Crazy views of Dubai

Who thinks they are so awesome because their cell phone can take a panoramic picture?

Don't be shy. I'm raising my hand, too.

If you're not afraid of heights then you have to check out this video:

I've only visited Dubai once so far but have marveled over it for years. At one time, more than 45 percent of all the construction cranes in the world were in Dubai as the city blew up into this metropolitan wonder land in the middle of the desert.

Construction has slowed down in recent years but the city planners still have their eyes set on the future. Who knows what will happen next.

If you really want to freak out, click on this LINK. I promise it will not disappoint.

Just a few days ago, even more light was shed on this landmark city as The National reported a story about new panoramic images that were now available online.

The footage is captured atop the Burj Khalifa, a tower in Dubai that is more than 2,715 feet tall and with over 160 stories, it is the tallest building in the world.

All hail the king!

So I took a casual day trip to Dubai last week to check out the sights and was enjoying a flat-out burn through the desert when it dawned on me: I live in one of those weirdo countries where they portray photos and statues of their political leaders everywhere.

A scary thought, indeed.

If people get bored with the scenery of a sandy horizon while driving, there's always time to pay homage to the founder of the country, Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan.

Jeez, is this where I live now? What kind of dictator runs this sand box? At what point did this vein tyrant and his loyal followers decide to plaster the highway with his image?

It briefly made me sick to my stomach. After I passed the huge picture of the late president, I closed my eyes for a few seconds and started to wonder.

Could I really live in a society like this? I didn't vote for this guy. In fact, no one did. 

Less than a mile down the road, I opened my eyes again and noticed the next highway picture. And then all my previous fears were put to rest...

Deserted city streets

So you want a little alone time in Abu Dhabi, huh?

My suggestion is to get up on Friday morning and go for a run or a light stroll through the city. It was only 8:30 a.m. today and I was completely alone on city streets that were usually full of cars driving erratically or honking and people walking around.

Remember that scene from Vanilla Sky?



Well, I just got back from an early-morning Friday run and if you replace the skyscrapers in Times Square with dusty apartment buildings half the size, the Vanilla Sky scene played out in my neighborhood this morning.

Except I didn't start screaming like a little bitch.

One of these days I'm going to realize that Friday and Saturday are considered the weekend here. That means the work week starts on Sunday, which has made me a sleepless vampire to start out each week because I have been forced to watch live NFL football at ungodly hours.

On Friday mornings, Abu Dhabi is a ghost town. I kind of like it but it still confused me.

I had to get right down to brass tacks.

"Hey, where is everybody?" I asked the annoying Starbucks barista, who always asks me way too many questions when I walk by.

"It's Friday my man, everyone is sleeping or staying at home," he barked back like I was some kind of oblivious tourist. "Would you like to try our double chocolate latte today?"

"No, leave me alone," I muttered and walked away.

So the expression T.G.I.F. means nothing here. "Thank Goodness It's Thursday" has a better ring to it anyway. Looks like someone has a case of the Sundays? Sounds like a joke a priest would say.
 

What up, dawg?

In the U.S. Virgin Islands, there is a large fear of dogs among the locals. When I walked down the street with my beautiful ladies, Hunter and Sydney, safely secured to a leash, West Indians walking toward me would gingerly cross the street to avoid a possible encounter with these snarling beasts...

The reason they came to mind is because yesterday was their seventh birthday. It feels like only last week when they were dropped off at my house in a laundry basket as they immediately found a special place in my heart.

So sappy. Yes, I know.

Each of them could fit in the palm of my hand back then. It was sort of a joke that I would actually accept them as pets in the first place. I was young, gave very little thought about it. But turns out, it was one of the best decisions I ever made.

After terrorizing my neighborhood in Annapolis, Maryland for five years -- they made two separate appearances in the local dog pound -- they came with me to St. Thomas and embraced island life by killing countless iguanas.

Before my move to the Middle East, I did some research and it was almost not feasible to bring them to Abu Dhabi with me. The price just to fly them here was astronomical and if I stayed just a year or two, it wouldn't be worth it, financially.

Instead, these lovely ladies checked in for early retirement at my parents' home in Herndon, Virginia. They have a large backyard to run in and from what I've been told, they have not got into too much mischief.

Back in Abu Dhabi, I've been here almost a month and I have not seen a single dog. Zero.

I wanted to find out what was up with the lack of pets so I turned to a guidebook about this fair city: "It would be great if some newcomers had some sensitivity toward our culture, too. Our attitudes toward animals are not the same."

OK. I see you are open to discussion on the topic.

It continues: "We love animals but we usually keep them outside for hygienic reasons."

In the summer time, it gets upward of 110 degrees in Abu Dhabi. That is like parking my car in a sauna and leaving the windows up while my dogs are chilling in the backseat.

And finally, it closes with: "We respect all of God's creatures, even pigs, we just don't eat that particular animal."

Is that why there is no Outback Steakhouse?

Camel racing on television

Who needs to wake up at 4 a.m. to watch the 49ers and Packers duel in the NFL playoffs when I have primetime camel racing on TV?

Yes, it's true. They race camels here.

I have not been to a live race yet but I plan to go in the very near future. However, I've been told that at these desert races, two things are suspiciously absent: gambling and booze. Both of which are frowned upon in the Muslim faith.

Check out all the guys driving outside the track in their SUVs. You mean to tell me they are just soaking up all the sober fun with no money on the line? Very confusing.

Do you hear how excited the announcer is? The music in the background??

So hilarious.

Too fast, too furious

Meet my friend, Raheem.

He is made of plastic pipes and resembles a scarecrow. My long-bearded friend is the only thing between the heavy-foot drivers in Abu Dhabi and them hitting me with their cars while I go for morning jogs around the city.

Unfortunately, the crazy drivers in this town are not afraid of Raheem, nor do they adhere to his constant plea to slow down near busy intersections.

I know everyone claims -- and complains -- that their city has the worse drivers. But seriously, I have never seen such ridiculous behavior from behind the wheel until I came to this fair town. The UAE's capitol city has flat, long streets everywhere, which just invites reckless cab drivers and Fast and the Furious wannabes.

It is the only place in the world I have been where drivers will actually speed up when they see you trying to cross the street. I kid you not.

Some people say it's because they have not been driving here that long. When you think about it, the country is only 41 years old. And when rich, bored Emirates have nothing but Mercedes Benz and BMW toys in their joy-riding fleet, what do you expect?

The taxi drivers are another story. I understand the idea of getting you where you need to be fast but I need to take motion-sickness medication before I get in the car with some of these bastards.

"Dude, I'm not in a huge hurry," I told the cabbie this morning after he nearly clipped a pedestrian crossing the street. "You almost hit that guy. Take it easy."

"No problem, my man," he said, while he fidgeted with the radio and drove over 60 m.ph. on a city street.

I had just got out of the bank and was holding my fresh, discounted coffee. I decided to pull the driving test Uncle Phil, from Fresh Prince of Bel Air, used in the movie Licensed To Drive. You remember that little flick? If not, this is what I'm talking about.

Needless to say, the cabbie failed miserably. Some hot coffee spilled all over my crotch.

The cool thing is that cabbies are cheap here. The scary thing is that your life is on the line every time you jump in one. Just make sure to buckle up, because it's going to be a bumpy ride.

Grand Mosque getaway

On my way to the Abu Dhabi Ritz-Carlton, I unexpectedly stumbled upon the eighth largest Mosque in the world.

Miranda may work at the Ritz when she gets here so I wanted to do a little on-location research for her but after I jumped in three different cabs and mentioned the Ritz-Carlton, they had no idea what I was referring to.

"It's a huge hotel, near the Grand Canal," I said. "I thought you cabbies knew everything."

They thought I was talking about a cracker factory. A few cabbies made personal calls to knowledgeable friends but they had no answers either. From my Internet map research, I noticed it was right next to the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque so I mentioned it.

"Oh, the Grand Mosque, yes. Yelda, yelda..." the cabbie said after I sat down, but before he slammed down on the gas.

The place was amazing. It was Saturday so the tourists were out in full force and I quickly looked at my attire and realized that I would fit in perfectly. My long hair was out and about and flying all over the place with the wind. I was wearing a bright red DC Nationals T-shirt and had blue shorts on.

Since they know everything, I asked the cabbie if I was dressed appropriately to walk on to the Mosque grounds with the rest of the sight-seers. He pointed to a sign and sped away before I could ask another question.

The sign said men can not enter wearing shorts. If you look closely, Rafael Nadal-style capri shorts were acceptable but I was revealing my sexy knees, which is a little too much in this Muslim culture.

Despite my scandalous appearance, I asked the security guards if I could enter. They gave me a quick look over and gestured me inside. Later on, I had to take off my sandals before I actually walked into the Mosque.

Sure, I was a little freaked out to be sharing bare-foot space on soft carpets with all these weird people but then I thought about all the nasty feet that have stepped before me at the beach. And of course, people have been walking, kneeling and praying everyday at this Mosque since 2008. It accommodates more than 40,000 worshipers at a time. That's a lot of bare feet.

During my walkabout, the cell phone cameras were flying so I had to get in on the fun...

Ballon d'Doh!

Timing is everything.

And when you switch jobs abruptly, some things usually fall through the cracks. Like having the esteemed opportunity to vote on the top soccer player in the world!

I didn't realize this until a former colleague emailed me yesterday but I actually had a vote in the FIFA Ballon d'Or awards this year...check out the international voting list.

 

The annual awards go to the world's top soccer player -- men and women -- along with a coach and is voted on by each country's team captain, head coach and a media representative.

 

 

 

 

Since the U.S. Virgin Islands has its own soccer federation, its votes counted just as much as the USA, Germany, China or any other country that competes within FIFA. Sort of like how the USVI has its own Olympic team.

 

What a huge gaffe on my part!

 

Unfortunately, I was one of only four federation media people in the entire world not to cast a vote. I think because I changed jobs, the ballot got lost in email. Ouch.

 

The other three media representatives that didn't vote: the Bahamas, Burma and Kyrgyzstan. I don't even know where that third country is located and I'm not sure what their excuses were but we should all be ashamed of ourselves.

 

Not that my vote would have tipped the scales. Lionel Messi won a record fourth straight and Cristiano Ronaldo was runner-up for a third year in a row. I would have voted that way, too.

 

My old work emails have been forwarded to one of my former editors -- not a sports savvy one in the bunch -- and they probably disregarded the email as just an invitation to an appetizer party aboard a hot air balloon.

 

OK, that was a little harsh (Sorry, guys!) but you now understand my frustration.  

Everyone loves an ER visit

After an across-the-globe flight, followed by a sleepless night in a hotel, I shrugged off a lingering illness and made my grand debut at The National for my first day of work.

I remember my first day at The V.I. Daily News. On my way to work, I took a photo of a car accident they published the next day in the news section and filed two sports stories before the editorial staff even walked into the office. They had no idea what kind of journalism monster they had just hired but they learned very quickly.

My goal for any job is the same: always make a big first impression.

Well, after my first day of work in Abu Dhabi, I was taken to the emergency room.

I guess you could say I made a pretty big splash. Within hours, the other reporters, editors, designers and janitors from across the newsroom knew my name, heard of my ER visit and were quick to question this random new hire from the States, who sported a pony tail.

After my ER news broke, people started betting on how long I would actually last in the UAE. Early bets set the over/under at a week. Others believed I had already rented a camel and was headed to Israel.

So what happened? Ok, I'll tell you.

I was still very sick from an illness that started when I was back in Wisconsin. But I thought it was just a cold. It didn't matter because it was time to knuckle up for my first day of work.

When a page layout editor was showing me how to log in to the content management system, I was sitting in a chair next to him and I almost fainted. Seriously. Then when my editor saw hives creeping up the back of my neck, he knew it was time to throw in the towel.

"Aaron, are you OK?" he asked, very concerned.

At this point, everything was happening in slow motion for me. Similar to when Will Ferrell's character got shot with a tranquilizer dart in the movie, Old School.

"Dude, we've waited long enough for you to get here so if you die on the first day, that would not be cool," one of the other editors said from behind me, after inspecting my hives breakout. "Go home, get better."

I had no idea about the hives. But when I stumbled back to the hotel and took off my shirt, I was covered in them. It was nasty. I fell asleep and when I woke up the next day, it was worse.

That's when another co-worker suggested the ER. I'm glad she pulled the trigger, because I still didn't think it was that serious. The ER? That's only where Eriq LaSalle and a young George Clooney took care of bloody gun shot victims.

At the ER, they had me hooked up to an IV and when I sort of came to, there were three doctors looking at me. One of them cringed when he looked down my throat.

"Enough of the semantics," I said. "Can you fix me?"

Then they brought in a dermatologist to check out the hives. Turned out, the dermatologist was an Emirate woman dressed in a full traditional black burqa, which meant I could only see her eyes.

I didn't want to disrespect so I was hesitant to disrobe. But she said not to worry and that she wanted to examine me. When she saw the hives all over my stomach, arms and torso, she immediately looked confused. I don't think she had ever seen something like that before.

She confirmed my suspension when she pulled out her personal iPhone and snapped a few shots. I imagined her chilling at the local dermatologist hangout later that day and saying something like, "Yo, check out this dude. How fucked up is this?"

Final diagnosis: bacterial throat infection. Reason for skin hives: undetermined.

The next four days were spent in and out of a deep sleep as my body, with the aide of five different prescribed antibiotics, slowly recovered.

With the blinds drawn to cover my hotel windows, I couldn't tell when it was day and when it was night. The TV had all of three English language channels and one of them was MTV so watching shows like "I Used To Be Fat" and "Room Raiders" just made me more ill.

I eventually got better and was finally able to respond to the are you alive email inquiries from my new co-workers. I was back at work five days later and ready to start learning.

It was like I was in a top-ranked boxing main event and seconds after the opening bell, the UAE -- my esteemed opponent -- connected on a powerful overhand right.

After a standing eight-count, I got my shit together. There's no question that right from the start, I absorbed the best punch this place could throw. Now I'm ready to go on the offensive.

My tempoprary digs

For the first month, my company has put me up in a nearby hotel apartment. It includes breakfast, free Wifi and is right on top of a authentic Indian restaurant so the place always smells festive.

For some reason they put me on the 12th floor and I don't believe I have any neighbors. There is a gym on the top floor so I can get my meathead on and a pool on the roof.

I snapped this shot outside my window the first morning I woke up in the Middle East.

Fresh desert air flows in from my penthouse window and I just happened to be situated across the street from a Muslim mosque, which starts each morning with a prayer alert at 4:45 a.m. sharp.

Though I did not get much sleep the first night, I must have slept through that particular call to Allah. The Friday and Saturday prayers attract a crowd around noon each day...I also took this pic from my hotel window.

Rookie mistake my very first day: left complimentary prayer rug on floor while complimentary English breakfast was delivered. The hard floors were so cold on my bare feet so when I found a very nice, clean rug in a closet, I laid it down in the middle hallway. It really tied the room together.

As soon as room service came with breakfast, the Pakistani server almost dropped the food as he carefully dodged stepping on the rug with breakfast on his serving rack.

Opps. He left abruptly and negotiated around the rug once again on the way back out. One thing I've learned in this world is you never want to fuck with people who handle your food. I immediately folded the rug back up and placed in the back of closet. Lesson learned.

Just like most of the hotels, restaurants and merchandise stores in Abu Dhabi, they have Filipinos running the place. There are about five hotel workers here who like to make small chat with me when I go for runs in the morning or come sauntering in after work late at night. When the chit-chat comes up light, they usually just stare at me. I'm starting to get used to those blank stares.

The hotel unit has a small kitchenette with a big fridge, oven, burners, along with washer and dryer. No dish washer, but hey, it's not the Ritz. The hotel is also just a short walk from work.

As soon as my girlfriend makes it over here, I will find us a real place to live. My real estate agent is a self-proclaimed Canadian booze hound and he couldn't meet with me on New Year's Day to show me places because, "I'm going to be so hung over, I won't be able to leave the bed, couch or floor I pass out on..."

So it looks like my future housing prospects are in good hands.

Flying in style

My debut into the UAE was delayed a few times because of red tape and some unexplained confusion.

After Thanksgiving with my family in Virginia, I traveled with my girlfriend, Miranda, to her mother's house in River Falls, Wisconsin for what I thought would be a few days.

I actually spent the next two weeks in the beautiful Midwest, getting to know her family, drinking home-made cinnamon hooch, watching Green Bay Packers games and trying to survive the foot of snow that seamlessly fell in a few hours on God's Country.

During the whitewash, I caught a little cold, which I blamed on the sharp climate change. It turned into something much worse, but more on that later.

I received a spotty phone call from an HR employee at my new job and before I knew it, my plane ticket was booked and I was expected to be in Abu Dhabi in the next 30 hours.

Giddy up.

Etihad Airlines is just as posh as advertised. I gave a quick look to the left immediately after I boarded my plane in Chicago and saw the plush, business-class chairs that also fashioned into fold-out beds. Huge flat screen TVs were in front of each of the spacious chairs and the champagne was on ice.

Maybe my newspaper decided to send me across the world in style?

While I licked my lips in anticipation, I showed my ticket stub to a stewardess, dressed in traditional Indian threads, and was promptly pointed to the right along with the rest of the globe-trotting peasants.

I had an aisle seat next to another new hire, Steve, and it was nice to talk with someone in the same boat (plane) as me.

Steve, a veteran in the journalism game, had previously worked for CBSSports.com and has a wife and 8-year-old son back in Orlando. They are staying in sunny Florida. He is coming to the Middle East to figure out the UAE and get paid. So it goes.

A lingering sickness clouded my thoughts and took precedent over any anxiety of a new job, living in a new country, briefly leaving my girlfriend behind and an entire change in life. Recent sleepless nights had led to lethargic days and in an attempt to catch ZZZs on the plane, I had a cache of assorted drugs to help lose conscience.

Valium. Pain killers. Over-the-counter sleeping pills. I took them all chased with a bloody Mary but to no avail.

Instead, I sluggishly watched four different movies on the much smaller TV in front of me. During the 13-hour flight from Chicago to Abu Dhabi, I tried to stretch my legs under an overweight man in front of me, who enjoyed to throw his arm behind his head during his sporadic sleep and block my view of The Hunger Games.

The sun rose. The sun set. After two chicken airplane dinners -- yes, two of them served about six hours apart -- the plane started to descend into the Middle East. After the first chicken dinner, Klondike ice cream bars were served to those still awake. It was quite a treat -- definitely the highlight of the flight.

When we touched down, I looked to a second-guessing Steve, and offered some confirmation.

"Well, we made it. Welcome to the desert. No turning back now," I said, with a hint of sarcasm.

"Yeah," he said, with dead serious caution. "Now let the confusion begin."

What am I doing here?

That's a good question.

This is my very first blog post and I don't really know where to start. Well, if you're reading this, there's a good chance you may have also come across my previous blog, Living In Paradise, which documented the three blurry years I lived in St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands.

On that note: Cheers!

Living in the Caribbean was one of the most amazing experiences of my life and I knew it would take a big project -- something grand -- to get me to actually leave paradise.

After I came back from covering the 2012 Olympic Games in London last summer for the V.I. Daily News, my ears will officially open to new projects, jobs and life experiences. I never expected things to happen so fast.

Abu Dhabi came calling and I had to accept the charges. I now work as a sports production journalist for The National, an English language newspaper, published in the United Arab Emirates (UAE).

Many of you have asked about where am I exactly located. Really, where the hell am I? No, it's not Dubai. Sorry to get your hopes up. But I am an hour's drive from Dubai, as Abu Dhabi is actually the capital of the UAE.

To be honest, I had to open an atlas when the job opportunity came up. For those of you still scratching your head, here's a quick geography lesson.

Yes, I'm right on the water. The locals call it the Arabian Gulf because they think 'Persian Gulf' refers to those folks to the north. Yes, those crazy kids from Iran are less than 100 miles away.

Yikes! The terrorists! What are we going to do?

Calm down. The UAE is an amazing place and if you continue to follow this expatriate, I will show you how great it can be. There will also be bad times, funny encounters and random weirdness.

It's the first time I have lived outside of the United States so stay tuned...