A Whole New World!

Well, I've really been and gone and done it this time! It's just under two weeks since I hit the road and followed the trail into the desert. Wow; it was a complete revelation. The first port of call was the Tilal Liwa Hotel on the edge of the Empty Quarter. If you want a romantic hidaway in the middle of nowhere, this should be your destination. Its is jaw dropping! There is an infinity pool looking out onto the open desert, which stretches away, as far as the eye can see. There are camels galore, sporting various different liveries. They truely hold sway over the rest of the desert inhabitants. If you're travelling the road between the hotel and the nearest city, Madinat Zayed, you'd best be prepared to give way to them when you meet up.
Very un-nerving is the sensation experienced when, sitting outside in the dark hours of the very early morning, ready to witness the sunrise and knowing that there is nothing for hundreds of miles in front of you but sand, only for you to hear the drone of a vehicle aproaching. It could well be a Land Rover-type cruiser, making its solitary way across the deserted expanse. The question being, how the hell do people navigate out here in a place where every thing looks the same? GPS, I hear you shout...the thing is, I have been warned that it doesn't work too well without landmarks. Not sure whether I'm reassured by the fact that ther are some places in which nature still holds sway, or whether to be scared out of my wits.

Shortly after landing in this 'whole new world', I was taken by bus, to the place I would be working in... a small town, Al Mirfa, on the gulf coast about an hour and a half, driving fast, from Madinat Zayed, MZ for short. The air and the light here have a different quality and from the main road it does look as if the sand stretches right to the end of the sea. It's a clean looking place, but with the houses and other buildings which face the front, here and there, showing the usual signs of beach front existence-a little rust and discolouration.
There are a number of schools. I have seen all but one; I have been in two. They all look to me, to be new. The rulers of the UAE have and are investing a lot of money into the education of their people. My school is called Al Shamokh. It is a very spacious and new building, close to the sea front.
I had read on the English Media  Teacher page on FB, that I could expect poorly behaved students and a management team that was likely to be hostile. What I was faced with, on my first visit, was three ladies at or around my age, one was the Principal. She did not appear to speak much English, but she was very interested to know about my past experiences and asked a number of questions through the other two. The other two ladies, I was to learn, were a Vice Pricipal, who previously had been Head of the Cycle Two-Key Stage Two, to you and me- and the lady in charge of Arts. I'm not clear yet whether this corresponds to our Arts or is something with a different slant. It appeared obvious to me that all three ladies were very experienced and knowledgeable.
The Principal is very traditional and insists that all staff wear abayas and a shiela or scarf to cover the head and hair. She is also, I am told an Islamic Scholar. From what I can remember, designation of this kind is not easily earned, so I take it that she is very learned! I think, from what I've witnessed so far, that she also has a clear vision of where she wants to go. She was  very gracious and certainly welcoming. Businesslike too, she was adamant that she needed my paperwork before I left the office! Good thing I had had the presence of mind to take it with me.
The Vice Principal is a deminuitive lady with a vey strong sense of humour. She was intrigued to learn of my age and experience. As I am new, she informed me, they will give me less than my maximum number of lessons, which is thirty. She then added that next year because I will be fifty-six, she might well expect me to teach that number of lessons a week! After that, she laughed. I liked this lady right away. I think she will be tough and have very high expectations, but I also think she will be fair and very understanding if needed.
The third lady, who has an office in the Cycle Three English block, is more outgoing than the others. I think that she will be tough too. She definitely has the air of someone who is good at the job, but she is very welcoming and friendly. So there, all you FB cynics! The Western Region is not brimming with Emerati Educators, who want to see the back of us. Almost all of the people I am with right now, have told me that they have had positive experiences in their new schools. I can well understand that the Emerati teachers, teaching English in these school would feel threatened by the EMTs. Afterall, they can never offer what we can - natively spoken English - be they ever so hardworking. But then, they do have their advantages, they can speak to the girls in Arabic, to explain points.
Now to talk about the English team in my school: What can I say, they are a very strong team. They work closely together and they have looked after me so well this week. Its a real priveledge to join them and I only hope that I can do them justice. I have a dream ticket!
As for my students, I've spent a week with them; three classes of girls. Two Year Tens and one Year Seven. God help me, I already feel very attached. They are very loveable girls; I never taught better!

So given that I've labelled my new position, a ' dream ticket', have I been content with my lot in the past two weeks? Not on your life. Never before have I experienced a culture shock of the intensity that I've been wading through in the past fortnight. It's the little things which threaten to brake you: The internet connection, in the hotel in the desert was very iffy. In any one skype conversation, Tom and I could be cut off numerous times, every three to five minutes. On the first Thursday here, after having visited school again and then attending a special meeting, I returned to find that I had managed to leave my computer recharger on my desk back in Al Shamookh. I had one hour remaining of the charge. The internet connection that night, was especially poor. Tom and I were being cut of every one to three minutes. Then we had to wait to be reconnected, tipically longer than we managed to speak! All too soon, the battery died and without charger I couldn't talk to Tom any more. This was upsetting because I knew that school was closed for the weekend and that I was moving out the next day. No more internet for the indefinite future. Etisalat reps were turning internet service applications unless they saw an original passport.-ADEC, (Abu Dhabi Education Council) had those and had been very vague about when we could expect them back. Then almost to rub mynose in it, my phone, which was slowly dying on me, refused to send a text to tell Tom that although I was upset, I would be alright. I decided not to scream but to go to bed. Sure enough, next day I had ideas. Blow it! I would buy a spare charger when I went into AD to shop that day. Hang the cost. No sooner had I done this, than I felt much better. Sure enough, I was able to hook up the laptop and squeeze one more conversation out of my internet access at Tilal Liwa. I was almost a happy bunny.
However, following this, I felt as if I was in a living nightmare: although I managed to persuade Etisalat that I should have internet without the benefit showing them my original passport complete with original residency stamp, the technician who installed it mistyped and then wrote my username down incorrectly, so even though I had a connection, I couldn't get on line. Neither could numerous reps trace the fault, it was so ramdom! My phone died on me and refused to restart. The replacement displayed all information in Arabic and since I couldn't read the screen I couldn't find the command to switch to English!
Now don't get me wrong, I have to confess to a secret liking for my abayas. The girls look so graceful in them. Its true, when I also wear the sheila, I feel like one of the nuns from back in my school days, but some of these gowns are really beautifully decorated and they are very very femanine! Nevertheless, you try going up or down a flight of stairs in an abaya, with your scarf slipping off your head and balancing heavy laptop bag, lunch bag, hand bag, and an armful of papers. It's a tall order. And another thing...you know that annoying feeling, when you have a nice top or dress and you slop you tea, coffee or soup on it? Especially when yu're out and cannot change it? Well all I can say is never drip milk down the front of your black abaya and then try to mop up with a tissue!

Highway to the danger zone...

Good Morning fellow bloggers and blogees,
That's it. I've done now and I want to go home to Tom and my family! Yesterday was the first unchaperoned visit to Madinat Zayed, which, inshallah, is to be my home for the next two years at least. It was a gruelling day getting used to travelling on the highways here and making our first contacts in a very islolated place. I'm very, very, very glad I got to experience it with five other new teachers. That is a source of comfort this morning.
The desert is so pretty and yesterday, I didn't notice the strong smell of oil that hit me on our first visit. My apartment looked just a good yesterday as it had on the first inspection. However, talking to one disaffected teacher and then being asked way over the top prices for goods in various emporia, took its toll and I ended up the visit feeling totally out of my comfort zone. I began to feel out of my depth and swamped by the Emerati culture.
Later,Tom reminded me that I need to employ my sense of humour when I feel that a trader is trying to capitalise on my lack of local knowledge by grossly overpricing his wares: Come on guys, 400 dir. for a simple abaya? DO I have the word GREEN tattooed on my forehead? It was black actually and it was very nice but, the material was not such good quality and it was way too long!
Bless me Abu Dhabians, for I have sinned: I said this place was far too expensive but in fact it's cheaper here than it is in the Styx.- I also priced up a Nikon Cool Pix camera. I had bought one the day before from a shop in Marina Mall, Abu Dhabi. I had been charged 399dir. Admittedly it was on sale. When I priced up a much lesser model of the same make camera in MZ, I found that they wanted 1,070+ dir. I'm trying not to come to the conclusion that the good people of MZ are in the habit of exploiting the incoming teachers every year. The guy in the first abaya shop said later that his prices were up for negotiation and that he would give the ADEC teachers a good deal. Too late Abaya guy, you know what? I won't visit your shop, or even that mall again.
In fairness to the traders of MZ, I visited a second abaya shop in the city market area just after. The gentleman there was much nicer than the first man and his prices were moderate: 150 dir for a similar garment. I'd still want to negotiate, but just in the same way that I wouldn't think of starting from obviously too stingy a price for decent goods, he chose a fair starting price from his point of view.
Coming home, for the first time since I arrived here two whole weeks ago now, I felt swamped and homesick to such a degree that, just for a short while, I wanted to go home.
On the way back to the hotel, I watched the sunset in the desert. It was lovely but I would have liked it even more had I been watching it with Tom. (Its a date: Desert, Tom, Chris, Johnny Cash music and the stars. Even better with some chilled wine and insect repellent.)

Then on entering the big city once more, the world slotted back into place and I watched with awe, as we drove past the beautiful buildings here, all lit up for the evenings viewers. Note to self: I need to come back in the cooler weather to walk about and take pictures and that way, all my family and friends can see Abu Dhabi at night. A truly breathtaking experience folks!

                                                            

Another Day in Paradise...

It's been a while since I posted and a lot has changed for me. I spent July in Cyprus, where they are currently enjoying record temperatures. It is well into the 40s there. Now we normally spend the whole of summer over there, but we arrived a little earlier this year and left a whole month early because I was due to start work in the UAE in August. Well it's now August and here I sit in Abu Dhabi. What a charmed existence this is...
I'm currently housed in a 5* hotel at the government's expense. Thank you, ADEC people!
It's surreal. I knew that they would put me into an hotel until my normal accommodation was ready for me, but whatever I expected, I didn't expect this: My room is lovely. I have a waterside view, with a really imposing city skyline as the back drop and even a little balcony of my own! The staff cater to our every need and, although I'm being paid, there has been very little in the way of demands on my time. I currently have a whole week off duty, as its about to be EId and a national holiday. Out of the last 7 days, I have been expected to give over my time to ADEC business for just three of them. On one of those days, they ferried us out to the city where I, along with about a dozen other people, will live: Madinat Zayed.
They apartment that they had selected for me is unfurnished and very new. It's also rather spacious and very lovely. They will give me enough money to deck it out comfortably. Their only demand for this is that during the term of the contract I continue to live there.
Madinat Zayed appears to be a small city and quite unspectacular. However, everything required to deliver a comfortable lifestyle is to be found there and I'm sure that I'll be more than content on a day to day basis.
If there was to be a 'fly in the ointment' it would be that it was desert-locked and no sea in site. However, as if anticipating my personal preferences, I was told that my school is actually 70 kilometres further on, at a place called Mirfa which is situated on the Gulf coast. Result! The best of both worlds and they will pay me an extra allowance to compensate for the travel involved. Not only that, but the gentleman in charge of the initiative, Mr. Alqadi, appears to have a very realistic idea about the kind of students we will be teaching.
Note to self: this job pays well and the conditions attached are more than generous, so I will need to expect the work to be tough, but in order to repay the generousity of my employers, in fairness, I should be able to get on with it with a big smile on my face!
 On first impressions,this place is very close to paradise!

            

         

There are places I remember, all my life though some have changed...

The weather is quite somber today and I'm in a meloncholy mood. When I switch on my old PC, the screen save is an old portrait of my Mum and Dad on their wedding day. It's the only picture that remains of that event and has been lovingly cherished by Mum for many years. Shortly after my third daughter was born, I stole that picture! I had the best of intentions, as I wanted to give mum a special present for that christmas and so I took it to an expert restorer, who copied the original, enlarged it and framed it beautifully for me. I then carefully packaged up both the original and the framed photo and duly presented it to her a couple of months later. During the intervening months, Mum missed the photo and fretted about it. I was undecided whether to wait for christmas or to confess. Suffice it to say that I made her suffer!



On Christmas Eve of that year, I rang Mum, knowing that she'd be in the house on her own. I asked her to open the present early and said that she needed to be alone to do that. I knew what would happen of course: She had a good old weep over the present and I felt that that was something she should be allowed to do in private. She did of course and, from then on, the photo frame has had pride of place over her mantlepiece. The memory is bitter sweet. Sad because Dad isn't here to see what happened to his treasured family, sweet because I know what a happy partnership it was and because I know that the present gave mum great pleasure. I love looking at it too. They both look so young. I wonder if they would have changed their minds about some things if only they knew what would be in store for them?
I suppose I'm in contemplative mood this morning due to the fact that I took the weighty decision to retire from UK teaching altogether, at its beginning. Sounds dramatic and in truth it was a big decision to make, but only financially because I will teach abroad for the forseeable future, but I doubt very much whether I will ever take a class of students in this green and pleasant land again. Of course, Sean Connery, my old and very yummy friend, would advise to 'never say never...' but that's all very well for him to say. He was in a very different situation altogether! ( Sorry is this unbelievably cheesy? I'm wondering whether by now, my faithful followers have noticed my very own gimmick for naming posts and even the actual title of the blog? Well you need to have a formula for these things.)
This week has been a week for seeing friends before I leave again. For looking back at photos and remembering and above all, for looking at Tom and myself and wondering where the years have gone. I was reminded of this old Beatle's song by my sister, who used it to preface the photo of Mum and Dad. It makes me more than meloncholy, it makes me shed a tear and it makes me remeber to enjoy what life brings today while trying not to worry too much about the future.


  

Love it when a plan comes together!

Few things in life can surpass the excitement of receiving a wonderful surprise. When I look back, I have been given some very memorable gifts: A Peter Pan colouring book and Lakeland crayons from my favourite Auntie when I was around 8, a number of handmade items from my little sister, chief among them would be two paintings and then this year, a lovely and very handy beach bag, several handmade things from my girlies as they were growing up- I remember a binker, embroidered coaster from Claire; many things from Tom and perhaps the most poignant, an amazing blue opal ring from my dad, which he never got to give me himself, but which we found labelled up in a small brown envelope after he died. I will treasure the memory of all these and the people who gave them to me, always; but giving a memorable present is even more pleasurable:
Just under eighteen months ago, I thought it would be great if Tom and I could send Helen to the Olympics for her birthday. We duly registered for the first ticket draw, bidding for two tickets to the Dressage event on the actual day. Fortune, they say, favours the brave! We were successful in that ballot, even though many a better man wasn't and, in due course we received the tickets for Greenwich Park, on 3rd August 2012.
On Friday, in the late afternoon, Helen called me to tell me, that she had had a lovely day. She had seen a British competitor perform the winning round in that event. The atmosphere in and around the arena was, she said, electric! She watched many fine performances including some from what we hope might be the winning team. She saw some wonderful horses. She shared all this with Luke, her other half and she tells me that there are some wonderful photos of the day. I know that no birthday present that we can give will ever top this one; it was a once in a lifetime experience for someone that we love dearly. There can be few more satisfying emotions than that, surely!

The noun phrase is a many splendid thing!

Some time ago, I'm no longer sure whether I was in Iraq or back home at the time, I caught snippets of the film: 'Love is a Many Splendid thing.' I has always reminded me of my Uncle Eddie, God rest his soul and a time when I was living at home in the bosom of my natural family.
I must have been busy flitting between the kitchen and the living room/ my bedroom and the living room and since then, I haven't been able to get the theme to leave my brain alone.
Life has been reduced to a series of worries concerning a number of issues: Helen's birthday present, my up-coming move to the UAE, our summer holiday et cetera, et cetera! Otherwise, the daily grind has been doing just that and I'm sorry to say that I have come to realise that the reality of being a free agent is not what it's cracked up to be. To be perfectly blunt, I'm as board as hell but still I have plenty to do!
It was my birthday last weekend and that was a lovely day, which I spent with Tom and later a good number of my family. Tom took me shopping for my present and bought me quite a bit of bling. I now have a new watch, which works, and a pair of beautiful gold drop earrings. He also took me to get my ears re-pierced, something I've been wanting for a while.
Sianni had booked me into her favourite beauty treatment shop to have eyebrows shaped with that 'cat's cradle type thing', (bloody hell that hurts! It feels like someone is dragging very sharp razors across your brow;) and my lashes tinted. The greys go tonight! And she also got me a lovely turquoise scarf, on the day. Helen took me for lunch to our favourite restaurant: Greens in Didsbury. I do urge you to try it, if you're ever around. I just love it and one of the reasons is that one glance at the menu and you cannot fail to see that for who ever cooks the fare, it is nothing short of a labour of love!
    
      "Cheshire cheese and sage sausages, bubble and squeak, beer gravy and tomato chutney...

      Spinach, pistachio and feta filo pie with cinnamon tomato sauce and honey...
     
      Grilled goats’ cheese on a toasted crouton with walnut dressed leaves..."

et al are phrases which are a pleasure to read, especially out loud! Honestly, whenever I've been there, hungry or not, just one glance of the menu and my taste buds are whetted!

I'm one week nearer my departure date for the UAE and one week further away in time from Iraq and my friends from there. Had bad news recently: the son of one of my friends has met with a serious accident, while two of the other guys, who were a couple when we were over there, have apparently split up. The news depressed me mightily, because they seemed to be so well matched and they were both such fun to be with.
The fella, Mark, is an  English teacher, just like myself. It's very noticeable that he has a fascination for witty, funny and effective words and phrases. His way of expressing himself is quite distinctive; whether speaking or writing, his turn of phrase is crafted to engage the interest of his audience and make them laugh. I hope both he and Joanne are well and I wish the same for all of my new found friends. I do miss them.
Soon I'll be off to Cyprus with the 'love of my life.' The depression of the last few days will lift and I'll be singing a different tune: God forbid that it should be: 'Oh we're going off to Cyprus...'

Be it ever so humble, there really is no place like home!

This week has flown by. The weather has been exceptionally fine and the company couldn't have been better!
I spent the last six months in the wilds of Kurdistan;on the very border with both Turkey and Iran. Loved the place! The scenery was quite dramatic: my apartment had a mountain view, which was really very romantic. Having watched numerous sixties and seventies films about the likes of Dr. Zhievago and Genghis Khan what I often expected to see, as I stood by the kitchen window, washing up, was a Yul Brenner/Omar Shariff look alike galloping over the hills with his considerably sized band of horsemen, on his way to sweep me off to a mystic land, where favoured ladies are cosseted both night and day!

It never happened but the welcome I received there from the word go, was amazing and most of the people I came across were lovely. I met Kurds from Sulaimaniyah-all eager to know what I thought of their homeland and I met Arabs from Bhagdad, who were of the same mind as the Kurds! The minute you show your appreciation of the place, they are so happy. They know what kind of reputation their country has in the west, but the truth is that much of the place is so beautiful. In some good ways, to live there is like stepping back in time: there are old fashioned values still- manners and courtesy, for instance. Yes, there are scary things, but I quickly came to realise that many of the scary elements in life could either be explained or were particularly intimidating to me because my generation of Brits have led a peculiarly sheltered and nannied existence!

For me, one scary thing was meeting a man with his whole head swathed in a checked scarf of the type instantly associated with the region. Yet, to spend a windy spring or summer day there or a particularly cold winter day in January/February, is to instantly understand why it is that  many middle eastern men cover their faces in such a fashion! I can't remember meeting one guy who was anything less than polite and many, -the two Doctors who treated me for instance, were both very genteel, thorough, knowledgeable and compassionate guys and my next door neighbour, who asked me to think of him as my Kurdish son and who was and is the sort of son any mother would be rightly proud to claim, -were just plain lovely! I spent my whole life subconsciously trying to be a man's equal and the experience of being looked after was wonderful. There is a good reason why this area has a romantic association with the idea that women should be cosseted, its because in my experience, in many ways they are! (Note to self: next time my other half shows an inclination to behave in a protective way towards me, I need to enjoy it and appreciate it more.)
On my way into work, everyday I had the backdrop of a different set of uplands to look at. These were less high but no less dramatic in appearance for that. They reminded me of the Dark Peak in Derbyshire. Really I pined throughout my stay there for the chance to get in those hills with my walking boots and a back pack and to wander, aimlessly. It's what I like to do at home; but although my heart whispered: 'Do it!' my head told me that to wander in the hills, which lay between Mosul and Kirkuk and my city, would be madness. There are, we are assured, still abductions frequently taking place. I could never work out whether, as a innocent western do-gooder, working under the auspices of a large Kurdish Oil Company, I represented a soft target or I had no allure whatsoever! It's probably best that I never got the chance to figure it out.

So it was that, with Iraq's dramatic scenery fresh in my memory, I took the opportunity to drive over the south Pennines to visit my little sister and to spend the day in the company of my family. What a day! It was just a quiet day with my sisters and the rest of my family, but we get together so infrequently, that the occurrence is a very precious one.

On the way over, I had to drive through Saddleworth and pass it's infamous moor. Oh the fresh air and the amazing views when one reaches the very highest points of the border between Lancashire and Yorkshire! I had quite forgotten how much I loved that place. It is different every time you go there, but I love it best in the hot sun and with a stiff breeze blowing through the grasses. Just as it was on Saturday!  I took some time to stop on the very top and to just take in the view as I breathed in the good fresh air. It was then that I remembered how much I love the place I was born in and that little Dorothy's saying: 'There's no place like home!' is in fact very true!

Monday Monday...

Good Morning, all you good people,
Its Monday, there is such potential for the week ahead! Love Mondays, sometimes.

As I sit in front of this keyboard, I have a pile of unchecked lottery tickets to go through. I could be a typing millionaire, or better still, multi-millionaire; Yeyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

There is a whole wall of kitchen cupbboards, downstairs that want cleaning urgently.  Booooooooooo.

My guitar has followed me upstairs and is demanding that we are reintroduced to each other throughout the day. Yeyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

I am reading a very gripping story about the Lady of Rivers, by Phillipa Gregory and I need to fit soem sunny, relaxing time in the garden with it by my side. Yeyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

Must fly now; it's Monday and I'm too busy to be whiling away my time typing for a non-existant audience. Soooo Nah!

Losing the plot, and my password and my username

OMG, I think I'm a mad cow! I forgot that I had a blogging account and tried to set another one up just now. Needless to say, the ethernet didn't forget. It has a memory for all time! Now I know what Hammurabi felt like when he realised that there were serious consequences to writing things down!
Never remember my username/password/screen name/memorable info without writing them down. This time I didn't even remember the name of the site...well Duh its not a terribly easy to remember name for a blogging site, is it?

Temporarily home and I'm so missing the routine of ordinary life. I say I'm ready to retire but, I so miss teaching and all the busy little rituals that go with having a job.

Deadlines, I so miss deadlines!

Kids, I definitely miss kids! I miss planning.

I'm missing out on doing reports and marking exams and grubling about my workload with other teachers!

I'm actually becoming that housewife who cleans down her skirting boards every week. Am I giving away state secrets here? I bet all over the Universe people are shocked that for years that is one job that I never did. I'm finding fulfillment from cooking and cleaning. Yes...I've definitely lost the plot. Big Time!