Umm al-QuMEN

If one could make a Hollywood movie like "Wild Hogs", about a boating weekend rather than a mid-life crisis biker trip, this would be it and it would be called "Wild Mariners". A bunch of dramatic, self-doubting, middle age, adrenaline-craving men, in search of an undefined dream or goal, gathered at the Palm Beach Resort (not to be confused with the actual Palm Beach haven in Florida) for a massive horse powered, Mastercraft sponsored wake boarding extravaganza.

It was supposed to be a family boating and camping weekend but as expected, turned into an engine revving, hull comparing, stunt filled, "whose boat is faster and who can do the most flips" weekend, where I found myself anxiously sneaking Slim around in secret. No pets were allowed and of course we did not see that sign posted until we had driven 2 hours and arrived at the Umm al-Quwain Marina.

Packing him up in a blanket like a well traveled gypsy, he could have passed for a 10 month old baby squirming in my arms while Aric checked us in to a “seen better days” double suite. We decided not to rough it in a tent with a puppy that would no doubt chase bugs and howl all night. Not that I think I’m getting too old for camping, but somehow air-conditioning, shower and a real toilet, sounded better than squatting in the sand while trying to avoid mosquitoes in the hot & humid night. Instead, the boys spent the two nights in our tent right on the beach with camp fire, marshmallows and the lack of an air mattress.

Slim was happy sleeping right in between Aric and I in the hotel bed. During the day we smuggled him through the marina gates and on to our boat and in the evening when we attended the BBQ dinner, he was cool and calm in the A/C with a “do not disturb” sign on the door. The Palm Beach Resort was an interesting place – a mix of families enjoying their weekend off and single Arab men who seemed to get a lot of female visitors from Russia (?!) The little convenience hotel shop had an interesting array of snacks, soft drinks, beach towels, very raunchy lingerie and shelves full of condoms. Somehow I don’t think there were a whole lot of weekend prayers going on in the rooms. Didn’t bother us much; we were there to enjoy the boat, wakeboarding and sun. I just find the whole concept a little hypocritical amongst the strict Muslim code.

Driving around Friday afternoon looking for firewood, I didn’t see a single woman. So, I have re-named the emirate from Umm al-Quwain to Umm al-Qumen. With only about 62,000 inhabitants, it is the least populous emirate in the federation. But you would think there would be more women out and about. I did get chatted up by a father and his two teenage boys, who actually spotted Slim and thought he was “the most beautiful dog they had ever seen”! Now we know that’s not exactly true, so I was rather suspicious. After all I was wearing a short sun dress and with no other women (or dogs) around, both Slim and I stood out like a sore thumb! I asked the guy where his wife was and he told me she was at their home. (Barefoot, pregnant, and cooking in her oppressive burka no doubt!!) Anyway, it ended up being an enlightening conversation where I learned that the two sons were going to Russia for vacation and they did actually pet Slim in the end, though they were frightened by him in the beginning. He has that affect on people in the UAE. Sometimes I feel I am walking Godzilla around on a leash, the Indian workers jump 4 feet back and freeze when we pass them on the street. Like he will attack and eat them?!?!

We got our firewood and while the boys pretended to be on a desert island, isolating themselves with soda, chips and hotdogs, Aric and I had dinner with the rest of the Mastercraft owners, all very nice couples and much like us – working all week and boating on the weekend.

It was a packed weekend with lots of learning new tricks and wake surfing. The area was also very beautiful with lots of mangroves and wildlife in the protected lagoon surrounded by small islands. Early in the morning the Arabian horses from a nearby stable were being exercised in the water and could be seen swimming along the shore with a yard boy. What a sight!

http://www.ummalquwainmarina.ae/en/

Howdy Neighbor !

I have really neglected my blog for a while. We have been too busy with the boat, which is definitely stepping up our social life. It's so amazing how many new friends you get when you have a cool toy like that!

Anyway, I am propped up in bed with a glass of wine and feeling very inspired to write, from watching "Marley and Me" last night with Lori, a new girlfriend who I was introduced to through my boss, on Facebook. That's a story for another blog, but Lori and I went to see this comedy about life with a dog who misbehaves. It strangely reminded me of life with Slim. Between laughing and crying, (Lori and I balled like a couple of women at the wailing wall, at the end of the movie), I was encouraged and inspired to continue our blog, by watching Owen Wilson, playing the husband, who is a reporter writing a weekly column.

So many things happen daily and I keep thinking "I must write that down" but life takes over and when it comes time to write, I've forgotten what I wanted to say. The comfy new bed (yes, we finally found a bed) and the 7 pillows in my back, help my creativity flow (or maybe it's the wine?)

Aric bought this under-carriage contraption of a mechanical lift from Ikea, which lifts part of the mattress up to a "sitting, leaning, reading" position. He was too cheap to get the remote control version so one has to squeeze the hand and arm way down between the mattress and bed frame, quickly, to avoid the blood circulation getting cut off, in order to lift the contraption up a few gears...kind of like a hotel pool lounge chair, only with an 8 inch thick, hard and stiff mattress on top. I refuse to use it and am perfectly happy with my multiple pillows. Once the damn thing is up, you have to get out of bed to stick your arm down and get the lever to bring it down!
And when you lay there with it raised, it feels like a hospital bed. I'm waiting for the nurse to come in any minute to take my vitals. The TV mounted on the wall is missing though!

We get new neighbors this weekend. Apparently I scared away the previous "almost moved in" tenants, because these people are not the same as the ones we met a month ago who "were moving in". We almost had Egyptian neighbors, which culturally would have been very interesting, was it not for the wife acting hysterical in the hallway. Our security guy told us "that lady is totally crazy" in his wonderful Indian accent; she proceeded to clear out all large planters and pots from their pool area and put them out for the trash collection. Among them I found my potting soil and various garden materials for our flower pots. This was stored in the common area between our pool rooms on the roof, and she just disposed of it all. Off to the building office I marched and a few days later our doorbell rang. The crazy lady was outside apologizing for her wrong-doings. Perhaps it was my facial expression, or maybe Slim, sniffing her feet while she stuttered through her apology, but after that we never saw them again. A month later we meet our new neighbors, a couple from Minnesota....how cool is that? Bart and Carrie - so far they seem really nice. Can't say I'm terribly unhappy about the crazy Egyptian lady not showing up.

Bart and Carrie are moving into a building soap opera. Granted every house or apartment has its faults and things that need maintenance. This building has apparently never been properly outfitted with correct incoming voltage or AMP or whatever it is that runs A/C and lighting. It's supposed to be a “state of the art, intelligent” building, from a credible real estate developer (Trident) partnering with Pacific Control, who makes the entire IT system that controls everything in our apartment....lights, A/C, curtains, doorbell, security system, CCTV cameras on the roof and in the living room in case we want to remotely access our system online to check on Slim....it's so intelligent I wonder why it doesn't cook, clean and does the laundry.

Since we moved in (in December) we have never been able to get the control panel to work. The first 3 weeks the lights in the kitchen and dining room were on 24/7. They fixed that, but then blew the rest of the lights so 16 halogen bulbs needed to be replaced. That got fixed, but then the water heater stopped working. They fixed that and the camera (even though we don't use the spy cam) and then the A/C stopped working. You get the idea....fix one thing and another problem arises. Every event has Trident blaming Pacific Control and vice versa. And every fix has a charge for this, that and the other.

We finally met more tenants (it so happens that 3 other people here also work for Cisco) who told us they have the same problems...to my delight, as I was getting worried I was the ultimate building witch. It seems other people have problems with the lighting and their A/C. We have created an email alias and now I can read everything about other people’s misery. One guy on the 10th floor says he has “disco lights” every time he turns on his living room, they keep flashing. Several tenants report burning smells and lights malfunction – that happened to us last week. The wires lay across the halogen bulbs and eventually melt. Such a safe environment. So the time has come to write a joint letter to the management and get a consolidated outside maintenance contractor to service all of us. That decision came quickly after Aric had an argument (read: yelling fit) with the Pacific Control man who came to fix Aidan’s A/C fan. It sounds like a jet taking off at O’Hare. He was the one who blew the doorbell circuit last week when he came to fix the lights but denied all wrong doing. Aric finally had enough of the blame game and constant charges for adapters, transformers and thermostats. After nearly having a coronary and terrible high blood pressure, we still await the fan fix but the doorbell works! Can’t be too upset though, at least we have a roof over our heads.

This weekend has us trekking to Umm Al Quwain, the Emirate to the North, for a couple of days boating, camping and frolicking in the sun. That’s a story for the next blog. Have a great weekend all.

Let's see The World!

My husband is aspiring to become Jack Sparrow, Captain Hook or possibly Captain Stubing from "The Love Boat". I think he is forgetting that they are all fictional characters with a crew of sailors who somehow always manage to avoid the reefs. Navigating the high seas by watching the sun or relying on one's "gut feeling" is not a reliable method when you're in a sandstorm with limited visibility and no GPS, as we found out when spending a day on the boat with our friends Peter and Lorraine Saturday.

It started out a great day - windy (and a bit sandy) but warm and pleasant - as we boarded with croissants, fruit, coffee and sunlotion. As our dear Captain Adventure turned the key to the engine we realized we were out of gas! The day before we had a family day on the boat and the kids wakeboarded for hours - lesson learned: don't trust the fuel gauge! Peter and Aric soon talked the Marina crew into lending us a spare gas jug which gave us enough fuel to get to the pump.

We were planning to cruise the bay between the Jumeirah shoreline, around the Palm and Atlantis. As soon as we reached the mouth of the harbor the waves got a little bigger but nothing the power of the boat can't handle - she cuts the waves like butter and then slams down so you jump a foot in the air! It did make it challenging to keep the coffee in the cups.

Shortly after Atlantis, Aric got the bright idea to sail out to "The World", the group of sand islands which some day will resemble a giant map of all the countries. He set the course due North and we rode the, by now, 6 foot waves for about 20 minutes. Suddenly out of the sandy horizon we saw an island. Must have been the tip of South America if my estimation is correct. Fascinating! All that sand, sand, sand and more sand. The weather was actually getting worse, just like a Hollywood movie where you expect the characters to have stupid accidents onboard and fall over one by one. We were now slamming the waves so hard that my butt hurt and Lorraine and I were soaked from the ocean spray - no not the drink, the actual ocean spray!

Aric turned the boat around and we headed for the Palm, or so we thought. Peter and our good captain looked at the sun's position and figured we were going South East. That's pretty much what the compass was telling us too, except we weren't seeing any land after 30 minutes. We did keep seeing sand bars to the left, so I told Aric he was going in circles and we were seeing the World over and over again. Much like a husband who "doesn't need no stinking directions" he turned slightly and said we were going straight for Dubai. Mmhhmm, yes we sure were. After an hour, I asked what way the compass pointed and Aric said it was spinning around. That was very comforting to me, nothing like a spinning compass. We still had sand bars to the left and finally Lorraine and I told Aric to turn hard right....after another 5 minutes we saw land, it looked more like Egypt with pointy sand pyramids, than Dubai with high rises. Apparently we had reached Jumeirah public beach some 10 miles North-East from where we left Atlantis. We had actually sailed all along the World from Argentina, passed Africa, India, China and ended beyond Australia. I think that's a world record in sailing around the world! Completely in the opposite direction of what the gut feeling told Aric. I told him my gut feeling was that he better buy a damn GPS system at the boat show this week. The fruit we brought onboard had turned into a smoothie and the boat looked like it had participated in a mud wrestling competition from all the dirty sand and grime.

To top it off, on the way back to the harbor, we hit a giant wave and huge wake from a passing boat, head-on, which caused us to slam down so hard we lost a wakeboard out of its holder (we turned around and recovered it) and stripped a screw to the windshield so it was busted out of its frame. Definitely a very exciting boat trip!

Two hours of cleaning after the trip is too much for even a OCD clean freak like me, so I have decided I only go out on clear, calm days from now on. And I'm sending Aric to navigation school!

Dogs can't walk on water!

All our previous pets have had to adopt to our active lifestyle (aside from the two Yellow Belly Slider turtles, who for apparent reasons never went camping with us). Lady, the first mutt we owned in college and the years after, was a perfect construction, camping and hiking dog and loved riding in our convertible; Blaze, our chocolate lab, could almost swim across the sound from Copenhagen to Malmo, Sweden; Musser, the Queen cat of the household, used to follow us around the neighborhood when we walked the dog. Slim has big paws to fill. Dead set on making him the perfect boat dog we coached him over the railing and into the boat. Sniffing around, he eventually got down on the dive platform in the rear and saw something floating in the water next to the boat - ever so curious, off he stepped to get it. After a few seconds in the harbor water we hauled a wet, very stunned puppy back in the boat. His face said it all - he looked at the water as if to say "how dare you let me sink in?"

We just aren't having much luck with this boat! The final step before getting the actual sailing permit and registration card is getting an inspection by the coast guard to make sure we have life vests, fire extinguisher, a working radio etc. Aric and Aidan sailed the boat up to Port Rashid to get this done. They faced 10 foot waves and strong winds and arrived at 1.10 pm only to be told the place closed at 1pm - "please come back on Sunday when they re-open". Begging and nearly sacrificing our firstborn son did nothing to get the guy to make a small exception even though he took pictures and looked at everything in the boat - he refused to issue the card. I avoided speaking to Aric the next 3 hours while he fumed, I mean why aggrevate the situation...

This meant that we could not take the boat out this weekend without risking impounding and a huge fine. All outgoing boats must fax a request via the marina / harbor master to the coast guard to sail out, then wait for a return fax to confirm and for that, the coast guard needs a copy of the registration card. We did cruise around the marina and out to the mouth of the harbor, so I think that officially counts as the maiden voyage. Our friend and colleague Kell was visiting Dubai from the UK so we also had our first guests on the boat when he and another colleague Menhel, joined us on Saturday.

Aric proceeded to go back to the coast guard this morning to finish the procedures. In usual Dubai style he waited 40 minutes due to power outage. Then the guys told him that they had made a mistake 2 weeks ago when they issued his boat registration number. Turns out the numbers already belonged to someone else. I don't think I have the vocabulary to describe Aric's reaction-think of a lot of "bleep, bleep" and exclamation points!! That number is on the insurance certificate, the registration with the Motor Vehicle and Transport Authority and on the side of the boat in big black letters! In a small gesture of admitting they were wrong they did issue a number very close to the old one so all we have to do is exchange a 4 for a 6. Still - it's par for the course!

Just put Sugar in the water!

I've never had anything named after me, like Martin Luther King Day, or Jefferson Street. So when Aric decided to name his boat Sugar, imagine my big smile - he calls me Sugar all the time. It's been a long haul with this boat and after the document ordeal, we are just so ready to get Sugar in the water so we can actually enjoy the purchase. Once we had the right US stamps the rest was a breeze; the Consulate added their authentication and off to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Aric went. Finally he could go to the Coast Guard to get his registration numbers so we are totally official now.

Saturday, Aric woke up in a cold sweat at 7am - OK, could perhaps have been the drinks the night before, as we had our first "Friday Brunch" - a phenomenon most expats experience at some point during their stay in Dubai. The Champagne flowed freely and when it stopped, we just continued with a variety of other cocktails, both at the hotel where the brunch was hosted and at Jonas and Maria's home on the Palm. It was our first experience with a Hummer Limo as well, why not live it up? Who knows when the ride is over here.

So I'm not sure if the cold sweat was a hangover symptom or Aric realizing that he hadn't checked if the plug was in the bottom of the boat. That's enough to sober anyone up because that morning the Yacht Master was dropping the boat in to mark the waterline for the anti-fouling.

Aric shot out of bed like something bit him and got to the harbor just as Sugar was hanging above the water. Trying to keep his cool and not wanting to appear panicked in any way or shape (I'm sure screeching tires is normal at the harbor), he casually asked David (the main dude) if anyone had checked the plug. David froze at the crane controls (most insurance claims are actually from people who forget the plug when they put their boats in the water) and after a quick check, sure enough, the plug was out. I don't even want to imagine if Aric had slept 10 minutes longer!

OK so we aren't seasoned sailors yet - I'm sure it's like riding a bicycle! Going on-line today in fact to find Slim a doggy life-vest because this weekend we will be on the maiden voyage into the Arabian Sea!

Paper Tigers

I hold in my hand, two certified, stamped, sealed, original and officially signed by Hilary Rodham Clinton, titles to one: Viper Red, Bad Ass fast ski boat and one: long, long, (nearly too long) black trailer to carry the before mentioned Bad Ass ski boat. - I promised you the document story from Hell, well here it is!

Rewind a few blogs and a couple of months to when Aric and I were sitting at MOFA (Ministry of Foreign Affairs) - he in the men's section and me in the women's section (not very effective when you're a couple who does everything in tandem) - being told that once the titles have a US Consulate verification stamp, MOFA would be happy to accept, in cash, 1500 Dirham to stamp the titles so we can register the Bad Ass boat. I'm dialing the US Consulate number even before we leave the MOFA building but far be it for the US State Dept to work more than 5 hours a day, so by now (3.30pm) the Consular section is closed and we are welcome to come back the next business day between 12.30 and 3pm.

Since Aric is the official US citizen and I'm just a "pretend" kling-on, he made the trip back to Deira to the trade center building and went up to "the floor that doesn't really exist" in the elevator that doubled as a metal detector. Resembling a secret Mission Impossible, Aric spoke to a US State Representative (aka clerk) and explained that he just needed a few US stamps so MOFA could provide their stamp and he could get the Coast Guard number for the boat. In and out - nobody gets hurt.

Mr. Clerk asked Aric "how it could be assured that the title was indeed original and not a fraud? Aric looked at him puzzled (had not gotten to the "Look-it" stage yet) - and asked Mr. Clerk if he himself was a US citizen and if he had ever owned a house or a car? "Yes" Mr. Clark answered. Aric proceeded to tell him that given the texture and originality of the documents, coupled with the watermarks and raised border, there was probably a good chance that it hadn't just been run off a home HP laser printer! "Well, how do we really know - I've been all over the world and these are the procedures!" - to which Aric (now slightly red faced) replied that he also had been all over the world and never had he been treated like an imbecile on his own country's territory. I won't repeat the verbiage that followed. Suffice it to say, I googled "how to authenticate US docs" real fast and downloaded the entire process in the time it took Aric to ride down from the floor that doesn't really exist.

Two days later I was standing in Kinko's FedEx office in Media City with the titles and two letters. One letter was to the Secretary of State of California Debra Bowen (we're on first name now) and the second to the US Authentication Department in Washington DC. You see, the documents first had to go back to the state they originated to be notorized and there we had our first dilemma. The boat was bought in California. Aric had at least had the good foresight to have the dealer get the docs notorized in California. But the actual title was issued where the boat was built and that was in Tennessee. My faith in the Tennessee State Dept to actually know where Dubai is located, let alone understand a sense of urgency, was not strong. We decided to gamble and live life dangerously and sent off the documents to California hoping that nobody would notice that small discrepancy.

The tricky part would be to instruct the State of California to forward the docs to Washington with urgency and then get that department to send the docs back to us - processed with speed. Still standing in the FedEx place, I was told I could not prepay for shipping services in the US. That meant I had to instruct someone to arrange FedEx for us on the ground there and I also had to write 5 checks in advance and fill out 3 airway bills.

The best laid plans fell apart two days later when a clerk (Brenda, oh Brenda) emailed me to ask which documents she needed to authenticate and why. I had only written a full page letter describing exactly what to do, but perhaps I over-explained, I will admit to that fact. Surely it could not be that a US state employee didn't get the plot? Then Brenda emailed me back 2 days later saying that I had not enclosed the right amount of fees (their website said $20 but did not specify per document - who knew?) Amazing that the small hand movement of placing an ink stamp on a piece of paper is worth $20, but there you go! Six additional days - and 24 emails later - Brenda still hadn't shipped off the documents because now she had no way of paying FedEx for the pick-up, since she took my $40 check, which was meant for the FedEx shipment, as payment for the stamping, which I had only enclosed $20 for. I won't tell you how much hair I found around Aric but he did pull out a few!

I gave Brenda my credit card number and at this point didn't give a hoot if she took it to Nordstroms, bought 34 pairs of shoes and fled the country, as long as that envelope made it Washington. In the meantime we had the swearing in of Hilary as new US Secretary of State, so I was envisioning a long delay in Washington between her and Condeleeza while they swapped desks, cleaning out 4 years of paper clips, old lipsticks, rubber bands and who knows what else in their file cabinets. Meanwhile images of huge storage charges filled our heads because the boat had arrived and you know that whole story!

Another email from Brenda, OH Brenda! (it was becoming a daily and scary ritual checking our Gmail) that FedEx would not pick up since they don't take credit cards. WHAT?? It took me 3 seconds to dial 1-800-go-fedex to give them a piece of my mind and low and behold, they not only accepted my credit card but also took the pick-up order from half way around the world and assured me that they would pick-up the next day and send my docs to DC faster than Superman can rip off his suit. It's not me to be sarcastic at all, so I wrote a nice email to Brenda telling her that if she would kindly at least write my credit card number on the airway bill, which had already been filled out by me, we could get the show on the road. Oddly I never heard back from her!

During the hectic email exchange with Brenda, I thought I had better proactively get someone in the US State Dept to work for me, so I called to speak to a person, which apparently just doesn't work in DC. What do I know about politics....I sat on the phone for 10 minutes intensely listening to the outgoing message to make sure I followed the maze correctly. It was one of those messages that in no way matched a Federal Government Agency; the voice reminded me of a Hitchcock blonde "femme fatale", uber decadent - "I really can't be bothered as I'm sitting here in my neglige sipping a Martini but if you press one for domestic document authentication or two for International document authentication....enclose a check to cover the national debt, you may be lucky to get your documents back within the seven days as promised". Needless to say when I got an email from "Sonya Johnson" - I struggled to reconcile the image to the voice. Sonya told me in a one-liner (and there was no hint of any Martini slur there) that "they had authenticated documents for 50 years and they knew what they were doing!" - how could I ever have doubted the US government would get the job done?

Three days later is when!! Sonya wrote me saying that the check I had written for the FedEx shipment to Dubai was made out to the US State Department and not FedEx. DOAH! Yes dear Sonya, if you had read my one page letter (which I should have written to Hilary because she would have known straight away what to do) you would know that FedEx could not tell me what the charge would be, but they did say it would be around $70, so I wrote the check for more in case it was higher and I would assume that the US State Dept could cash it, then arrange to pay FedEx directly via their account. Oh girlfriend, talk to the hand!! Mizz Sonya doesn't roll that way apparently!

Mastercard to the priceless rescue again, and another call to 1-800-just-go-for-crying-out-loud! I didn't ask Sonya exactly what she had been doing the past 50 years because I didn't want her to spit on my documents. One never knows when a pent-up - underpaid - federal government employee will go postal. Besides, their web maintenance person had neglected to update their fees so here I was again, wrote a check for $18.00 ($6 per document and there were 3) except the fee is $8.00 per doc. Turns out Brenda, oh Brenda, had only stamped two of the three, because the third document (the invoice) had not been notorized, so Sonya would only stamp the same two. I asked Sonya if she could just take the $18.00 - keep the $2.00 and donate it to charity or take herself out to lunch. Apparently I was talking to the hand because in the return envelope were 3 of my checks, including the $18 with a letter stating I had overpaid and would I please send a check for the correct amount of $16 ASAP so my documents could be processed. Except, enclosed were the processed documents. Hilary Clinton had entered office and I think we were her first task! I'm really glad she stepped in and took over the job from Sonya. Sonya was getting stressed I know, from all the precise instructions I had given; she's probably on short term paid disability now from the sheer pressure of authenticating her brain out.

Aric is headed back down to Mr. Clerk with the documents today, so fingers crossed he gets the stamp we so desperately need! The boat was moved to the marina where it is undergoing anti-fouling (a treatment sure to kill at least 3% of the marine life in a 5 mile radius) to prevent barnacles build-up.

If all goes well, and the Coast Guard issues the registration numbers, we should be able to break the bottle of champagne across the bow on Feb 19. My mom who is visiting from Denmark can just make the maiden voyage before leaving on the 20th. It's all down to timing with no help from the Paper Tigers!

Take a Load Off!

It was the most hair raising, white knuckle, teeth grinding driving I've ever done in my life. I'm not talking about one of the death and gravity defying roller coaster rides at Six Flags . No this was "just" driving down Sheikh Zayed road in rush hour - behind Aric, who was pulling the 35 foot trailer and our new boat.
Twenty minutes prior I had received very explicit instructions from Aric to "stay close to me, but don't tailgate me and don't let anyone else in between us, and keep your hazard lights on!!" So began the intense assignment of escorting my husband and his new toy from Jebel Ali Free Zone / port, through Dubai to Jumeirah. My hands had to be pried off the steering wheel and not even three shots of Tequila could have loosened up my tense posture. You try to keep close - but not too close, to two sharp props while signaling and shouting through my windscreen to other drivers "Yallah, yallah I'm with him...that boat in front is mine, MINE!!"

This nerve wrecking event came on the back of four days of Aric practically living at the customs office, at the port, upon learning that the boat had arrived. Well, there is arrival and then there is arrival! Let's not fool ourselves here, this is Dubai and just because your ship comes in, don't for one minute believe you can just haul that dinghy out of there. One entire day last week spent just going from counter to counter, forking over money like dishing out candy to kindergarteners. This puts my post office ordeal to shame and I'm just thankful I only had to witness two hours of this document and money shuffle. Sheikh Mohammed said, when inaugurated a few years back: "Within 18 months of tonight, the Dubai Government as a whole will be on-line, a factor that will increase efficiency and make the process of government faster and smoother. Among other things, I want to see visa applications and other transactions carried out on-line and government departments communicating with each other electronically."

Oh, it's online alright! The sheer pile of shipping documents, followed by the "take a number and wait for 3 hours", followed by paying an undisclosed wad of money to the guy at counter 16 who proceeded to throw the wad into a wooden drawer under his desk, yeah that's online efficiency if I've ever seen it. That day alone was just spent making sure that the valuation was made and custom fees were promptly paid. It didn't include the actual inspection of the boat, nor the off-loading process, hauling or storage fees. Not quite sure why there were storage fees, when the boat wasn't stored anywhere at any given time, but we didn't ask questions, we just paid the fees. This is Dubai!

We happened to sit next to a guy who acts as clearing agent for crane import, wow talk about job security with 70% of the world's cranes located in Dubai. A five foot tall Indian with an impeccable British accent, he got more documents done while weaving in and out of the 40 foot containers on his motorcycle. After thirty minutes with him, Aric knew exactly where he had to go next to pay more money and get more documents stamped. Mind you each guy we dealt with told us that "now you are finished, you paid, now you go" - meaning there were no more steps as far as they were concerned because they only see their little world, not the big shipping/export/import picture.

Given I have a dog and two kids to feed, I left Aric behind to figure out where the boat was physically located. Turns out after 2 days of shuffling around the port, it had not been off- loaded from the cargo "mother" ship yet.
You aren't allowed to drive around inside the gates without proper gate pass (5 Dirhams) and without a bright yellow safety vest (20 Dirhams). By the time Aric acquired both and located the boat, it was three o'clock and there was no crane operator to off-load the boat. "Come again tomorrow Sir and pay for crane, 3 hours minimum, plus new gate pass (5 Dirhams again), plus new date stamped on the bill of lading and rental / overtime of the flatbed the boat sits on (80 Dirhams)". Ok, ok, ok!

Off we went the next morning to get the boat off the flatbed. I promptly got my gate pass too (5 Dirhams) and my extra large man size yellow vest (20 Dirhams) - (very sexy with my baby blue flip-flops). When we arrived, eight Port workers were standing around the boat (still on the container flatbed) pondering how to get it off with a fork lift. I'm not sure how Aric kept his cool but then again, he had just survived 3 days of having his patience tested by the very efficient - very online - government procedures! One guy who appeared to be a supervisor asked Aric if he could take the wheels off the trailer so the forks from the forklift could get in under the trailer and be lifted off. Aric looked at him cooly with a "are-you-friggin-kiddin-me-do-you-know-how-much-this-boat-cost-me-I-just-paid-a-gazillion-dirhams-to-rent-the-crane-for-3-hours-so-why-the-F-would-you-even-think-to-stick-a-forklift-in-under-the-trailer?? - look! Ten seconds later the same eight workers had the crane parked next to the container and the ropes and iron chains dangling above our heads. This is where that bright yellow vest came in particularly handy - well worth the 20 Dirhams I must say- as I avoided getting hit by the crane hook, clearly because the operator spotted that fluorescent woman in flip-flops!

There was a minute and a half of not breathing and my heart pounded so loud I thought the Coast Guard was on some weapons exercise shooting off grenades. While the boat and trailer were doing a Cirque du Soleil acrobatic move suspended in mid-air, all I could think was "what if the ropes snap, what if the chain breaks, what if they swing the boat into the crane, what if....." though of course nothing of the sort happened and soon the boat and trailer were sitting safely on the ground looking massive, red and regal.

You're probably wondering why I was there? My sole purpose was to help Aric with the lights and signal hook-up. The company which installed the tow hitch had screwed up the pins. That meant the break lights and turn signal on the trailer was out of sync with the car. Turns out Aric got called into a meeting so had to leave the boat at the port and we returned 3 hours later to pick up.

Just before the nerve wrecking drive down the highway, Aric instructed Aidan (who I picked up and brought as extra resource) and I to help with the lights. I felt very important in my yellow vest obviously adding tons of value, standing behind the trailer yelling "lights are working" until Aric said "look-it" (those of you who know Aric recognize that when he uses the words "look-it", you have passed the point of patience with him, dismayed him and must be ready for a patronizing speech of how you don't listen to instructions) - he continued talking to me in a surprisingly calm voice: "you shouting lights are working really does not tell me what pins I have to activate in order to sync the lights, so here is what I need you to do...." well, excuse me .... how do I know that there are 457 placement combinations of 8 pins sitting in a plug that gets attached to an electrical outlet on the back of a car. This is why I went the language route and not the math route in high school.

Shortly after, Aidan was behind the wheel stepping on the brake, turning lights on-off, on-off and moving the turn-signal indicator arm up and down, while I was shouting "left light solid, right light blinking, center light solid but faint, right light solid but strong....." you get the picture!

Finding the boat, buying it and shipping it from California to Dubai was perhaps the lesser problematic experience. The difference between my husband and me is that I think things through ahead of going forward with an action and he thinks in the "now". A boat eventually needs to be in water - it's the useful thing to do. I'm sure Aric thought he had loads of time two months ago to find out where to park and keep the boat. It doesn't quite fit in the underground parking garage. Now the two months have passed, the boat is in our hands and the reason for hauling the boat down the highway was a last minute decision. Aric didn't think he could put the boat in the harbor until it has been properly registered (which is a whole other blog story for tomorrow) so we decided to park it on the street in front of the building. There is another boat parked there and so far I see no graffitti on the side of it.

There was a slight problem in that we can't get off the exit and make the turn onto our road with a 35 foot trailer. No matter how much we played it through in our heads we envisioned getting stuck in the turn. So when we passed our exit, I realized plan B was in motion, though I did not know what plan B was. Quickly dial Aric, while yelling "Yallah!" to some woman who tried squeezing in between my habibi and me....spontaneous as he is, Aric had found a guy who stores boats in front of his uhm, palace? Well, rather large Jumeirah residence. Bravo Aric! Quick thinking and half the cost of dropping the boat in the Marina for a year. Relieved that our new pride and joy was safely parked on a residential street we slept sound that night, another chapter of buying a boat closed.

The next day Aric broke the news to me. Amir, who was all smiles when he allowed our boat to be a new lawn ornament, has a business partner who lives in the before mentioned residence. He was not too happy about arriving home to find a monster boat in front of his driveway. "This is not a licensed business and we do not want to attract attention to the house and ourselves by placing such a large, cool and beautiful boat right in front!" - no, of course we don't; I'm sure the five other big speed boats parked side by side in front haven't raised curiosity from the neighbors! Well, you can't fight penis envy, so plan C quickly emerged. We arranged with the yachtclub harbor master Toby that he will take the boat immediately, after a quick anti-foul treatment, and it will be moored in the Marina right in front of our building. Back to twice the annual cost but what the heck, we can forego a few skitrips to the Alps.

A happy ending to a messy off loading! Stay tuned for the "documentation from Hell" story!