Tara Meets Abu Dhabi's Healthcare System

Never fails, right?

Although I am generally healthy, for some reason I always end up needing to deal with some medical thing within the first couple of months of moving to a new place. In the US, this was a nightmare, because I never had proper insurance. Except for one notable and expensive occasion, luckily the few times I needed to deal with doctors there, I was covered by travel insurance and didn't have to bear the brunt of  the costs involved (I don't care if it's a Sunday and you have to go to emergency instead of a clinic: it should never cost $1500 to pee in a cup and get a prescription for antibiotics, m'kay?) I could write a long treatise on the various and sundry issues I had while wading through the insanity of insurance and treatment in the US, but I'll spare you. Suffice to say, my personal experiences were all various levels of frustration and headache and leaving that behind was a huge relief.

I've been dealing with a back pain issue for a long time (or not dealing with it. See above re: insufficient US insurance) and since moving here, it's been bothering me more than usual. So yesterday I got my first taste of Abu Dhabi's healthcare system.

I have never experienced a trip to any clinic more effortless and streamlined. I had an appointment for 10am. I arrived early, checked in, and was called for my appointment at 10am exactly. 10AM EXACTLY! After an initial consult, it being my first visit, I was then sent to the doctor and given a thorough exam. From there, I went immediately to radiology (conveniently located upstairs in the same building), and had some x-rays taken.

I was in and out by 11. X-rays and all. I know you can't see the baffled look of surprise on my face, but trust me: it's there.

No one wants to get sick, but I think, if you have to, this might be an okay place to do it.

The Pork Room

Here's the truth, completely unvarnished, and completely un-vegetarian-friendly:

I love bacon. I really love bacon.

When Abu Dhabi first came up as a relocation possibility, accessibility of bacon was a genuine concern. I had friends agree to be illicit bacon-smugglers for me, should I require their services. I don't even eat bacon that often, but the idea of being utterly and completely deprived was unsettling. And trust me, you never want something more than when it's just not available. (See also: living in the USA and craving ketchup chips or maple walnut ice cream.)

In the beginning, I felt uneasy. We'd gone out for brunch a couple of times since our arrival, and the bacon they served was always beef bacon (which tastes a little like a cross between steak and jerky and just isn't... crisp enough to deserve the name bacon, in my opinion) or turkey bacon (which can be an acceptable stop-gap, but will never serve as a complete bacon replacement). I ate my not-quite-bacon and dreamed of porkier times.

Then we discovered... the PORK ROOM. Our local grocery store has a glassed in, separate chamber. Above the door is a large "Non-Muslims Only" sign, and you have to press a button on the wall to gain entrance. It feels a little illicit, frankly. Carl says it reminds him of how, back in the days of video stores, there was always the ADULTS ONLY section in the back.

Only in this store, the back room is PORK ONLY.

Inside the pork room, one can find a dizzying array of pork products. Sausage! Ham! Pork chops! Split pea and ham soup!

BACON.

And not just any bacon, mind you. Our grocery store is a British Waitrose. They sell all kinds of British products. (My little anglophile heart swells at the very thought. Tea! Cadbury chocolate--even the Turkish Delight kind I've only ever seen in England! Butter!)

They sell British bacon.

Those in the know (Mom, Natalie, Sarah) are aware that, in a world of bacon love, British bacon is the bacon I adore best.

So, sure, perhaps it feels a little strange (and even borderline risque) to have to press a button to enter the SECRET PORK CHAMBER, but oh, for bacon (British bacon!) it's so, so worth it.

(And guess what? The Waitrose has ketchup chips and maple walnut ice cream, too!)

Addresses, or Lack Thereof

Here's something a lot of people take for granted: addresses.

Having an address.

Giving directions by dictating an address.

Finding a building based on its address.

Receiving mail at your address.

But here's the thing:

Abu Dhabi doesn't have addresses. Not the way this North American is used to them, anyway. First, most of the major streets have more than one name. Confusing. Then, buildings don't have numbers. If you get into a cab, often you have to describe where you want to go. For example, you might say, "I want to go to Sama Tower, on Electra Street," but then, if the driver doesn't immediately know where that is, you'd qualify it with, "Next to the NMC hospital."

The roads are wide and nice and have clear signs, but it's still a challenge to find a place, because it's not as easy as punching in a number and following directions. You have to have a description of a place if you want to grab a cab, because unless it's something straightforward like, "Take me to the Marina Mall," there's a good chance your driver won't automatically know how to get where you're going. For me, it's like a mini research project every time I think about an outing. How will I describe where I'm going? (And how else can I describe it, if the first description doesn't work?) How will I make sure I get to the right place?

It's definitely been a learning process.

The other thing about lack of addresses is that there's no real concept of mail delivery. People here have post boxes, and mail is delivered to those post boxes. We don't have a post box yet, but can receive mail through NYU's post box. This, too, is a strange adjustment. Every day around noon, I find my feet itching to head downstairs to check the mail, but there's no mail to check.

But at least we've achieved home internet, so I can check my electronic mail as often as I like! It's not quite the same, but it will do in a pinch.

Athens: the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

First: let me apologize for the long delay between posts. Unfortunately, things have not been entirely hassle-free or straightforward in the home-internet-setup-department. Saturday, we're told. SATURDAY.

So. Athens. As part of the visa process in the UAE, I had to leave the country while they processed my visa, and the process couldn't begin until Carl's visa was finished. Hence, having to leave the country right in the middle of the getting-set-up process. We decided to go to Athens because a) we wanted to go to Greece b) it's a relatively easy country to get to from here that c) wouldn't be problematic to enter with a Canadian passport.

The Good:

• The food. I don't know what they put in their tomatoes in Greece (see also: Italy), but I couldn't get enough of them. I ate a greek salad every day I was there. Sometimes twice. To say nothing of the feta! And then there were the kebabs! And the lemon potatoes! (Also, after no-alcohol-zone Abu Dhabi, having a glass of wine at the rooftop bar of our hotel, overlooking the Acropolis, was... really very nice.)
• Delphi/the Islands. Sad as it is to say, one of the nicest things about Athens was... getting out of Athens. Full disclosure: Athens was not my favorite city. But Delphi was amazing, and well worth the excursion. And I did a day trip out to some of the nearby islands, just to get a taste, and it was a lovely experience.
• Acropolis. Let's just throw in a blanket history here. Athens is steeped in history, and it's hard not to marvel at the sheer scope of it. 
• Hammam. (Turkish bath.) I spent an afternoon here, and it was one of the most peaceful, lovely afternoons I've ever spent. And at the end of being boiled, scrubbed, and massaged (no, seriously, it was magical), I was given a plate of the most delicious Turkish Delight I've ever tasted.
• The weather. Sure, it was hot. But you know, after a month in Abu Dhabi, 30C felt reasonable.

The Bad:

• Smoking. Everywhere. EVERY. WHERE. On the street. In every restaurant (and I don't think there's such a thing as a no smoking section.) EVERY. WHERE. For someone with a sensitive respiratory system, Athens is hell. I thought I'd get used to it, but nope. I spent the entire week feeling a bit like someone was punching me repeatedly in the sinuses. With a lit cigarette. Or fifty.
• Signage. We rented a car to drive out to Delphi. Wow. Driving in Greece is madness. Made more mad by the complete lack of signs to point you in the right direction. Oh, maybe you have a map. It doesn't matter. You will NEVER ever see a sign that lets you know which road number you're on. However, you will see ten signs pointing you to random tourist locations. None of those signs will include addresses. Meanwhile, on the roads, everyone will drive with a death wish.

The Ugly:

• Graffiti. Like the smoking, it's everywhere. On every surface. On the rare signs that might tell you where you're going, except you can't read through the black spray-paint. No city I've ever visited has ever been so blanketed in graffiti. I wasn't a fan.
• The economic crisis. The people we met were friendly, although the extremely touristy vibe does make one feel like everyone's out to make a buck somehow, even if it means ripping you off. (Even if they're NOT ripping you off!) But that's not what I mean. I can't put a finger on it, but the country felt depressed, to me. And it was depressing. It seems sad that a country so rich in history and that's existed for so long can be in such dire straits.

All in all, it was a lovely trip. Get out of the city, if you go. Give yourself a couple of days and then see the countryside (then again, this is almost always my advice, no matter where you're going). Eat tomatoes. Eat a lot of tomatoes. And go eat kebabs at Thanasis. They were so good I went two days in a row. And the waiter recognized me. Embarrassing. But worth it!

Sunset Over the Gulf

Desert sunsets are strange and beautiful. This picture was taken from the window of our temporary apartment.

Doubtless I'll have more to say soon. We should be moving to our more permanent location within the next couple of weeks, and there's a trip to Greece before then. (I have to leave the country so they can process my residency visa--apparently it can't be done while I'm within the country's borders. So Greece it is. Tea in yet another time zone.)

Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot

So far, this exchange has happened countless times:

"So, Tara, what do you think of Abu Dhabi so far?"

And my reply is always, "It's... hot. It's nice. It's really, really hot."

Admittedly, I feel a bit pathetic about this. I'd like to be able to comment on other things, but so far my first impressions have been entirely taken up by the heat. I knew it was going to be hot. I even knew it wasn't going to be a dry heat, in spite of the desert climate. (Proximity to the gulf adds a great deal of moisture to the air.)

Even knowing all this, I still couldn't anticipate just how hot it was going to be. A hot day in Vancouver is in the high 20s. I thought New York summers were hot and humid, with days in the mid-30s, but they've got nothing on Abu Dhabi. It's the kind of heat you need to experience to understand. We've been hovering around 40-45C since we arrived, with humidity pushing the temperature up to the mid-50s some days. Even in the evenings--the only time we've really dared leave the safety and comfort of the air conditioned indoors--the temperature rarely falls more than a few degrees, remaining in the mid-30s with humidity keeping the temperature up around 40.

It's a kind of heat that feels dangerous, honestly. Obviously I'm taking a lot of precautions in terms of staying hydrated and limiting time outdoors, but it's amazing how quickly the heat can sneak up on you, even in the evenings when the sun is down. I am very slowly acclimating. I no longer turn beet-red when I step outdoors, or break into an instant pouring sweat. And luckily, cabs are plentiful and cheap here, so should you find yourself going from zero to heat stroke, you can always jump in a blessedly air-conditioned vehicle and take yourself home again.

(This, too, has happened countless times.)

Learning the Ropes: Tara vs. Sleeves

When I first told people where I was moving, I had to answer a lot of questions. (And offer a lot of reassurance, because, let’s face it, to many North Americans The Middle East is a vast unknown. And there are a lot of misunderstandings, misnomers, and stereotypes flying around concerning it.)

Abu Dhabi is predominantly Muslim. It’s not, however, as conservative as say, Saudi Arabia. I’ve seen women out alone on the streets (though more often I see them in pairs or small groups). They’re allowed to drive. Not everyone wears robes or headcoverings. Many do.

I am still adjusting to the question of appropriate attire. The literature we were given is a bit vague (irritatingly vague, in my opinion). Again, I’ve seen a huge range of attire, from girls in shorts and tank-tops (who, admittedly, look very out of place) to women in full burqa. As a non-Muslim Western woman, I’m not expected to wear headcoverings or anything. But I am, according to the vague wording of the informational pamphlet, encouraged to dress ‘respectfully’. Of course, this sentence is paired with “generally, lightweight summer clothing is appropriate year round.”

Ladies, I don’t know what your lightweight summer clothing looks like, but you know? I’ve got virtually nothing with a sleeve. Certainly nothing with a full sleeve. Maybe a couple of t-shirts, but I’m not a t-shirt sort of girl, for the most part. (They suggest sleeves are better than no sleeves. What constitutes a sleeve? Does a cap-sleeve count? How about a thick strap?)

I went to the mall (malls are a big thing here, what with it being hotter than the surface of the sun outside, and everyone running from air-conditioned spot to air-conditioned spot. Again, see: trouble with appropriate attire) and was bombarded by every store you’d expect to see on a UK high street: Oasis, Monsoon, Next, M&S, etc etc. And you know what? The clothing is all the same clothing you’d find in the UK, complete with… you know, things without sleeves. All kinds of things without sleeves! So I find myself confused. The stores exist here? People must buy the things in them? And presumably wear them?

I did, however, go out wearing what I consider to be a pretty conservative (if, yes, perhaps-a-little-form-fitting) dress, and I felt out of place. I think that one’s getting shelved. I really do want to be respectful of the new environment I find myself in. 

But when it’s somewhere between 40-50C with heat and humidity, I am not sure what, exactly, to do with the word sleeves. So far I've been making do with a combination of light cardigans (though, really, none light enough) and shawls, and I'm trying to learn where the overlap is between what's respectful, what I own, and what I personally feel comfortable wearing. I think it's a process. We'll see how it goes.

Welcome and Hello

About a year and a half ago, Carl came to me with a proposition. That proposition involved a list of pros and cons, and a move. To Abu Dhabi. After a lot of deliberating, the pros outweighed the cons, and here we are.

Looking back, I realize I've had a lot of unusual opportunities in my life, and I wish I'd done a better job of documenting them. Since you can't change history, though, you have to start somewhere. Maybe every once in a while I'll end up talking about some of those past experiences (especially those involving travel), but for now: Welcome to Abu Dhabi.

This blog won't necessarily be about tea. But T is one of my nicknames, at least to my dad and my little sister; everyone who knows me knows how fond I am of the beverage; and nine times out of ten you can imagine a cup of steaming goodness perched at my elbow whilst I'm writing. Right now it's vanilla rooibos. And I'm in UTC/GMT +4 hours. The title makes sense to me!