Over the long National Day weekend, I found myself searching for things I still wanted to see in Dubai. Heritage Village is at the center of Old Dubai and features various old homes turned museums, all almost free to visit. While this wasn’t spectacular, the area was rather charming with some interesting history, and I felt much more affectionate to this side of Dubai.
Al Bastakiya is a historical area in Old Dubai that has been preserved, and is one of the few sections of Dubai one can walk through to feel what life might have been like many years ago for Emiratis. My friend and I wandered down here on a Friday when most attractions were closed, but enjoyed poking our noses into awesome art galleries and into the Dubai Museum, which is a treat for anyone who enjoys reading about history. I loved seeing all the replications of historic aspects of Dubai, but I do feel it’s a shame that so little of the olden times has been preserved in the UAE.
Persuasion in the Rhetoric of Iranian and American Officials in Regards to the Nuclear Deal
Two states with vastly different policies, cultures, and outlets for rhetoric recently came to a contentious agreement known colloquially as the nuclear deal. In order for this to go into effect, bodies of both states needed to be persuaded to ratify it. The United States of America and the Islamic Republic of Iran were both party to July’s Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action, colloquially known as the nuclear deal, but as these states have a history of disagreement and tension, both states saw a lot of popular dissent within their general public. By examining how various officials in both Western states and Islamic countries have commented on the July Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action, colloquially known as the nuclear deal, and how news sources have reported on this nuclear deal, this paper will provide an analysis of how the rhetoric of government in a Western State differed from that in an Islamic State in a case where both had similar goals.
After some more time spent getting lost and spending some time wandering along strange paths, I found my bike and made it back to the hostel.
Later, I set out to find a place to have dinner. As I’m the queen of indecisiveness when it comes to inconsequential decisions, this was quite a challenge, and I spent another hour wandering the streets, sticking my head into various menus outside and observing all the people enjoying the warm November evening.
I started my day off with cafe con leche and a croissant at a bakery I’d walked by the previous day for 2 euro. The hostel provided breakfast, but I wanted to sit at a cafe and stare at people.
My hostel rented bikes for eight Euro. Considering that in Zion we charged $10 an hour, this seemed like a good deal, so I went for it. I had a bunch of starred places I’d planned to visit, but I wasn’t feeling terribly excited about any of them, so I decided to just go where the wind took me.
This kind of worried me at first–I was thinking about the people that would be like “But you went to Barcelona and didn’t see this?!” However, it was my time and I decided that whatever made me happy would be what I would do, and I wanted to bike and to stare at people.
After a miserable experience getting up at 4AM in order to get a train to the airport, I made it to Barcelona around 11:30 in the morning. I promptly took the bus to my hostel, where I found myself feeling a little lost. The Foo Fighters were supposed to play that night and I had planned on spending most of the day queuing, but their show had been cancelled, and I was disappointed.
Nonetheless, I decided to set forth with no plan of attack again and see what I could see. It was Spain, after all!
Walking in the general direction of the ocean, I came to a park with a pretty greenhouse that reminded me of a mini version of the conservatory in Washington, D.C.
The day before I left, I happened to google one of my favourite authors who I know lives in London. By wild, crazy luck, a post had been made on her website–that evening, author Sophie Kinsella was speaking. I managed to score a ticket (the event was supposed to be closed to members of The Sun newspaper, but a kind member of Kinsella’s publicity team sent me a Ticketmaster link) and ohmygoodness the event was incredible.
I woke up bright and far too early but excited to explore London. My method of attack was having a map on my phone with a bunch of places starred, a good pair of feet, and an ‘Oyster’ card–why their tube/metro/underground is an oyster, I am not sure, but whatever, Londoners. Oh, and I speak the language. Setting off into the unknown in London was a little less scary than setting off into the unknown in Esfahan, Iran. There are a million photos of London out there, so I didn’t try very hard on these ones!
Over summer, New Order announced they would be doing a European tour. Then the Foo Fighters announced they’d be doing a European tour. Then I received a scholarship to Dubai. Since Dubai is much closer to Europe than Maryland or California and I now had a little cash to spare, I figured that this obviously meant I had to go to Europe.
One of my initial plans was to go to Paris to see New Order and then to Amsterdam to see the Foo Fighters. A later plan was to go to the Foo Fighters in Paris and then New Order in London. I eventually decided on going to London to see New Order and then to Barcelona to see the Foo Fighters. The Foo Fighters show was cancelled following the Nov. 13 Paris attacks, but I’m lucky that my travel still worked out well. I’ve seen the Foos three times before, and because I was holding out for the cheapest tickets, I still hadn’t bought my tickets, so it worked out, all things considered, well for me.
I wasn’t going to miss out on the most touristy thing in Dubai, so this weekend I persuaded a few friends to come on a desert safari with me.
We were picked up outside a supermarket and crammed into a van that took us to the side of a main road where there was literally a stretch of vans and cars filled with tourists.
Unceremoniously, we were piled into one of these beauties and off we went dune bashing–driving way too fast across the sand dunes. Now, people tell me that my driving is scary (or rather, the idea of me driving as no one will actually let me drive) but those people need to drive with these people to know what scary is. I loved it. One of my friends screamed more than he probably had in his life. Rollercoasters will never be the same.
The biggest issue I had with this entire safari was the lack of direction. Whereas most tours of any kind in the US almost baby you in that they tell you where to go and what to do with every second of your time, there was absolutely no guidance here, and I didn’t like not knowing what was happening when.
The vehicle left us next to a big arena-ish place in the middle of the desert–one of several, we saw, when we climbed the hills.
Outside were several camels giving rides that took about 2-3 minutes. I took the ride, but I honestly felt terrible for the poor camels. They didn’t seem to be getting any breaks, they had no water available, flies surrounded their heads, and watching them having to bend over and stand back up repeatedly made me feel very sad for them. They probably have to repeat this performance every day, and I doubt they get any love. Poor camels.
This is what the area looked like from above–there was a small stage set up with Arabic-style seating around it, and various tents selling touristy stuff. To my amusement, there was a bar set up with a bigger variety of bottles than one would find at a frat party.
My favourite part of the trip was watching the sunset–I can’t emphasise enough how sad it makes me that I can’t watch the sunset or sunrise every day when I want to!
My next favourite part was HOW COOL THE MOON WAS! It was probably about two days into the cycle, and the sky was such that we could see the entire shape of the moon in addition to the crescent. There were also stars, though not as many as I expected.
We got the free henna, which honestly wasn’t very impressive, but again, what would a semester in Dubai be without the touristy stuff?! During dinner, there were three live performances. The coolest one by far was a fire dancer.
Riding back, they took us through the direct route, so it wasn’t half as terrifying as getting there.
I had a similar sentiment to this safari as to most of Dubai–I’m glad I did it, but I wouldn’t do it again. The lack of direction was frustrating, the treatment of the camels was frustrating, and the dune bashing and the sunset were probably the only parts I’d want to do again.
Comprising of about 3 to 3.5% of the land in the United Arab Emirates, Sharjah is the third biggest emirate. We took a day trip to explore various museums there. Being students, admission to all ended up being free, to my pleasure!
Our first stop was the Sharjah Museum of Islamic Civilization, which had far too much content to be taken in with less than an hour, but had some fascinating exhibitions on display.
I was particularly fascinated by an exhibit on Islamic faith that focused on the Five Pillars of Islam and had some cool photos of various mosques across the world. I spent two years working for the Contemporary Jewish Museum of San Francisco and kept mentally making comparisons. The CJM became like a second home to me, and though I’m a proud agnostic, I loved the way it presented Judaism as very accessible and filled with fascinating culture and people who had created history. (And one of the main themes throughout all exhibitions was celebrating multiple perspectives, which had an enormous influence on the way I think and appreciate diversity.) This museum in Sharjah focused much more on various artifacts and relics as well as how faith should be practiced. In particular, I kept remembering an exhibition by Stanley Saitowitz that was at the CJM almost the entire time I worked there and displayed various objects associated with Jewish rituals.
This exhibit also featured many old and absolutely gorgeous copies of the Qu’ran. I instantly started comparing this to As It Is Written: Project 304,805 which, though it had been at the CJM before my time, I had been in love with where a female scribe had written a copy of the Torah as an exhibit. Just as she had put time and care into every single character of the Torah, these Qu’rans had had so much devoted to their writing. I was particularly intrigued by an anecdote about how people were reluctant to use printing presses for the Qu’ran as they were scared of it making errors.
I loved how the two museums, one of them new and one of them beloved, celebrating two very similar yet often conflicting faiths, could showcase these cultures from different perspectives.
The museum also had a lot of scientific objects and I enjoyed learning about the influence of Islamic scholars on medicine and astronomy in particular.
The Sharjah Heritage Area Museum provided a quick visual introduction to both Sharjah and the UAE as a whole. Though I wish I had visited it earlier when I had known nothing about the UAE, it was still fun to see how they portrayed their history and their society, and I learned some interesting traditions.
I wasn’t as interested in the Calligraphy Museum as I had been in the previous two museums; as I’m barely half a semester into learning Arabic, I wasn’t able to appreciate the intricacies and instead found myself wondering how people were able to read the ornamental scripts. Again, however, I was in awe of the way they celebrated their holy text, the Qu’ran, and of how much painstaking effort went into each page of the handwritten texts.
The Blue Souq in Sharjah was kind of anticlimactic. Though it’s the largest souq in the UAE, it felt like a shopping mall to me in comparison to the souqs I’d explored in Oman and especially in Iran. I had thought that in order to be considered a souq, one must be able to get lost in it; however, there was no way to get lost in this souq.
Before we left Sharjah, we saw a fountain show at the Khaled Lagoon Corniche.
The CJM might be my favourite museum forever and I definitely need a few hours to myself to explore a museum in depth, but I definitely enjoyed exploring some of the places Sharjah had to offer.
I didn’t come to Dubai to walk through malls. Unfortunately, the favourite pastime here is hanging out at malls. This weekend, however, I explored a mall that I loved.
Ibn Battuta was a Moroccan explorer whose travels inspired the architecture in the six courts that make up the Ibn Battuta Mall in Dubai–the Andalusia, Tunisia, Egypt, Persia, India, and China courts. Each section of the mall is themed not only in the roof and designs on the walls but also in the odd ornaments and pieces of furniture.
There was definitely still too much rampant capitalism and materialism, but I enjoyed walking around these shops. The Persia court was my favourite partially because it had a mini-exhibit on Ibn Battuta and his travels. He set out when he was twenty and managed to see every Islamic country of the time which I was greatly impressed by.
We found a bookstore and I went in, excited because John Irving had released a book three days prior. To my absolute disgust, they had no copies of Avenue of Mysteries (or of Hollowgirl by Sean Williams, which had been released the same day but which I had already finished on my kindle app.) Though I was exceptionally happy to smell the pages of new books, I was disappointed by their lack of Irving and Gabrielle Zevin.
I found a bubble tea place on our way out and the San Franciscan in me was positively gleeful.
I’m not going to begin shopping every weekend, but Ibn Battuta is by far the coolest mall I’ve ever been to. Forget the ski slopes and indoor aquariums, showcasing various architectural styles is the real deal!
(Or rather, National Novel Writing 100-Hours?)
Because at an average rate of 49 words per minute, one could technically be done in 17 hours. (But it took me until 2:52AM on the 5th, so.)
With 43 1,000 word sprints of 25 minutes and a few extra words here and there, I have one of the most error-riddled documents of my life and a dystopian country about to be attacked…sucks to be them because they’re probably not suspended in my documents folder forever unless someone kicks me into gear (that’s a hint.)
“Electricity” by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, “On Every Street” by Dire Straits, and “World in Motion” by New Order made this happen. And Zune’s smart mixes made up for the lack of Pandora.
And to my friend who checked up on me every day and my friend who let me rant to him–forever indebted.
you brought out the worst in me…and you inspire the best in me.
This time last year, I remember a professor asking me why I was going to attempt NaNoWriMo again. I told her that it was kind of dumb, but I’d definitely stop next year in 2015, because I’d be abroad. And I wouldn’t want to waste a single second abroad, right?
Cute idea, Em.
Here I am thinking, “Oh, I’m travelling for five days in November! I’ll be able to do NaNo on planes and in adorable hostels!” If there was ever a reason to question my sanity…
Quitting? After five years of having wonNaNo? Lovely thinking. So realistic. I am such a sore loser; until the year I finally grow up a little, I’ll be attempting this challenge. Or the year I lose.
The basic premise behind NaNo, or National Novel Writing Month, is that one writes a novel of at least 50,000 words (approximately 200 pages in the average hardback book) in a month. I bend the rules–I have never completed a novel that hadn’t already been started, I have continued old stories before, and I’ve worked on multiple stories during the month. I hold to the 50k words in November part, and that’s good enough for me.
Why do I do NaNoWriMo?
I hate creative writing. I detest it. It stresses me out and it makes me anxious. If I ever write something I like, I’ll find myself wondering, ‘What happened to that character in that book?’ and then remember that, oh yeah, I still have to finish it. And then I feel angry.
For an indecisive person like me, writing is horrible. I can’t even decide what I want to eat for lunch; how am I supposed to create entire lives for characters that become real people to me?
However, I love to write. I love that feeling when I know I’ve written something I might like. I love knowing I captured an emotion. I love how breathless I feel when I’ve just finished a thousand word sprint and how I’d forgotten for a second that I was writing, and how instead I was just listening to a character tell me a story.
But I don’t write unless someone’s forcing me to. I need someone to push me. I’m a sore loser, so if I have someone checking up on me, I’ll grump at them, but I’ll write. I need to be held accountable. If I think someone cares, it’s easier. (Also, then I can ask this person if my character’s shirt is red or blue. Because I can’t decide those things.)
This year I feel particularly lonely as NaNo approaches, because I haven’t lined up anyone to care.
NaNo also forces me to word vomit. If I were to decide to write a story for funsies (no, NaNo is most definitely not fun) then I’d barely get anywhere as I’d deliberate far too long over every minute decision. The only story I wrote and actually managed to write completely without setting word count goals for myself was in eighth grade.
2013 was going to be the year in which I finally planned a novel. Instead, I got caught up in life. 2014 was going to be the year in which I finally planned a novel. Instead I got ahead with work, turning in a draft of a paper due in December in October. This year was going to be the year in which I finally planned a novel. Now it’s October 28, I’ll be at a conference for the next three days, and I’m freaking out. But I have a title and two character names, and you know, titling and naming is the hardest part of writing, so I’ll be fine. (Ugh, if I decide what tense I’ll write in. Because two of the past three years I’ve wasted time in deciding that I wrote in the wrong tense and thus I must rewrite my first 3k.)
It’s also vaguely frustrating because I want to write a fantastic dystopia, but that requires decisive planning, a knack for details, and a great amount of talent; or a book with a subtle asexual agenda, but I’ve done that (and it needs to be rewritten); or something that deals with mental health, but so many authors have done that so much better than I ever could. As such, I’m kind of wasting my time. But such is life.
So, NaNoWriMo, let’s dance. Year six can’t be any worse than the rest, right?
Please bug me this November and ask me if I’m writing. It helps more than you’ll ever know.
I really recommend coming up to the top of Burj Khalifa if you’re going to appreciate the view. However, if you’re going up just to stare at your cell phone, save yourself the money and search it online.
The view was incredible, but I became very disheartened in listening to the conversations around me. It seemed that the most important thing to people was finding the best lighting for a photo of themselves. More people saw the view through the lens of a cellphone than from their two eyes.
The free WiFi at the top, my friend aptly pointed out, was so people could utilize social media.
Reading the story of the construction was amazing–from design to reality, the 830m building was completed in just over seven years. Over half of the world’s population lives within a five hour flight of Dubai, and this is the epitome of the emirate building itself into a hub of business and tourism.
Despite my cynicism, I was really overwhelmed with how cool the view was. This was like flying and getting to stay stationary at that perfect spot where you get to see how a city looks from above. If there had been seating and I hadn’t had other plans, I would have stayed up there all day.
Other than the souq, we had little left on our agenda after returning from the sinkhole, so I decided I wanted to go to Al-Riyam Park, which had been on my original agenda in the midst of a lot of walking. We’d driven past it and I’d seen that it had a mini amusement park similar to the one I saw and loved in Shiraz, Iran. Thanks to my guidebook, I figured out that the above monument was supposed to be a giant ornamental incense burner.
We found a coffee shop that sold ice cream, popcorn, and more mango juice at ridiculously cheap prices and sat and watched the Omani people. I loved seeing all the children running to the shop clutching baisos and chasing each other around–at one point, I thought that if I closed my eyes, it’d sound just like roaming around Queens Park in Invercargill–until the prayer call came!
Friday morning, we set off for the Bimmah Sinkhole, My friend’s sister gets all the credit for telling us of it, but he gets all the credit for actually making the decision and initiating us going there!
It was about a two hour drive, but once we made it onto the main highway and I barely had to navigate, it was really relaxing–we’d figured out how to link up our music and the scenery was filled with mountains that reminded me of Zion. We passed a couple of really cute cities as well that felt gorgeously Middle Eastern.
As I opted not to get a UAE residence card, I need to leave the country every thirty days for a new visa. I didn’t want to just go to the border, so I decided to go to Muscat to get a taste of Oman, and managed to coerce one of my friends to come with me.
We flew into Muscat late Wednesday night, and went directly to our hotel. Though I’d heard stories about hotels refusing service to unmarried men and women sharing rooms, we had no troubles. I found this fascinating, as the museum I had worked at in San Francisco had been a historic monument and as such certain parts had needed to be preserved–I guess this applies to things here, too!
My friend suggested we rent a car, and while I had thought it was a ridiculous suggestion when Swiss suggested it as an add-on, I realised he was right and it was a great idea. The company delivered it to our hotel first thing on Thursday morning.
In which I get on my soapbox to rant about music videos, interpretations, and music across various mediums.
Back in the day, music videos were an essential for any single. By ‘the day,’ I must mean the 80s and the 90s, as MTV was formed in the US in ’81 and in Europe in ’87. For a while, every good single had an accompanying music video, whether it was deep and philosophical or just the band members playing. Yet today, I feel like nobody releases music videos.
Music derives its power similarly to books. To me, both can have a huge emotional impact, and the feelings or images conveyed are incredible in that someone I’ve never met may be able to say something that resonates so intimately with me.
Few territories on Earth remain unclaimed by one of many states. Fewer still are left to benefit humankind without profiting individual states or corporations. The continent of Antarctica is one of the four global commons, the others being space, the high seas, and the atmospheres.[1] As such, it is one of the last remaining uninhabited places on Earth, and a land with no clear and defined owner. Currently, it serves as home to many scientists as a research base, and is governed by the Antarctic Treaty, signed in 1959, which allows states freedom to scientific investigations but restricts territorial sovereignty. However, as demand for land and resources rises, Antarctica’s assets may become more contentious. As such, it is important for the global community to create a new treaty establishing common ownership.
Two of my best friends studied abroad in gap years directly following high school, and I remember them both separately going through a kind of dysphoria after the end of their honeymoon phases. They were over their initial excitement and kind of wanted to be home. Almost all of the literature on studying abroad I’ve read has said that homesickness after the initial few weeks in a new country was common.
I was correct in thinking I wouldn’t have this problem. I go to school a six hour flight from where my parents live, and I affectionately refer to a national park as home. What I wasn’t expecting, however, was the disillusionment.
The first few weeks, everyone was so excited to be studying abroad. But sure enough, a few weeks in, a couple of my friends–both international students, and freshmen away from home for the first time–were beginning to talk about how much they missed home. I was amazed by how some people called their parents every day–I don’t even talk to my best friends that often. The time difference made planning Skype dates a bit harder, and as WhatsApp calls don’t work here, I can’t call my parents whenever I want like I could in the US. But I talk to them almost as much as I do during the normal schoolyear nonetheless. Though I always miss my family, it doesn’t affect my mood or wellbeing. I miss my friends, but they’re all over the place anyway; I’m always missing someone. I was surprised by how much people missed their home cultures because I didn’t feel like Dubai was really that outlandish. (They have Nutella at semi-okay prices, something not even Zion and Yellowstone could claim!)
However, while I wasn’t experiencing the homesickness and dysphoria some of my friends were, I hadn’t really re-examined my expectations or thoughts on Dubai until I went to Iran. And when I realised what I was missing out on, I became entirely disillusioned with Dubai.
I love Dubai, don’t get me wrong. But I’m never going to live here; I can’t see it at all. I don’t love it like I love San Francisco, with its general relaxed vibe and its affectionate quirkiness. I don’t love it like I fell in love with Boston in my two visits there, with its deep history and quaint buildings. I don’t love it like I love the idea of New York, with people everywhere walking briskly.
Dubai is very transient, and Dubai is very Western, two things I don’t appreciate in a culture or community.
When I went to Iran, I kind of realised how much culture it was possible for a place to have. The people all had so much pride in their home, yet they were modest too. It felt Middle Eastern. It felt Persian. The bustling bazaars with their tunnel-like feel and with so many independent people haggling and inviting you in were miles from Western shops. Though there’ s a big brain drain, the few people I talked to at the airport who were Iranians living elsewhere talked about how much they loved their country and always wanted to come back. Family is the center of life, and goes hand in hand with hospitality.
Dubai feels very artificial at times. There are artificial islands and lots of tall artificial buildings and an artificial sense of wealth. There are no homeless people here. Other than the people working service jobs, Dubai is filled with rich business people and rich tourists. There are Western chains everywhere, and I pay more at most restaurants than I would in the US. The most popular places to hang out are the malls. How capitalist. Everyone speaks English.
Less than 15% of the population is actually Emirati, and it’s really hard to get citizenship. There are students who have lived here all their lives, who will have to either get jobs or leave after they graduate as they are not nationals and no longer fall under their parents’ visas. There are families who have been working here for decades who’ll either have to leave what is now their home to retire, or keep working forever. Most people seem to only be here for a few years at most, a stopover on their way to another place or another career. This may seem hypocritical as I haven’t lived in one place for more than seven consecutive years ever, but there’s no sense of community or ownership. And I like that, maybe because I haven’t lived in one place for very long. I’m semi-envious of those who have.
The service culture here drives me up the wall. If you eat in a mall food court, you leave your trash on the table. If you’re in the supermarket and you accidentally knock over a display, you give it a condescending look, and instead of scuttling away looking embarrassed or trying to find an employee, you might step on a box as you walk away. The mess people leave in the dorms for the cleaners to find honestly disgusts me.
Meanwhile, four of the emirates in the UAE seem to have nothing but one story buildings and general stops. Driving through them has felt like driving through forgotten towns in the rural US. Abu Dhabi and Sharjah, meanwhile, are becoming more and more like Dubai–more and more Western.
I knew coming in that Dubai would be relatively Western, but I wasn’t expecting just how Western it would be. I’m hoping that next semester when I go to Morocco, I’ll get a different taste of what living in the North Africa/Middle East can be like.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not bashing on Dubai. I just really wish that I’d come here two hundred years ago, before it even really knew what the West was.
I love Dubai, and I wouldn’t change being here this semester. But I don’t think it’s a place I’ll be coming back to often.
