In the beginning

So this is my first attempt at a blog - if only they had the internet when I was first travelling (am I really THAT old!) I wouldn't now be carting around 32+ journals each time I move.

So you all know I am now working for an English language paper in Abu Dhabi. I arrived on March 3. Here’s a brief summary of the last 3 months.

I have a residency visa, a UAE driving licence and a liquor licence. I have two medical insurance cards, an ATM card and two credit cards; a card that gets me into the office and another for the gym. I have been tested for HIV and TB, ushered into special waiting rooms for women, but had my chest x-rayed by a man. I’ve given vials of blood, my finger, palm, and ear prints, and over 40 passport photos and the same number of copies of my passport.

I’ve lied about my marital status and religion and repeatedly given the ages, jobs and home addresses of my father and brother but never my mother. I have spoken to Pakistani taxi drivers, Indian shopkeepers, Burmese doormen and Filipino everything else – but not one Emirati (except for the man on the bus to Al Ain; although that was less a conversation as not only did he refuse to sit next to me - being a woman -but also refused to speak to me and directed his comments to my friend; oh, and does shoutng obscenities at the arrogant Emirati drivers in their hummers count?)

I have shopped in Gap and Next where the clothes finally fit – hurrah, one plus for being out of Asia! And Carrefour where I feel I am back in China amid the scrum for tomatoes from Oman and aubergines from Iran. But I much prefer picking up the occasional pint of camel milk and Arabic bread from my local grocer – of which there is at least four on every corner, often with names like Osama’s supermarket, or Spike of Prosperity Grocery – where they laugh at my impatience as they lallygag about, chatting to customers instead of packing my bag.

I have learned three Arabic words – shakrum (thank you), gatu (cat – although this may not be correct) and jalal ittihad (Emirates media). Although am about to start proper lessons with some of my colleagues from work.

Friends? – I’ve made a few. We booze at hotel bars, lounging on bean bags overlooking the turquoise Gulf, taking turns on a strawberry sheesha pipe, and fill up on falafals at streetside Lebanese restaurants. On weekends, we sneak into hotel beach clubs, hang out at the mall and take day trips into the desert. They come from the Times and Telegraph in London, the New York Times, the Canada Post and a smattering of papers from across the world.

Our paper, The National, launched two months ago. It’s been a hectic time of 10-12 hour days six days a week. I’ve moved to the foreign desk where I’m editing the copy of correspondents in the field – basically the same job I did at AP, but a different geographic region.

A couple of weeks ago, after more than 3 months in a serviced apartment that was only slightly more spacious than a domestic’s room in Hong Kong, I finally moved into in my own flat. It’s been over 6 months since I had my own place, and more importantly, a place for the cats. They are both happy and content and surprisingly more chummy with one another than in Bangkok – I guess that’s what 7 months of constant, often traumatic change with only each other for reliable contact will do.

There is an obscene building boom in Abu Dhabi (apparently the richest city in the world). But even with dozens of buildings going up every day it still isn’t meeting the demand for property. My vet and her husband had to move to Dubai for three months while their own apartment was being finished. Luckily our apartments are rent-controlled as in the 3 months we were waiting (we, because everyone in my building works at the paper), the market prices of the flats went up about 20 per cent.

So that’s it for today. I’ll hopefully update as and when.