Jason’s Weekly Slice: Life in and Around Abu Dhabi

This week, I:

Got my shoes resoled in one of the mostly Indian hoods of Abu Dhabi*

Swam in the warm, turquoise waters of the Gulf (Arabian, or Persian, depending on which side of this body of water you happen to live) in a thick fog 

Saw a sting ray while swimming on the Corniche

Was approached on the beach by an older Yemeni man who preached about Islam- a rather aggressive, less-effective approach I might add

Took a boat out to Lulu (Pearl in Arabic) Island, across the water from Abu Dhabi’s downtown skyline. Watched the red sun meet the horizon while bobbing up and down in bathtub warm Gulf waters with a group of friends from all over

Had an interesting conversation with the first Jew I have met since arriving in Abu Dhabi- so far, so good, “ he says in terms of his reception here. He works for New York University, which is building a new campus on Saadiyat Island (which will also house the Louvre, among other museums)

Visited Gulf Diagnostic Hospital and saw a sea of black robed women, mostly veiled, sitting, waiting, and waiting some more; a few Western ex-pats thrown into the mix,  waiting with disdainful scowls on their faces; Filipino nurses scurrying about in pale blue frocks; fluorescent lighting, marble floors.

Oh, and I worked, too. A few hours. My clients included, among others,  an Emirati man with social phobia, my first Emirati woman client who is depressed and going through a bit of a mid-life crisis, a bereaved Irish housewife, and an Egyptian woman dealing with interpersonal issues. A motley crew, indeed.  Seldom a boring moment at the American Center of Neurology and Psychiatry.

*In downtown Abu Dhabi there is a neighborhood a we refer to as Little Kerala. The mostly stucco-facaded buildings are in various stages of disintegration. The neighborhood stands out a bit in a city where 1976 is considered Medieval and glass towers are springing up everywhere to replace the ‘historic’ relics. So, I walk down a rather narrow street in Little Kerala, looking for a cobbler who will take on these rather severely-worn tan leather shoes.  

I pass shops selling bric-a-brac, useless plastic items of anything imaginable or otherwise, ‘gold’ Timex watches, and plenty of texile shops selling colorful material for Saris (as in, India’s traditional female attire). As I’m not in the market for a gold watch or a sari, for that matter, I proceed further into the south asian hood, now surrounded by cab drivers, mostly Pakistanis, looking for business. I give them the universal finger wag indicating (hopefully) disinterest in their services. I peer into a number of  holes-in-the-wall, looking for someone who may know a cobbler to recommend: a tiny “cafeteria” on my left, filled with hungry Pakistani men in traditional, flowing pastel robes, feasting on daal lentil soup, chicken shwarma; a couple busy barbershops, all men. Then I find a shoe store, whose owner points to a few buildings ahead, saying “the Pakistani man” works there, and can fix my shoes. This is progress. 

I proceed down the street as directed, and after asking at a couple more shops, I find what has to be one of the world’s smallest businesses. There is a smiling Pakistani man in the corner, sitting cross-legged in his traditional robe. Saleh, as he calls himself, bids me enter his shop. The room is essentially a two-man tent with a vaulted ceiling.- minus the tent, of course. Fortunately, I’m the only customer now, with plenty of room to take off my shoes and show him the damage. He nods, smiles, asks me to take a seat, and that the shoes will be ready in a few minutes. I sit and wait, scoping out the scene. A couple other Pakistani men came in to visit Saleh, sat next to me, reaching into their pockets to pull out a green wad of chewing tobacco, which one man placed between his gums and cheek. Salah spits into a shoebox in the corner. Ten minutes and $5 later my shoes are good as new and I bid adieu to my new Pashtun-speaking friend, Saleh.  Another day of errands in Abu Dhabi.