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Swim at your own risk
A designated rule for entering the public beach in Abu Dhabi is that you swim at your own risk. If you do not abide by this rule, “Action will be taken against you by the court of law”. We have been pondering this. Imagine next time at the beach insisting that we swim at the risk of the Abu Dhabi Municipality which issued the rule. The court of law would determine the action to be taken against us. Force us to swim against the tide?
The pace of life here has slowed somewhat and we are generally limiting ourselves to only one or two things a day, including domestic chores. Yesterday it was the Mosque, today the beach, and tomorrow trying to retrieve our passports from Empost, hopefully complete with Indian visas, and then exploring the shops. Jade needs new furniture, so that will be a priority. Earlier in the week we tried to find the Iranian souk, or market, by the Dhow harbour. We had left our map at home, so worked by instinct and Number 5 bus in an unsuccessful attempt to locate it, only to find later that we had been right past it, twice.
There are treasures in small things here; the local shops look like they are right out of a 1950’s Arabian movie set, stark concrete structures surrounded by dust and sand, washing strewn from balconies and old cycle frames lying around among a few straggly trees. It is here we get the washing done, beautifully so, although the launderer has it in mind that Marty’s name is Ratty. The hair saloon is run by a Pakistani, the cut-throat razor comes out for a careful final sculpting of a number one haircut. Sideburns are trimmed precisely, checked and rechecked, the eyebrows manicured and, finally, ears and nose removed of rogue growth. And as we rest at the end of the day, the call to prayer rings out from the local mosque, a small, modest mosque.
This life ain’t too bad.