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A culture change
The call to prayer wafted through the open window of our number 42 bus as we headed to downtown Abu Dhabi, Kaelene in the priority seats for ladies at the front. The service is free, the old buses jam-packed with migrant workers, and the driver working the horn and accelerator simultaneously while at the same time gesticulating wildly in frustration at the traffic and taxis who occupy the bus stops. We are certainly here in Arabia.
It is a culture shift, particularly little intuitive things. No pointing and certainly no touching between a woman and man in public. Despite the fact that we should have grown out of these things anyway, holding hands is out of the question, we have different surnames, including in our passports, and no way of proving we are actually married. So caution is the order of the day. Shoulders are kept covered in public; there are women-only (ladies) beaches and alcohol is only available to westerners in tourist complexes.
Abu Dhabi is an island, accessed by bridge and the part of the city we are staying in very much suburban with Arabic shops and supermarkets nearby. And cats. Skinny, wild cats are everywhere, trawling through open skips left in each street for the collection of domestic rubbish.
So far we have explored only very tentatively, local shops and the ultra-modern Marina mall. The city is one of contrast, and we plan to start exploring more thoroughly today.
We note that another cold snap has hit the north, with snow causing havoc right across Europe. It will be good to wander the streets here without the layers of thermal clothes and the involuntary streaming of eyes and noses that comes from the extreme cold. We’ll sit in the sun nursing drinks made of pomegranate seeds or crushed mint and lemon.