Stuff happened, not much to mention, but we went to Sulaimon's house, picked up the ladies, and said goodbye to Sulaimon and his family. It might be a long time until we meet again, so it was a heartfelt goodbye as Sulaimon has been a great friend to us and has basically become a part of our family. You read all this stuff about accepting people as surrogate brothers and sisters and merging families, but in many ways, in deference to the cliche, this is exactly what coming here has felt like. We have both supported each other as we lived on foreign soil and when you are alone in a strange place and someone takes the time to take care of you, it is something that you never forget--and if you do you should be damned for it. I sincerely hope I never forget what true kindness and hospitality are and when it is my turn to offer it I come through.
SO! We sped away from the beautiful little town of Dibba and headed into Ras Al Khaima, the last of the Emirates on our list. I can't remember the name of the Hotel we stayed at that night, it had a neat fascade, but the cracks had been begun to show and the rooms had begun to stink. I don't remember the name of this place, but I call it the Hotel-Where-Middle-Aged-Australians-Go-To-Die. There were no beautiful people here, though the barmaid was cute...
Regardless, we stayed only long enough for our firends to go and pray at the local mosque and for us to prepare for the final wedding of our trip. Like a complete douche, I forgot my camera so the only picture I have of this evening is this:
The full get-up, yo.
My sister and Lynn went with Jaber and Abdullah, and I went with Omar and a really great guy (the only one in the UAE who actually wore his wedding ring, btw) who I can't remember his name at the moment. I think it might have been Ahmed, so for now I'll go with that. Please forgive me for my poor memory.
On the way to the wedding Ahmed was asking me a number of questions about how traffic laws work in the states. I was glad to answer them with as much honesty as I could muster. I told him that In order to insure that people wear their seatbelts the police do random roadblocks throughout the city and suburbs. He said they did checks too, bu they advertised them a week before doing them. DUH!
I also told him that the police write tickets almost every time they pull someone over for doing something wrong, now this was a little bit of a fib, because as I look back, there are probably a dozen times I got off with just a warning (including the time I went driving on the sidewalk in Naperville) but at the same time, it was easily just as frequent that I got tickets for blowing stop signs and speeding. In the UAE, I get the feeling they almost never write tickets and just give everyone warnings. "Well," I explained, "How do you expect anyone to learn a lesson if never even slap their hands?"
I may have mentioned it before, but all of the Emiratis we know are police officers, and not just street enforcers, actual officers in the Ministry of the Interior. They are responsible for generating statistics, analyzing the data, and setting policy, and it was great to think that I might have some effect on the driving safety of the UAE. Ahmed was genuinely interested in the advice I had, and I described how every state has its own driving qualifications and laws, but they are united under a federal statue meaning that licences in any state are effective in all of them as well as there being a continuity in driving conditions throughout the states. I also explained how our testing works and the fact that a test must be taken every 5 years or so in order to keep your licence. This was a revelation to him, it seemed, yet something that I believe makes perfect sense and might be the only way to ensure that people don't forget how to drive. I thought things were a little risky and dangerous in the UAE, but I hadn't gotten to Jordan yet...
So we arrived at Hammoudi's wedding after a few mis-turns and walked up to the dancing area. We went around the whole floor and shook hands with every person we saw. I think most of them might have been related, but there were also, probably, some dignitaries and such there as well. The UAE is small, and our friends are fairly respected individuals. In fact, at Sulaimon's wedding, earlier in the day, the top general in the Ministry of the Interior had been seated at the same table as me!
After greeting everyone, and seeing Abdullah Hammoudi's father--Mr. Hammoudi?-- we shuffled off to the back of the pack. This was very clever because now we didn't have to shake ands and stand up everytime someone new arrived. It's interesting to watch everyone shake hands because, though it's pretty much the universal greeting, it's also sort of second hand here in the gulf. The way that men who are acquainted greet each other is by touching noses and making little kissing sounds. Yes, I know what you're thinking, but honestly, here it doesn't seem wrong. It's just how everyone says hello. They kept telling me not to do this in the US, and I kept saying, "no kidding.
Hammoudi's father kept coming up to us and bringing us drinks and Harise (which, honestly, I detest); he showered us with generosity as is expected of the father on his son's wedding day, but I felt like we might have gotten special attention from him. I must admit it is nice to feel like the 'most-honored' guest. :)
We moved to a cooler spot and there were two guys in western attire so the guys told me to go talk it up with them because they might have been American. "Naw," I said,"They're Germans." Somehow I was right. I struck up a conversation with them and they turned out to be Germans working for the German foreign service--diplomats. It was interesting to talk to guys who traveled around representing their government. they were positioned in Abu Dhabi, the capital and the older of the two had lived in the States for a number of years and had a flawless American Accent, which, I might point out is not that bad of a thing. Americans spend so much time bashing themselves they often forget that they have good characteristics as well. I have to admit talking to them was inspiring, and couple with something else I heard recently, the foreign service seems like a cool career. It fosters a spirit of amicable dissent and when I think of how terrible our president has been, I also think that there could probably not be a better way to counter this than by having really great people working for the State Department...maybe I'll send in an application.
After a brief conversation, with the diplomats and a gentleman who actually practiced medicine in Naperville of all places, Hammoudi's uncle Ahmed, who we'd hung out with earlier in the week, came up to me with some gifts for myself and the ladies. It was good to see him again because we'd struck up a good friendship the other day. He apologized for not calling, but he had stuff to do in Muscat, Oman which had kept him away. He and the other guys saw me bobbing my head to the music and they said I should go up and dance. Of course I felt a bit shy about that, but eventually they coaxed me into it. Ahmed gave me his walking cane and showed me how to spin it (which, I must say, I was born to do apparently). Then, as is customary, we walked hand-in-hand around the dancefloor I spinning the cane, and he spinning a plastic gun he had pilfered from one of his little nephews.
I have to admit it was cool. There was a camera filming the whole thing, and all of the Emiratis who saw me had to do a double take because at first they thought I was an Arab, but then they realized I was european or something. It seemed like a really great way to honor my friend; I hope he gets to see me on the tape. I might get a copy of it too.
After dancing, and sweating, I sat down for a minute to the approving laughs and smiles of my friends. A second later, Hammoudi's father came and ushered us into the banquet room--first ones. It was obvious we were the honored guests here tonight.
The dinner was enormous, probably 500 men, and as many or more women, though I had no way of knowing. We ate joyfully, and after about 15 minutes the dinner was over and everyone was on the way out. I said a heartfelt 'Mabruk-Ma Sha Allah' to Hammoudi's father and then hit the road back to the hotel. It was another hour and half before the ladies came back. I had a drink in the bar with the cute bar tender anda cheeezy pop duo from amnsterdam.
Gotta go.
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