Camel Beauty Pageant

I had thought that all camels were good-looking. But, it turns out some are more beautiful than others. So it was, we went to a Camel Beauty Pageant. This was held as part of the Al Dhafra Festival about 2 hours south of Abu Dhabi out in the desert near the town of Liwa.

Al Wathba Camel Race - Final Stretch

Our first Bedouin festival, the Sheikh Zayed Heritage Festival at Al Wathba a couple of weeks earlier had also featured racing and competitions of the ‘big four’ of Bedouin culture; camels, falcons, Salukis (dogs) and Arabian horses. In addition, it featured singing, dancing and hundreds of camels in individual and group displays of virtuoso riding. All set in a relatively compact site, close to Abu Dhabi.

We’d attended the camel racing there, where camels race around an 8 km oval, sand track encouraged by their owners, driving SUVs on the concentric roadways. The camels ran silently but the approaching sound of their owners was deafening!

Another site featured stunt riders passing on a track between the grandstand and the stage highlighted by a jumbotron; offstage, camels and their riders sat patiently waiting their turn. In the stands, we were served coffee and pastries as we sat holding our cameras – it was very civilized: but, no Camel Beauty Pageant.

The Al Dhafra Festival is spread out over several square miles and it was tricky to find the pageant site, but we made it just before the finals. The contest was held in front of a large grandstand and we took our seats in the centre section; the camels were being led around gated compounds in the infield. The section to our right was filled with boys and youths, jammed up against the retaining fence at the front of the grandstand.

As the winners were announced, the whole right section rose as one, screaming and throwing their keffiyehs (headscarves) in the air, then they scrambled to get onto the field as security held them back until they could open the gate. I asked a guide what they were so excited about. “Their camel just won,” he said. “All of them?” It’s a Bedouin family affair…

Al Dhafra - Camel Beauties

It seemed the most beautiful camels were large, dark brown, females. They towered over the youths as they tied headscarves around their necks and adorned them with jewel-encrusted necklaces & humplaces (my word for a necklace around the hump). The most prized animals are worth $2 to $3 million (£1.5 to £2M).

Bargaining at the Souk

Each festival incorporates a large souk (market) of spices, incense, Emirati garments and local delicacies, staffed by women, most wearing their mask-like burkas, not seen in the city. These  souks preserve traditional crafts and promote locally made goods. After the excitement of the beauty contest we visited the souk to buy incense as Christmas gifts.

As we entered the souk, Sheikh Mansour, Abu Dhabi’s Deputy Prime Minister and a key sponsor of the Al Dhafra Festival (and Manchester City FC) was touring the stalls with his entourage, his rock star persona reflected in the excitement of the vendors.

As we left, I noticed a mobile gas station parked in the sand, just off the road. Despite being just a large truck, it was clearly a gas station by the long line of cars leading up to it!

Al Wathba - Waiting to Ride

At work in UAE

I worked in the desert, on the edge of Sheikh Zayed Military City, south of the town of Shahama, about half-an-hour from the centre of Abu Dhabi city.

Our Villa in the Desert

And, we rented a house fairly close by. I didn’t want to be too far away; I anticipated long hours and late nights, and it started out that way… But, it was not to last.

Every morning I’d get in my car and drive to the Base. Security was tight and I’d drive through a series of Security gates. At the first gate, half a mile from the office, they’d stop me and ask for my passport, driver’s license and work badge but this quickly turned into a smile and a wave – they would lift the gate when they saw my car coming. 

A wall with barbed wire on top enclosed our office building; the wall and the building were painted a strange salmon tint, almost pink. There was only one way in through the wall and only one entrance to the building, despite its many doors. Security manned both of these points too.

The guards inside the building were South Asian and the nicest guys you could meet; but they had their orders and wouldn’t sway. No briefcases, laptops, cameras, memory sticks or anything other than a phone and a handful of papers could go in or out of the building. No photographs allowed anywhere near the base, of course.

Staff visit the Dubai Airshow (inside C17)

Every morning we shook hands: I mean, every person you met in the building would shake hands with you every day! It was then I realised that in the English-speaking world, we shake hands on first meeting someone and then again if you haven’t seen them in a while, but not every day… (I believe it's a French custom)  We’d say hello, usually in the language of the recipient, and there were many languages, the staff were drawn from France, UK (Wales mostly), Germany, Italy, Spain, UAE of course, other Arabic countries, and a few North Americans: ‘Bonjour!, Guten Morgen!, Ciao Bello!, Buenos Dias!, Marhaba or Salam Alaikum! and Hey!’

The Emiratis, or locals as we called them, have a special greeting for those they are close to, called nose rubbing. In this the two men touch noses and make a ‘kissing’ noise (by tut, tutting using the tongue on the roof of the mouth), two or three times. In fact, I was alone at a festival in the desert and a boy of 12 or so came up and shook my hand then he held my hand and turned his face up to me (yes, he was shorter!), so I ‘rubbed’ his nose with mine. (Nose-rub video)

At the Dubai Airshow

All of these physical greetings were between men. As a general rule, men do not touch women, not Arabic women anyway. I found this difficult – I’ve always made a point of shaking hands with women. And, we had a lot of Emirati women on our staff, many fresh graduates in their first job, but they all said ‘Hi’.

Through the day, Ansari the ‘tea-boy’ would come by and offer to make you a coffee or tea to your liking. I was always torn – I didn’t like the idea of getting someone to make my drink for me, but nor did I want to prevent him doing his job. In the end, I made my own and he stopped asking.

We had a cafeteria; it was a separate building where an Arabic style lunch was catered daily.  The food was good and inexpensive ($6/£4). We all ate at a series of tables and generally we mixed well but one table was reserved for women. The Emirati women would sit there, sometimes joined by Western women. Just occasionally, men would join them to chat over lunch, but next day, a sign would appear saying, “This Table is Reserved for Women Only.”

If only our work efforts had gone as smoothly as the social interactions between the staff. For all the different nationalities that managed to get into the building, it was a great team to be part of.

Desert Sunrise

No more Mr. Robert

Marble Floor detail - Grand Mosque

Names are a funny thing. We get attached to them. As a boy, I was always Rob to my family, Robert if I was in my mother’s doghouse. Once I got to High School I decided I wanted to be called Bob and so it was. In North America, I must tell you I have a number of nicknames, but I’m generally known as Bob, a universally accepted, timeworn contraction of Robert. Or so I thought.

I may have mentioned this before but in the UAE you are nothing without a local cell phone number. But still, whenever you register for something, or even cancel something, you need to provide a copy of your passport. Then they ask you for your name and I tell them ‘Bob’

“Bob? Where does it say that on your passport?”

’Nowhere. It’s a short form for Robert.’

“Why? It doesn’t make sense Mr Robert.” Rob, they can see, but Bob is a step too far.

Which brings up the other quirk with names; they call you by your title with your first name only.

Emirates Palace at night

Actually though, they ask you for your ‘good name’. This it turns out is polite, Indian English for your first, I stopped calling it Christian, name – all roads lead back to Mr Robert.

After much argument, I managed to get my company to print my business cards as Bob Laws, but they insisted that ‘robert.laws@emiraje.ae’ be my e-mail address.

So, in UAE I was always Mr Robert. I got over it but it makes me smile in Calgary when I give my name as Bob, no questions asked.

I explained my nomenclature troubles to my Emirati colleagues at work: ‘Do locals not use nicknames?’

“Oh yes, but not in any official capacity. We only use those names between friends.”

Most commonly, Emiratis take their father or son’s name and append ‘Bu’ (boo) as a prefix. Hence, Khalid might be known as BuHussein, after his father, particularly among his older friends and relatives. One colleague told me he likes to be known after his cousin – they were inseparable as children and he was badly shaken by his passing when they were teenagers.

For me, I’d be BuFrank (after my father) or BuNathan (after my son).

Starbucks in Ibn Battuta Mall

Talking of epithets, Carol and I often went shopping in the Malls. Store personnel were always polite, inviting us in with a Sir or Ma’m, but if we entered a store together, we’d elicit the composite welcome: ‘Hello Mamsir’. The first time I heard it, I thought it was an unintentional slurring of the two words, but no, I soon realized it was everywhere and definitely one word. Most of the retail clerks/shop assistants are Filipinas and it turns out that, in addition to couples, ‘mamsir’ is used in the Philippines as a greeting for someone when you’re not sure whether they’re male or female.

I’m not sure what that says about us. But it makes me think – what’s in a name!

Smoke on the Corniche, Abu Dhabi - National Day

The UAE - What I'll Miss

Home in Calgary!

We returned home to Calgary last week, leaving the balmy warmth of Abu Dhabi for the frigid cold of Alberta. It was the coldest and longest winter anyone can remember: minus 30C, minus 40 with the wind-chill, and this at the beginning of March.

One of my first acts was to fill up my car. Thankfully there was no line up but, although gas was four times the price, the thing I noticed most was I had to pump my own gas – it had been more than a year. For the first time I realised what ‘SELF SERVICE’ means: ‘NO SERVICE’.

Dubai's tasteful Atlantis Hotel Lobby

I needed to get a part for the dishwasher so I headed out. I saw the store I needed as I drove past it on the wrong side of the road. So, at the next light I did a U-turn. This caused consternation as I sat in the intersection; cars blasted their horns at me, as their drivers scowled. Traffic in UAE couldn’t get anywhere without U-Turns, they often have their own lane.

And, I have to watch my speed now. In UAE, you are allowed to drive at 20km/hour over the posted speed limit – there are signs to tell you that: 100km/hour means 120km/hour; 60 km/hour really means 80km/hour.

Etihad Towers - Abu Dhabi

I miss those friendly souls that used to drive right up behind me flashing their lights in a greeting: to get the #$%# out of their way. They usually wanted to drive even faster. Now, I fear, it’s me that’s flashing.

There are no mosques close by, so no haunting Call to Prayer to rouse me from my sleep anymore – it’s back to the CBC Eye Opener (morning radio).

At least it’s sunny. Calgary is one of Canada’s sunniest cities, not that I’m laying in the yard sunbathing. As we left Abu Dhabi, I packed my sandals for shipment and put on socks and shoes. Carol said: “Say goodbye to your feet. You won’t be seeing them for a while”. And it’s true – I had trouble wearing sandals a year ago, now my feet are striped from the sun. But, it’s fading quickly.

There are few crazy buildings in Calgary. We have the impressive Bow Building and the delightfully controversial Peace Bridge. But Abu Dhabi and Dubai are architects’ playgrounds, where outrageous, spectacular buildings abound.

Camels Return from  - Al Dhafra Festival Beauty Contest
Al Dhafra Camel Beauty Contest video link

We’ll never see UAE service again – driving up to a hotel to have the doors opened for you, and your car whisked away. I remember an event some years ago. A colleague and I checked into a big hotel in Abu Dhabi – I went for breakfast a couple of days later and my colleague didn’t show. I walked to the desk and asked if there was a house phone I could use. ‘Why?’ the server said.

‘Oh, I’m looking for my friend.’

‘I’ll call him for you;’ she said and she did. I didn’t give her his name, room number or anything… She just knew from serving us breakfast the day before.

But, apart from all the wonderful friends we made there, if Carol has a thing about elephants, I’ll miss the camels.

New Presidential Palace - Abu Dhabi