or
c) walk very close to the dog(s) then stop and make intense eye contest (like if you intend to win a staring contest)

If I was a person who is afraid of dogs I would choose none of the above.

Sadly, this is not the case. Everyday as I walk my two dogs, workers going home from work walk along side us like they're walking them (too) on an invisible leash. Some would stop walking and stare at the dog(s). However, in most cases, the worker would do actions (a) and (b) to try to attract the attention of animals they are afraid of. Not a very smart move and it's something I cannot begin to understand. When this happens, I stop and let them move along, if they don't, I ask if they want to pet the dog(s), usually the worker would take a few steps back, apparently mortified that I would ask such a horrifying thing!

(My "vicious" dogs)

What happened this evening however, was something only a comedian would write for a slapstick comedy; I was walking the two dogs along the side of the street, intending to throw a bag of recyclables into the recycling bin. TWO steps behind us was a group of maybe four or five workers. Literally TWO steps. I don't know what compelled the group to walk so close to two medium size dogs who could very well maul someone if they so choose to. Anyway, I ignore them and tightened my grip on their dual leash - in case they go nuts. Then, one of the workers started whistling and clicking his tongue. So, I stopped walking, turned around (and so did Jester and Ginger), faced the worker(s) and said "You want to pet my dogs? Who was calling them?" The worker standing in the front of the line got so shocked that he almost fell over on his colleagues. The rest of the workers started shaking their heads in unison. It was funny.

Let me assure you that I am not a mean person. I've just had enough of trying to keep my dogs from eating one of these workers. For some strange reason, the dogs go crazy every time they see these blue collar workers. They start barking their heads off. The last thing I want is for them to attract the dogs' attention and get bitten.

I choose to see it as educating them (the workers) on having some common sense when it comes to dogs, or any other animal for that matter; if you are afraid of it, very quietly walk away!

Goodbye Muscat, Hope (NEVER) to See You Again!

2011-10-09T12:36:00.000+04:00

It’s hardto imagine the ordeal we’ve been through just to get to Abu Dhabi – as I sit in my bubble bath,surrounded by lit scented candles, listening to piano solos on the computer notfar from the bathroom and telling Jester “Don’teat the bubbles, just smell them”. Life at this very moment couldn’t getany better. Really, what’s better than taking a very relaxing bubble bath withyour dog sitting on the rug next to you trying to lick the bubbles off of you?

The“ordeal” we went through had everything to do with living in Muscat;

Moving Daywas August 25^th

Aug 15(Monday)

In orderto leave Oman,Eric had to get some sort of a “security clearance” letter from the OmaniPolice. Eric got to the police station THREE minutes late. The officer behindthe counter said he had to come back the next day. THREE minutes – and the officer was STILL THERE!

Aug 16(Tuesday)

As you mayhave remembered, I wrote about making arrangements with the Omani moversabout driving our stuff from Muscat to Abu Dhabi. After mucharguing about the price and if they would even do any work, everything seemed to be in order.

Aug 17(Wednesday)

We had toget our marriage papers notarized by the US Embassy and the UAE Embassy.Because our papers originated from the US, the US Embassy didn’t have anyproblems processing them. THEN, it started. When we got to the UAE Embassy, wewere told that we had to get a few stamps from the Omani Foreign Affairs officefirst before they could process our papers. So off we went. We eventually gotour stamps after standing in line at a very dirty office that is the ForeignAffairs department. When we returned to the UAE Embassy, guess what? It was12.30pm and they did not accept paperwork after 12pm! We had to wait untilSaturday (the start of the work week)to come back. Great!

As ifcoping with the heat and bureaucracy in Oman wasn’t enough, our villa’scircuit breaker to the bedroom/living room A/C broke. As soon as the A/C startedspewing hot air, I knew we were cursed. I started to suspect that the villa washaunted and the ghost/spirit was out to get us. Eric, Jester and I lugged ourFOAM mattress (that came with the villa –VERY cheap landlord) to the dining room and slept there, hoping that thefollowing day would be better.

Aug 18(Thursday)

We calledthe landlord the night before, but because it was Wednesday (which is the Omani “Friday”), we hadlittle faith in him sending someone over on today. Usually, businesses do notoperate on Thursdays and Fridays (whichis the Omani Saturday and Sunday, you get my drift). We bumped into ourEgyptian neighbor from the floor above and he called some electricians he knewto come by the villa to fix the problem. The problem was fixed (or so it seemed). Hurray!

We luggedthe foam mattress back into the bedroom. A few hours later, the circuit brokeagain! It was too late to call the electricians back so again, I lugged thefoam mattress into the dining room and we camped there again, for the secondnight in a row. I told Jester “Hey look,it’s an adventure!”

Aug 19(Friday)

Theelectricians came back, replaced the fuse (whichEric told them was the problem in the first place, but they didn’t listen),got paid some more and left. A/C started working again, hurray!

We saw thefirst sign of things looking up. Maybe. The landlord dropped by and after beingtold how much the repairs cost, he reimbursed the amount! We almost expected anargument. I thanked God, maybe there’s hope yet!

Aug 20(Saturday)

Anothertrip to the UAE Embassy. Paid a lot of money for one miserable stamp – thenwere told that we could pick up the papers the next day; OR pay extra and haveit done in a few minutes. We chose to come back the next day.

Came hometo another surprise! The A/C in the dining room stopped working. I started toreally believe that the villa was haunted, or things wouldn’t take turnsbreaking like they did. I lit some Indian incense. After turning the circuitbreaker off and on again, the problem was fixed.

Aug 21(Sunday)

After anexcruciating couple of weeks waiting for our plane tickets from Eric’s newemployer, our plane tickets were finally emailed to us. Along with the email,they told us that our (current)apartment in Abu Dhabiwas ready and it was in a brand new building. I remember clapping my hands withextreme joy!

Aug 22(Monday)

Oursuitcases were packed, toiletries went into boxes, the upcoming move feltfinal. I looked around the (maybe haunted)villa and said out loud “I would nevermiss you”. And I still don’t miss it one bit.

Aug 23(Tuesday)

The moverscame. It was an ABSOLUTE horror. Seeing them load our stuff into their littlepickup truck was like watching a very, very scary horror movie gone wrong. Theone Omani guy (The Boss, we assumed)brought two Pakistani guys that he may have plucked randomly off the streets,and they (the two workers) startingcarrying our boxes downstairs. Before they left the villa, I pointed and actedout the “FRAGILE” and “DO NOT STACK” labels on the boxes. I also acted outplates breaking with my hands.

When Ilooked out the window, I saw most of the “Fragile” boxes being laid at thebottom of the truck and getting stacked on. I closed my eyes tightly and wishedit all away. Unfortunately, when I opened my eyes, they kept on stacking boxeson top of the pile.

Then, camethe BEST part! When they finally managed to cramp everything into the tinypickup truck, The Boss took out ONE small roll of laundry line rope from hispocket. ONE. I was hyperventilatingby then to say anything. When Eric asked if that’s all they were going to do tomake sure our stuff didn’t fall off the truck, The Boss said “No, I have TWO ropes”, to which Ericopened his eyes widely and said “Oh, Isee! You have TWO!”. After the second rope was used up, it still lookedlike our stuff wasn’t going to make it, so Eric ran upstairs, cut our ownlaundry line and gave them the rope.

Then offour stuff went, in a funny little pickup truck, leaving us wondering if theywill ever be seen again.

Aug 24(Wednesday)

The day ofour departure. At midnight we leave Oman for good. Laura (fromthe vet who arranged for Jester’s transfer from Omanto Abu Dhabi)came at 8am to take Jester. It was such a tearful morning. Jester; who wasanxious and mopey for the past two weeks seeing all the boxes, jumped into hiskennel in the car and started whining and crying. We waved them goodbye and assoon as they left I started sobbing; happy tears I suppose, knowing that anywherewould be better than

Oman

a.k.a hell on Earth.

And that’smy story; which ends the “Oman”chapter of my life and the starting of my “Life in Abu Dhabi”!

A Nonsensical Rant about Duvets and Such

2011-09-25T22:36:00.001+04:00

I know this is very random and quite pointless really, but;

Duvets;

Whoever invited the use of duvets (whom I assume was French) sure had a spark of pure genius. I guess in those days people got sick of hand-washing huge, heavy quilts and blankets and decided, "Hey, let's just put a cover over the huge, heavy quilts and just wash those!"

I've always used duvets in hotels and thought to myself; "How do they put the duvets in the covers?" It had always seemed like an impossible task to me - here, put this big soft quilt into another big soft sheet with a small-ish hole on one side.

Anyway, moving to Abu Dhabi and having our own unfurnished apartment gave me the opportunity to furnish every room to MY liking and buy fixtures that I like. Unlike while I was living with my parents; whom are (very) Chinese and "cannot" see in soft lighting and have to have fluorescent or white lighting at home, I get to have soft lighting in every room while the main hallway in the apartment is lit by a row of very beautiful off-white lighting.

In Oman, the villa we had was always, always hot because our landlord was too cheap to patch up holes in the wall with cement (caused by window A/C units - which he uninstalled), so he patched them up with wooden boards. Naturally, in the hottest place on Earth (okay, 4th, according to this website), our little A/C could never produce enough cool air to cool two people (and a dog), we only used a flat sheet as a blanket while the quilt was mostly thrown on the floor or stuffed in the wardrobe. Oh, Daegu? Well in Daegu, duvets were sometimes available at a very high price and duvet covers were almost non-existent. I stopped looking after a while, so they may have turned up after that, I wouldn't have known.

Having said that, it is only NOW, that I finally get to have a proper set of bedding which consists of four pillows with matching pillow cases of course, matching fitted jersey sheet (which we never got to use in Oman because our FOAM mattress didn't allow any air flow, so cotton was the only tolerable option) flat sheet, and of course, a very soft duvet with cover.

Changing the cover was difficult at first, Eric and I took turns crawling into the cover to smooth out the duvet. We laughed till our stomachs hurt watching the other try and then crawling back out and say "Oh yeah? YOU try!!".

Seriously though, all the crawling and laughing wasn't necessary, just watch the following video:-

http://www.videojug.com/film/how-to-put-on-a-duvet-cover

Ahh, again, genius! No more stuffing big quilts into washing machines (I don't believe in sending bedding for laundry, because I don't like the thought of someone else handling something I sleep in, same goes for delicates)!

The Barefoot Children

2011-09-20T22:52:00.000+04:00

Hi Readers! Sorry for the one-month hiatus, I'm back now, and I'm writing from Abu Dhabi! *Yaay*

I really have a lot to say about the new place, mostly good things (for a change) but there's an incident tonight which may be the start of something of an "Omani" experience.

Note: Omani Experience = Bad

We live in an apartment. A beautiful one at that. The building is brand new; six months old, we were told. There are construction sites surrounding all four sides of our building. Jester goes potty during the day at the construction site directly in front of our building. It's filthy (as can be expected) - leftover biryani rice packs are thrown on the sand, paper cups, plastic bags; things you may expect to see on a construction site (where the workers must not have garbage dumps in their home country, of course). At night, the giant rats come out, I freak out sometimes when I look out my living room window and they're crawling about, I almost never open my Roman blinds. I can't wait till they pave over the rat-ty sand.

Anyway, because of the rats, Jester goes potty at night at a "packed" sand box at the apartment building next door. The sand pit looks damp, and is littered with a thousand cigarette butts, a few plastic bags and covered in patches of algae. Children sometimes play in the "sand box" barefoot in the evenings, with their parents standing by watching them - play barefoot in algae covered clay-looking sand covered with cigarette butts. Yeah, I don't know why parents here let their kids run barefoot here, this was also very common in Muscat.

So tonight, like any other night, we were going potty at the "sand box". Before we got there, we were stopped by a very polite building watchman. He told us that people had complained about a woman who takes her dog to the sandbox where children played (he left out barefoot). He apologized for what he had to say so I politely pointed out to him, I said "Look, I understand what you are saying, and it's no problem, we will go somewhere else, but do you see all these *pointed to cigarette butts*, and those *pointed to plastic bags* and these green things *pointed to algae*? Do you see any poo?

He shook his head, and I said "Yes, because I pick up every time *waves poopy bag*, see?" The guy apologized again and explained that he was only telling me because of the complaints. I told him that I was not offended and thanked him then took Jester somewhere else - a few feet away, a sand covered sidewalk.

Apparently the building owner had wanted to put some grass and lawn chairs in the sand box at a later time. So I guess, having urine there ruins the soil. On the other hand, cigarette butts must be a good alternative.

But, what is the deal here? People let their children play in the dirt, there's probably broken glass lying around too, but a little urine which will probably seep deep into the sand anyway is harmful to their kids?

I'm sorry but I don't get it. This only strengthens my opinion that people should have a licence to have children. You gotta have a licence to have dogs, don't you? What more another human being?

The Coconut Lanterns

2011-08-20T20:05:00.001+04:00

I was going through my journal and I can’t believe I forgot to blog this!

We were at the Muscat Airport checking in for our flight to New York, and of course, it wouldn’t be happening to us if it wasn’t bizarre and/or weird, or at least entertaining, because as we have come to accept; nothing “normal” happens to us anymore.

So, anyway, we were waiting in line to get our boarding passes. There were two lines open; one had about eight people and the other had only one. Naturally, we went and stood behind the one guy. As it turned out, the guy had lots of questions to ask and on the ground, he had two coconut lanterns which looked like this:-

(Excuse my poor illustration; the said coconut lanterns)

We couldn’t see the bottom of the lanterns, but the tops were covered in black coconut husk; with a tassel-like top. The box they were sitting in was not covered and was tied with string in a criss-cross manner (as illustrated poorly). We guessed the problem was that the airline staff had wanted the guy to check the lanterns in, but he had wanted to carry them on board with him. His gestures seemed to suggest that he was explaining that they might break if checked-in.

Now that I think about it, I don't really know why this whole scenario was so funny, at the time we were laughing at how ironic it was that we got on the slow line and how strange the coconut lanterns looked and of course how adamant the guy was to have his precious coconuts on board with him!

The whole exchange took about 20 minutes, and by that time, the eight people on that other line had finished and had went on with their lives, and new people replaced them. Yes, we continued waiting in our line because…well, why not? It’s just ONE person and he might finish at any time!

During the wait, Eric turned and said to me “He’ll sit next to you on the plane and you’ll have to look at those coconut lanterns for eight hours”. I laughed for about five minutes. It was very funny at the time!

Of course, when we got on the plane, he sat about 2-3 seats down from us. And yes, below the seat, he had those two coconut lanterns!

Alergic to Work

2011-08-16T21:27:00.000+04:00

I know I haven’t been updating much these past couple of weeks, we have been quite busy sorting things that go in the moving truck, things to discard and of course, things which go with us on the plane. Unlike other countries we’ve been in, namely Korea and of course Malaysia, where one could use the services of a “normal” moving company, here in the dessert, one could have one of these two choices; (a) pay an arm and a leg (800 rials to be exact, which is approximately US$2,000 ) for a shipping company to move our stuff OR (b) pay a quarter of that and hire a person with a pickup truck to drive our boxes over to the United Arab Emirates (U.A.E), which is only a 4-5 hour drive from Muscat. Also, a fun fact; ONLY Omani citizens are allowed to purchase a pickup truck, so you know what I’m getting at, option (b) involves dealing with a local company which will probably be a pain.

We were supposed to have moved two days ago, but because of a combination of incompetence, laziness and generally not giving a sh*t about others, our paperwork never got processed and we’re stuck here in Oman for another week. I suspect it will be more than a week because of course, there will always be incompetence here in this part of the world.

Because of the sheer ridiculous amount that is option (a), option (b) became the obvious and only affordable choice. The would-be movers came this evening to inspect our things which needed to be moved, and to give us the final amount. They saw the boxes I’ve carefully put together and labeled, stacked in one corner of the room, the lack of furniture (TWO small cabinets) we will be bringing and got the idea of how many boxes that would be going, which is really not much and would fit snugly in a regular-size pickup truck.

Then came the following discussion (or something like it, with less understandable English):-

Mover: We will charge xxx rials including boxing everything, but you have to carry it to the truck yourself.

Eric: What?

Me: WHAT? WHY?

Mover: Yeah, we don’t carry stuff.

Me: Ok, how about WE box it ourselves and you carry it downstairs?

Mover: Nonono

After a while of haggling prices and a lot puzzlement from our side; because really?! A moving company who will box for you but WILL NOT carry the boxes onto the truck for you? Wow, this really is new. My perception has been right all along, these people CANNOT exert themselves, and God forbid they sweat while carrying boxes – which is their job! I never wanted them to box for us in the first place, I don’t want anyone’s sweaty hands touching my clothes or any of my stuff! They were probably going to throw everything in boxes and break them anyway. We finally agreed on paying a little more and for them to hire people to carry our stuff and us boxing everything ourselves, we were finally set.

They took a deposit and left. They also didn’t have a receipt to give us so Eric wrote a note and made one of the guys sign it. Now it’s time to hope for the best.

...and the Most Annoying Family Award goes to --

2011-08-07T17:19:00.002+04:00

The flight time from JFK Airport in New York to Muscat via Abu Dhabi takes 15 hours (not including layovers). Each flight had a delay of an hour each, making it a total of 17 hours sitting on our butts on the plane. Usually I'm not one to complain about a mere 17-hour flight, I've done 26 hours before, emerging with severe knee pain being cramped in Economy because we weren't rich enough to spend triple the amount to fly comfortably in Business Class.

But that's life. What makes this particular trip unbearable was this; you know how it is when you get on a public transport and there's a crying baby on board, right? Take that crying baby, replace it with four SCREAMING toddlers and two very, very incompetent parents and you get a very angry passenger - me.

Actually there were about 200 other angry passengers but as usual, I feel like I'm taking it worse than anyone else because of my weird left ear. You see, sounds tend to "crack" in the left ear when it gets too loud. I know I need to get it checked out, but I've only been procrastinating for about five years.

So, the flight from JFK to Heathrow was uneventful. I practically slept four hours out of the seven. I even snoozed our 40-min delay away and when I woke up, we were soaring through the clouds. We touched down in London about an hour late and had all of 15 mins to run from the aircraft, to a very strict security check, to a shuttle train (which took another 10 mins to arrive) and finally to the departure gate. Oh and before all this, the captain had announced before the landing that all passengers should remain seated so that the dozen or so passengers (that includes us) could get off first because we only had a very short time to catch our next flight. Of course, even before we landed we could hear the un-clicking of seat belts, and as soon as we came to a halt, people started standing up and trying to get their carry-ons from the overhead compartment. Some people are really inconsiderate.

Anyway, I won't bother you with tedious details; we made our flight, out of breath and all - and that flight was delayed for another hour. So all that running for nothing. Soon as we got on, I noticed that there was a baby crying a few seats away. Naturally I didn't pay much attention, knowing that at some point the baby will stop and I'll just fall asleep. I even scolded Eric for putting on his noise cancellation headphones - because I'm a woman, and I like to talk; whenever. I was wrong about the fact that it was baby, let alone one baby.

When a second baby started to cry I got up and looked around; and that's when I saw the four toddlers aged between 1-5 years old. The father was holding the first crying toddler, singing "Baa-baa black sheep" to him while giggling and clapping (Giggling? Clapping? Really?!). The singing, clapping and obviously the giggling encouraged the toddler to keep crying. I'm not a parent and even I know that!

The second toddler wasn't really crying, she was just screaming wildly for attention, and her name was "Gorgeous". Yes! Gorgeous! This girl was NOT gorgeous, I can tell you that honestly (not because she was annoying). I really don't agree that all babies are cute, because well, some AREN'T. Can you imagine this kid growing up to be horrible and spoiled and say "Hi, I'm Gorgeous". So anyway, "Gorgeous" was obviously a very irritating child and she kept screaming and laughing (which were high-pitched and scream-ish) and the mother had to yell "GORGEOUS, STOP IT!" quite a lot. At least the mother was asserting some kind of discipline. The father on the other hand, repeatedly asked his children (very loudly) "What do you want?" while they are screaming wildly. I also heard the mother saying "Maybe his ears hurt". So, wait, how about all 200 pairs of OUR ears?

Oh, and he also openly sneezed and coughed without covering his mouth.

Awesome, right? This went on for EIGHT straight hours. I wondered the entire time how much sugar the parents had fed them before the flight to keep them going for eight-****ing-hours! I mean! Really! By the 7th hour I lost my patience and my sanity and I started yelling randomly; even though no one asked me anything, "I CAN'T GO TO SLEEP BECAUSE THE CHILDREN WON'T STOP SCREAMING!" or "WHAT BABIES? THOOOOSSSSEEEE *points at cluster of horror with arm over headrest*" and "I KNOW RIGHT?! WHAT HORRIBLE PARENTS!". I also shushed them quite a number of times but I was ignored. I get very cranky when I don't get my naps.

I mellowed down after an hour of yelling and being ignored and resorted to praying that they get off in Abu Dhabi. We were to sit on the plane while people get off and Muscat-bound passengers hop on. They didn't!

During the one-hour wait, the children ran free around the aircraft while the parents did nothing, except talked to the crazy woman sitting next to them who complimented their children of being cute. The children got in the cleaning crew's way and I had a sneaking suspicion that they (the children) TP-ed the bathroom - giving it an early Halloween makeover.

So I endured another hour of non-stop screaming making it nine straight hours. During the entire ordeal, there was a family in front of us; with the best baby in the world - because he/she did not cry once (I didn't know this was possible) during the flight and three adorable little girls who were pleasant and smiled shyly whenever anyone said hello. We later found out that they had been travelling for 30 hours. See, good parenting vs bad parenting?

When we arrived in Muscat, guess who were first to get out of their seats and getting in everyone's way to get their bags first? Yes, the most annoying family in the world themselves. It was like teamwork really, the wife said "You take Gorgeous, I'll take Kushi (or something like that)" and then they got in everyone's way. After they pushed their way through, we started talking to the other more patient passengers. We heard everything from "It was driving me nuts!" to "Wow, that was rough" to lots of head shaking (from those who had given up).

Wanna see what the incompetent father looked like?

I know it was mean and I wasn't supposed to, but I couldn't stop myself. So enjoy!

Thou Shall Not Judge; even though you can't really help it

2011-07-30T23:16:00.002+04:00

This entry does not have anything to do with my vacation - or anything, really.

I just thought I'd do a quick entry so that everyone can see that I'm still ~~here~~ alive. We are leaving New York for Muscat (unfortunately) this coming Wednesday. Anyway, the Borders bookstore in the Galleria Mall (Middletown, NY) is closing and they're offering "rock-bottom" prices on all their books and fixings; everything in the store "must go"! So we spent about 3 hours grabbing cookbooks, photography and pet training guides and a few other interesting reads, some costing as low as $1.99. Yeah I know, amazing but sad all at the same time, right? People just don't read enough anymore.

So I was working out which book(s) to bring in my carry-on as reading material for the plane. I don't know about you, but I'm the kind of person who tries to avoid being judged by others if I were to read in public. For example, I would never read a book entitled "How to Become a Millionaire in 10 Simple Steps" if I was sitting all cramped up in Economy or "10 Fabulous Hairstyles for the Travelling Girl" while I was sitting there with limp, oily hair. You know what I mean?

The truth is, as human beings, we ~~like~~ love to judge. Let's face it, the world is harsh; what crosses your mind when you see an overweight person eating a very big ice-cream cone, or a homeless person laying on the sidewalk (instead of looking for a job)? My sister brought up the subject once and I've worried about being judged ever since.

Oh right, there IS a reason for my blabbering; I was contemplating reading "The 17 Day Diet" by Dr Mike Moreno on the plane, but then again, I can't really bring myself to do it because it can only go two ways, people will either think; a) it's quite obvious that she's not following any of those tips, or b) SHE thinks SHE'S fat? See, I don't really quite know if 10 pounds overweight is really being overweight.

All things considered, I think I shall be reading "Dog Training for Dummies", can't go wrong with that.

So tell me, what would YOU like/want to be seen reading in public? Enter your comments below.

Five Weddings, One Husband

2011-07-20T17:46:00.001+04:00

I am getting married, again. And to the same man.

Before you start imagining the whole white-dress-flowers-cake-and-people-throwing-rice-at-us kind of thing, stop, because you are wrong! The only props at tomorrow wedding ceremony will be a few sheets of paper and a pen or two. Let me tell you about my other weddings.

#1, #2 and #3 "Wedding" in Korea, Dec 2009

We were living in Daegu, so we had to travel to Seoul to get the paperwork done. We went to the American Embassy where Eric had to swear that he was never married, we filled in some forms, signed them witnessed by the officer in charge and was pronounced man and wife. This was the only easy part of the whole marriage process. Read on.

We then headed over to the Korean Ward office with the American and Malaysian paperwork (which I had gotten months before moving to Korea). At the Korean Ward office they got extremely confused over the Malaysian papers but due to their limited English, they couldn't explain what the problem was. In very broken English, we were sent to the Malaysian Embassy. Oh, and because the Malaysian Embassy in Seoul was only open between the hours of 9-11am (yes, everyday!), we had to stay with a friend and go back the next day. At the Malaysian Embassy we were told that my Malaysian papers were missing ONE important STAMP and I had to send it back to Malaysia (Kuala Lumpur to be exact, my parents live in Penang, a state 300 kms away) to have it stamped. It was the ONLY way we could be married. So I sent the papers back to my mom, who flew to Kuala Lumpur to get that one stamp, and then sent it back to me.

We made our way back to the Malaysian Embassy, where they registered our marriage and sent us to the Korean Ward office again. This time fortunately, there was no confusion and after a few hurried stamps on our submitted papers, we were married. No "Congratulations", no one clapped, nothing. Just a simple "Ok, next!"

#4 The Malaysian Wedding, Jan 23 2010

I planned the entire Malaysian wedding thinking that our "real" wedding would be in New York the same year (or the following, whichever we could manage). So instead of a typical 8-course Chinese style wedding, I opted for a western, buffet setting - which according to most of my friends were "better anyway".

#5 Wedding in New York, today
Will write again when it's over.

I don't know, should I be feeling excited?

I Heart the Suburbs

2011-07-19T17:31:00.003+04:00

For the past few days I’ve been walking Shayna, the family dog at least twice a day around the neighborhood. While my in-laws are complaining about how hot it is, Eric and I just laugh and say “this would be a COOL day in Oman!” Anyway, no matter how hot it gets, because of all the trees and grass around, it’s always cool. I might have complained about the heat here last year but since it’s always a thousand degrees in Oman, nothing in suburbia could ever scare us ever again.

Walking the dog has never been this wonderful. No one threw stones, honked, stared, handed me a piece of paper with their number on it or barked at us. After having to deal with these daily in Oman, not being harassed feels extremely exhilarating.

I look forward to walking her (Shayna) everyday, just to feel normal again, and also to smell the trees. It rained last night, so even though Eric said we should do it later. I walked her around the block anyway because “it’s nice and dewy outside”. Shayna is not used to heeling so I had to correct her with the training lead almost the entire way. By the end of our stay here, my goal is to get her to heel perfectly, like our boy Jester back in Oman – who’s currently at “summer camp”; a kennel in Muscat which also provided daily training and activities for dogs.

In her last email, his trainer said “he wasn’t himself for the first couple of days, but now he’s warming up to us”. See, our little boy is brave!

I know, I’m all over the place in this entry, will write something more worthy of your time soon.

(I hope this picture of Shayna will make up for my lack of interesting subjects in this entry)

With love from Monroe, NY

Jillian

p/s: Oh, I'm marrying Eric again for the FIFTH time on Wednesday. Long story, read all about it soon.

The Grass is Really, Really Greener...

2011-07-17T17:51:00.001+04:00

Day 4 in Monroe and here's an update on my To-do List,

Take a picture (or pictures) of a clean street

(The road along Round Lake)

[done]

(Round Lake)

and [done]!

Lay on the grass in a park or in my in-laws’ backyard

Watch people walking their dogs and smile [done]

If it rains, run and play in the rain [it hasn't rained yet]

Eat lots of pickled herring for breakfast (or any other time I feel like it) [done]

Look at clouds (if you must know, I haven’t seen clouds here in WEEKS)

(No way a parking lot shot in Muscat would look like this)
[done]

Call somebody (ANYBODY!) on Skype at least for a few minutes [mom wouldn't answer the phone]

Eat a Burger King Whopper with bacon [had a Subway wrap with EXTRA bacon, it counts, so done]

Enjoy drives without maniacs breathing down our bumpers and say “TAKE THAT! MUSCAT!” [done]

Watch as many Youtube videos as I can without getting annoyed at the red bar that won’t load [done]

"...Cuz I'm leeeaving on-a-jetplane, don't wanna be back again"

2011-07-12T23:49:00.000+04:00

By this time tomorrow, we’ll be on the plane heading to New York; or what I like to call it, back to the normal world where I don’t have to ask myself “is this skirt too short?”, “should I bring a shawl just in case someone starts staring at me weirdly?” or “are these jeans too tight?” every time I leave the house.

Here are a few things I MUST do while in New York;

1. Take a picture (or pictures) of a clean street

2. Lay on the grass in a park or in my in-laws’ backyard

3. Watch people walking their dogs and smile

4. If it rains, run and play in the rain

5. Eat lots of pickled herring for breakfast (or any other time I feel like it)

6. Look at clouds (if you must know, I haven’t seen clouds here in WEEKS)

7. Call somebody (ANYBODY!) on Skype at least for a few minutes

Note: If I hadn’t written about this before, Skype and other forms of online calling programs are blocked in most of the Middle Eastern countries. There are ways to get around the block but since I don’t have anything I want to say which I can’t type, I don’t bother.

8. Eat a Burger King Whopper with bacon

9. Enjoy drives without maniacs breathing down our bumpers and say “TAKE THAT! MUSCAT!”

10. Watch as many Youtube videos as I can without getting annoyed at the red bar that won’t load

While these are things which you take for granted, dear reader, they are IMPOSSIBLE to come by in Muscat. So run along, run along and go roll on the grass. It is fun.

"Beverages"? Really?

2011-07-11T09:27:00.003+04:00

I'm about two days late reading the Saturday edition of the Oman Tribune over breakfast. Then Eric pointed this out to me.

(Note: Click on pictures to enlarge)

(Snapshot of the comic strip from the Oman Tribune)

Really? Censoring a comic strip now, are we? What's wrong with saying "beer"? We all know Hagar's favorite beverage is beer. Also, you'd think they'd do a better job of matching the font.

So I took it upon myself to look for the original strip.

....aaaand I found it:-

(Link to original website here)

So adding to the un-utterable list of words here in this part of the world is "beer", along with *"pork" of course.

*I first discovered that "pork" is censored when I was watching an episode of "Australian Masterchef" on the local cable. The contestants were cooking a pork dish and the word "pork" was silenced out every time they say it. Example; "I marinated the ---- then grilled it. The ---- drippings are saved for ---- stew" - yeah, doesn't even make much sense, does it? Especially when I (the audience) can see the lips going "pork". HA-HA

"This made in China! This!"

2011-07-10T12:14:00.000+04:00

I was reading an email about made-in-China products which were detected to contain melamine and was taken off the shelves in Malaysia; makes us wonder how many others are still undetected, right?

Anyway, reading the email made me think of this incident which occurred when we first arrived in Muscat. It was our third day here; we haven’t found our own accommodation yet and were still staying at the small beach hotel in Qurum which Eric’s company had put us in. That morning, we were having brunch at a nearby coffee shop* when a local guy approached us. I can’t recall his name so we shall call him “Walid”. So Walid introduced himself and asked if he could sit with us. We were still getting used to the “Omani hospitality” so we shook hands and said “Sure! Please join us!”.

Walid admitted that he wanted to practice his English and he apologized for his limited vocabulary. We found him to be quite pleasant. While we ate our mediocre sandwiches, he told us about dessert parties where we could “ride the camels”. At this point I was convinced that he wanted to sell us something, possibly the camel rides. Also, he kept saying “come with me” – present tense; which sounded really pushy at the time.

Eventually Eric asked how much do we have to pay for the camel rides. Walid looked absolutely shocked and said “NONONONO, IT’S FREE!”. After lots of hand gestures and explaining in very broken English we finally understood that he was inviting us to a dessert party when there was one.

When we finished eating, Walid asked where we were going, we told him we were going to the mall. He said “I take you”. Usually, this means the guy runs a transport service and wants to make a profit right? No. He was just being nice. During the drive he talked about visiting Malaysia and possibly Thailand during his upcoming vacation. I looked out the window and zoned out a bit while Eric told him about places to visit there.

Then Walid suddenly spotted my Ray Ban aviators.

Walid: Your this…this… err (makes two circles around his eyes with his fingers)…very nice

Me: Oh my sunglasses? Thank you

Walid: Name what?

Me: These are Ray Bans, I really love them.

Walid: Ohh I want buy sun…glass. How much?

Me: Oh I got these for $ xxx , I’m sure you can buy them here too

(Actually, my Ray Bans are limited edition ones and I'm pretty sure he CAN'T get them here, but I didn't tell him, of course. The hand gestures would be too complicated)

Walid went quiet for a while, I wasn’t sure he understood me. Suddenly I remembered that I had a pair of sunglasses which I never wore in my purse. I got them from Korea a couple of years back and had only worn them once. They were one of those unisex frames. So I thought I would give it to him as a thank you gift for driving us to the mall.

Me: Here, I can give you these. I buy from Korea. Wear only one time. For you.

Walid: *took sunglasses, turns them around in his hands while driving, tries them on* This very nice.

Me: You like it? It’s yours. Thank you for taking us to the City Centre. It’s very nice of you.

Walid: *took off sunglasses, looks at them more closely now*

Me: (I thought this is quite rude but then again, different culture, whatever, no judgement)

Walid: This, made in China, this? *shoved (yes, shoved) me the sunglasses with the part which said “Made in China” clearly* I no like China.

Me: Uh…yes, um, I didn’t know (I honestly didn’t!! I bought them in Korea!!) *took sunglasses back, embarrassed, shocked, slightly insulted*

Walid: Sorry, huh? Sorry! I no like China.

“Sorry”? Wha-? I felt like I was trying to sell him the sunglasses or something. I was only trying to be NICE!

(The scariest phrase on a product?)

I guess I should never again attempt to give a local anything with “Made in China” stamped on it.

*Coffee shop; a (usually small) shop that serves hotdogs, shawarma (meat wrap), French fries and other fast food with sodas, juices or instant coffee.

Bread and Mold, err Butter

2011-06-28T08:42:00.000+04:00

Here's how a man's brain works...or at least my man’s.

In this part of the world, bread always has to be refrigerated. I happened to leave ~~mine~~ ours out for a couple of days because there's no room in the fridge.

This morning, the following scenario happened;

Me: Honey (okay, I don't call Eric "honey", but let's just say I do, for dramatic effect), why don't you have some bread with your bacon, eggs are almost ready.

*continues scrambling eggs*

Eric: There’s mold on the bread, but it’s on the side so I picked it out *points at a corner of the bread, carefully placed on the side of his plate*. The centre’s still good

Me: Eww! Eric! Then you throw the whole piece out! Give it to me! *looks at the loaf of bread* Ohmygod! The entire loaf has mold on it!

Eric: *reluctantly hands over his piece of bread* but I already put butter on it, see?

Really? Baby, I love you, but if you’re reading this, butter? Really?

It's All Rubbish!

2011-06-27T11:07:00.001+04:00

I don’t know why it has taken me so long to write this entry but here it is; I’ve been living amongst filth since moving to Muscat. Literally.

Here, take a look at these pictures;

(I can honestly say that I've NEVER thrown a whole plastic bag full of garbage on the ground like that in my ENTIRE life)

This is the alley beside our villa. This morning I found a pizza box and a bag of garbage there, among other things. I don’t get it, so someone ate a pizza in their car, and then dumped the box on the ground? (There’s also the question of why would someone eat a whole pizza in the car, couldn’t they eat in the restaurant, or go HOME?). It couldn’t be that they ate it at home, then WALK outside to dump it – this takes more energy to do than to just throw it in the house, right? Usually big pieces of garbage like these will be picked up by the local Municipality within a few days, if we’re lucky.

You still think I’m exaggerating about the trash, don’t you? Well that’s just the beginning of a series of pictures I took this morning.

If you look down the alley, you will see a variety of things on the ground. See those empty bottles? Those have been there for weeks. The “Municipality” just ignores it every day. There used to be broken pieces of glass on the ground too; I thought if I glued all the pieces together I could make a whole window. I was afraid Jester would hurt himself stepping on glass so I’ve hired someone to clean up the pieces. Of course, the guy just cleaned up the glass and nothing else. The bag lying on the bush is new; it’s only been there for two days.

Jester doesn’t really seem to mind the dirt very much. He’s such a good little boy.

This is the villa across the street. See the bottle and bag of garbage? That bottle has been there for quite a while. That villa has the only tree within our 10-villa radius, so when the ground gets too hot in the afternoons, I take Jester there. There’s usually a car parked there, so we have to squeeze around it. If you look closely at this picture, you will see a stream of water flowing down their street. A few villas down, someone was wasting gallons and gallons of water washing their car or hosing down their driveway. It happens every day. To think all they have to do is collect their A/C water and hose down their driveways with it, considering how much people use A/C’s here. At least that’s what I do. Ok, we don’t have a driveway, so I wash our deck with the recycled water. It makes me feel like I’m doing my (very small) part for Mother Nature.

These are the garbage cans for our villa. That office chair has been there since we moved in (February). By the looks of it, it will never be removed. Anyway, remember, I took these pictures in the morning, by evening; the area around them will be piled up with bags of garbage. Well actually, we’ll be lucky if there are any bags. I don’t know which tenant, although I have a strong suspicion that it is the douchey-looking-guy (pardon the language)-who-lives-downstairs-who-never-smiles-and-always-has-a-snarly-expression-on-his-face whose too lazy to lift the lid and throw his garbage. He always leaves a soda can or a paper cup or plate on top of the garbage cans. Once, one of the girls downstairs had a barbeque downstairs with her friends and the next day, we found chicken bones and paper cups, plates, cutlery strewn on the ground. We have a domestic worker who comes in every day to empty the trash, water the plants and clean around the compound; but really? Oily chicken bones? Rats or rodents apparently don’t bother them.

Our domestic worker has his faults too. I will have to have a word with him very soon; once we came home after he took out the trash. In our hands we had a juice bottle and a “Corn-in-a-Cup” cup which we kept in the car until we got home. He told us to leave the bottle and the cup on top of the bin. So we did, thinking he would bring them out with him when he left. A few minutes later, I found the juice bottle and the paper cup in the alley. The guy had left. What did I do? Well, I picked them up and threw them back in the bin.

See? I don’t get it, why? Why can’t he leave the bottle and the cup in the garbage can until the following day?

But then again…as we “normal” people say here, Why Ask Why?

The Oasis Doesn't Deliver, Again

2011-06-15T08:37:00.002+04:00

Only two months into using the Oman Oasis water company and I've already written two complaint emails - which they did respond to quite quickly. They must hate me.

Here is a copy of my latest complaint (verbatim):

I’m writing to express my regret that we have to cancel our order with Oman Oasis and would like our deposit back. Please look into this immediately and call me at xxxx xx37.

What happened was totally unacceptable as you are a WATER company – and water is a necessity out here in the dessert don’t you agree? We live in the Al Khuwair area and our delivery day is every Tuesday (time varies every week). On Tuesday, 31 May, there was no delivery. The next morning, (Wednesday, 1 June), I called 2449 4427 (Ext. 204) and was told that “there was a problem” (What problem?) and water will be delivered later that afternoon. It was never delivered.

I called the same number again the next day (Thursday, 2 June) but the phone line was either busy or when I did get through and hit “0” for Operator assistance, the line went silent, no busy tone, nothing. Just silence. Is this a trick to get callers to hang up? If so, it really is quite a genius plan!

Water was only delivered on Saturday, 4 June. Of course, without any explanation.

Yesterday (Tuesday 14 June), again there was no water. What is going on? How long do we have to wait each week before we get dehydrated and have to go out and lug bottles of water home only to have you deliver a few days later, and then we would have extra bottles sitting around. This, like I said is completely unacceptable and unreliable as a WATER company.

I shouldn’t have to write letters reminding your people to do their job(s) once in a while. Therefore, I will now be looking for a new water company. Good luck handling all the other incoming complaints.

p/s: Any chance I can get my few *baizas back for calling you so many times only to hear the mournful silence on the other end?

I will post their reply, if one ever came. Oh and in case you were curious, this was what happened last time.

*baiza - the "cent" equivalent of the Omani currency

Sticks and Stones MAY Break My Bones

2011-06-11T12:04:00.000+04:00

Here’s another reason why Muscat is not for the typical dog lover.

Today was an extremely hot and humid day. It was so hot that our air-conditioner started spewing warm air. Poor Jester has been having trouble doing his #2 all day because the ground burned his paws every time I take him out. And of course, there’s not even a patch of grass nearby that he could stand on. At about 6pm, it finally cooled down enough for me to take him out.

Jester was evidently very happy to be sniffing around. His happiness was short-lived. When we were a few houses down from our villa, two boys started barking, whistling and howling at us from about 10 feet away. The boys looked to be about 12-14 years old. I tugged on his leash and Jester obediently ignored them. However, as we turned the corner, a handful of pebbles flew our way, missing Jester by a few inches. If we walked just a little slower, the pebbles would have hit Jester’s hind leg(s).

I quickly looked at the boys’ direction and saw one of them fleeing into the nearest alley. I immediately shouted “HEY! DID YOU JUST THROW STONES AT US?” at the top of my lungs. As it was the time of day when housemaids gather among themselves for a chat, people cleaning cars and nannies pushing strollers along the street, everyone turned to look. Even a car turning the corner stopped to look. It was what I wanted; witnesses. The boy who remained peeked from the alley wall and said “No, not me, not me!” but I continued yelling “Then why did youR friend throw stones at ME? WHY? I’m going to call the police!” The boy was obviously petrified as he kept shaking his head and repeating “Not me! Not me!. Finally he said “Sorry!” and ran into the alley after his (cowardly) friend.

I was so enraged that I could feel my face heating up. I’ve heard (and read) about kids (and adults) throwing stones at cats and dogs here, but I never would’ve guessed that they would do it when the owner is right there! Also, what kind of cowardly boy runs away leaving his friend to be yelled at anyway?

So, if you or someone you know is moving to Muscat and is planning to bring your/their dog, this is best avoided if possible. Although the vets and dog trainers (run by expats) are excellent here, the local perception and attitude towards canines are just heartbreaking. Jester was adopted here, and it’s true that I would never have gotten the chance to care for this sweet little boy who only wanted love and attention if not for us moving here. However, if I’m planning to move here, I would never bring my dog and subject him/her to the brutal treatment of dogs here; not being allowed at any of the beaches and parks, stared and barked at (by kids and adults) daily, yelled at randomly by mean/scared individuals and of course, having pebbles thrown at him/her.

What would you do?

"Jester: A Fight for Freedom"

2011-06-07T10:31:00.000+04:00

If Jester could be a video game character, he would be in an action-packed one called "Jester: A Fight for Freedom"

His powers would include the following:

1. Road Runner Attack: After a pee-pee or a doo-doo he will aim his hind legs at you (attempting to cover waste), no matter where you try to position yourself to avoid them; and kick dirt at you

2. Double Meat Club Pounce: Uses his front paws (meat clubs) and pounces on his toys, our feet, us…

3. Nibble Attack: This only happens when we have no choice but to muzzle him. With his limited jaw movement, he tries to nibble at us

4. Scoop Attack: This only happens if he has his cone on. Without the ability to bite/nibble at us easily, he scoops conefulls of dirt and flings it at us; for revenge, of course

5. Innocent Bystander Attack: Steps on our faces, stomach, or any other body part while we’re watching TV or sleeping

6. Cold Nose Attack: Pokes us with his cold, wet nose, and follows us around the room with it. This attack is also used to wake us up in the morning, followed by yanking the covers away

(Variation: Cold Nose on Your Junk Attack; self explanatory)

7. Tangled Up in Leash Attack: This only happens when he’s on a leash, he walks around the leash-holder (a.k.a US), wrapping the leash around our legs. “Fall mommy! Fall!”

8. [Classic] Kick-You-In-The-Face Attack: Self explanatory. Happens when we’re laying down on the bed/couch

9. Prison Break Attack: Chews on walls around the apartment. He will slowly but surely escape in time.

10. Jackal Glare: After a punishment or while wearing the muzzle, he will sit nearby (us) and stare at us with a downward glare. Making sure we know that he is upset

11. Racist-Little-B**tard Battle Cry: Whenever he sees a dark skinned person AND if that person shows any signs of fear of dogs, he will first bark and try to lunge at them, when we tug on the leash and he doesn’t get to “eat” them, he cries pitifully

12. Open-Mouth-Ramming Attack: Runs at us with his mouth open. Pokes us with sharp teeth

13. Quick Draw Attack: A variation of No.12, “draws” his jaws and aims at enemies (a.k.a us)

14. Round House Swipe: Stares at something (or someone; a.k.a us) fragile (e.g. expensive sunglasses, headphones, glass…) for a few seconds, then swings his meat clubs at it, attempting to break it

15. Sabotage: A variation of No.14, however in “Sabotage”, he finds our favorite things (HE KNOWS!) while we’re not looking and destroys them. This usually happens when he feels ignored

16. Brave Heart: He lays on his back, with one or both meat clubs up in the air for “FREEDOM”!

17. Cold Shoulder Defense: A variation of the “Jackal Glare” (No. 10), but in this version, he comes and sits near you (usually huffs to MAKE SURE you know he’s there) then turns away from you with hatred. Happens after a punishment or while wearing the muzzle

18. Jester Grab Attack: Grabs random things (whatever he can reach) and runs very confidently into the other room with us running after him

19. Crazy-Puppy-Time Whirlwind Attack: He runs around the room at top speed, being everywhere at once and attacks using all the above powers simultaneously

And finally, if all else fails;

20. Cuteness Defense: A very powerful defense mechanism which involves cute puppy eyes, ears down, and often achieves forgiveness within a few seconds

Disclaimer: No humans were meat clubbed during the creation of this post.

A (Spicy) Kick in the Tummy!

2011-05-26T10:56:00.000+04:00

You know, it's not always true that money can't buy happiness; sometimes it CAN.

We haven't always gotten good service when we eat out, but in Pavo Real; a Mexican restaurant here in Muscat, there was nothing I didn't like.

The prices were a bit steep, but the food was really good and most importantly, authentic. And the molé sauce was so spicy that it made me cry and my legs tingle.

Yes, what's not to like about margaritas and fajitas? Nothing!

The Girl Who Wanted to Read

2011-05-22T10:56:00.001+04:00

The world was rumored to end yesterday. Today I am still here, still blogging.

Therefore, instead of my usual rants, let me share with you one of my nostalgia-driven stories. A story which will probably change your perception about me being one who complains about everything, to “the real me”; who really is a small town girl, and who loves her mommy.

Strange as it is, I don’t really remember much about my teen years (13 – 17), those four years kind of floated by me, I remember watching lots of TV while eating bags of chips (and never gaining weight) and wished that I would someday marry a Val Kilmer or Dean Cain look-alike. When I met my husband, everything fell into place; but that’s another story. While those years are a blur, I have a pretty clear memory of my life as a child of 3 (and up, or course).

Those days, dad would be away working in the family plantation (granddad owned oil palm and fruit plantations back in the day) so I would spend the entire day with mom. She would either be sewing something for me on our old foot-operated sewing machine, crocheting (again, always something for me) or reading nursery rhymed to me. I’m sure she did other things too, but as a child, those other things didn’t matter to me.

(At age 5; wearing one of mom's crochets)

Anyway, one of my earliest memories is how much I loved to read. I could read simple nursery rhymes when I was about 5; I remember as this was when I attended kindergarten and I could read. Once every couple of weeks, mom would take me to the Times Bookstore in Penang Plaza; which back then was known as FIMA (it was owned by FIMA Supermarket). The place had never been “hip”, it was the kind of place where expensive clothing boutiques were there to boost the rich housewife’s ego. Mom didn’t care for it, and me, I just wanted to go and browse the children’s books. I remember doing everything I was told, or else mom would tell me that the trip was cancelled. Yeah, we’re Chinese. Chinese parents like to threaten.

I can’t remember how many times I was threatened that if I misbehaved I would be given away to the bottle collector when he came every other week, dad said he could put me in his (the bottle collector) bicycle basket and take me with him. Or I would be sold to Chettiar merchants and I would be taken away to be a slave on their ship(s). I must say I was most afraid of the Chettiar threat, so I’d stop whatever “mischief” I was doing even if it was only not finishing my lunch (I’d finish every bite).

Anyway, sorry I got so carried away. I would enjoy afternoons with mom in that bookstore, which was really just a mom-and-pop kind of store, it is still there today, some big bookstore chain took over and it will never be the same. Sometimes dad would come along and I remember not liking that, because my dad has no patience you see, he would come in for 10 minutes and complained that he wanted to go home and take a nap…or something like that.

So mom, thank you for all the times you took me to bookstores and read to me before I could. That was probably the best gift one could give a young child; the gift of Knowledge.

My love for reading has been planted at a young age and I am now reaping the plentiful fruits that come with it!

The Heat Chronicles: Look at what we're reduced to

2011-05-21T11:31:00.002+04:00

Friday, May 20

6 am: Woken up by Jester’s cold nose poking my thighs, arms and face, followed by having the covers pulled away and then more poking by his cold, wet nose.

6.05: Opened bathroom door groggily only to be instantly hit by a thick wall of heat. Fully awake and sweating by the time finished brushing teeth.

6.10: Took Jester out to pee-pee, as soon as we stepped out of the apartment, I felt like walking into an oven. Thought to self; "maybe misread the clock, maybe it’s already 8am".

6.30: Came back inside, completely drenched in sweat, still in pajamas. Checked time, yep, 6.30am.

6.45: Started making coffee; while waiting for electric kettle to boil, sweat dripped from forehead into eyes despite attempts dry self with some paper towels. Thought about all the winters I will be missing in Korea and how I’ll never get to smell rain and grass ever again.

From then on, it was a downward spiral into another bout of depression.

11am: Attempted to take a cold shower. Yes, it was only an attempt as the water come out scalding hot (heater was OFF), yelped in pain, curses flew.

I had to adjust the faucet dial to “HOT” as the “hot water” was cooler than the scalding tap water*.

*tap water; we don’t really have fresh "tap water". Our villa has a water tank on the roof and it pumps water into all the apartments. That's how every household is set up here. It is the desert after all.

11.30: Stepped out of shower, started sweating almost immediately. Angrily picked up A/C remote to adjust temperature. Saw that it was already set to 16C (coolest setting). Puzzled as it was blowing hot air at me.

11.31: Started yelling and crying. Jester got off the bed and lay on the floor. I followed. It cooled me off a little. Go Jester!

12pm: A/C stopped producing cool air because it couldn’t handle the heat outside. It was fixed just the day before. I had gone hysterical at this point. Standing in front of fans do not work as it just circulated hot air and blowing it at me

While all this was going on, the dining room and kitchen; which didn’t have an air-conditioning unit was heating up nicely. I couldn’t go in there. Eric got banished into the dining room whenever he wanted to smoke a cigarette. He comes back into the room covered in sweat.

12.30: Decided that if I wanted to ever take a cold shower again it will have to be out of a bucket. So, a bucket of scalding water was left in the bathroom to cool. *felt like we're living in a rural area*

1pm: Eric decided to buy an A/C for the dining room. I tried half-heartedly to talk him out of it because this is a rented apartment. In the end we agreed; it was essential. I don't know which got to him first, my constant b*tching or the heat.

2pm: The temperature got up to 45C (felt like 50C) outside. I declared, as I lay on the floor that I’m losing too much sweat and was about to die.

3pm: Took Jester out pee-pee again. Poor boy quickly did his business and ran in. I was again, drenched in sweat.

3.15: Another hot shower. Water in bucket still warm.

3.30: Stood in front of fan, armed with a spritzer bottle. Misted self with water to cool off as the fan blows hot air on my face. Felt a little better.

4pm: Had completely lost my sanity. Watched “Hall Pass”. Fell asleep sweating on floor.

Fast forward a few hours later, A/C guys arrived, installed the unit, and then couldn’t get the wiring in order. We had to hire electricians to come in the next day. Great.

7pm: A/C started working normally again. Yay.

8pm: Took a shower with bucket-water. It made a HUGE difference. Yay.

8.15: Watched some TV in bed. Still sweating a little, but had lost the will to live. Didn’t care.

10pm: Took Jester out for his last pee-pee of the day. Came in, drenched in sweat. Went to bed.

Conclusion? I will never take the following things for granted ever again:

# Cold Showers

# Not getting burnt when I wash my hands

# Chilled water; we were guzzling so much water that the fridge couldn't cool it fast enough

# Trees

# Grass

# Rain

"Just Kill It"

2011-05-19T11:16:00.001+04:00

The following ~~tales~~ conversations show just how ignorant the residents here in Oman are about dogs.

Dog Lover (DL): We play catch with our dog on the balcony.

Ignorant Soul (IS): Catch?

DL: Yes, we throw the ball and he goes and catches it then brings it back. He loves it.

IS: Oh, what happens if I throw the ball over the balcony? Will he go after it?

DL: Well *joking tone* I think he would be going after you because after the ball, you’re next.
IS: *sheepish look*

Teacher (T): Animals have different physical qualities to adapt in different climates. Like polar bears; they have thick undercoats to keep them warm.

Ignorant Student (IS): Polar bears? What this “polar bear”?

T: You might have seen them on TV, they are *ya-da-ya-da, explanation*. Anyway, many animals have undercoats, my dog has an undercoat and he is shedding A LOT. There’s fur all over my furniture.

IS: Why don’t put him outside?

T: Outside? No! It’s too hot!

IS: Then kill it!

T: Kill it? Nooo! He is my friend!

IS: Why your friend? He animal. We no friend with animal.

T: *too appalled to say anything*

Ignorant Guest (IG) comes to Dog Lovers’ (DL1, DL2) home for coffee. One of the dog lovers; (DL2) has their dog on a short leash because Ignorant Guest has never seen a real dog and is afraid.

DL1: Don’t worry, he’s not going to bite you, see he likes you *points to dog with ears down, tail wagging*

IG: Yes, yes I know…but I am scared

DL1: Don’t worry, DL2 is holding him, he can’t come near you.

IG: My friend’s brother’s wife’s cousin has a dog and it is very vicious. They put him outside and train him to attack.

DL1: Oh that is wrong; a dog will attack intruders if it senses that its owners are in danger. Like him, if someone hits DL2 on the street, he will attack them.

IG: Oh…what will he do if I hit him now?

Woman takes her dog out for a walk and a local approached her and ~~asked~~ said “I throw stones at dog?” Woman got annoyed and said “How about if I throw stones at you?”

Dog Lover (DL): Do you want to see a picture of my dog? I have a few on my phone.

Local Friend (LF): Uh ok *sees picture* AAARGGHH!!! OH MY GOD!!! *pulls away in fear* It very scary!

(The face of Fear itself?)

The above are actual conversations either I or people close to me have experienced. I don’t understand it. Like in case #2; “kill it”? Why would someone suggest killing a dog just because the shedding was annoying? Yes, he could be joking but certain jokes are just not funny. Plus, he only sees dogs as an “animal” and should definitely be tortured in the heat or killed.

Well, me, I always make sure Jester’s leash is hooked on securely before we leave the house. I know that if he gets loose, I will probably never see him again. The consequences are too horrible to even imagine.

Jester's Story

2011-05-17T21:49:00.000+04:00

When God made Jester He told him, "Don't play in the puddle of milk!". Jester immediately jumped into the puddle of milk, getting all his paws "milky"

God then picked him up by the scruff and said, "Off to Oman!"

Me No Spreaking Engrish

2011-05-16T15:08:00.002+04:00

I will try to make this entry as short and painless as possible.

I just want you to stop and imagine, just for second, what it’s like to be me.

Last night, we went out with an Omani friend. Eric’s friend, not mine, he can’t even get my name right and he kept calling me "Gilly". Not even with a “J” sound; “Gill-y”… like I have gills or something. Oh well, at least he tried.

Anyway, he is a very, very nice young guy, but this is just how he was "programmed"; either by his parents, or teachers, or whatever and this guy had studied in the UK before. I was talking to him in fluent, crystal clear American English, and because his English wasn't very good, I even emphasized words more clearly than usual. When he asked what I did during my free time while Eric was at work, I said I write blogs or read, cook, and that I was hoping to work on writing a book, apart from doing other “things around the house”.

He then turned and asked my American husband if I spoke fluent English. I mean, I was doing the act itself; speaking fluent English, RIGHT FREAKING THERE! The guy didn’t mean anything rude I suppose, it’s just how he was programmed since he was young; Asians don’t speak English. When my husband told him that I was completely fluent, he didn't seem to believe us and kept asking questions like "No, I mean, can she understand everything?, What I mean is can she read?"

"SHE"?! Like I'm not freaking there?!

Finally I had to jump in and said that I am qualified to teach. Only then did he stop asking.

Of course, I’m Asian, why WOULD I be speaking English?

Bad Lulu's, BAD! [Part II]

2011-05-14T14:50:00.001+04:00

In my last entry I talked about the quality of service at Lulu’s. It IS bad. Bad service is one thing, but when it comes to bad, low standard products, I have to draw the line.

We used to do our weekly grocery shopping at Lulu’s because we live very close by, but like I said before, after learning the driving route to Carrefour, Al Fair and Sultan Centre, trips to Lulu’s had dropped to only once a month or none at all because they have nothing to offer.

The first “bad” product we got from Lulu’s is a batch of chocolate chip cookies from their in-house bakery. You’d think “How could anyone screw up chocolate chip cookies”, right? They’re the easiest things to make and the ingredients are almost always available. Well, you can, if you’re a big supermarket chain and try to cheap-out on the customers. The cookies looked normal; dark brown rounds, with big chunks of chocolate chips. That’s how Eric got attracted to them (my husband gets drawn to sweet treats like ants) in the first place. He snacked on them for about 2 days when I decided to have one too. The first bite was actually SHOCKING. You see, I have a thing for coconut oil – I hate it. When it’s cheap coconut oil, it’s even worse. The cookies do not taste like cookies at all; instead of tasting a buttery smoothness which crumbles in your mouth, they were hard, and almost broke my front tooth. I think I figured out the mystery, they were too cheap to use butter so they substituted it for cheap coconut oil; and therefore changed the texture altogether. They were not cookies; they were Chinese Throwing ~~Cookies~~ Stars.

(Hi-yakkk!! Ninja!!)

The cookie issue didn’t really stop us from shopping there due to the location convenience. The next item I’m about to describe is by far the worst I’ve ever tasted in my entire life. Not even buggy honey can top this.

Last week, we went to the Lulu’s in Ghubra to pay the phone bill. I didn’t really have a long grocery list so we decided to just pick up the few items and be done for the week. On the way to the cash register, Eric grabbed a bottle of carrot juice, labeled “Freshly Squeezed”. It’s one of those in-store juices. Eric took a sip of the juice and handed the bottle to me. A slight rotting smell hit me but for some strange reason I was so beaten from standing in line at the cashier that I drank it anyway. Not only the carrot juice tasted rotten but its texture had changed and it was bubbly and thick. That wasn’t even the worst part. THEN, something slimy touched my lip. I didn’t spend much time judging what it was as I threw the bottle away. I had a hard time convincing myself that a piece of rotten carrot did not get juiced and that the something was just carrot. The piece was slimy though, and it had a rounded tip, at least I thought so as it touched my lip for a fraction of a second. It could be someone’s finger for all I know.

I had goosebumps all over and I was about to cry. Apparently Eric doesn’t pay attention to what he’s eating/drinking. I don’t know how that rotting smell and taste didn’t put him off, and then he handed the killer juice to his wife. Nice.

I wanted to go lodge a complaint but again, the line of people everywhere was sickening. Plus, I’d lost my will to live.

So yeah, Lulu’s has the longest lines at the cashiers, I don’t know if they have three times more customers than the other (GOOD) supermarkets or that their cashiers work three times as slow; but in any case, the long lines I can take, the inefficiency of their staff, I *can* somewhat manage but with food/drinks which I consume, I draw the line.

For now, it’s Goodbye Lulu’s. I hope I never step foot in any of your stores ever again, and why should I? It’s not like you have anything to offer.

Bad Lulu's, BAD! [Part I]

2011-05-11T09:43:00.002+04:00

Ever since learning the driving route to Carrefour at the Qurum City Center, I’ve been telling Eric that we have to stop shopping for groceries at the LuLu’s in Ghubra. I don’t know if all the hypermarkets in the chain are the same or it is just this one; due to poor management.

(LuLu Hypermarket in Ghubra - looks like a casino, doesn't it?)

We have had so many bad experiences at this Lulu outlet that I'm starting to lose count. However, it doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying. Let’s start with their Service;

- Remember the rude cashier who sneered at us; customers? You can read the story here.

- Once I wanted to buy a pair of Reeboks, there was only one pair there; the one on display. The pair fitted me but I wanted to try a size smaller just to make sure (like a normal person would). We went to a nearby sales assistant, who was engaged in conversation with another staff. The sales assistant took one look at the shoes and told us that it was the last pair. That’s it. No “I’ll check”, or “maybe they will come in next week/year/etc”, NO, just “Last Pair”…THEN, continued with her conversation! Well, the outcome; I had to buy that pair because my Nikes were torn and I needed to run every day. They fit, luckily.

- Also, apparently no one who works there knows ANYTHING. On several occasions, I couldn’t find something on the shelves and I asked employees nearby; who were, just a minute ago re-stocking the shelves, you’d think they might know SOMETHING, but NO, the employee(s) did the head-bop thing, y’know, the one which doesn't mean yes or no…and told me that they didn't know. I've since given up asking; if I don’t see it on the shelves, I just carry on with my life.

- This is not always the case; but at the cash register last night, we had a bag boy help us bag our purchases. I actually prefer bagging our items ourselves because the bag boys use WAAAY too many plastic bags; sometimes one item per bag. However, after putting together ONE bag, the boy decided that he wanted a break and just left – without a word. At first I thought he was called to another register for a sec and will be right back. He never came back. I don’t know why but I started laughing and kept repeating loudly “DID YOU SEE THAT, ERIC? HE JUST LEFT! *laughter, lots of laughter* ” The cashier felt bad seeing a poor woman (me!) lose her mind so she helped us bag. The help really wasn’t necessary but it was a nice gesture.

(Let me be clear; these are thick, sturdy plastic bags, not the flimsy kind which disintegrates in the trash)

(People just piling up on bags. We don't buy this much stuff but every trip to LuLu's gets us at least 10-15 bags)

Don't get me wrong, I do try to tell them that I don't need so many bags, but I usually get ignored. Once I wedged a pack of dish cloth between two plates we bought and handed it to the bag boy but he pulled out the dish cloths and bagged the plates separately - one giant bag each. I use these bags for garbage, and now I can dump liquids (not that I do, but I *can*) in the trash without worrying about drips.

In the next entry, I will tell you about the shocking quality of their products.

Meanwhile, be thankful that you, my dear reader, are not subjected to Living in Muscat!

…but if you are, well, guess we’re in the same boat, here’s an oar, let’s paddle, paddle away!

There's Never Enough High School Drama

2011-05-10T12:06:00.001+04:00

Jester’s 5-week Obedience course ended last Saturday. Once a week during the course, ~~dog owners~~ “parents” bring their little one(s) to the class to learn basic obedience such as heeling, sitting, lying down, and following general verbal and physical commands. I might be biased here but I think our boy Jester did extremely well! After watching an episode of “Dog Whisperer” which featured Viper, and further Googling, we’re almost positive that he is a Belgian Malinois mix. There might be some Canadian Jebel in him too. The Belgian dogs; according to the American Kennel Club website, are “Intelligent and trainable”.

Well Jester would follow commands after one training session (15-20 mins).

Anyway, a funny thing happened on the final week of the course; when the dogs were suppose to have an “Exam”. Owners would be giving commands and the trainer would grade the dog based on how well they follow them. To continue with the following story, I have to first explain what happened the previous week. There was a lovely Saluki mix who also attended the course, and in the past few weeks had been mingling with Jester pretty well. She snapped at other dogs but had mostly acted calm around Jester. So, a week before the exam, Jester and Trixie; the Saluki were cuddling each other, “kissing” each other on the lips, and smelling each other. It was the sweetest thing; think of the scene from “Bambi” when grown-up Bambi saw grown-up Feline again. We started joking about Jester having a girlfriend.

(Trixie and her owner)

Last Saturday (day of the exam), when the two of them saw each other, they were sniffing normally and suddenly, Trixie decided that she wanted to be the dominant one. Dogs do this by standing over another dog and sniffing the other’s neck. Since Jester has an extremely dominant personality, he wouldn’t have any of that and started snapping at her too. We tried several times (both Eric and I *and* Trixie’s owner) to get them to mingle normally again but the two of them wouldn’t stop trying to bite each other so we had to pull them apart.

(Jester; praised for heeling, sitting and laying down very well)

(...and there's the beautiful little Trixie)

Think about this; boy went to school for his major exam and the girlfriend broke up with him a few minutes before it. Both went for the exam anyway and didn’t do so well…

Typical high school drama much?

The Stench

2011-04-30T10:35:00.004+04:00

We live in a cut-up villa with maybe 6-7 other people. We’ve yet to meet them all in person. There is one man, however, who needs no personal meeting – because we could smell him. Literally.

And it’s not a pleasant smell.

One floor above our apartment lives an Egyptian neighbor. I don’t know if he speaks English as we’ve never spoken to him before. The thing is; this guy probably has the worst body odor I’ve ever smelled in my entire life. Yes, ENTIRE life. I don’t know what it is with this guy. Another tenant thought it might be his shoes which were left outside his apartment, so that tenant (apparently) spoke to the landlord and the Egyptian was asked to put his shoes inside his apartment (can you imagine what it would smell like in there? Yikes!). This did not help, if anything, I think the stench got worse.

The funny thing is; this guy is not a physical laborer. He must be working in an office somewhere because he wears a dress shirt, slacks and a suit jacket every time we see him. Anyway, I will try to describe his smell the best I can – it smells so bad that whenever I walk out of our apartment I gag and want to throw up. Sometimes I think I do; a little in my mouth. It’s not even the smell of sweat, it’s like the smell of month-old sweaty socks, rolled up into a ball and left in a heated, humid room to slowly rot and simmer into something else entirely. It smells like despair and death.

(Old, smelly socks)

Or let me put it this way; it's good for my diet plan. Why? One time I had a passing thought about the stench during lunch, just a passing thought, I lost my appetite entirely.

All I can think of is; poor little Jester, with his sense of smell, walking into a cloud of THAT smell. Usually when I take him out to go to the bathroom, I will make him sit and wait in the doorway – y’know, for training purposes. However, when the guy is home, I say “RUN, JESTER, RUN! C’MON, RUN!” and Jester will. Sometimes he looks at me anxiously when we walk into the hallway. It could be the smell of it could be that he REALLY needed to go. Heh.

I do the same with Eric – “RUN, ERIC, RUN! HURRY! CAN’T BREATHE!”

We often have to light incense to cover the awfulness of it all. I didn’t know a human being could even make smells like that. Let me tell you, I’ve smelled people who work in the sun before, I’ve smelled the boys at camp (when I was a girl scout) who didn’t shower for a few days, but this, this tops it all.

So there you have it, another strange tale from Muscat!

[Edit 5/24/2011: We had the pleasure to speak with our Egyptian neighbor yesterday. He is one of the nicest people we've one here. NICEST! And he speaks very good English and he LOVES dogs. I find that this is a very rare quality in this part of the world. He DOESN'T have body odor, he just has really smell feet I suppose because he doesn't smell like anything when we talk to him. So it really WAS his shoes which were stinking up the building. And it's been quite some time since we smell the stench, so I guess he has been keeping his shoes inside his apartment now. Bless him!]

Dry Oasis

2011-04-24T23:20:00.000+04:00

I’m starting to see that every day, no matter what it is, getting things done here in Muscat is a challenge; like ordering drinking water for example. Simple task, no? Well, think again.

Like many Gulf Countries, water here is desalinated. While it is okay for washing, it doesn’t taste quite right. One can taste the faintest hint of saltiness in the tap water, even after it is boiled. Also, the water seemed to have a more “dense” quality to it when compared to normal drinking water. We bought a (Omani brand) water filter which does a very poor job of filtering the water. The saltiness is still there, although very faint, but more importantly, little black specks of the filter sometimes appear in filtered water. Yeah, like I said, it does an extremely poor job and I am stopping Eric from buying another one (of a different brand even) because I don’t think any filter would be able to filter out the taste of the water.

Our other option is to order bottles of drinking water to be delivered. We already have the dispenser, so all we need is the bottles to be delivered every few days and we’re set, right?

On Saturday morning (the first day of the work week), I called Oman Oasis to place my order. I didn’t just order 2 bottles (5 gallons each); I told them I wanted to buy their coupon booklet of 20 bottles. The man on the phone told me this, and I quote; “We will try to deliver today or tomorrow”. I asked him if it was “today” or “tomorrow” most probably and he repeated the sentence.

It is now 11pm, Sunday night. No water. No courtesy call. Nothing.

I really miss our Korean water guy back in Daegu, we called him in the evenings when we were running low on water, the next morning,*BOOM* he was there with 2 5-gallon bottles of water which he carried by hand up 3 flights of stairs. If these people here would be half as efficient as he was, I would have been happy.

So help me understand this, we’re talking about water. A very essential human need and they don’t even bother to deliver on time. What if we didn’t have our sorry excuse for a water filter? Now I’m re-thinking ordering water from these people. Who knows what would happen after we pay them for the booklet. They’ll never show up again.

Oman has a lot of potential, the Sultan is such an amazing leader, but why can’t the people just…just work for a living?

"No Smoking in Public"

2011-04-24T18:29:00.001+04:00

I know everyone has been (anxiously?) waiting to read the next episode of my experience living in Muscat. Well here it is; and no, it’s not a pleasant one.

Last night was one of those rare occasions which we eat out. We usually eat at home or wait until the ~~odd~~ weekend (Thurs and Fri) where we try a new restaurant. Foods here are typically fried, grilled or pickled then served with bread, therefore we choose Health by eating at home.

Anyway, last night we were at an open air coffee shop; a restaurant where they do the grilling by the entrance and has tables and chairs set up outside. There are always a few tables inside the restaurant which are mostly empty, customers who sit inside either get to enjoy the A/C if it’s switched on or cocooned in hot, damp air.

We always sit outside.

As we waited for our food to arrive, Eric had his before-meal cigarette. I could never get him to stop doing it. Bear in mind that smoking in coffee shops is NOT prohibited here in Muscat, furthermore, we’re in the open-air section. Cigarette butts could be seen on the ground around our feet. Shortly after Eric lit the cigarette, a waiter immediately brought him an ashtray. As we were talking, the same waiter came over and told him very politely and apologetically that “certain” customers were complaining and could he please put it out. Eric did. We looked around and everybody seemed to be talking and/or enjoying their food. We guessed that it was two Omani men sitting closest to us.

It is NOT rude for a person to ask another to put out a cigarette; it was just that the situation last night was extremely rude due to these circumstances:

1/ We were in the open-air area

2/ There was the smell of insecticide in the air. The spraying truck had probably left less than 30 mins before. Insecticide = Poisonous Fumes

3/ The sent a waiter over instead of telling us themselves while pretending to be deep in conversation the whole time.

4/ The grilling was ongoing as we speak. As far as I know, Grilling = (Oily) Smoke

5/ Instead of asking him not to light another one, Eric was asked to put it out. Asking another person to put out a cigarette is just plain rude.

And finally;

6/ The coffee shop was situated by a busy street; where people (who can’t walk 5 feet) pull up (in front of a coffee shop!), honk for the waiters and wait in their cars with engines running while they wait for their take-aways. Car engine running = Carbon Monoxide

With all these elements in the air, you would think these two Omanis would just get on with their lives and not bother another patron who just wants to enjoy a cigarette (I really wish Eric would stop, but that’s a separate issue). Also the pure rudeness of the situation was simply aggravating. I have seen people coming up to Eric and asked if he could step further away from them while he smoked because of their sensitivity to cigarette smoke, kids, or some health issue, etc. He is not an unreasonable person; he would always apologize and get out of the way. This however, is new. Customers from a table that wasn’t even that close, in an open area, by the street, with insecticide in the air, asking a waiter to ask another person to put out his cigarette!

I don’t know what else to say about Omanis. I HAVE met some really nice ones, like the taxi driver who drove us for free because we were wandering in the heat or the one who offered to take us in his car when we asked for directions, but the nice ones are extremely hard to come by. It’s the unreasonable, probably uneducated ones whom we meet every day.

These days I live by this one thought; it must be hard being an Omani (man), having to muster so much grumpiness on a daily basis. Well you know how the saying goes; it takes more muscles to frown than to smile. I don’t think these people get it.

Maybe it’s the heat.

Soaring to New Heights (of Laziness)

2011-04-18T22:25:00.001+04:00

I feel like I need to apologize before I go further; the tone of the entry will be somewhat unsavory.

So. Living in Muscat for three months and counting. What's it like? I shall quote a friend who said the same thing about Korea, first, there is wonderment, something and something else in between (I'm sorry, I don't really remember what he said), and finally, acceptance.

I'm still in the wonderment stage of settling down in Muscat and I don't see a future where there will be acceptance.

Wonderment;
I've never seen such lazy, ignorant people in my entire life. The beaches for example, are in a very sad state, there are (often broken) bottles every where I look, not to mention bags of garbage (yes, bags!) lying around when there are clearly garbage cans places every 2 meters or so apart. My husband recently went on a beach outing with his university students. They drank cans of soda and bottled juice while waiting for their hired boat to take them on a trip. When the boat came, they left ALL the empty cans and bottles and rushed off. Eric managed to grab a student and asked if they were going to pick it up. The answer was this; "It's no problem, it's a public beach".

Also, I'm continuously amazed by how far people go to NOT do anything. Like cleaning their cars for example. I thought it is easy enough for someone to drive to a car wash or use those automated ones. Well here, every house has a "houseboy". usually a Pakistani or Indian guy who cleans the car and takes out the garbage everyday. I mean, taking out the garbage takes no effort at all. Admittedly, the garbage system here is pretty strange if you ask me. Instead of having individual garbage cans outside our houses, there is a big dumpster for every 10 houses or so. So the boy has to walk quite a bit carrying some stinky garbage; plus I feel bad for House No 10.

Yesterday, I took my dog out for his morning walk. 7am in the morning, I wasn't fully awake yet and probably still had bed head. Halfway through the walk, a Pakistani (or perhaps Indian) car wash man who looked quite friendly walked up to me and here was what happened;

Car Washer (CW): Dog! Dog! What's his name?
Me: *thinking it wouldn't do much harm answered* Jester *started walking away*
CW: Where are you from?
Me: *thinking: Oh Lord, it's started* I'm American (I've recently realized that no matter where I say I'm from people will still TELL me that I'm Filipino).
CW: What? Where you are from?

I walked far away enough by now that I didn't hear whatever he was still mumbling. I continued walking Jester up the street for his morning business and then on the way back, apparently CW hasn't given up being nosy or whatever, i don't know anymore.

CW: Hello? Where are you from?
Me: *scowls*
CW: You are Filipino?
Me: NO! I am American
CW: You are Malaysian?
I ignored him, went home and made a mental note to pepper spray him the next time he talks to me.

So now even the Help thinks I'm Help? You know what I mean? Because I'm Asian?

I don't know what's the deal with Filipinos here in Muscat. What are the girls doing here besides clean houses and take care of children? What's going on on the side making all these men go crazy when they think they see a Filipino? It's not my place to care but it bothers me that people see my as one!

The Common Enemy

2011-04-04T20:17:00.002+04:00

I think many (women) will agree with me when I say that Weight is our common enemy. Before you judge me by size, let me tell you, when I was in my teens, I could eat as much carbohydrates and fat as I desired and not gain a single pound. Yes, I went hiking with my parents at least 4 times a week back then and as a result, I legs are as toned up till today, but that’s besides the point. The amount of food and the accumulated hours I napped and slept in a day would even out the numbers.

When I hit 21, it was all downhill from there. From age 21-23, I gained about 3 kilos from my original weight, which some might call it being on the upper end of being underweight. I struggled to keep those pounds off, I joined the gym, crossed out “Frosted Flakes” from my shopping list; and in its place, I wrote “expensive cereal” – because in Malaysia, the more expensive the cereal, the more healthy it gets, I’m not joking! And I refused to sit down for at least 30 mins after a meal. None of those worked so I gave up and accepted my new weight – 43 kilos. Back then, I thought the slight weight gain was devastating, but the worst was yet to come. Oh yes, Mid-Twenties caught up with me.

I met Eric when I was 23; he is someone who shares my passion for cooking and trying out new recipes. The difference between us is that he knows what he is doing. I used follow every word in the cookbook, occasionally I substituted ingredients, but that was all. I do however; know cooking techniques and terms well (or even better than my husband) because I went to college for it. When I moved to Korea at 24, I’m proud to say that I’ve mastered some of the Malaysian dishes which I’ve grown up loving. Anyway, this means more cooking, more experimenting, and some more weight gain. Plus, the first 6 months I lived in Korea, all we had was Korean rice (sushi rice) which has extremely high gluten content. I tried to stay away from it most of the time, but occasionally I did eat half a bowl here and there. We occasionallyd cycle around campus, and I worked out on my stepper machine almost every day, the weight didn’t come off, instead another few kilos latched on.

Now, I jog with Jester and sweat like mad each time. I mop the floor daily, sometimes twice a day, and I chase and wrestle the little monster every day. I’m also in the process of reducing my food intake.

But alas, we bought a bathroom scale last night.

There’s no reason to complete this entry.

The Baby is Going to School!

2011-03-30T14:30:00.001+04:00

Jester is attending a month-long obedience course starting this Saturday. The cutest thing about this course is how proud it makes Eric. I can see what a good dad he is going to make because we've been having conversations like these:

Eric: He’s going to school!

Me: Eric! It’s not school!

Eric: Okay, pre-school! No, NURSERY school!

Me: *rolls eyes* you know that he’s going because he’s naughty right? You shouldn’t be so proud!

Eric: *ignores comment* we’ll pack him some food, some water and a munchy stick!

Me: Should we pack him an apple too?

Eric: No, he doesn’t like apples. We’ll pack him a notebook and some crayons.

(The happy boy and his daddy)

Yes, I have two boys at home. They both make me laugh so much that I think I’m gaining some Happy Weight. Anyway, Jester is attending the class because he has mental issues. I’m serious! We think he has been traumatized at the kennel which he was kept. One minute he would be snuggling with us, being sweet and cuddly and the next minute he would treat us like his chew toys. It brings new meaning to the phrase; when he’s good, he’s very, very good. When he’s bad, he’s very, very bad!

(A napping Jester)

We both watch episodes of “Dog Whisperer” and have tried some of his methods at. Most of them would work on Jester except when “Crazy Time” starts. He never growls at us, he just tries to bite our hands, toes, legs, sometimes our faces…well, anywhere he could get. The scars are still one my arms, where he tries to claw on. Sometimes I get worried that people might think I don’t listen – if you know what I mean. Don’t get me wrong, Jester is a sweet boy and he never means any harm, he has never broken skin before, it’s just that he likes to play rough and it doesn’t help that he is REALLY strong. It’s hard for me to fight him off sometimes.

To be fair, he did get a lot better since we had him fixed. The first week we had him was a little traumatizing for me even. I don’t know what gets him going but he seems to want to make everything his “girlfriend”! He completely destroyed his mattress in 3 days and then peed on it. We were not spared either. I’ve had to lock him in the dining room when he gets too hyped up and I couldn’t hold him off any longer.

(Super-Jester!)

He is napping under my desk staring as I’m working on this entry. He loves being near me (sometimes he chooses Eric over me) so he follows me everywhere around the apartment. However bad he is at times, we both love him so very much.

No Potholes, only Big Gaping Holes

2011-03-30T11:45:00.000+04:00

The streets and roads in Muscat are generally very well maintained and I’ve yet to come across a pothole when we drive around, even in small, heavily populated areas in the city.

Just when I was about to go bragging to friends and family back in Malaysia, we got ourselves into this;

(Kyle and Eric jacking the car)

Yes, after dinner at the American Club last Friday, we drove into a manhole – or something of the sort. They were probably drain holes designed to handle large amounts of water during the heavy rainfall months as floods do happen here. The problem was; they never bothered to cover them. Furthermore, the street was not very well lit.

The funny thing was, across the street was the drain cover, just tossed aside, with weeds growing around it, it was as if after they built the drain, the workers were so happy that they left to celebrate in a hurry – without bothering to ever come back and cover the holes. There were several more holes of death along the sidewalk. And of course, car tires fit the holes perfectly.

Or maybe the holes were there for a different purpose altogether? Perhaps to deter people from parking along the sidewalk? Laugh all you want, but it could very well be the real reason! It worked, didn’t it?

(The approximately 1-foot deep hole)

Why the "Picking Up After Your Dog" Rule Does Not Apply in Oman

2011-03-29T10:29:00.000+04:00

I had an interesting "encounter" with an Omani man (I'd say somewhere in his 40s) this morning as I took Jester for his morning walk.

I was walking him back to our apartment when I heard someone calling "Excuse me! Excuse me!" in a stern voice. I turned around and saw an Omani man standing at the spot where Jester just did his #2. So I said "Yes?" The Omani then said "Come here!"

First of all, no one should speak to another adult that way. His tone of voice was stern and it sounded as if he was addressing a child. Then the following exchange took place:-

Omani Man (let's call him "OM"): Come here!
Me: What's the problem?
OM: The problem? This! You come and pick this up.
Me: *walked over to the spot* Sure, I will pick it up, but I think you should be more polite about it, you don't have to be so rude
OM: I am not rude, but you have to pick this up, I see you everyday bring IT here
Me: Yes, I do bring HIM here and I will be happy to clean it up, but you're really rude!
OM: No no, I am not rude, just clean up after IT.
Me: Sure, mister. Don't be so rude.

He walked away without saying anything else.

Okay, now, in any other place (even back in Malaysia) I WOULD clean up after my dog as it is the responsible thing to do, but let me explain why I don't do it here. First of all, if you look anywhere on the street you will find Styrofoam boxes, soda cans, plastic bags, food wrappers, tissue...the list goes on. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think those are more harmful to the environment than some dog waste which will probably benefit the soil anyway. Take our neighbors for example; their piping is set up in a way that I guess their used water flows out to the street. How is that being responsible?

Back to this morning's encounter with OM, his complaint was perfectly reasonable. In fact, even though most Omanis are a dirty, littering lot, I should have been going about with a bag and shovel anyway. It was his tone of voice which really bothered me. These people do not have any respect for women at all (as I've written about before), and furthermore, who asks another stranger to "Come here!"?! I am not his child or his servant, I don't have to go anywhere he asked. If I wasn't so worried that he might do something drastic like call the police and have Jester taken away from us, I would've told him "No, YOU come here!".

What would you have done in my place?

Jester Dastardly

2011-03-28T16:41:00.000+04:00

It was a difficult few days dealing with Bibbles’ passing. Walking around the apartment was especially hard because I’d imagine her little head peaking out behind furniture as she loved to follow me around the room when I do my chores. Therefore, I stayed in bed most of the time, watching TV and occasionally giving myself a migraine.

Two days of that and we decided it’s time to get another dog.

Again, we emailed the Qurum Veterinary to see if we could rescue another dog.

That was how we were introduced to “Dastardly” – that was his name. In the email picture, he was sitting with his ears back. We now know that those are his “happy” or “scared” ears. Laura, the woman we dealt with since Bibbles found him at the Al Fair (supermarket) parking lot just sitting there, watching traffic. She brought him to a kennel which accepted him since they did not have any room for him at the vet/shelter.

(Dastardly; pretending to be good a few minutes after he arrived)

It was Saturday (4 days after Bibbles) when Laura brought Dastardly over to our apartment. Immediately he started jumping on me and hugging me with his very strong front legs. Unlike Bibbles, who came in and sat down quietly until we showed her around, Dastardly started exploring the apartment on his own, sniffing everything in sight, wagging his curly tail very vigorously.

Since he wasn’t fixed yet, as soon as Laura left he started humping my leg. He continued to hump everything he could manage the first week he stayed with us, mostly he would jump on me from behind (as wrong as that sounds), oh, Eric wasn’t spared either. He was so strong that I couldn’t really fight him off. He wouldn’t just struggle; he tried to claw on my clothes to stay on. I still have scratch marks on my arms and legs, faintly but they’re still there. To tell the truth, it’s kind of embarrassing to go out in public because it looks like I’m a victim of domestic violence.

(His girlfriend; the mattress)

Testosterone aside, Dastardly really is a sweet, loving puppy (he’s only a year old), he heels good on walks, obeys “Sit” and “Wait” commands, and most importantly, he really is a jester, he makes me laugh all day; throwing his toys or (rawhide) chewy in the air and tries to catch them. Mostly he fails to catch it, and sometimes it hits him on the head – hard, because that is how he throws them. My favorite however, is watching him play “Football”. We bought him a squeak toy in the shape of a football. He would throw it around the room, sometimes up in the air; then grabs it with his mouth and start squeaking it for a few minutes, then pounce on it some more, making more squeaks. It’s really the most amusing thing (I’m sorry, I’m easily entertained).

(The football player!)

(He decided that he is too important to sit on the floor outside, so he climbs on the table)

(This is our story and we're sticking to it; "His mother tried to put some socks on him but only managed to get half of it on his right paw as he pulled away too quickly")

Thus, we added “Jester” to his name and that’s how “Jester Dastardly” came to be. Remember “Johnny Dangerously”?

Coming up, the price of having a crazy puppy with a personality disorder!

Living in Muscat – the Good, the Bad and the Ugly

2011-03-27T16:43:00.033+04:00

As far as first impressions go, Muscat is wonderful with a capital “W”; people are friendly, the gigantic mounts of sand that are the hills and mountains here sets the “desert” scene beautifully, the roads are clean and I’ve yet to encounter a single pothole the entire time we were here – even in the slums, and I love how some of the roads seem to swirl uphill and when lit at night, they appear to wind their way up into the sky.

(A couple enjoying the view by camping on the pavement)

(The "Said Bin Taimur" Mosque; named after Sultan Qaboos' father)

(Some of the items sold at the Muttrah Souq made it seem like I've stepped into one of the stories from Arabian Nights - oh wait, maybe I have!)

Living conditions are pretty good too. In terms of food, us expats can find virtually anything we need to make recipes our mothers taught us (or for some; recipes Googled online).The only thing I haven’t seen in a supermarket is a good French coffee press. We brought ours from Korea and but we’re still looking for a replacement in case it breaks. The only one we’ve seen was at expensive kitchen supplies store. Everything it there looked like it belonged on a cooking show.

They say every bushel of apples comes with some bad ones.

I’m sure many are guilty for this, even I am no stranger to tailgating; but these people - they are the worst I’ve seen yet! Every time we get on the road, even in the slow lanes, there would always be someone tailgating us. What I would usually do back in Malaysia was, I would slow down allowing the maniac to pass, but here, they seem to enjoy it, so they don’t pass, they keep it up until it forces you to drive faster too. I guess our little rental Ford Focus (the little hatchback one) screams BULLY in big bold letters. It seems like if you’re driving anything less than a 2 Liter engine, you’re asking for it.

Being in Muscat for 2 months now, I have learnt to never expect anything to be done within the same day. I know the people here are generally very laid back, but there is a very thin line between being laidback and being extremely lazy. The way I see it, they take the term “take it easy” a bit too far. The population of blue collar expats in Muscat is double that of the locals. The locals mostly manage these expats. For example, I was at a computer supplies store once, I just needed a charger for my laptop. There were two employees at the store at the time; a local and an expat. While the local was sitting behind the counter reading the paper, the expat was attending to two customers. When I saw that he was busy, naturally I turned to the local (who was probably the supervisor) behind the counter to ask if they had the charger I was looking for. I was ignored. Ignored!

The husband and I gave each other a look that read both astonishment and puzzlement – something we have been doing quite a lot lately; How could one ignore a potential customer? And Why? The expat had to then excuse himself from the other customers to tell us to wait. I was okay with waiting, I would have been happy to wait even if the supervisor told us to. The other customers were buying a laptop was asking a lot of questions – as they should be. So we left and went back another day.

And oh, It has been two weeks and counting since the employment company told us that they were processing my medical card; a process which should only take a couple of days to complete. They have my medical report from the hospital for about a month now and all the paperwork required. I cannot begin to fathom what is keeping them. Oh wait; there are no expats to process the papers at the company!

And of course, here are some of reasons why I sometimes feel like just packing up and leaving this country.

When I said that people were very friendly (as above), I failed to mention that they are only friendly when I am with Eric. When I go out alone, it’s a whole different story. I can’t walk 500 meters down the road without some guy honking at me. Help me understand this, they honk and I’m supposed to turn around, smile and/or wave happily at them? Or what, get in their car and be their friend? This happens even when I am walking my dog! I have talked to a few women; local ones included, apparently the same thing happens to them all the time. I get it that Oman is still a developing country (and I great one at that) but this is truly primeval behavior at its most basic form!

And finally, the most despicable thing about this country, one which I can barely tolerate is the treatment of dogs. Instead of rounding up strays and bringing them to a shelter or even putting them to sleep in a humane way, they shoot them. Why? Because dogs are filthy, beastly creatures? What kind of human being would shoot a helpless creature, which is already suffering from hunger and burning in the scorching heat? I think the answer lies within these few sentences. Also, there are signs on beaches here disallowing dogs. Again, why? The beautiful beaches here are littered, nay, covered with Styrofoam containers, soda cans, plastic bottles, plastic bags, well, anything you would bring on a picnic could be found laying somewhere along the beach – when trashcans are places a few meters after one another. Heck, kids even defecate in the water and on the sand. At least dogs cover their waste!

When we moved here, I promised Eric that I would try my best to settle in, give Muscat a fair opinion. I did. On the surface, I LOVE Muscat, I truly do. It is certainly better than Korea in many ways. Once I look closer though, sometimes the ugliness seeps through and it’s hard sustain that love. What we can do when faced with such ugliness is to simply ignore it, just like the computer store supervisor if you may, and perhaps it will eventually go away.

Bibbles

2011-03-22T15:01:00.003+04:00

It’s been exactly three weeks since our dog Habibti – “Bibbles” passed. I finally got through the difficulty of dealing with it to write about her.

Like any shelter dog, she came with her very own sad story. She was a stray dog who learned to fend for herself for one a half years, living in the harsh weather here in Muscat. The summers could hit over 50 ͦC with 99% humidity. It’s sad to even think about all the stray animals out there, sleeping under cars or trees for shade.

When we found ourselves settling quite comfortably in Muscat, we started looking around for a dog to adopt (instead of buying). There were numerous vets/shelters in Muscat rescuing and housing dogs and cats. We finally contacted the Qurum Veterinary to see if they had any dogs available for adoption. Within a few hours, a reply came with pictures of Habibti; a beautiful white Saluki mix with soft brown eyes and a slightly pink nose; probably from being out in the sun too much before they rescued her. Eric fell in love with her immediately.

We were told that she had been hit by a car and then left licking her broken leg by the side of the road. A Filipino man then saw her and carried her by foot some 5-6 kms to the Qurum Vet – in his McDonald’s uniform. He also offered to pay for her leg surgery. During the first few months of her recovery, the man would pick her up from the vet’s; which is also a small animal shelter to take her home with him every night. One day, one of the women working at the shelter drove by his apartment and saw Habibti sitting out in the hot sun in her bandages. They later found out that his apartment did not allow dogs so he had to keep her outside. Sometimes he would take her to the McDonalds where he works and tie her to a pole outside. The authorities were threatening to shoot her.

It breaks my heart knowing that there are still such barbaric acts in our society today.

Due to these circumstances, the shelter took her back and tried to find her a home. It was a Sunday when we saw her. They had just spayed her before we arrived. When we saw her, she was barely conscious but she weakly wagged her tail and tried to lick Eric’s hand from her little bed on the floor. The shelter people assured us that we don’t have to adopt her if we don’t want to bring home a limping dog, and that they would find us another one if we wanted, but I too had already fallen in love with her. There are no words to describe how sweet her eyes looked.

We brought her home two days later. She hobbled on her three good legs into our apartment and shyly laid down on the tiled floor, making a loud “thump” as her bony limbs hit the ground. I patted her and led her over to her little mattress and blanket with printed hearts which we prepared for her. Without any hassle, she laid down, closed her eyes and took a nap.

We warmed up to her almost immediately and we lovingly called her “Bibbles”. She was already toilet trained since the first day we got her. She would hobble to the front door and wait patiently for one of us to see her and take her downstairs. She could go down the stairs fine but we had to carry her up because of her broken leg. I didn’t mind it one bit and she didn’t weigh anything. The morning after she came, I found a small puddle near the front door which she was drinking from. When I turned on the light I saw that it was urine. She knew that she wasn’t supposed to go in the house and she was trying to lick it up to try not to displease us. If we didn’t wake up in time she would’ve licked the place clean. From then on, she became the best dog I’ve ever had.

Also, we only had to tell her the rules once; we told her not to go into the kitchen, she never went in, she sometimes stood by the doorway to the kitchen, watching me cook. We also didn't want her to go into the bathroom because of the germs and chemicals which might have harmed her, I told her once and she didn't even go near the hallway leading to the bathroom. I asked Eric everyday when we had her "Why is she so good?". The answer he gave had always been "Because she's the Bibbles!"

Bibbles was still on painkillers and antibiotics the first few days we had her. I got so worried about her frail body and her not eating her food. We went to the butcher and got her chicken hearts to make broth for her hoping that the taste of chicken and fat would get her appetite going. It did. Another problem presented itself however, the poor girl still wasn’t completely sure that the bowls of food and water were for her. She wouldn’t go near it to eat and I had to feed her by hand several times before she would start eating – very slowly. She would sometimes eat some of her dry food after the broth which made us extremely happy. The crunching sounds meant that she would maybe put on a bit more weight.

(We kept the door opened, but she always loved laying out in the sun)

She couldn’t jump up on the bed with us so sometimes I would carry her up and snuggle with her. When we’re on the bed or the couch she would snuggle as close to either of us as she could. Always laying on her left side because the broken leg is the right one. When she was on her own bed however, she would pull out a corner of the blanket and lay it on the floor so that she could rest her head there while the rest of her body would be on the little mattress. It was the cutest thing, to see the same arrangement every time she gets up from her nap.

(She liked staying as close to us as possible)

She was also the most affectionate dog I’ve ever seen. With her three good legs, she would hobble around slowly following me around the house when Eric was at work. Of course, she didn’t understand when I tried to tell her to stay on her bed. She liked to take naps, either from the side effects of the pills she was on or her heart condition, which we didn’t know yet at the time. When the both of us were at home, she would sit in an area where she could see the both of us at the same time. If we were in separate rooms, she would find a spot in the middle where she could keep an eye on the both of us.

I’m starting to get very emotional and it’s hard to type with blurry eyes.

As frail as she was, her bark was incredibly strong. She couldn’t have done very much if an intruder did come to our home, but she tried her best. She never made a sound usually, but one time there was some rustling outside our door, probably a neighbor coming home with some groceries. She barked once, a very strong, “full-bodied”, proper bark.

She was just GOOD. PERFECT.

She came into our home on a Tuesday. A week later, a day before that fateful Tuesday, everything started like any other day. She woke up earlier than us, walked around the house quietly waiting for us to wake up. I took her out that morning. Like I said everything was normal until we came back. She seemed grumpier than usual, she snapped at me when I tried to clean her paws.

You see, we don’t wear shoes in the house, so whenever we come in from her walks, I would clean her paws with a wet rag. The first few times I did it she tried to snap at my hand when I went near her broken leg. I understand that she might’ve thought that it would hurt her. After a few times telling her firmly “No” to biting, she stopped snapping. So every time after that, when we came in, she would lay down in front of the door, waiting to her paws wiped (our current dog, Jester still tries to run away each time, after 3 weeks – more on him soon).

I admit I got a little bit concerned about her snapping and barring of teeth. I thought perhaps her leg got better and she had started to behave more viciously. As the day progressed, she got even grumpier and bared teeth whenever I tried to reach for her paw on that broken leg. Naturally, we grew concerned so we called the lady from the vet. She came with two needles; a painkiller and one to help her sleep as she hadn’t slept very much the night before. I woke up several times the night before finding her either whimpering or licking her broken leg, she sometimes whimpered during the night so I didn’t think much of it at the time. She screamed bloody murder when the lady injected her with the needles. Eric had to hold her down while she did it and I just couldn’t bear to see her in so much pain so I ran and hid in the kitchen.

We scheduled for her to get picked up by the vet the next day; Tuesday for a thorough check up. We expected that because of the high humidity that day, her wounds were bothering her more than usual. Tuesday morning, Bibbles had already forgiven Laura, the lady who injected her the day before and she happily followed her to the vet. In the meantime, I prepared her chicken hearts and some trimmed chicken fat from our dinner to make her a delicious dinner when she got back.

That afternoon, the vet called.

They checked and had found some broken pieces of bone in her leg. It wasn’t there when they checked her last. No one knew how long she had been moving around with those broken bone bits. I just couldn’t imagine how much she suffered through the pain. During the surgery to remove the broken bone (and to insert some pins), Bibbles suffered a heart murmur, we were told. We were faced with an extremely difficult decision; should the vet stitch her up and have no painkillers to deal with the excruciating pain afterwards because she might then suffer a heart attack OR to lay her to rest. When I heard Eric’s tone I didn’t need further explanation, I broke down. We both knew what the right thing to do was. It would be inhumane to let her suffer through a surgery with no pain medication, and to have a low chance of making through it In the end.

For days whenever I see the couch, the spots where she loved to sit and watch us, the pain of losing her would start all over again.

Bibbles was the perfect dog in every way. She was a good guard dog, a good companion and most importantly she taught us the true meaning of tolerance and forgiveness. She let us wipe her paws even though it hurt her so much (we were told by the vet that her leg was healing nicely), and forgave us for jabbing her with needles almost immediately when it was offer.

I pray that her soul is at peace. Bibbles will never be forgotten.

She had such a big heart that in the end, God sent her to us;

She finally experienced having a home and lots of Love;

And hearts , literally.

We loved her so much but there is no greater love than God's love

Rest in Peace Little Angel

Bibbles; a 7-day gift and a great blessing

When the going gets tough...there's always the slums

2011-02-18T17:18:00.001+04:00

It's not every day that I get to see the slums.

And I still will not ever get the chance if we hadn't gone looking for a washing machine. Yes, we went looking. Here's what happened;

Our flat comes with a manual washing machine. Who uses these nowadays anyway? I've never seen one until now:-
1. You turn on the water yourself;
2. Stand over it and watch it fill, turn off water yourself.
3. When it finishes washing, twist the dial to "Drain" and then wait some more.
4. Repeat Steps 1-2 to clean clothes off soapy water, sometimes it doesn't do a very good job;
5. Repeat Step 3;
6.Transfer wet clothes by hand to the spin section, change function to "Spin".
7. Wait 5 mins for the spin cycle to finish while enduring loud clunking noise of washing machine trying to run around.

I'm not kidding about No.7 either. All in all, it's not even about the manual labor which I can't stand, I have really gotten quite used to it after a couple of times. It's the LINT which gets me. The washing machine has a lint trap which does not work AT ALL. Whenever a wash our cheap kitchen towels, the lint falls off and ruins the entire wash. After 3 weeks; I think I've had enough.

Since our flat is a rental and we still haven't decided if we're staying put in Oman, the best bet is to get a used washing machine. Our friend (and neighbor) offered to take us to where most of the used furniture stores were. Of the maybe 10 shops available only one had automatic washing machines for sale and they were too expensive. Our friend then told us that we should call out the price that we want loud enough so that other vendors in the area would overhear and try to match the offer. Eric did.

Less than a 5 minutes later, an Indian man approached us and told us that he had the washing machine we were interested in at his house. We followed him in our car for quite some distance until we got to an almost undeveloped part of Oman. Large heaps of sand could still be seen everywhere. The houses looked small from the outside, but inside, it was unbearably sad for me.

(At least everyone had nice cars...)

(And the scenery is not all that bad)

The Indian guy lives in one of these houses with his wife and 3 boys; one was only a toddler. The queen-size bed was placed in the ~~living room~~ only room in the house while the kitchen was maybe the size of our 2-seater dining table. The washing machine was in the bathroom which was in a, um...very unsavory condition. The floor and walls were made from cinder blocks and wasn't even cemented over. I hated myself for trying not to touch anything because everything looked oily and/or dusty. I thought no amount of bleach could clean the place out.

Well, since he was selling the washing machine which looked fairly new at a very good price, we took it. When we came home we bleached it, well, I mean, ran an empty wash with lots of bleach in it.

And once again, our clothes will be clean and lint free!

It's kind of ironic though isn't it? Buying a washing machine from the slums of Oman?

An Irritable Desert Mammal...and a Camel

2011-02-11T23:56:00.007+04:00

Going to the supermarket has always been an adventure; back home in Penang, you can see 10-11 year olds being pushed around in shopping carts. In Korea, you have to be extra vigilant because there's a constant risk of someone running you over with one. Here in Muscat, well, two weeks here and already the adventures are beginning...

You know what they say about the camera; when you don't have one handy, you will often stumble upon the most interesting sights. Actually, I don't know if that's a common enough saying, I am merely quoting the husband. A couple of days ago, we were at Lulu Hypermarket to pick up our weekly groceries. There, in its outdoor car park, was a camel tied to a pole; literally parked among the cars! I have never seen a camel up that close before (or any real ones from far in fact, except on TV). I believe I shrieked; "OMG, it's really cute!", but it was - with it's long eye lashes and a red saddle strapped on its back. Like I said, no camera; I didn't even have my cellphone with me. I must explain that even though we're in the desert (literally) camels are very rare out here in the city.

Anyway, after staring at the camel for a few minutes, we went about with our shopping. In my previous entry, I've written about how amazing the supermarkets here are compared to Korea. Korean supermarkets tend to only carry Korean products and/or ingredients to make Korean foods. Being in Korea for a year has truly turned me into a country mouse; somewhat. I felt slightly overwhelmed in the Baking Goods aisle. Simply put, Koreans do not bake. Remember how hard it was for me to find a muffin tray?

The one thing I really don't look forward to here is checking out. For some reason, not only at Lulu's of course, but at some of the other supermarkets regardless of their size, the cashiers always have a disgruntled look on their faces. I know, you can find these everywhere. However, usually if you smile or say "thank you" afterwards, they would at least give you a head nod or whatever. Not over here.

I've been subjected to quite a few very unhappy employees before but this cashier took rudeness to a whole new level. Here's what happened; as the family in front of us was half done, we started to look around for the counter divider;

(Counter Divider)

...but the only one available was being used by the cashier himself. He was using it to stop the customers' items from rolling off his conveyor belt. Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't we, the customers the ones who were supposed to use the divider? At first I asked him nicely if I could have it. He said "No" very curtly, with a very annoyed look on his face. As if he didn't belong there and was forced to work instead of smoking some shisha (hookah) with his friends.

I was honestly quite embarrassed by the very mean look he gave me so I started to back away. Eric however, smilingly reached over and took the divider from the cashier and stuck it behind the family's last item(s). With this the cashier lost it (I think), so he snatched it back quite rudely. The mother from the family in front of us tried to help by saying "Maybe later he will give it to you". But really, why would we need a divider when it's our turn?! By then, the cashier had such a look on his face which oozed such meanness and anger that I was beginning to feel quite intimidated. Imagine a person being forced to smell faeces, you get what I mean? Not only that, he kept saying "You go over to the other counter! You go!". He got even angrier when we decided to stay.

The furious cashier then started scanning our purchases and threw it over the other end of the counter, I'm quite amazed that nothing broke. He even threw our white towels over an extra dirty spot - just to get us. Before leaving, Eric and I both said "thank you" politely in our effort to get him to lighten up. He ignored us.

If you have been reading my blog (religiously, I hope), you will have guessed that I will not take this lightly. That cashier got what he deserved - a long complaint card. The staff at Customer Service were very helpful and they kept making sure that I was okay. I even saw one of the girls kind of jabbed another girl on the arm when I told them which cashier it was. That gave me the impression that this happens all the time.

Despite all my gung-ho attitude there, when I got home, I started to feel a little worried. Really, if you had seen the look on the man's face, you would understand what I'm saying; he had such a scary, menacing look on his face - I was sure he was going to seek revenge.

I had nightmares that night, two separate ones in fact. Pink, fur-less dogs and being sent away without Eric...that kind of thing.

I don't know if they keep customer feedbacks anonymous but I know this; the next time I shop at Lulu's, I will be avoiding checking out where that cashier is; and oh yes, dark sunglasses might help.

Now, Eric - well, maybe a hat too!

No, Thank You, I'm Married

2011-02-07T11:01:00.000+04:00

As much as I've grown to love Muscat, there seems to be another minor inconvenience; it seems quite impossible to walk around alone (as a non-Omani woman) without getting harassed on the street.

Yesterday, I decided to go out by myself to pick up a few grocery items whilst Eric was at work. I walked to the nearby market square where we've been to countless times as a couple (people were always friendly). It was barely 11am and already the small supermarket here in Al Khuwair was bustling with the locals. I had quite a number of things on my shopping list so I was busy deciding which aisle to hit first. I didn't notice initially but when I did, I saw that in every aisle, a local man was staring at me - with a cellphone in hand.

I started to feel a little self-conscious so I looked down at what I was wearing; a knee-length pair of khakis, a fitted-T and a big shawl wrapped loosely over my entire upper body - this was more modest than what the other foreign women were wearing. So I continued to look around the shelves. Then it happened; a local guy (who had apparently been standing beside me for some time) said to me "Hello, can I have your number?". I won't deny that it was flattering at first but then it got creepy. Politely I told him that I was married and then I turned back to the shelves. The man then said "Why? We can be friends". I didn't want anything untoward to happen so I again, said "No, thank you, I'm married" and I walked away.

At the next aisle, the same thing happened with another man. This time he just asked for my number bluntly. Again, I declined twice. It was a very small supermarket and within a few minutes I finished. After I left the store, I was more aware then, that there's always someone staring at me from any corner of the street.

I quickly picked up a few more things I needed and I began to walk home. When I turned the corner into my neighborhood, another man who was standing in front of an apartment building called out to ask if he could give me a lift home. This was itself a very creepy question; strangers do not offer rides to anyone on the street, do they?

I quickly said, "No, thank you, I'm married" (here in the Gulf, saying that you're married is very important, I was told) and continued walking, in a faster pace now. A few seconds later, a car slowly crept up behind me and the same man, rolled down his window and asked to give me a ride and he also wanted my number. And for the last time that day, I uttered those few magic words, "No, thank you, I'm married". He apparently would not give up, because he slipped me a small piece of paper with his number instead; "Call me, we can be friends", he said.

Later a friend who had been living here for a few years told us that the men probably assumed that I was Filipino. Filipinos are reputed to be...well, escorts, if you may, here. Of course, this being true or not, it's not for me to decide. However, being a South East Asian anywhere is proving to be quite a challenge.

Why does everyone have to assume that I am Indonesian or Filipino? I am not saying it's shameful to be either one of those, these people are of course, hardworking and self-sufficient, they travel all over to world to become white or blue collared workers. It's time for the world to see the positive side and not just the negative. Till then however, I want it be known that I am Malaysian - but even so, is it any different?