In which dry cleaning becomes a minor crisis.

So to the extent that this blog has a regular readership, there has been a clamoring for a blog addressing what life is like in Abu Dhabi. This blog began as a Peace Corps journal and indeed the Peace Corps experience was the first time in my life I ever experienced being immersed in a new culture. I find myself comparing my arrival in Abu Dhabi with my arrival in South Africa much of the time.

The biggest similarity between the two is that experience of continually asking yourself questions like, "What's going on?", "What's happening now?", "Why is it happening?", and "Why is it happening in the manner that it is?". Fortunately, my time in South Africa has taught me to go with the flow. Thus I want to inaugurate my Abu Dhabi blogging with the following tale of mystery and adventure.

Yesterday morning, I decided that I would get some of our nicer clothes dry-cleaned and pressed as it had been a long time for some items and being tossed into a suitcase never helps a blazer. Liz is already working and I have been trying to spend my free time helping us to get settled in and doing whatever housekeeping needs to be done, etc. We still don't have a car or TV and this internet connection is on a prepaid data bundle so there's not too much to do in the house. Outside it's HOT.

Anyway...dry cleaning. We have a book that specializes in helping expatriates with their day to day challenges and there was a section on cleaning and laundry services that explained that almost all laundry services offer free pick-up and delivery. They did not however recommend any chains or drop any phone numbers. On our second day here, the new yellow pages had arrived. So I thought I would open up the yellow pages and pick a place with a nice advertisement. I found hundreds of dry-cleaners in the yellow pages but not a single one had paid for ad space. This was rather daunting. Finally I googled dry cleaner and the name of our neighborhood and a single entry returned. I called. Pioneer Laundries did indeed offer free pick-up and delivery which led to yet another challenge. There is no street address system in Abu Dhabi. After being passed around to several people in the laundromat and overcoming seemingly every accent of English to be found on an Indian Ocean shore, I was told that someone would be by in an hour.

In about an hour or so, indeed I hear a knock on the door. A middle-aged man from somewhere on the Indian sub-continent (I still can't tell Indian from Pakistani from Bangladeshi), is standing there without a uniform of any kind asking if I called for a laundry pick-up. I hand him a big armful of some of our nicest clothes and he begins to walk away. At this point, I was really confused. I usually get some sort of ticket or receipt when I give my clothes to be cleaned in an effort to protect the cleaner from being accused of theft. I usually have a quoted price for the service. I usually have a rough estimate of the time it will be finished. I start with the ticket problem. He kindly explains that I must pay later when he come back with the finished laundry. "No, no..." I hopelessly try to explain. He gives me a phone number which he claims is his own...close enough. I ask, "how much will it be" he says he doesn't know for just a jacket but that a whole suit is 18 dirhams. 18 dirhams isn't quite $5 so for dry cleaning and delivery this seems like a good price. He thinks it will be less because it isn't the whole suit. I ask if that includes pressing and delivery. He explains that it includes everything. He tells me he'll be back same time tomorrow unless I want to pay for urgent service. Accustomed to the slow pace of job searching, and forseeing a wealth of free-time, I tell him that the same time tomorrow sounds good to me. He leaves and I feel a little panic that I have just inadvertently donated some of our finest apparel to the less-fortunate. I have a second moment of panic when I imagine him holding said clothes for a king's ransom. I know I'm so paranoid right?

One's mind does funny things when one doesn't have any clue what is happening or why. Btw, we bought a Nintendo Wii :D

This morning around 10 Liz calls to tell me that I am to arrive at her office by 11:30 for a meeting with her, the head of her division who is a vice provost, and the vice-chancellor of the entire university. Wow! What's going on?! I had met the vice provost a few days earlier in hopes he could point me in the right direction, employment-wise. This seems like great news right? Except that I hadn't bathed and the good folks from Pioneer Laundry had not yet called on me so I didn't have a jacket to wear. The Vice-Chancellor is an important guy and meetings with him are not to be missed. Liz had given me instructions on how to direct a taxi to her office and explained that I should give myself 40 minutes in case there was a traffic problem or we got lost etc. I quickly called the phone number that I had yesterday been given. The guy who I had talked to yesterday picked up on the 2nd ring! He knew who I was and said he was going to be at my place in 30 minutes. I asked, 15? he said sure. 35 minutes later he came!!! Yay!!! The bill was 78Dirhams. ~$24 Not too shabby for 6 jackets and a pair of pants delivered to my door in what can only be called prompt timing by any developing world standard.

The meeting with the Vice-Chancellor was strange. He is a very friendly man and he greeted Liz and I warmly. He is the first emirati I have had an extended conversation with besides the passport control officer. Why Liz and I had a meeting with him remains shrouded in mystery but I think the fact that he took time out of his day to meet us and that he has our CVs is a great thing!

Life is going well so far. School closes in July so Liz was encouraged to take some leave so in 3 weeks or so we are going to Europe and I have a job interview tomorrow for a job in the same office Liz works in doing work similar to what I did in South Africa. I'm excited. I bought a new shirt and time today. I have a clean blazer to wear, and I am looking forward to what's to come.