Missing Piece

There was something missing in my life. There was giant hole in the corner of my periphery that could not be filled. That was until recently. But to the dismay of my fiancée, it was not her. What was missing was a reclining brown chair that now sits comfortably in the corner of my living room. And oh, how snug it is.

When I got back to Abu Dhabi a few weeks ago I knew I had to start creating some mental space to afford me some sanity in this wild desert world of Abu Dhabi I live in. Between the cars, the construction, and the street-walking feral cats, your stability is sometimes a camel’s breadth away from crumbling. That is of course unless you find things to combat such decay.

Some people here Brunch. Yes, capital letter B.  It’s intense. You pay anywhere between 100 and 600 dirhams for an all you can eat and drink buffet, usually on a Friday. It starts around 12 pm in the afternoon and can last into the wee hours of the evening. I tried it once and it nearly ate me alive. I barely escaped its grasp. Luckily, it only demolished my weekend. Could’ve been much worse.

Others here shop. It is quite possible to go a full 365 days buying something from a different retailer in a different mall every day and not scratch the surface of your buyer’s capacity. From Dior to Dunkin Donuts, you can buy pretty much anything and everything here… except peace. For that, I had to look elsewhere. Where? A British man’s living room.

I saw his ad on Dubizzle, a Craigslist like site in the UAE, and I followed up. Turns out he was moving back to the UK and was getting rid of most everything. Including a VERY soothing recliner and ottoman that I nearly couldn’t depart from when I relaxed my cheeks in it for the first time. After prying myself free and loading it into my new Peugeot hatchback rental, I asked him one last question. “How long have you been here?” He replied, “37 years”. Whaaaaaaaaaaa…..t?

This man, who was in his mid-fifties, had survived in a country that in the last 40 years went from a tent strewn oasis to a booming Middle East economical and tourism hub. He had experienced some of the most frustrating and inconveniencing periods of growth that anyone from a first world country might experience as the UAE expanded at rapid rates, and through it all, he had stayed.

I didn’t ask further but I’m pretty sure it was all because of this chair. Well, technically the chair was a gift from his wife 3 years prior, but still. This comfy brown chair touched the bottom of the man whose bottom had probably touched more seats than any foreign born individual in this country… history was in that seat.

But enough about his rear-end, let’s talk about mine. I got the chair home, placed it in its preordained spot, parked my rump in its warm embrace, and put my feet up. As I pulled that lever that sent me sprawling backwards, a small part of my sanity clicked back in place, and I sighed, “Ahhhhhhh. My chair.”

The chair alone won’t afford me the peace and calm that is necessary when dealing with such continuous changes and challenges. But like that lovely little British man, sitting in that chair does seem to make the passage of time a bit more leisurely. I look out my window on the 25^th floor of my apartment building and I can feel the crazy slowly melt away.

Next up: A desk… and I’m building it.

 

 

The Bangler

Two days ago I wrote about the Central Market Souk and it’s exquisite blend of new, old, and it’s marvelous lights. What you didn’t read about was the man that makes the market unique. He may not give light to it, but he gives this Souk spirit and a lot of flare. His name is… The Bangler.

Ok, well, I gave him that name. His real name is Ali. But for the sake of this story he will be furthermore called… The Bangler.

The Bangler is a quiet man. A man of focus and repose. His creations delight the hearts of women and children all over the world, while also allowing men the satisfaction of saying, “Yeah, honey. I picked that out for you.” And his creations are made with love… and weird wooden tools that have some of the most uncreative names on the planet. But alas, sitting criss-cross applesauce he weaves and hammers away on his carpet of enlightenment while shoppers pass by to casually say, “Where you from? Pakeestan, sir?”

Oh, if only they knew. The Bangler is no Pakistani folks. His home is very far from such a place. In a distant land you will find The Bangler’s home. It is called… India. Wait, just looked on a map, definitely right next to Pakistan. Well, he’s not Pakistani, he’s Indian. I don’t call you Canadians Americans do I? Haha. Ignorant.

Anyway, I sat with The Bangler for a whole 10 minutes while he sculpted, what he calls, a bangle. Weird that his jewelry and the nickname I gave him are so similar. Again, anyway, as I sat there and watched him take ordinary colorful soft tree wax and turn it into a colorful hardened tree wax I was like, “WOW!” No really, it’s harder than it looks.

First off, he’s got hot coals just chilling there in a metal tray, designed to heat the tree wax that he will soon mold and form to create his fine jewelry. He takes a block of wax, strips off a small sliver, then plops it on the heated tray. He then straightens and flattens it over the tray using something called a “frame”. Once the wax is long and flat he then wraps it around an object called the “wooden rounder”. Stick with me. I know these names are a bit foreign. After rounding the flat waxy bangle, he drops it smoothly onto the hot tray once again and stamps it on the side with something called, wait for it… the “wood handle”. Ooooooooh. A few more rubs with a clothe that looks as old as the bangle maker himself and he was done. The Bangler had made his bangle.

One of the beautiful things about The Bangler, however lovely his creations, was that he was not the first. The Bangler, a.k.a. Ali, a.k.a. Central Market Magic Maker, is actually The Bangler Junior. This man from India, the same land as his father – specifically Rajasthan, India – was taught all of these skills of the trade by his father before him. He calls it his caste work. He wakes up every day at 4 am and heads to the Central Market to make his tchotchkes and doodads, and every day at 7 pm he heads home to his warm bed. He has done this for 2 years now. And although I cannot know his heart, and will not comment on any issues of social justice, he looks and sounds at peace with his work and he takes pride in the skills his father has taught him.

So if you happen to be walking through the Central Market Souk one of these days and see a lovely man sitting cross-legged making bangles, stop by and pick one up, because they are made with intricate care, and involve a good bit of history.

Unnatural Beauty

Abu Dhabi Golf Club Main Building

Abu Dhabi is a beautiful city. It’s Grand Mosques, Arabian influence, and breathtaking feats of engineering and architecture all combine to create a place different than anything you could imagine. And it has most certainly stemmed from a vivid and wondrous imagination. But this beauty I speak of did not come about in a “natural” way. It was sculpted and carved and built from the minds of men and women who dared to dream big.

Maybe that’s why the UAE is home to some of the tallest buildings in the world, because it has allowed individuals freedom to dream up unimaginable creations. Maybe that’s also why in a recent conversation with some Abu Newbies, not one of them considered this city beautiful. We come from regions of the world that are lush and green with copious amounts of history. Arriving in a four decade old metropolis situated on a desert oasis may stun our aesthetic sensors.

I remember traveling around Europe back in 2009 and looking at thousand-year-old castles and thinking, “Man. I thought Philadelphia was old.” Philadelphia hasn’t even awkwardly asked a girl to the prom compared to Rome and Greece. Heck, Philadelphia’s voice is still changing. Abu Dhabi on the other hand is technically still in the crib. But it is aging at a ‘Jack’-like rate – Robin Williams movie, check it out.

There is a high-rise building across from my apartment of which I have been documenting the construction. I’d be amazed if it wasn’t fully constructed by Christmas… and it currently has no windows or walls. There is a sense of catch-up here. Having been overshadowed by its northern brother Dubai for so long it seems as though it is only recently that this city has spreads its falconian wings.

So however mechanical and unnatural these wings may be they are still beautiful in flight. Who knows what dreams may come for the city of Abu Dhabi, in the meantime, it sure is fun watching it fly.