I prefer living in a cave (part deux)

So there we were, having made a neck breaking trek across the treacherous mountain range and upon check-in the hotel dude tells us we have two tickets for the Petra at Night walk. WHAT? Aric forgot he had booked us in for a 2 hour tour, and all I wanted was relax at the bar. Anyway, on with the shorts and gym shoes and down the road to the entry of a long winding walk lit by candles in paper bags.

As can be seen in the pictures, it was like walking in a gauntlet (featured in one of the Indiana Jones movies) which at the end opened up to the Treasure, the large carved mausoleum at the entry into the rest of the hidden city. We were told there would be a concert at 9.30pm and everyone were sitting down among the paper bag candles anxiously awaiting Andrea Bocelli and the Vienna Boys Choir. Instead, Mohammed the string player howled out some ancient tunes which sounded like a cat being tortured, followed by Ahmed the flute player who was not in any way in the same league as a pan flutist. We bolted before the crowd en-massed back through the Siq (gauntlet) and headed for the Cave Bar, the oldest bar in the world apparently, where we finally enjoyed a drink and a shisha.

Enjoying a quiet Shisha pipe

Lawrence of Arabia meets John Wayne

The next day we were up for a nice breakfast, and then off to the entry again for some haggling over what route and tour to take into Petra. Since we had already walked through the Siq, we opted for a 1.5 hour horse back ride up over the hills above Petra and then a hike down. Just my cup of tea :) Feisty Arab horses with steady hooves took us up, up, up....through amazing hills with great views of Wadi Musa, a nearby village. The two guides walked with us so they could ride the horses back after dropping us at the top of the mountain. Splendid company we got the whole story about how much the Jordanian Jordanians hate the Palestinian Jordanians...and how awful Queen Rania really is to the Jordanian Jordanians, as she is herself of Palestinian background. Is it any wonder there is always war somewhere in the Middle East?  Jordan is very safe though, everyone friendly and welcoming and we never worried about any trouble.

Once off the horses, we started our descent into Petra, above the tombs. On the way we met two women who were selling little souvenirs and I bought two elephants, in marble and bronze, figuring she had hauled them all up there I could probably get a good price as she would not want to haul all that crap back down. Bad choice, I now had to carry a marble elephant in my pocket for another 4 hours and it turned out the guy who would rather live in a cave had them for sale for 3 dinars less!  Well it was for a good cause and the Bedouin lady can now afford to buy a new Abaya.

Auntie and Niece with their handi crafts

Coming down into Petra 

Bustling town with tombs in the background

Hand-chiseled into the sand stone - this is how the Nabatheans built  Petra

Walking through the ancient village was an experience I will never forget. Busy with camels and donkeys (Air conditioned Ferrari, as the Bedouins call them) I can only imagine how life must have been thousands of years ago. As we made it down the colonnaded street towards the King's tomb, I laughed when a young boy of maybe 10 was struggling to get his donkey to come with him. That's why they called them stubborn mules. A minute later I saw him throw heavy rocks at its head and yelled out "OY - don't do that" - to which I got back "fu*k you it's not your business". Stunned and speechless, I was trying to figure out if I had heard right. I usually get thrown out of Disney World or in jail because of saying those words, so to be on the receiving end of it just floored me. I told Aric, who said I must have heard wrong. Shortly after, the boy got on the donkey and whipped it furiously with an electric wire piece. Three ladies walking next to him yelled, and they also got the "fu*k you, it's not your business", and this time Aric saw and heard it. About five minutes later, the boy happened to turn up our path and Aric stopped him. Aric asked "did you say fu*k you to my wife?" The boy was horrified but proudly said "no mister I did not say fu*k you to your wife, only to the three ladies down there" - at which point Aric now believed I was right! The flood gates opened and I thought Aric was going to haul the little Bedouin boy off his donkey and spank him. The next ten sentences that came out of his mouth is a blur. But suffice it to say that it was something like " I ever catch you disrespecting a lady or a donkey again I'm going to kick your ass all the way to the entry!" I chimed in saying that I would take away his donkey if he ever threw rocks again...like where was I going to take the darn mule? Duh! But the boy was clearly scared. Several other tourists applauded and a guide apologized on the boy's behalf, but I got the last word in, Robert di Nero style: "I'm watching you" with two fingers at the eyes....little shit!

Most caves now used for cooling donkeys

some of the many tombs - or homes?

Abdullah Aric bin Tom Al Ault

Rich and colorful sandstone carved tomb

The famous and often pictured Treasury carved from the top down to the base.

We explored a few more caves, then had lemonade at Ibraheim's coffee shop and found out he preferred living in a cave - good luck with that - and then we made our way back through the Siq and up to the roof top terrace for a cold Gin-Tonic. Highly recommend 3-4 days in Jordan taking the similar route through and for anyone who wants to read more about how Petra came about, watch National Geographic's Mega structures special:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XCFYeXyoOM4

And if you visit - watch out for the little Bedouin boy with a dirty mouth!

Nice air conditioned Ferrari

I prefer living in a cave!

Classic words from a classic Bedouin, who happens to manage the biggest corner cafe with a gift shop and a blender, ice cream, coffee maker and other modern amenities, but hey "who needs technical...we don't need technical - life is simpler in a cave". YES that it is my friend. Welcome to Petra, home of the many caves, where donkeys poop but there is a view to die for! Ah but I am getting ahead of myself.

I decided in December last year to give Aric a little trip away and we've always talked about going to Petra,  and to visit the Dead Sea. Luckily for us you can do both in Jordan! I strategically booked it so it would be after my completion of the Master's in Social Psychology, which I received May 26 thank you very much...4.0 straight A's all the way through, no really!

So on the 29th of May we were off to Amman, eager to relax and get rid of some of all that pent up stress a "technical" life brings with it. Our interaction with Dollar rental cars was similar to the last two times we booked with them...reserve a Blazer and end up with a Korean Yansoon or something along those lines, so after the typical conversation between Aric and the agent: "Get me what I reserved, I don't want this piece of  Chinese s**t" - "but Sir it is Korean and this is all we have, it's brand new, good A/C" - "look it dude, you guys either get me what I booked and paid for or I go to Avis"...it usually takes 10-15 minutes for this kind of interpersonal communication to play out, but we were eventually driven to the headquarters of Jordan Dollar (20 min outside airport) where we took over a Pajango. And then we were on our way.

I always imagined the Dead Sea with sparkling blue water and white sandy beaches. Why is that? It's DEAD, nothing grows around it...so when we took in the first glimpse of the brown, mucky shore and dull looking water, I was slightly disappointed. Wasting no time with unpacking we trekked down to the shore from the Marriott, and waded into the strange emulsified liquid. It did not particularly smell good but then again, with potassium, bromine, magnesium, potash and sodium chloride in the mix, why would it? That is all the stuff that is good for you and your skin. Floating around in 32% salt solution for 45 minutes makes your skin crawl - literally - and when you slather on the filtered mud which is provided by the hotel in big tubs, well there is just no comparison...you would pay $200 for a similar mud wrap body treatment at the local spa. Add to that the 423 meters below sea level and you really get a cleansing!

The water is so thick it looks like you're floating in vegetable oil. At one point Aric and I jogged around, held up by the water to our chest...it was very weird. He suggested we jog to the other side, which was very close - my guess is 1-2 miles. I had to remind him that side was Israel, and they may not appreciate a half naked American with no passport in his shorts.

We left behind oodles of stress and enjoyed the sunset above with an electric Margarita in hand. Superb beginning to a long weekend.

Next day after another dip and float, mud coating and a well deserved breakfast, we set out on the drive to Petra, 3 hours south. Now mind you, we got a GPS device, and I was the designated navigator, so after punching in Movenpick Hotel Petra and getting the route outlined, what else can go wrong? Well, listening to the GPS for one, a map with three different roads leading to Petra, but not a single sign telling us what number road we were on. We took the left turn when it told us. Oops. The road was paved but only for a few miles. Then gravel and potholes set in. And then there were these high mountains ahead...I mentioned to Aric how lovely they looked...I got back: "we have to cross those f***rs". Such a lovely attitude from my husband when he is driving. I now see the point of NOT getting the Korean sanyoun piece of sh*t. The next hour was spent in breathtaking mountains with just as much breathtaking nasty winding one lane roads. Nerves standing on end, we eventually came to Bedouin Village and Little Petra, and then it was downhill after that (literally) - and we coasted right up to the hotel which was situated nearest the entry to Petra's secret 2000 yr old city.

To be continued!

Dead Sea North End

I'm floating and I can't get up!

does this picture need a caption?

mud-ified

evening view across to Israel shore

hotel pool view to Israel

relaxed after cleansing, detox, salt scrub and mud treatment

you pay $10 per 6 ounces at airport...it's the new grey gold!

winding road after wrong turn - more to come...

nobody dies on my shift

My father-inlaw once called my house "Pia's Sanctuary" - not sure if it was the fact that I always make sure we have his favorite Whiskey, or if he was referring to the Dr. Doolittle setup we seem to run here in the desert.

The latest addition to the family retreat is a male Nightjar. I found him in the grasp of Miver (aka Sammie, aka Henry) the cat, in the corner of our front yard. He was frantically trying to look puffy so Miver wouldn't get a swipe...

At first I thought it was a baby hawk or falcon, because it looks kind of baby-birdish, with a wide mouth. So I took it to the Falcon Center / bird vet in Nad Al Sheba - way the heck out in the desert! They told me it's a Nightjar and that many people are bringing in the same species at this time of year. Apparently it's their migration to Africa and this one sure strayed from the flock.

The advice was to take him back, give a little water and then set him out on the balcony at night for him to spread his wings and fly away in to the sunset. Yah, that worked!  I guess you can't just set a bowl of water in front of a weak bird....he could have drowned in it. So the best way I could give him liquids was with a QTip dipped in H2O and then force open his beak (wide as a bullfrog mind you) and then squeeze out the drops. He then swallows perfect...no longer afraid of me I think he has surrendered to the fact I keep him alive.

Here we are 24 hours later and he is fit as a feather, though missing several, but he can't hop or fly! Setting him on top of my garden table, he just sat there and scooted around a little, making soft cooing sounds....I tried to hold him up high and he flopped of my hand and landed on his chest!  Something ain't working in the mechanics of his wings or tail....and I suspect one leg may be broken. I will need to take him back to the vet at some point. Googling care of a rescued Nightjar, some eat 50 moths a day!  I don't think I can go around in the night like some ornithologist catching insects fro my injured bird.

More to come....

Fringe Season 4, episode 8: The Machine from the other Universe!

Tiny beads of sweat was forming on my forehead as I stood there gazing at the buttons. It was like a bad Bruce Willis movie where he has 10 seconds to cut the wire on the bomb, before it blows all of New York to smithereens. Should I move the dial to the right, or to the left. Right had more options, but also more time and I had heard that time is money!  Left showed very vague signs. And then there was the odd compartment, divided into three - how would it be possible to fathom what went into which slot? The whole thing could implode on itself if I selected the wrong degrees on the dial.

I needed an expert. Someone cool and collected who new exactly what combination of temperature and time would make the load come through clean! My palms were wet; my heart beating heavy and fast. WHY did I agree to take on this assignment? I had been SO certain I could fake my way through it convincingly but now, as I faced the white monster with a glaring round window, I lost all confidence. I would have to tell Aric. There was no way around it. Agreeing to iron his shirts was one thing (and even that was a stretch) but this washing machine was like something out of an episode of Fringe!  How had it got to my house and how did I operate it?

My hands were shaking as I punched in the code for Kumudu, Nilan's sister. Nilan had been my trusted maid for 3 years, but I had agreed to let her go back home to Sri Lanka - thinking I didn't need her help now the boys were gone.  I mean, how hard could it be to pick up house work again?  Panic set in as I texted two words in sheer desperation: "please help!"

Kumudu knew better than to let me waddle in shame and anxiety. She sent back an immediate text: "Madam, I will be there at 4.30 to iron and wash. Thank God!  I was so relieved that I just sank to the floor, my body like Jello. It will be necessary to have Kumudu come to the new house every week to tackle the Samsung Diamond Front Loader. I just can't see how I can crack the settings!

Who says 13 is unlucky?

After a long hiatus, dreadful psychology homework, Hunter's exams, a 25th wedding anniversary cruise and work challenges, I am finally re-surfacing for air with a new attitude.

Hunter finished his exams for the IB diploma and is currently chilling in Cyprus with his gal-pal Mariana. She is off to Reading University in October for her pre-law. Hunter heads to Arizona State June 25th, to begin summer school and stay with Aidan until the fall semester starts. Aidan and his friend Cameron scored a 2-bed apt in Phoenix, 3 miles from his campus.

That leaves Aric and I alone with two four-legged, furry kids, Slim and Sammie (now called Miver [meewar] because she has such a pitiful miauw sound!) We are sacking the carwasher, the maid and downsizing to a 3 bedroom home in Garden View, a few miles south of where we are now. It's a lovely home on a slope of Jebel Ali (Mount Ali) which is more like a big hill, but who's picky?

It hasn't been easy to find a new home. You would think we have the pick of the litter with over 2000 homes being released in the last 6-8 months. However, all the homes we have looked at in the past month are either 40 miles out in the desert, or in a sandpit in the middle of a highway pringle, or they are too small, too expensive, too big, too weird in the layout, no garden, too big of a garden, etc etc. We are not being difficult but I'm thinking of an in-and-out option for the kitten who refuses to live behind closed doors. At 8 months she is a holy terror and lanky - loves to sleep outside in 45c temps under my garden furniture.

Yesterday, the 13th of June, was a day of miracles. Our friends Rina and Dave live in the Garden View Villas and I had earlier tried to find the number of the management office who once went bancrupt because of the recession...that's now history - it's amazing who can get a stimulus package thses days (I'd like some stimulus!) so Dave gave me a number and on the 12th I called several times, on hold for most of them, but managed to get a guy who said I had to call Merlin (I always knew it took magic to get a place to live). I called Merlin (who turnes out to be Marilyn...lost in translation) and when I cheerfully asked if I could view one of the villas, she said "Maaam, are you on the waiting list?" WHAT??  There's a waiting list for these unique "can't ever get into them" villas??  Well, no I am not.....so, called the first number again and put myself on the list. When asked how soon we were moving I said 2 weeks, to which I received the answer that I was number 76 and it would take a year. Back to Dave and Rina...Dave said a couple across the street were possibly moving so maybe we could take over their lease. We knocked on the door. Nobody home. Went to the leasing office and I really looked pathetic, both in my riding attire (tank top, jodphurs, boots - caked with a variety of stable and horse particles) and also in my 'sad desperate face' but never mind. I WAS desperate, so it wasn't really an act.

After speaking with Merlin/Marilyn and her boss Mr. Mansoor, a local Emirati, we were sure that it would be a long shot to find someone to take over a lease from and that was the only way to beat the waiting list. Dave said that Mr. Mansoor never even looked at my desperate face, he was more interested in my gold cross around my neck (or could it have been my chest??) Who knows... two hours later, while in a workshop, I got a call from Mr. Mansoor who said "Ms. Pia today is your lucky day!"  Allah be praised what a miracle, a tenant had just come in and announced they were leaving and since Mr. Mansoor had my card in front of him, as well as a fresh image of my chest, ehm, my cross, I got the call and beat out 75 others.

Today I went back bearing gifts for Merlin and Mansoor. Dates and Chocolate from the region...it was a big hit. I'm sure they won't forget me. We take over the house on July 5th. Pics to come later.

And in other news, I picked up several new clients in yesterday's workshop, so am now well on my way to earn enough to keep gas in my car and feed my horse!  I'm off to Beirut for consulting too later this month.  What a day it was...the 13th!!

PROM NIGHT:

Bob Marley lives in Copenhagen

Unlike Elvis who really is dead, I am convinced that Bob - through karma and ying yang voodoo - has been reincarnated and goes by the name of Mr. Bushman. My Danish friends may have met him? I was recently in Copenhagen. My dad's health has been declining for the past few years and when he fell and broke his leg just before Christmas, it took a turn for the worse. Infection and other easy to fight off elements (in normal healthy bodies) eventually weakened him and on top of that, I believe he just gave up.

He passed away about 9-10 hours after I arrived to say goodbye. Whether he was aware of my presence I can't say - I think he responded slightly, and I told him I loved him. He slept peacefully and just continued on that journey to another place.

I had a few days before the funeral, so I decided to meet my girlfriend Josephine for a glass of wine and catch up on life. As I walked from the station down through the winding cobblestone streets towards the square we agreed to meet at, I passed an old man stuffed into a huge parka and scarves, with a knit hat barely covering his greying rasta dreads. All I could think was: there goes a very cold and old Bob Marley. Our eyes met and I couldn't help smile, he has such a glean and shine about him. As we walked past eachother he turned and said in perfect Danish: "hej hvor er du smuk" (hello you are beautiful). It's not every day you meet Bob and even more amazing is his ability to speak Danish, so I just started laughing. In all my sorrow and mourning, I needed to laugh. He came back towards me and as other people walked by us, he took my hands, which were freezing, it was after all 2 degrees! I was so giggly I forgot to speak Danish asking him in English where he was from. Bob was bilingual thank God and he said, I am Mr. Bushman and I am from Ethiopia. In that 10 minute chat, he never let go of my hands (I don't normally hold hands with strangers on the streets of Copenhagen but something compelled me to leave my cold hands in his warm grip). I just about told him my entire life story - well 90% of it perhaps, and he quoted me Isiah 54:17 - which I thought was weird.....

"no weapon forged against you will prevail, and you will refute every tongue that accuses you. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, and this is their vindication from me, declares the LORD"

It has nothing to do with my life story, nor the death of my father. But I do believe it has to do with Mr. Bushman, who at 19 years of age was forced to leave his land and come to Denmark, a strange cold country, where he then became an architect. According to older bibles the verse refers to the land of Israel, but I suppose it could be Ethiopia....or maybe Bob Bushman Marley just got his scripture mixed up.

I felt oddly at peace and saved when I left him and I'm neither Catholic nor Jewish.

Desparate House Wife Seeks New Status!

The sentence was handed down this week. Oh I knew it was brewing of course, having alarm bells go off when Cisco HR asked me for my passport and two photos. I don't hand out my passport to just anyone but I figured they had a valid reason, since I severed my ties with them in September last year. No longer able to sponsor me, I was doomed. Aric handed me the passport back with a heavy hand. Shaking, I slowly opened it to the new visa page. There it was, black on pink (I think they use pink pages to dampen the shock) - HOUSEWIFE; NOT ALLOWED TO WORK!!

Oh the agony! How dare they throw me into the category with all the other wives who get their nails done and drive on the shoulder to get little Billy to school on time? Suddenly I'm cast from breadwinner to barefoot; from Director to dimwit; from corporate Goddess to cleaning Goddess (oh wait, I still have a maid...must I let her go now?)

I suppose on the flipside I can now, without guilt, ask for an allowance, go shopping for meaningless objects and designer clothes, meet other designated HWs for coffee at Starbucks and talk about the design of the new school uniforms. It brings a whole new perspective - this not having been a HW ever - after all, I am still raising two kids, a 3 year old (Slim...going on Fat) and Sam Henry, (6 months); they need their mom! Though they are both very well adjusted; Slim for example has no separation anxiety - I'm sure the whining and yelping when I leave the house is just him being happy that he's on his own, so he can chew various belongings - and Sam Henry, well she is already inviting Big Red Tomcat from across the alley, into our yard when we aren't around. So all in all they are very independent. I needn't worry about having had a career and abandoning them for the last few years.

The stack of unread literature on my night stand will also get more attention. Collecting dust for months, it is just a matter of days before I dive into "Dude, where is my country?" by Michael Moore; and the various autobiographies (authorized and non-authorized alike) by the latest celebrities and politicians. I'm especially keen on starting the "Dictatorships and Oppressive Regimes through the times", since I am now an eager student of Social Psychology, and study discrimination and microaggression on a weekly babsis.

So what is bringing me down? I'll tell you what! The status that comes with the words in the visa. It's a visa of non-identity, of dependence, of disrespect and of the scarlet letter on the chest. "HW" ! Hmmphh! ... I'm going to write the Sheikh. How would he like to be called His Highness House Sheikh? It's a disgrace. Housewives should not be degraded in an official document such as the passport! For the whole world to see when you enter a country's immigration points!

I'm going to rebel and protest. This week I'm starting a journey to get the status changed, starting with the economic department and ending in Ras Al Khaima free zone with an application for a new status: Pia Ault, license to TRADE. Since my company has been formed, and nearly launched, I consider it a relief that I can soon change from HW to CEO or MD or BOSS and again join the ranks of working mothers and wives allowed to work.

I'm an intelligent woman - get me out of here!

Cruise Control into 2012

It was the big moment we had waited for! The very special invite from Paramount and Tom Cruise, as promised last year, was sitting in my inbox and it was glowing I tell you!

December 14, Lorraine, Peter, Aric, Hannah and I went to the IMAX theatre in the mall and lined up with all the other extras who so expectantly came to get a glimpse, not of Tom, but of themselves ;-)

Halfway through the seat grabbing action movie, there it was...so fast that if you didn't know who to look for you missed it. Lorraine and I in the background for 3.8 seconds....oh what a glorious moment to have made it on the big screen in a major Hollywood flick!! Robin (who we now all hate!) has at least 8 seconds of face time. She has now moved back to Canada in fear of other extras retaliating and egging her house! Pinkie, who we all hated from day one (as she placed herself behind Tom in every goddang scene - come on lady - REALLY??) was barely on for 1 sec (and she was out of focus). Of course now I am going to get the DVD and really start nit-picking through the scenes of the Billionaires Ball, to see if I am in fact elsewhere in the scenes. To spend 3 days filing 10 minutes of the movie now seems over the top. Wonder why it took so long to get that kiss right?!?!

Life moves on with many prospects of upcoming extra jobs, but this writer has to prioritize. Started a Master's Degree in Social Psychology early December. One can never have too many degrees or too much knowledge. My MBA served me well in moving up the ladder and earnings. This degree will see me slide back down into the social gutter where all the good stuff is waiting to be questioned. As a Social Psychologist you get to ask all kinds of questions - like why do we scratch an itch? Why do people go for plastic surgery? Or my favorite one: Why do beer ads always have women in them? I can't wait to ask, ask, ask. Aidan and I are in a friendly competition for straight A's (I have them...he got 4 A's and a B this semester) :)

My Cisco life as we knew it, is over. After a painful and drawn out divorce, battling over who gets the stock and who gets the options...and whose fault was it anyway? we settled out of court with an amicable amount of $$. I promptly placed the funds in my offshore, tax sheltered, secret, far-away lair, for a rainy day. Now I shop less fashion, dye my hair with L'Oreal Creme Colour which saves me 650 dirhams every 6 months. I've decided to go natural...meaning chestnut brown (who knew after all these years that it was truly my real color?) And we eat home more often than out. I think I can do this belt tightening no problem.

What comes around goes around and with that I have been told the VPs who were being major a-holes, have been moved and fired respectively. My boss was demoted and hates life...what more can I want? I've decided to start my own consulting company, focusing on coaching, leadership development and youth programs. It should kick off in January, once I obtain the right trade license from the government. I'm taking odd projects until then - one is with GEMS (the leading private school system in Dubai) and UNESCO, to create a plan for training 10,000 school principals in Ghana, Kenya and India. I've domne round one and it is now down to UNESCO to do the next step - which may be hindered by funds cut from US, due to the Palestine becoming member state. Why can't politics keep out of philanthropics?

This year 2011, was odd and wonderful in every aspect. We travelled far to see Aidan and we are fortunate he is with us in Dubai for Christmas and New Years. Courtney and he broke up December 20...good timing! No further details available but I daresay we are pleased (as I'm sure are her parents). The boy is gungho about getting back into the dating game and is now all of a sudden aware of the many coed beauties on campus!

Slim and Sammie have been getting closer and now play all the time. It was such a great rescue animal and we are glad we have her, though she is cheeky! She is now so agile she can jump up on anything so we have to make sure things are put away in the kitchen (at night).

New Years eve brings us on the golfcourse on Yas Island, with Peter and Lorraine and then a late lunch/early dinner, before Cold Play concert on Marina Island in Abu Dhabi. VIP tickets for free, who can say no to that? It should be a nice ending to a quirky year.

Peace to all!

From Camel to Lexus 570 in 6.5 seconds

Her lips were hanging down in a sloppy frown and her hump was large, full and round! Her ears were long and sharp, not like Spock's, but rather more like a hairy Pyramid. The feet were large, flat and round!

Looking like that, it is quite amazing she beat out everyone else in the beauty pageant, but there you go! Shows you just how far a man is willing to go for his pride and joy. Entering her into a beauty competition was a huge risk!

Rams Almnhali probably didn't think that he would leave his house with a camel and return home with a Lexus. But that is just what happened when she took 1st place in the Al Ghayathi Camel Festival for pure-bred camels only!

update on my Lost Dutchman Trail.....sad news

For those of you who read my blog post a few days ago - tonight I see news that a small plane crashed between Mesa and Apache Junction - in the Superstition Mountains...they are rocks beautiful but lethal...it's a very sad story as 6 people are feared dead, 3 of them children.
I am shocked to read that this is where I hiked just a couple of months ago!!


http://news.yahoo.com/plane-6-aboard-crashes-east-phoenix-050229329.html

Two new Ault family members

My father-in-law calls me a refuge. I suppose that's better than being a refugee!?

I have a big heart, and I cannot stand seeing animals suffer. We recently welcomed Sammie, aka Sam Henry, aka Meever [pron. meeoar or something like that] aka Slinky, a small 7 wk old kitten I found at a gas station on the way to the Ranch. She looks like a slab of marble and is very cheeky! In 4 weeks she has doubled her size and weight and she is taking on Slim without fear! They have a love/hate/tease/chase/snuggle relationship and it makes for great entertainment!

Lola has also gone from adopted to full fledged Ault ownership. The Ranch gifted her to me in September (thank you Mark and Carrie :) and she has gained weight and nearly stopped her cribbing or wind sucking. I was told she was a former endurance race horse, but I can't make that fit, as she is an excellent dressage horse and show jumper. So you may see me in the London Olympics 2012 ;-) Or maybe just hacking around in the sand dunes!

What's next for the Aults? A goldfish?

Can I have the car keys, mom?

Well, I now have someone to run errands for me! I realized it today, when I was cooking and needed more mushrooms. Hunter passed his driving test the second time around....which is pretty standard here! The first driving test was a month ago and he failed within 5 minutes of starting the car! Apparently he didn't swerve enough around a pot-hole so the instructor grabbed the wheel and yelled at him in Arabic...clever!

Everyone fails the first time here, so the Sheikh can make money on the additional training lessons needed, in order to sign up for the test again! It's a conspiracy I'm convinced!

Getting Hunter's license is another hurdle because his father is being difficult. We paid around 4200 dirhams for the classes, incl driving & theory, test, book and an hour in a simulator. Except they never scheduled Hunter for the simulator. He has been practicing around the small roads in our neighborhood so the kid can drive, but he should get what he paid for. Aric asked for the 100 dirhams (simulator cost = $35) as a principle. They have been completely ignorant of this. So Aric said fine, I won't pay for the extra classes (440 dirhams) until you credit the 100. 'Oh but Sir, you have to pay for the simulator, it is part of the whole deal' ! Aric: 'Look-it - if you go to a supermarket and buy groceries, then walk out without them, do you still pay? Or if you drive through a gas station without filling up, do you pay for gas?' I paid for a product and service and didn't get it, so I want my money back for the part I didn't get' ..... the Saga continues and Hunter is without his license!

I cannot believe I have neglected my faithful readers for so long! Let me get this off my chest: not working regularly since February, because some VP figured he didn't need my team; then battling a big corporate entity for another three months, with lawyers slinging legal mud back and forth - sort of took it out of me! Drained is putting it lightly!!

But I prevailed and it is now all behind me! I went to Tempe to see Aidan for 5 days during parents weekend; it was fantastic. We went to the ASU game vs Oregon and ASU won big! Aidan had a lot of homework, he loves school now and truly cherishes his Industrial Design classes, even though it is demanding - but he says it is "his kind of learning" and I think he has come into his own.

So, when he studied, I went to explore. Apache Junction is not far from Tempe and there were mountains and nature which called my name. Hiking alone, under the noon sun, with no water and nobody else on the trail, is not recommended! The temp reached 102 and here I was just diddle daddling along looking at all the tall cactus (or is it cacti?) in any event, I soon realized that I could have ended up having a movie named after me, just like the guy in "127 hours". Imagine seeing a movie called "2.4 miles" about a woman who gets lost on a remote trail called "Lost Dutchman's Trail" - in the Superstitious Mountains? Leave it to the Dutch to get lost a hundred years ago... I mean the trail was signposted pretty well!

When I saw remains and bones from birds and small reptiles, I figured that was it for me....I had stumbled across a giant prehistoric predator who grabs small children on field trips. It was like a scene from "Picnic at Hanging Rock" - the sheer silence broken only by a whistling wind rushing through the rocks....it gave me goosebumps in the hot sun! I managed to drag myself back to the empty parking lot where my rental wreck was baking in the heat. If I had ever earned a cold beer it was now!
Earlier, down the road a ways, I had passed Goldmine City (how original) and they had a genuine saloon, with flapping doors just like a true western flick. How out of place can you be in a tank top, mini skirt and gym shoes? - I was hiking for crying out loud...well every Stetson hat turned and watched me and the bar got real quiet, you could hear a pin drop into a spittoon! Not even a spur jingled! I played it cool and said "howdy, can a thirsty gal get a cold beer?" in my best Arizonian twang. No sooner had I sat down when Madison Taylor introduced herself. And then the rest of the crowd joined in....Sam, Richard, Lonnie....well I be....within 30 minutes I was invited to get on one of Richard's Quarter horses and off we went, with Madison too, on a 2-hour hack in the dry river wash! Try riding western style in a mini skirt!!

During the last 15 minutes we galloped pretty long and fast and one of my reins dropped, (western style reins aren't connected - they are long leather straps on each side of the horse, connected only to the bit) so I stopped and reached down the horse's neck and head, to pick it back up; only as I leaned down, the horse's head came up and we head butted each other hard -I got a huge gash in my forehead. Unreal! Blood everywhere. Richard took his water bottle and poured the content all over my face and then tied a bandana around my head. That supported me for the rest of the ride back to the saloon, where we butterfly'ed it. I drove off to the emergency room, and got silicone glued up. Aidan laughed and we went out for sushi....it was a cracker of a day and I've made some great new friends!

Meet Asma and Fatma

Asma sleeps until noon every day and is a housewife. Fatma is up early and works 8-5 at a local women's college. Asma has the driver and nanny take her son to daycare. Fatma drops her kids off herself. Asma has tea with girlfriends every night and stays up until 1 or 2am in the morning. Fatma does homework with her children every evening, while her husband cares for his sick father, who lives with them. She complains that she has no time to herself!

Asma's husband works for the Government and his hours are 9-2. After work he spends the afternoon with Asma. Fatma has to go and visit her father (who is a widower) at least once a day and so does every sibling...she has 9 brothers and sisters.

Asma is Pakistani / US and married to an Emirati - she wears regular clothes. Fatma is local Emirati and wears the Abaya.

Both are wonderful women but so different. I met Asma at the American Women's Association general meeting and Fatma at the Coaching Course, I just attended this past weekend. Getting the insight into the lives of local women is rare and wonderful. I'm so curious for knowledge and cultural info and now that I have more time on my hands, I'm taking every opportunity to get to know my surroundings.

Since my last blog, I have taken ownership of Lola, so I ride much more. Such a treat! Look for more updates soon -- I'm off to the US this evening to see Aidan in Arizona and friends in Chicago. I got a 10-year entry visa, so I'm hoping my detainment in immigration will be avoided!

Ciao dear readers...

Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the nerdiest of them all?

The iPad has invaded our lives. I gave Aric one for our anniversary (I got golf clubs) and it was never my intention to touch that Pad at all. Three months and several cool applications later I'm hooked on the damn thing!

My idol Tom Cruise and Katie just told in an interview that their secret to a happy marriage is Scrabble. I'm scrabbling and scrabbling everyday against the CPU and against Aric. In a 150 point game I win 8 out of 10 times....in a classic long game, I don't do as well. But it's amazing how many new words I'm learning (can you tell I'm unemployed at the moment??)

There is also a cross word puzzle app and yoga routines! Who knew that a little flat pad could offer so much in life? Since I fell of Lola last Monday (serious equestrian equipment malfunction and some pilot error) and have been nursing a horrendous bruised Sacroiliac, I've become Scrabble Queen.

Hunter may be our 'uber-nerd' though. He just spent two weeks in Johannesburg at the Maharishi Institute. (Our friend Taddy is the founder of the Free University there and they use Transcendental Meditation as a basis for 'learning in a traumatic environment'). We attended Taddy and Annie's African wedding ceremony and after we left Johannesburg, Hunter wrote me a mail from his iPod:

"Hey mom vicki invited me to do this introduction to the transcendental meditation, the technique they use in the institute, and just told me what it was all about and everything, and basically selling me on her and richards 4 day course... And im sold, you really had to be there to not think im doing some hari krishna thing. Either way it seems like a good opportunity for a cool experience if not life changing thing, so i wanna try it... And the catch of course is that its R1800... Thats about it, and ofcourse i love you no matter what your answer."


Classic Hunter....As it turns out, we forked out the 1800 Rand because how can you not invest in your kids' future - and he is now meditating twice a day while humming a secret mantra! He and the other two interns at the school cooked noodles & noodles together and discussed how much money there is to be made in Charity! It just moves around and gets written off in tax deductions ;-) I think my son is on to something there!

In the spirit of giving, Aric decided to 'donate' our camera (with 125 safari and wedding pics) to some poor South African who has a lowly airport baggage handling job...unfortunately it was not a voluntary donation, but that's life in a country where the have's and have not's are so far apart. At least I can now upgrade to a nerdier Canon camera! Luckily Aric had taken a few shots with his small handy, so we have a few memories!

Hunter got great feedback from the Institute though! Apparently he fixed all their IT issues and also showed them how to download movies (!!) as well as upgraded all their applications. It has resulted in Hunter now looking at a career in IT management (God help him - we've poisoned his system with Cisco juice) - and is looking at a Bachelor's Degree from Copenhagen Business School in IT administration. How nerdy can you get??

Meanwhile, I've grown tired of all the Cisco Circus acts and have instead filed a labor dispute with the Dubai Free Zone and local labor dept. They notified our general manager who now has three days to respond and resolve the issue, or it gets forwarded to Dubai courts. After months of stalemate, I've concluded that corporate people are crooks, that the more bad and unethical things you do and the more people you mistreat, the higher up in the organization you move...I've also learned that HR must be the most incompetent people.

Unfortunately my situation has bled over into Aric's work and he has missed an opportunity to be rewarded the highest achievement award at Cisco: The Chairman's Club, and a trip to Hawaii. He did get the Sales Champion Award and was ranked no. 1 in region; alas they decided to send number two, which was a bit curious. I can only speculate that they thought it would be bad for business and their execs to be confronted with a 'postal wife' on Maui! I haven't had the urge to visit the 50th state anyways!

Life goes on and this week it will go a little faster and smoother once I sever my ties with the company where I had a good 12-year run.

Slim has lost his manhood and is doing well after he has less testosterone in his system!

I think that just about sums up the Ault sandbox updates.

A date with George !

This one's for Michelle, who needs a date ;-) ...and the date sadly isn't with George Clooney, but with my favorite camel, George, now about 4 months old and standing tall at 135 cm. He is now joining the rest of the herd around our date palm plantation, munching on fallen dates.

Slim and I were at the Ranch a whole morning last weekend; I walked Lola up to the grassy area (a treat when you live in a desert 24/7 ) and Slim was busy chasing goats and ducks.

It is now the 8th day of Ramadan and dates play an important role in the fasting and Iftar events.

Dates are rich in fibre, potassium and amino acids and used to be part of an Arab's diet as this "nature's candy" was easy to process and did not require refrigeration. Dates are also full of other good things: B-complex vitamins, iron and selenium which is a good anti-oxidant, and it is a great low calorie sweet.