Made a beeline to "The Largest Mall in the UAE" – Mall of the Emirates after I checked into the hotel. Needed to get myself online again with a local handphone. When I reached the mall around 10 am, most of the shops were still closed. But whatheheck, as long as the mobile phone shops were open, I wasn’t complaining.
By lunch time, my stomach was growling. But strangely the food courts and cafes still showed no signs of coming to life. I was hoping that I could get a bite while go through the various price plans. But no such luck.
Wondered around for another hour and finally spotted a few sandwich shoppes lighted up. Ordered a double cheese grilled chicken meal. When the food arrived, she proceeded to pack them into a paperbag without asking me.
“Err.. excuse me, I think I’ll be eating here,” I said, “There’s plenty of seats around.”
“Oh! Err, you are not suppose to eat here, because it is Ramadan,” the petite Filipno staff replied.
“But I’m not Muslim!”
“Well, you can’t eat here.”
“Then where can I eat then? Is there a designated place where we can eat?”
“Eat secretly in your car or go back to your room?”
No wonder people were looking at me strangely when I too a whisk of out my bottled water bottle while shopping.
So dang, where the heck am I suppose to eat then? I’m starving. I don’t care! I need to eat!
Finally I found a spot on the top deck of the open-car carpark. Hiding within a 50 sq cm of shadow formed by a corner of a pillar, surrounded by 37 degrees of sweltering hear, I swallowed my sandwich furtively, afraid that I would be denounced on my first day in Dubai.
And yes, I remembered to check there were no security cameras trained on me.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Prologue
This blog has been waiting to happen.
I’ve been contemplating to start a blog since my stint at Republic Poly where many of my students blogged their emotional rollercoaster rides that characterized those heady, hormone-charged years between 18-22. And as a facilitator, nearly 15 years older than some of my students, it was interesting reading these entries although teenage angst doesn’t change very much over the decades. Their blogs became a platform for me to discover their cognitive and emotional processes and barriers which further helped me facilitate their learning.
But I never could really understand why my students blog. Yah, yah – it’s to share their lives with their friends, to express their inner thoughts and feelings. Some enterprising ones even turn it into a business! But I’m old school. I belonged to the era where diaries were tucked away under a lock and key, where all hell breaks loose should the privacy of our inner sanctity is violated. Besides, my life with my mates are so tightly integrated -– what is there that they do not know about my life which I don’t gripe about?
Which then begets the question, why am I blogging now?
Because, a-hem, I want to share my inner thoughts and feelings. I want to share my life and adventures in Dubai with my friends and family who are 5000 miles away right now.
Since I am physically separated from ever-loving-but-extremely-naggy parents, my Frisbee-triathlon-prata-karaoke buddies, my innate human desire to create, communicate and bond needs another outlet. And personal blogs and space like Facebook, MySpace and Blogspot fills this gap.
So much for the rationalization (so me, hor!). Actually the original intention of this entry was to explain why it is called Summer Villa.
(Okay, guys – my apartment is NOT going to be a villa, so dash those hopes of beachfront bbq at Jumeira Beach. But hey, what’s internet if not for a bit of hyperbole?)
Anyways, since all my friends are smarter than me, they will have no problems realizing it is a triple entendre on my name, the balmy weather in Dubai and my virtual home for all that is happening for the XX months to come. So here’s to more exciting adventures in the forthcoming Sum-mer Days and Arabian Nights!
I’ve been contemplating to start a blog since my stint at Republic Poly where many of my students blogged their emotional rollercoaster rides that characterized those heady, hormone-charged years between 18-22. And as a facilitator, nearly 15 years older than some of my students, it was interesting reading these entries although teenage angst doesn’t change very much over the decades. Their blogs became a platform for me to discover their cognitive and emotional processes and barriers which further helped me facilitate their learning.
But I never could really understand why my students blog. Yah, yah – it’s to share their lives with their friends, to express their inner thoughts and feelings. Some enterprising ones even turn it into a business! But I’m old school. I belonged to the era where diaries were tucked away under a lock and key, where all hell breaks loose should the privacy of our inner sanctity is violated. Besides, my life with my mates are so tightly integrated -– what is there that they do not know about my life which I don’t gripe about?
Which then begets the question, why am I blogging now?
Because, a-hem, I want to share my inner thoughts and feelings. I want to share my life and adventures in Dubai with my friends and family who are 5000 miles away right now.
Since I am physically separated from ever-loving-but-extremely-naggy parents, my Frisbee-triathlon-prata-karaoke buddies, my innate human desire to create, communicate and bond needs another outlet. And personal blogs and space like Facebook, MySpace and Blogspot fills this gap.
So much for the rationalization (so me, hor!). Actually the original intention of this entry was to explain why it is called Summer Villa.
(Okay, guys – my apartment is NOT going to be a villa, so dash those hopes of beachfront bbq at Jumeira Beach. But hey, what’s internet if not for a bit of hyperbole?)
Anyways, since all my friends are smarter than me, they will have no problems realizing it is a triple entendre on my name, the balmy weather in Dubai and my virtual home for all that is happening for the XX months to come. So here’s to more exciting adventures in the forthcoming Sum-mer Days and Arabian Nights!
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