The Forgotten Part Two - Fathers' Recognition

When hubby sat down with me to read the previous article before i published  it, he first feared some proper hubby bashing old style. Then he thought i slightly over-reacted, and that dads are recognized for what they are doing. Then he told me about his time at the beach in the morning, and i smiled.

The day after, one article from a "mummy blog" i usual read decided it would be awesome to list activities that are good for dads, to give some slack to busy mums who obviously are always taking the lead:

"Right, all you Dubai dads – this one’s for you. With summer fast approaching and many of you being separated from your brood for a few weeks, we think it’s time for some kiddo/father bonding. Plus all the mamas are getting pretty tired right about now – all those school runs, play dates and extra curricular activities – not to mention all of the other stuff we juggle is starting to take its toll. So how about giving mama a break and having some fun with the minis? We’ve rounded up the best dad-friendly activities in Dubai to get you started."

 And of course, these activities included things such as going to the skateboard park, getting a wind tunnel or golf experience, or going camping.
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The Forgotten Part Two - Fathers' Recognition
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I am no hardcore feminist - but what would be the right word to define the contrary, i.e. defending what our guys are doing best? (masculinist?!)

I feel like a modern mum, and indeed i have to juggle between work, home, nursery, and other stuff that make a day busy and full of experience. But from what i read, or what i hear or see, dads cannot be seen further than the work they do, and the things they don't do at home.

Hubby found my reaction funny. I found it sad in two ways:
- why wouldn't i be interested in doing boys stuff with my son? (whether i actually do them or not)
- why would i be the only one dealing with the everyday things? (while all chores are well shared at home)

The above intro made me grind my teeth: one more time it feels that no one believe that dads also juggle a lot, if not harder, to manage everything. They do get less flexibility to manage "mum things", and therefore get over-visibile for their achievements.
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Clap your hand, a dad is actually bonding with his kid and doing something. Wow. See a mum doing the same...well...that's her job isn't it?
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I know, i am asking the wrong questions and i am wasting my time. But the story is still the same: when i go pick up my son at nursery, i get a lot of information about the day, food and activities. My husband does the same, he does not get more information than "he's fine, he had a good day".

I just wished he'd get not especially more credits, but better ones, the ones he deserves for pushing his own priorities aside, his stress, all the pressure he puts on his shoulders to juggle with everything.

Dads juggle, if not more than mums. And they rock at it the same way as we do.

The Forgotten - Part One

When you stroll through libraries and bookstores with the high-level quest of educating yourself about the baby to come and the best way not to screw up as a parent, you cannot see anything else than smily covers, happy babies, happy parents and confident titles. You instantly forget that these books are just trying to sell you magic and you suddenly believe that yes, you can do it too if this weird couple from a copyright-free picture bank can do it.

We decided however to make it soft and went for the "Pregnancy for Dummies", and it was the exact type of reading we were looking for. Simple, pragmatic and honest. I also bought funny ones directed to dad, i.e. those weird guidelines that turns the man as a commando papa ready to change exploding diapers while killing it at preparing a bottle.
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A few weeks ago a friend of mine, a guy, told me he would become a dad by the summer. Later on we started talking about the frustrations of being a man witnessing a pregnancy. Yes, i chose the word "witness" carefully. No need to discuss bees and storks here, of course the woman caries the baby and experiences all changes physically and mentally. Meantime, the man witnesses. He helps. He supports. He does feet massage. He goes grocery shopping.  He tidies up. He does what strangely enough is expected to be done by a woman "normally". Well Well.

Then i started thinking about my books again and the place men have in there. Yes indeed, they don't have any, or if they do it's in a humorous way mainly. Back to the super-hero dad and the box of Sudocream ready to be taken out like a hot gun.
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The Forgotten - Part One: Fathers.
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Fathers. The guys who created half of the life you are trying to maintain alive. The ones who see you going through the worst pain ever without being able to do anything. The ones who hold your hand and try to remain calm while blindly trusting the ones cutting a wife open and extract a baby out of a belly.

See how abstract i am, because this is the way this is often depicted. Fathers, whether future or actual ones, are putting so much pressure on their shoulders, and apart from fellow dads, the only recognition they get is a joke here and there on what they can do to help. When i remember  myself laughing at jokes about the role of men during the antenatal classes, i want to punch myself in the face. Old me, there's so much you couldn't have done up to today,  including getting up "mobilising" straight after the operation and starting my journey as a mum, if he had not been there for you.

To be continued in a next post: The Forgotten Part Two - Fathers' Recognition. 

Campagnes virales et première pierre

Depuis plusieurs semaines maintenant, la tendance est à se vider des seaux d'eau sur la tête pour soulever connaissance et fonds pour la recherche contre la Sclérose latérale amyotrophique (SLA), encore appelée maladie de Charcot en France.


Le #ALSIceBucketChallenge fait le tour du monde, passe du monde corporate et VIP à celui du commun des mortels, avec un principe simple: on vous challenge de vous vider un seau d'eau glacée dans les prochaines 24h - si le défi n'est pas accompli, vous vous devez de donner USD 100 à l'association, puis de nominer trois autres personnes pour prendre la suite. Depuis le début de la chaine, maintenant virale sur internet, plus d'une vingtaine de millions de dollars ont été collectés.


Alors non, vous ne verrez pas ici de vidéo où je me vide de l'eau sur la tête, que ce soit de façon volontaire ou bien si un jour on me challenge. De la même façon que je ne participe pas à toutes ces chaînes internet qui vous demandent, par exemple, d'écrire sur Facebook la couleur de votre soutien-gorge "pour sensibiliser le public au cancer du sein".


Exemple de chaine étrange, reçue ce matin d'ailleurs. L'un de mes contacts écrit "just won £900 on a scratch card" (je viens juste de gagner 900£ grâce à une carte à gratter"). Je "like" ce statut, ravie de sa bonne fortune; puis je reçois ça:


Now you have to pick one from these below and post it to your status. This is THE 2014 BREAST & PROSTATE CANCER AWARENESS game. Don't be a spoil sport, pick your poison from one of these and change your status, 1) Damn my balls are sweaty 2) Just used my boobs to get out of a speeding ticket 3) Anyone have a tampon, I'm out? 4) How do you get rid of foot fungus? 5) Why is nobody around when I'm horny? 6) No toilet paper, goodbye socks. 7) Someone has offered me a job as a condom tester, but I'm hesitant. 8)I think I'm in love with someone, what should I do? 9) I've decided to stop wearing underwear. 10) It's confirmed, I'm going to be a Mummy / Daddy! 11) just won £900 on a scratch card 12) I love my big bouncy boobies. 13) i swing my balls back and forth. 14) that wasn't a fart, new pants please.


Pour résumer, je me ridiculise sur Facebook pour sensibiliser mes contacts pour la lutte contre le cancer du sein et de la prostate. SUPER. ET SURTOUT TELLEMENT UTILE. Et à refuser de jouer le jeu, je suis celle qui passe pour insensible, car je me contrefous de ces chaînes et je ne m'en cache pas.


Alors venons-en aux explications de base:


- Le temps que vous passez à préparer votre seau d'eau glacée, à préparer votre meilleur profil, votre appareil photo ou caméra, et à rassembler vos témoins parce que l'eau glacée, et oui ça mouille et c'est froid (LOL), je viens de le passer à lire une page d'information sur la SLA = je me suis informée.


- D'ailleurs, sur la même lignée, et pour ne pas oublier qu'au delà de ce défi, il y a tellement de maladies que l'on connaît peu ou mal, et pour lesquelles aucune campagne n'est aussi virale: je viens de lire la page sur la sclérose en plaques, une liste de maladies orphelines (136 pages de maladies rares qui n'ont généralement pas de nom, mais un numéro), en passant par le Syndrome d'Asperger, ou bien l'autisme. La liste est longue, mais une fois de plus, le temps que vous passez à poster votre vidéo Vine sur Facebook et compter le nombre de "like" récoltés, je m'instruis sur des choses loin d'être aussi amusantes que votre photoshoot.


- un statut Facebook particulièrement aléatoire n'aura strictement aucun effet ni sur la cause en question, ni sur la recherche. "Noir", "Dans 3 mois je pars vivre en Australie" ou "Comment je peux me débarrasser de champignons aux pieds?" n'aidera en rien la recherche contre le cancer du sein.


- Ce que j'aimerais voir systématiquement, c'est le chèque que chacun de ces arrosés, en particulier ceux et celles qui font de la cause un événement social, virtuel, visuel et particulièrement fun, aura écrit en faveur de l'association. D'ailleurs, de n'importe quelle association. Et à n'importe quelle période de l'année. Sans internet. Ni vidéo. Ni seau d'eau.


- 100$, c'est beaucoup d'argent. Par ici, et pour beaucoup, c'est un salaire mensuel qui va nourrir une dizaine de personnes et qui s'obtient dans des conditions de travail difficiles. Alors au lieu de donner parce que l'on vous a nominé, donnez parce que vous le voulez, et visez une cause qui vous tient à cœur, à laquelle vous pouvez vous identifier. Et surtout donnez ce que vous voulez/ce que vous pouvez: des sous, du temps, des vêtements, même juste de l'attention.


- Etre généreux, être sensible, c'est aussi et surtout faire preuve d'empathie au quotidien. Se verser un seau d'eau sur la tête, nominer des gens en riant tout en se foutant de ce qui se passe en bas de chez soi, et lancer la première pierre, je trouve ça répugnant.


- Je vis dans une région du monde où l'eau est une commodité rare, alors que pourtant elle coule à flot, et ce gratuitement, de mon robinet. Je vis dans une région du monde où les ressources naturelles sont gâchées sans scrupules, et où je peux, si je le veux, aller barboter dans l'une des 6 piscines de ma résidence (alors que j'ai la mer à 5mn à pied).  Et pour produire cette eau potable sans la moindre trace de calcaire, j'ai une usine de dessalement gigantesque qui en plus de pomper de l'eau de mer et vider les nappes phréatiques du coin va consommer une énorme quantité d'électricité, issue directement du pétrole et du gaz naturel.


En commentaires d'une vidéo, en réponse à quelqu'un qui demandait plus de respect envers l'eau qui manque et pour laquelle on tue dans tellement d'endroits dans le monde, j'ai lu un "oui mais c'est pour la bonne cause, et puis un seau d'eau c'est rien comparé à ceux qui gâchent tout et n'importe quoi".


Ma réponse à tout ça:

"Be the change you want to see in the world" - "vous devez être le changement  que vous voulez voir dans ce monde", Gandhi

Alors pour récapépète:
- informez-vous;
- n'attendez pas un challenge à la con pour vous sensibiliser à ce qui se passe autour de vous;
- personne ne vous oblige à donner quoi que ce soit - pensez juste à votre voisin, à vos proches, à votre communauté, pour faire le bien autour de vous. Et si vous le faites, que ce soit avec le cœur sur la main, sincèrement;
- pas besoin de se filmer, de s'auto-congratuler pour faire le bien autour de soi. Le geste a souvent plus de valeur que la parole;
- protégez les ressources naturelles - un glaçon coincé dans le dos aura autant d'effet, et cela ne devrait pas gâcher votre coktail.


A bon entendeur, je vais sortir ma CB et faire immédiatement un don à une association, sans attendre la bénédiction d'internet.


Edit 1: plusieurs jours après avoir rédigé cet article, l'association a atteint plus de 90 millions de dollars de dons, alors qu'à la même époque l'année dernière le montant ne dépassait pas les 2-3 millions.
Edit 2: Des communautés en Inde ont lancé le "Rice Bucket Challenge" pour collected du riz - à Gaza ils ont osé le "Dust Bucket Challenge" pour rappeler que la guerre est là pendant que le reste du monde s'amuse.
Edit 3: Dans un hôtel de luxe 5 étoiles en bas de chez moi, ils vont faire une soirée "Ice Bucket Challenge" ce weekend. Etrangement, quand j'ai demandé s'ils pouvaient donner des infos sur l'association et comment ils comptent donner, je n'ai pas eu de réponse...

Sleepy Buildings, The Gathering

 

Happy New Year to all of you,

May 2014 be brighter than 2013 in all respects.

Ex- housewife?

Since I found a job, many readers told me that the title of my blog is now wrong, outdated: I am not a housewife anymore now that I signed a contract, go to the office every day and cashed my first salary check in.

I've tried then to see if I could find an alternative name or description for myself. Technically speaking I am still a housewife on my visa until I get my official working card with a change of title in my passport. Pfiiuuuu, this gives me a few more weeks to decide.

When I opened this blog I officially stated I was one, but did not want to be. It took me a few months and a lot of unexpected and God-i-wish-all-the-sh*t-had-not-happened kind of changes in my life, to realize what I was, what I was not, and what I wanted. 

But all this also taught me that I could not become a cliché "DXB housewife" anyway, by nature. My brain works in a way that I refuse to be dependent, possibly one of the biggest lessons taught not from life only, but also from my mother. On the other hand I did buy a pair of pink high heels and joined the gym with the hope to turn slimmer like many expats here; but my black flip-flops are generally sufficient to hang out (and the pink shoes are getting dusty).

So what am I finally, here in DXB, if I am not a cliché "DXB housewife"?

• a cliché "expat"? Naeh, I am not sure actually. I don't know the right places to be/to go, I have never been to a Friday party brunch since I moved (more than a year ago), and I still don't know the districts' names and directions.
• a cliché "wife"? Highly possible. And I love being my husband's "one". 
• a cliché "DXB worker"? Not very much. This new job, that I already love much, will allow me to change some mentalities, and being optimistic lately, maybe the world. However it won't help me pay the rent in a one year check to sign in advance.

But maybe this is the magic of starting a new life in such a new place.  Forget your clichés, forget your expectations, forget your misunderstandings: DXB is constantly moving, changing, growing, demolishing, reconstructing. Yet it is absolutely overwhelming and most of the time highly annoying. But compare the City with a living organism:  when it has the strength and favorable environment, it grows. When the resources are limited, growth slows down or stops. When something is wrong, it adapts, it evolves. When something is good, it shines. Ok, it shines a bit too much here, but you got my point, right?

 

 I am not sure what I am exactly considering I am not a real housewife anymore. But one thing is obvious to me at the moment: I can be anything I want to be, and I feel lucky.

 

The Spirit of Ramadan - Part 2

When my husband came back home the other day asking me whether I had finally decided to fast after reading my previous article, I told him that I was not especially looking at food and drink as restrictions, but that I was rather interested in the spiritual aspects of Ramadan.

 

But still, appreciating Ramadan "as a full package" means taking all aspects seriously, including fasting, so I considered my options and my starting points: I cannot manage a day without drinking a lot of water, or I systematically get a headache; I cannot do without a certain amount of caffeine (at least a morning cup of coffee or tea) or I spend the rest of the day yawning; I need to leave my house in the morning with some cereals in my stomach or I get grumpy for the rest of the day.

 

Let's say that I am not making it easy on myself from the beginning and that I seriously look for problems. Let's say also that I am the greatest person to find excuses. So I read and listened, and got suggested to start small and simple: do not eat but keep drinking water and juice. But I also have a voice in mind constantly reminding me that "there's no middle way if you take such decisions: either you do it 100%, or you don't".

 

I tried, and to be honest it did not work that well. Eventually my stomach reminded me I was not prepared for it. However, walking around outside (in the streets or in the public transports) allowed me couple of times to push my limits, mainly because there was just no other choice. I also tried to go for the "less-guilty alternative" (eating a fruit instead of a proper meal) to fill my stomach. But still, this is cheating, and even though there are maybe 10 days left to give it a try, I already appreciate the failure.

 

And then I ended up reading the Pan-Arabian Enquirer, and laughed: I did not expect to get a good lesson from a satirical article.

 

I need here to quote the first lines from this morning's article, "Expat still pretending she’s fasting for Ramadan" :

 

"DUBAI: Despite having given up her efforts to fast less than two hours into the first day of Ramadan, Suzie Bramble is still attempting to convince colleagues that she’s going without food or drink during daylight hours.

“I just feel so spiritual inside, like my body and soul are going through a deep cleansing session,” the 35-year-old British expat explained to co-workers in the Dubai offices of MPK Financial Services while on her way to the bathrooms with her pockets stuffed with biscuits. "

 

Yes, I did say in my previous post that I started "embracing the Spirit of Ramadan"; now I just feel like hiding until Eid. I do not like pointing at people, and I just cannot throw the first stone at others when I feel that stupid. Well done, Mr. Enquirer: I got your lesson, and finally listened to the voice in my mind.

 

But let me defend myself at least one last time: I will probably not fast this year or any in the future; however I'll keep on thinking about Ramadan in general,about the Friday  sermons, about food waste on iftar, about traffic hell on Ramadan hours, about peace and quiet at the gym, and about the Iftar dinner at the Burj-Al-Arab on Friday.

 

The Spirit of Ramadan

 When i was small, Ramadan was synonym of trouble.

Raised in a highly old-fashion neighbourhood in Paris, and even though it was only 20 years ago, I can tell you there were not that many Muslims in the district. At this time, Ramadan had no spiritual meaning to us: it mainly meant that our neighbours upstairs would get a lot of visitors, make smelly food and party all night long, and that us little white kids would not sleep much for a month. No need to say that it would "get worse" during winter when night was longer than day. To summarize, let's say that, by then, there was no real cultural exchange and knowledge sharing, and that the respect and community spirit you would expect on this month were non-existing.

And then the father of the family passed away because of cancer. We never heard the family party again, but instead they got a bird that would sing in the courtyard each morning.

I moved to Dubai a year ago, a  few weeks before Ramadan started. Again, for a newcomer in the region, this month was a tough one. Even though I was working from home, once in a while I was going in and out the house by 45°, without having the right to even drink a drop. Once I even almost fainted in the elevator, due to heat shock. Poor newcomer I was.

And then something happened this year. Like a spiritual, cultural epiphany whose source I cannot really identify. This year, I think I've learned more about traditions, about daily stages, about prayers. Even though I had learned much from Muslim friends and colleagues in the past years, I think that this year especially I opened my heart and my mind like never. The events of the past weeks possibly had an impact on my "spiritual opening". But being curious about local traditions probably made the change.

 

Newspapers in the region cover Ramadan on a daily basis. First they review the moon sighting and lessons from astrologists; then they develop the do's and don'ts that people should respect, especially expats; then a great share covers diet practices (how to loose weight, how not to jump on food on Iftar etc...); the rest covers crazy driving and accidents. Each Friday, you can read in English a statement from the prayer sermon; during Ramadan the sermon expands its message to all days.

 

I do believe that things can make sense if you want to embrace them through another filter. Ramadan is a month of peace, sharing, understanding, forgiveness. Fasting is not about restricting yourself to listen to religious dictatorship; it gives you on the contrary an idea of what others might experience, and what you have "in extra" in your life. In the past days I've considered fasting as well and see what I could gain from it on the spiritual level. I am spending most of the day on water and juice, but don't eat until my body reaches its limits, even though it's still daylight, and especially when walking under 45°.

 

After all, it is just the contrary of my childhood's experience. I just had no idea by then that I would embrace a religion myself and one day compare it to Islam. Growing up sometimes gives you a better understanding of what goes on around you.



Grey

I consider myself a “grey” person.

You’re wondering why I picked this colour, although I generally wear blue, or white, or pink on a daily basis?

One can argue (or agree) that grey is the right compromise between my fairly pale skin tone mixed with the potential of darkness my mind can develop (not even talking about my teenage favourite style of music, the make-up and the insomniac lines around my eyes). My blue eyes sometimes turn grey, depending on the light and the emotions.

I consider myself a “grey” person because I was raised and trained to develop critical analysis and reach consensus. To me, nothing is black or white: even though I can get fairly enthusiastic about one side or the other of a story, I need to consider black and white before deciding. That also means that I sometimes decide NOT to decide, which is often perceived as a weakness. I on the other hand call it “understanding the big picture”.

I was proposed a few times to engage in politics. But as the happiest devil’s advocate, I just smiled as an answer. I was asked many times about my opinion on societal matters. I bail and refer my interlocutor to different articles. I am the best alibi you could pick to hide yourself against anything: not that I am a liar, but I will consider the options and behave accordingly.

I live in a place now where cultural exchanges thrive, as much as subsequent misunderstandings, clichés, fears. I’ve been through a lot of phases in the past months, where I empowered these misunderstandings, clichés and fears, but not against the other but rather against myself.  After a year in the region however, I’ve washed all of the above to embrace the blue of the sky, the yellowish orange of the sand, and the grey of my mind.

And for those wondering whether I feel grey because I’ve enjoyed “50 Shades…”, nope I haven’t read it and don’t ever plan to do so. Unless I decide to apply my grey matter for science. Who knows.

What's up, dude?

When i opened this blog, I thought I would mainly use it to share with you, relatives, friends and unknown people around, my everyday life here in the Emirates as an involuntary housewife. I had a format in mind, I had story to tell, I had pictures to take, I had impressions to share. For those who had not expected my silence, let's say that life had hit me sufficiently hard in the past months to give my brain some rest, and that I did not expect my own silence, either.

And the ideas are still there, do not worry. I want to talk about my driving licence, about my crazy neighbours and their monster kid, about the maid, about my nail polish and the urban plans of Dubai Municipality (what about another amusement park or another mall?^^). I want to share my feelings on Ramadan, which will start next week and that I plan to appreciate from a different (but rather more peaceful) perspective. So yes, I've removed the layer of dust from my lonely keyboard, I've thought a little, and I am back on track.

But to make it easier to follow the succession of ideas, it's important to quickly come back to what happened in the past months. I hope you're fine with bullet points, I had thought of preparing a ppt presentation but I thought I would be a little too much (just kidding of course). Here you go, let's go backwards a little to the main events:

• January: I officially turned into a real housewife, I officially passed y UAE driving licence.
• February: I started looking for jobs and went to my first interviews; but to be honest I seriously enjoy my book-and-starbucks afternoons.
• March: I spent snowy days in Paris watching my sister die. I am stuck with images of the hospital and the funerals, but thank god I had beloved ones by my side. Nothing in the world can replace a husband or a best friend.
• April: Recovery time back in the UAE, looking at the Marina Mall while eating pizza on my balcony. No better way to calm my insomnias than reading even more, night after night, and sending even more applications. I changed my approach and decided not to give a F anymore (= let's not apply to apply, but let's aim at what I really want)
• May: I lost my father-in-law and my grand-father within few days, both great men that I respected and loved truly. I can't remember how many trains I took, but I surfed enough between my homes to know the train schedule. I attended 3 funerals in a week, and rested some time in the quiet and fresh air. More reading.
• June: I nailed my recovery, mixed feelings between denial, peace and fear. I applied even more, and met fantastic people. I have cried a lot, I have smiled a lot. And I got a job.
• July: my monthly horoscope is awesome.

So yes, I am officially NOT a housewife anymore, and my visa will even change. But plans have NOT changed, I will keep on telling you local stories.

Just remember: life is a learning process, and you have a big role in making it the way you want it to be. Making no sense? Well, follow July's Virgo and maybe you'll get it.

"And that was enough to make me feel infinite"

Like my father wisely said, life hasn't been easy or fair to me this spring. Fair enough, indeed I had my share and i don't mind taking some time for myself. So far my manucure holds, but i still feel this strange impression to be lost while looking by the window from my 28th floor.

But I probably got used to the rythm of Dubai, after my one-year anniversary here. Because the first thing I wanted to look at, at 3am, was the construction sites down my residence and see how they have progressed after 3 weeks away from the country. I know things generally move fast around, and i was not deceived: the tram station is now built, and another floor of the tower's foundation is ready. There is a new spa, a new tailor, a new kindergarten, and the community gym should be ready soon.

There is just an obvious impression of being disconnected, each time I come back here. It is not especially a bad feeling: it is a strange mix between ecstasy and vertigo. The point is, you just need to understand it and make sure you're in the right mindset, to surf on these two feelings without falling into one particularly.

Fortunately, I have things to look forward to, preventing me from staring at the towers for no reasons, with no purpose. I am willing to end my housewife status soon, more than anything. Don't take me wrong, sleeping late, hanging out at The Walk, and caring about nothing, all this is quite pleasant. But it's not me, it's not what I had in mind when moving here. But until I sign something, I will keep on looking by my window and wait for the city to change.

Happy Birthday, Keavy

There are strange moments in life where you meet people and connect instantly, with full heart and no doubt. Your instinct gives you no warning signals, your guts tell you you just want to be "best friend forever" with this person, and you open yourself immediately. 

That's the way i felt when i met Keavy some years ago. We were both volunteering to help organize an international conference in Lille on gender, science and technology, and we shared the same dorm. While the other girls were hard to catch, Keav was immediately ready for fun and story sharing, and so i fell in love with her.

The conference was a week long, and took place in July 2008. Since then we've managed to keep in touch via Facebook (what a great invention for such stories) which would inform one another on her life in the US, on mine in Europe. Pictures, birthday wishes, after all, even though there were no real discussions, it was enough by then to know the other person was there.

Like every year, Facebook tells me today is her birthday. So I go onto her wall, write birthday wishes, and send her my "warmest hugs from Dubai". Having some time I also decide to check her latest pictures, then read the messages people left. Until I understand the clear truth.

Keavy has died. And I had no idea.

I searched a little, to learn she died in a plane accident (she was a pilot).  I got of course very sad and nostalgic, but then smiled immensely: Keav loved flying, she experienced her passion and shared it with her beloved ones until the end.

What angered me the most, however, is to realize the accident did not happen recently. She died in July 2011, almost 2 years ago. And I had no idea.

Since then, someone had been posting on her wall, on her behalf. New pictures, some links. What i thought was just updates on her life ended up being  a page for people to remember, to write, to mourn. And that just hurt me more in a way than knowing she had gone.

In view of my current loss, and of the information I have posted myself on Facebook to share sad news with people I do not know, I feel angry at myself too. Soon I will close my sister's page, to prevent such terrible misunderstanding from happening again. Remembering a lost one should go beyond a page on a website.

Keavy would be 27 today. Happy birthday, girl.

Writing is an interesting mental process

One of the assignments I was asked to work on, as part of a job interview, is to write on sustainability, disregarding the final format of my essay. I was even given free hands on topic and size, something anyone would hope for to let creativity and critical sense flow. Do I want to prepare a newsletter, or a short novel? a translation work or a critical review of an existing project? I am free.

I left the meeting with sparkles in my eyes and in my brain, so happy I had finally met people that could inspire me that much  in a one-hour-long meeting only. I sat on a plane, mentally preparing a list of topics i could address. I thought it would take two weeks to sit down and think, to wander around in a familiar urban environment with a notebook in my hand, a pen in the other, and to finally express myself.

These two weeks of creativity however changed into three continuous weeks of worries, prayers and sorrow, and sustainability was forgotten to leave its core place to another important thing in life: family. I have lost my sister, I have lost a piece of my heart with it. I have burried creativity along with many emotions to give room to feelings i did not know, allowing me to face a reality that i had possibly denied, head up.

I have lacked sleep, I have pushed myself to the edge where sleeping equals resting (which was not as frequent as I had hoped). I have been reading, a lot, to reach this limit, I have left the light on long.

It's been a month now, and things have slowly started to change. I do sleep, and I do rest. I read because I want to, not because I feel like denying reality. The biggest change is that I manage to wake up at night, with some writing ideas that i forget of course in the morning. But I think, I look, I read, I observe, I register information.

I am back on track.

There are days...

... when you feel like giving up; when you feel like you could move mountains to succeeed; when you actually have no idea what you are doing.

Being far away from "home" obliges you to define what "home" is and prioritize thinsg in a much more intense way than you expected when you left. You look at events through a different filter, from the elections in your home country to the birth of your friend's first child.

The economic crisis in Europe tells you in bright letters that you are doing good where you are: this is an emotionless fact, easy to calculate, simple to digest. On the other hand you get waves of news in your face, sometimes even a tsunami of updates that make you feel weak, strong, powerless, excited. Surfing these waves of emotions is never fun, mainly because you are so far from where they come from that you don't even know how to hold a hand, how to feel useful, how to progress.

Yes, i know i wrote earlier that I do feel closer to some now that I have left. This is the core of the paradox. You're there but you're not here. It's so good but it hurts at the same time. You count days but you see time pass at another speed.

So you, people "at home", be gentle with us. We know your everyday life can be hard, grey, complex. Just do not believe that because we live in the constant sun, or because we have a complete different lifestyle, our everyday life is shiny and obviously simple at all time. We fight like you, we struggle like you, but we do keep our heads up as you would at home.

Same same, but different.

tic toc tic toc

This noteis not an expat post per se, but isn't this page a diary as well, disregarding if i am a housewife or not?

The past weeks have been hyperactive, the past days have been tensed.

On the one hand i've realized that my work profile, as strange and original it might look like, is good and is under the radar of some people. I have met extremely interesting people, My brain has started smoking in response to questions, suggestions, advice, ideas, and I know I am looking the right direction, with the right tools in my hands.

On the other hand I know other things matter more, and that life never makes things simple for anyone. The clock is ticking, and i anxiously stare at the phone. Searching a job is a month- or even a year- or life-long perspective; life sometimes makes you look at your future from one day to another, from one night to the other.

You only live once - yet make sure you know what you are living for.

I am looking for a job

Looking for a job, disregarding the country you are trying your chance in, is generally a matter of numbers. So far i have the following:
- 110 applications sent
- 14 refusals/positions closed for whatever reasons
- 2 calls received, awainting potential interviews.
- 1 call placed - my bad, i am working on it.

To these you need to add the number of years of experience you have, your salary expectations, the dates of your availability, and to conclude, your phone number. The numbers are aligning, and I know that I still have much to do.

I spent the first weeks of the year finishing my license and reframing my profile. I slowly figure out who I am and what I want to sell, it's funny as much time this can take.

I answered "yes", you never know.

EDIT of the day after: i so have to add the following numbers to my list:

- 2: number of agencies that called today to say they would try to place my CV, but that it could need improvements

- 50%: the great discount they would give for their help because my profile is not lost cause after all

- USD 400: the average price for regular support packages to have someone re-write my CV, prepare a cover letter, and contact the top 200 companies around.

- USD 159: What they are ready to ask for, because i'm great with high potential

 

Note here the way your ego is surfing waves, "you suck but you're good but you suck so you need help", which is an easy way to hoook people desperately looking for openings and hoping to be called back. And to make this even more pathetic, this happened because i registered my CV on official job search websites that should be trustworthy. You know, well-designed website, credentials, well-known job platforms (not only talking local but also international), etc...Brilliant scam after all for those who cannot waste the chance to refuse a job opportunity. Pathetic.

 

Note that the words were already highlighted in the mail I received, apart from being underlined and bold.



 

Car Free Day 2013 in DXB

Today is officially Car Free Day in Dubai.

With my sustainability background and my personal ideas on traffic management in urban environment, i silently congratulated the UAE government for taking such a great initiative in a city like Dubai where cars are deeply anchored in the urban planning and mentalities.

I focused on the article over my breakfast tea, nodding with interest, until I realized that this day was actually...today. Well done for planning, dude. I do not have a car of my own yet (my impressions on driving here will come later, surely) and I had not planned to move from my chair unless to take a stroll in the Marina. I just fell suddenly powerless and even useless, and I wondered how many people were actually aware of this day that is generally well followed in European cities such as Copenhagen. I did not see or read any outreach campaign online, while it would be supported in public offices, shops, schools, public transports, or even in the streets...elsewhere.

The article mentions that "In the last year’s campaign over 3500 vehicle owners did not use their vehicles resulting in a reduction of 10.5 tons of carbon emission." Fair enough, it is already a good thing as a principle. However I just wonder not only how they actually managed to monitor such a number, but also how relevant it can be: car pooling/sharing is not common, and you generally only have one person per car (which possibly means 2 to 3 cars per household). In my mind, this means that only a few have responded to the Car Free call.

It also reminds me a very interesting conversation with my friend Jenni on cycling in the Middle East. In her blog The Urban Observer she discusses the potential for cycling in Doha, which is pretty much next door. Following the article we were a few to exchange on cycling options in the region. My main concern was that while there are theoretically opportunities, public interest and governmental money to develop pedestrians- and bike-friendly infrastructure, the urban culture (and its bad deviations such as the obvious lack of security and awareness,  and the urban planning itself) unfortunately does not make it a realistic option in Dubai. And I do miss my good old second-hand Danish bike to go from one part of the city to another.

Am I also the only one to see blood on the car sign rather than something more friendly and engaging?!

EDIT, Th. 14/02 (= the day after):

• The result came in a pretty nice but unnoticed copy-paste of last year's results: "over 5000 vehicle owners did not use their vehicles resulting in a reduction of 15 tons of carbon emission" . 1500 more cars that were not used. Not much in view of the total, but already a progress.
• Just before going to bed, i told hubbie "you know what, it's Car Free Day in Dubai". His answer was pretty enthusiastic, I know he shares the same ideas on the matter. "Oh nice, when is it?" I smiled. "Today". "Oh. Well. I had no idea". Exactly my point.

Addressing the housewife life

When my husband and I first discussed the idea to move to Dubai after couple of years spent in Scandinavia, i clearly said "I am not moving there to become a housewife". After all, i had a job I liked (I just had been promoted), a great group of friends and colleagues, and a place that i turned into a peaceful cocoon.

a year and a half and a wedding later, i decided to take a big step and join him in the UAE and thus say goodbye to my relatively quiet and risk-free life. Me, the "non-housewife" girl, turned into one as soon as my residence permit got approved. It was there, clearly stated in my visa: I was a housewife, amongst all of those who made it a lifestyle choice and those who did not really have a choice.

After 6 months tele-comuting with my previous company, i finally reached the moment when my contract ended. Strange to turn a far-away page after 4 years in the same company, but technically one of the best moves I made to finally move on and look into the future in the eyes with no regrets.

I am now in the phase where  my "housewife" status is particularly real considering i could only spend my day going shopping, drinking a coffee in JBR or even just doing nothing if i really wanted to. But  I still don't feel like one, and I am looking for a job at the moment. Kinda. I mean, I should be calling agencies rather than writing this article, but it's also good to express oneself once in a while. And I am of an optimistic nature, I believe things will be fine if you keep your head up and that all happens for a certain reason. Inch'allah like they often say here.

So here are some insights on "my expat life" as a housewife in Dubai, hoping to share with you my experience as well as some tips that i hope will be useful to others!