Entitlement

I've seen entitlement from two extreme perspectives.

At one of my last schools in the US, all of the students received free breakfast and lunch, and all of their families were on aid.  We had several generations who continued to live in the neighborhood and they had attended the school too, which illustrated their status through the years had pretty much stayed the same.

We were fortunate in that the school was supported by many organizations, which included a wonderful church that provided backpacks of food on the weekends, and so many other things.  They even opened a clothes closet in an empty classroom so the staff could go in and get clothes for needy kids.

What was amazing to me though, was that no matter how much was provided, too often too many of the families were looking for more.

More handouts.

From the government.

From the church.

From the school.

From anyone willing to give.

You rarely got the sense that the things being done were appreciated.  What was clear was that most expected to be taken care of.

Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for the support that we have in place to help folks when they need it.  It has helped me, and many others along the way.  What I don't appreciate are the folks who sit back and wait for things to be handed to them as though the world owes them something.

Since I've been here, I've seen entitlement on the other end of the spectrum.

Many of the very wealthy folks also expect to be taken care of.

I'm sure this is common with folks of great wealth, but it is my first experience of seeing it first hand.

It's wonderful to see the systems that are in place to take care of the nationals.  It really is remarkable that the leaders made the decision to share the wealth.  This one decision alone is the reason there will never be an uprising in this country.

What's very sad though, is that there will always be people who take advantage of the system or are ungrateful for support that they receive, and this can happen at any level in the socio-economic ladder.

Through Thick and Thin

I'm so grateful for the men in my world, beginning with my brothers.

One of the lasting lessons Mom taught us was to "look after" each other, no matter what.

That started early when Forrest, who is ten years older than me, was busy most days babysitting my youngest brother, Terry and I.

He was fortunate to have a mentor and role model who guided him to college.  When it was time for me to go to school, he became my mentor and role model as he directed my steps and paid my way.  I would not have made it through college without his guidance and help.

When my twenty-year marriage came to an end and I was wallowing in self pity, it was my brothers who rallied around me.

When I was raising Ben and Frankie alone through the teenage years, they were in my corner.

When the boys graduated from college, they were there, standing with me.

When Ben had his accident, they came and provided tremendous support.

When I was living alone enjoying the freedom that comes from an empty nest, they were there cheering me on.

When I decided to make this journey so far from home, they were my champions, encouraging me every step of the way.

When it was taking forever-and-a-day to get final word on this move, they were there providing day-to-day support, refusing to let me give up on my dream.

Now that I'm here, they continue to cheer me on.

Have we always been this close?

No.  The many years between us was a barrier when we were younger.

But when Mom died, we made a conscious effort to stay in touch, and to be there for each other, no matter what.

I hope that you have a special relationship with your siblings.  If not, let me encourage you to do whatever it takes to get to that place.

I know my brothers will always correct me when I'm wrong; laugh at me when I goof up, and cry with me when I hurt.

So, to Willie, Forrest and Terry (deceased), thanks for always being there for me, no matter what.

Arabic Numbers

Arabic numbers are different than ours.  Numbers 1-10, along with their names, are listed below.

Arabic Numbers

My keyboard at work is in Arabic and English.  The same is true for the numbers - they're in Arabic and English, too.

Remember that you read Arabic from right to left, so when numbers are translated/transcribed, that has to be kept in mind or your numbers will be backwards.

Teaching kids how to write their numbers here is more challenging because of this, too.  Oftentimes when I'm covering a class I'll have the students to write the numbers from 1-100.  Many times they are transposed - 61 becomes 16; 29 becomes 92.  So, when I see that happening, I realize they have it, but because they learned their Arabic numbers going from right to left, they forget they need to go from left to right for English.  They usually catch on much faster than I would.

The only reason I've been able to pick up and remember some of the numbers, is because in most public places, you have to take a number, and when it's your turn, your number flashes on a screen.  The numbers always flash, and are spoken, in Arabic first.

Anyway, I hope you find this interesting.  

I sure do.

TEDx Al Ain - At Long Last

This is the video that I've been waiting to share with you.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zoDclDVj4M

Best Friends

What makes a friend, a "best friend?"

Does it have to be someone you've known a long time, or could it be someone new, or relatively new?

Is this person someone you can confide in, no matter what?

Does this person, in many ways, know you better than you know yourself?

Can this person be real with you, when no one else is willing to?

Is this the person you would call in the middle of the night?

Has this person stood with you through think and thin?  Would they?

Does this person need to be your spouse or significant other?

What if that person is not your spouse or significant other?  Does that present challenges?  Do you ditch the friend to keep the peace in your relationship?

Is this the person - although maybe you don't contact each other often anymore - that you can pick up a conversation with as if no time has elapsed?

What happens when you loose your best friend?  Do you search for another to fill the void, or do you rest with the memories you shared together?

Are best friends from college longer lasting than the ones from high school, or maybe even elementary school?

Does your best friend know they're your best friend?  Should they?  Does it matter if they know it or not?

Can you outgrow your "best friend" relationship?  How do you deal with resentment and hard feelings if that happens?

Are you missing out if you don't have a best friend?

Does someone consider you their best friend?

So many questions today.

And like many days, so few answers.

Camera Shy

A couple of weeks ago, there was a camera crew on campus from National Geographic.  They were filming footage for a documentary that will feature two of our students - a brother and sister.

We thought the focus was to be on the day-to-day life of the kids, but there were more questions about the way our school runs, and there were many questions about this education reform that we're very much a part of.

A variety of staff members were interviewed, along with members of the administration.  Thankfully, there was someone else who was much more excited about the prospect of being on camera than me, so she gladly filled in.

I was reminded of a time, in 1995, about this time of the school year, when circumstances thrust our family into the media spotlight.

In hindsight, I'm forever grateful for the support that came with the publicity, but it was a difficult time nonetheless.

Here's what happened.

Ben and Frankie were attending a Christian school, and had been a part of this school system for four years.  In 1995, Ben was a 13 year old 8th grader, and he was being recognized for his academic achievement.  He had earned straight A's in all grades, for all four years.  He was, in fact, the valedictorian of his class.  The middle school was modeled after the high school with this valedictorian position.

In anticipation of the big day, Ben got a haircut.  A very low, very typical haircut, seen on African-American boys everywhere.

Ben went to school, and was rehearsing the graduation/promotion service with his classmates, when one of the staff members noticed his haircut.  He was sent to the office, where a decision was made that he would not be allowed to participate in the ceremony because of his haircut.

There was a rule at this school against shaved heads because they were associated with Skinheads.

OK.

Again, the haircut was low, not shaved.  But, even if his head was shaved, how many black Skinheads do you know?

Long story short.

Ben was not allowed to be on campus or to participate in any of the end-of-the-year activities.  He was denied the opportunity to give the valedictorian speech.

Again, this was 8th grade.  I expected that we, his family, were the only ones who cared about this.

However, a dear friend and neighbor, thought differently.  She thought it struck a cord.  And as a writer for the local paper, she offered to cover it.

That led to extensive media coverage for several weeks.

It was even picked up by Bob Hebert, who until recently, was a columnist for the New York Times.

Fast forward to 1999.

Ben was the valedictorian of Jesuit High School.  There was a "where is he now" follow up in the media.

Fast forward again to 2010.

A staff member from the church/school contacted Ben through Facebook.  Ben was invited back to the church where the pastor publicly apologized for the school's action.  The current pastor had taken over for his father, who was the pastor when the incident occurred.  Again, there was media coverage.

As I said, I'm grateful this incident had a happy ending, but it was an incredibly stressful time while we were living it.  The media provided a platform to tell the story, but as a result, we were living in a glass house, with all that that entails.

I suppose the litmus test question is - what I/we do it again?

Yes.

Without hesitation.

I think Ben, and his accomplishments, were worth fighting for.

Two Articles Reflect Life in the UAE

The first one is about dressing modestly, or in many cases, not.

http://www.thenational.ae/news/uae-news/emirati-girls-launch-campaign-over-tourist-dress-code?utm_source=Newsletter&utm_medium=Email&utm_campaign=Daily%2BNewsletter%2B06-06-2012

The second is about a high school student thinking about the changes she'll face when going off to college.

http://www.thenational.ae/thenationalconversation/lifestyle-comment/hesitant-to-leave-uae-luxury-for-university-living?utm_source=Newsletter&utm_medium=Email&utm_campaign=Daily%2BNewsletter%2B06-06-2012

Thoughts?

Tiger, Tiger, Tiger!

Tiger's winning today was big news.  He tied Jack Nicklaus with 73 wins.

I have mixed emotions about this.

On the one hand, I'm happy for him.  On the other, I'm still struggling to get over his infamous indiscretions.

I know.  I know.   I should practice what I preach and let it go.  I should forgive this low-down, dirty dog for his actions.

Why?

Not why should I forgive, but why does a guy like Tiger, with the world had his feet, feel the need to stoop so low?

We've seen it time and time again.  Powerful guys who scrape the bottom of the barrel, and for what?  A cheap thrill?

Why do they do it?

Is it really just because they can?

The men in my world think I should have let this go a long time ago.

I just couldn't let him off that easy.

Remember when I said I think like a man?  I take that back.  I'm all woman in my thoughts about this.  Guys are so much faster to condone this kind of nonsense.

Maybe that's it.  Maybe we women have been blessed with more common sense in this arena.

Whatever.

Guys (ok, people) are destined to do what they want to do, with whoever they want to do it with.

So, I'm letting go.

I just hope we've seen the last of this.

That's wishful thinking . . .  I know.

Temperatures Rising

We've been in triple digit heat for weeks now.  Some days don't seem quite as hot as others because of the warm breeze blowing.

Interestingly, in this heat, folks only drink water at room temperature.  None of the local folks will touch ice water.

One of our nurses can by and asked me for a bottle of water, which I gladly gave her.  She then attempted to reprimand me because it was cold.  She was quickly set straight.  In my world, in this heat, it will only be ice water.

Also fascinating is the fact that there doesn't seem to be any personal swimming pools either.  The only ones I know of are located in the hotels, and in apartment complexes.  I'm not sure if they're don't have them because of the custom of modest dress or the logistics of getting massive amounts of water out here.

As I said, we have a pool where I live that is on the roof of one of the buildings.  If it's 111 degrees on the ground, it must be 121 degrees on the roof!  That water is probably as warm as bath water.

Me, swimming?  No thanks.

Today I was at the mall and saw a guy sitting outside of Starbucks drinking coffee . . . in triple digit heat.  I was hot for him.

Thankfully, there is air conditioning, and it is everywhere.

I'm reading a moving story of a British woman who was here at the beginning of the wealthy period when money from the oil wells was (and still is) in great supply.  Her husband was a contractor for the Sheikh.  The Sheikh's two sons lived with her and her family in London, when they were there for school.  Her writing captures life 40 years ago, at the beginning of the extraordinary growth when she traveled back and forth and was spending a great deal of time here.  Forty-one years ago, the nationals were nomads living in tents in the desert.  Forty years ago, was the start of the mega-masions and skyscrapers seen all over this country today.

She speaks of daily blackouts when the local power source couldn't handle all of the electricity needed to cool the buildings.  Gratefully, that is no longer an issue.

Much of the book takes place here in Al Ain, and when she describes landmarks, I've seen these places, first hand.

Wherever you are, as summer quickly approaches, and you think about complaining about the weather, remember the heat I've described in these pages.  Chances are, those memories will cause you to be very thankful.

Sending cool thoughts your way.

Things I Learned From My Mom

If Mom were alive, she'd be 93 years old on June 15th.  She died in 1998, a week shy of her 79th birthday.

Her name was Rhilda Beverly.  I am named after her, but I have a middle name and use Faye because Rhilda has proven hard for people to pronounce and remember.

As I've mentioned before, Mom had very little formal education, but she had a PhD in common sense.  She only went to the 3rd grade in school, before she was pulled out to help work around the house.

I didn't fully appreciate her or her wisdom until I had kids of my own.  Then, I realized she was brilliant.

I find myself thinking about her and quoting her daily.

She used to say -

Choose your friends wisely.  


Tell me who you follow, and I'll tell you who you are.


Birds of a feather flock together.


Where there's smoke, there's fire.


Having money doesn't mean you have class.  


Being pretty will open doors; having sense will keep them open.


You can overdo anything (she liked saying this in reference to make-up and jewelry).


Be a child as long as you can and grow up when you can't help yourself.


The jailhouse is full of folks who were too cute to be disciplined when they were growing up.


If you don't discipline your kids, the police will, and you'll wish you had.


There's nothing cute about bad behaved kids.


If you don't discipline him at two, he'll be beating on you at 12 (referring to Ben who had a nasty habit of hitting and biting at two years old).


Always speak to folks, even if they don't respond.  You do your part, and let them worry about themselves.


The same God who took care of her here, will take care of her wherever she goes (when questioned about letting me go away to college; unheard of at that time and place).


If you stay on the right path, God will send someone to help you every step of the way.



Keep saying "good morning" (she would say when she talked about something that we couldn't fully understand yet).


As black folks, remember you have to be twice as good to go half as far.



Don't blow your own horn.  Let other people do that.  (I think this is why interviewing has always been tough for me).


Help others, while always remembering the people who helped you along the way.


Always be there for each other (a reminder to my brothers and I).


No matter how bad you think you have it, there's somebody, somewhere who has it worse off than you.


It is better to remain silent and thought a fool, than to speak up and remove all doubt (one of her favorite quotes found on a plaque hanging in her restroom).


When you choose to do what's right, everything else will work itself out.


Respect yourself and others will respect you.  


Always remember where you come from.


It is this last one that keeps me grounded.  No matter what happens or where I end up, I will always proudly be Rhilda Beverly's daughter - the country girl from China, Texas.

Making a Difference Through Music

I love Paul Simon.  Always have.  Some of my favorite songs are:

***Me & Julio Down by the Schoolyard
***50 Ways to Leave Your Lover
***Kodachrome
***American Tune
***Something So Right
***Loves Me Like a Rock
***Slip Slidin' Away

Treat yourself, and check them out on iTunes.  They're classics that will live on.

There's a new documentary about Paul and the making of his Graceland album in 1985, when he went to South Africa and, and defying a boycott, used local musicians.  This time was fraught with the reprehensible treatment of the native blacks and the danger that apartheid presented to them in their daily lives.

I'm sure this movie will be fascinating.  I can't wait to have the opportunity to see it.

You can find an opinion piece about this in the New York Times today.  The link follows:

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/30/opinion/friedman-paul-simon-takes-us-back.html?_r=1&src=me&ref=general

I was drawn to this article for two reasons:

First, I love Paul Simon.  Yes, I realize I'm repeating myself, but it bears repeating.

Second, having just visited South Africa, I feel I will have a better understanding of what the native black South African musicians - who were vital to the making of this album - went through.

There are no songs from the Graceland album that landed on my favorite list, but it was a breakthrough recording on so many levels.

It took courage for Paul to go against the grain of South Africa, and the African National Congress, who imposed the cultural ban.

He joins many courageous folks for standing up for what was right, in the face of serious opposition.

It's interesting how music provides the soundtrack of our lives.  In every important movement in the US, there were musicians who recorded the emotions of the time.

The Civil Rights Movement comes immediately to mind, and the great music from that era.

The Women's Movement, produced some incredibly powerful anthems on our liberation.

The Vietnam War, saw the making of many protest songs, that spoke of the anguish we were feeling as a nation.

This is a compelling argument for the support of the arts, because it is the arts, and especially music, that helps to define who we are at any given moment in history.

What does today's music say about us?

What We Learn & How We Learn in School

There's an intriguing quote from an article on the Salon website about Bruce Springsteen and his political journey - from basically being apolitical to the place now where he's comfortably making political endorsements.

True confession - I've never been a fan of his music.  It was always too hard rocky for my taste.

During a concert right after Ronald Reagan was elected president in 1980, he made his first public political comments.  You can find the whole article at the following link:

http://www.salon.com/2012/05/28/born_in_the_u_s_a_when_the_president_met_the_boss/?source=newsletter

The part of the article that was mesmerizing to me was this quote -

I never did good in school, never did good, and they always figured that if you’re not smart in school, it’s because you’re dumb. But I always felt that I never really learned anything, or learned anything that was important to me, till I started listening to the radio back in the early ’60s. And it seemed that the stuff that I was hearing off the radio in all those great songs was stuff that if they knew how, they’d be trying to teach you in school … but they just didn’t know how to. They always talked to your head, they could never figure out how to talk to your heart, you know. And it seems that, like all those singers and all those groups, there’s one thing that they just knew: what it was about. And when I started listening, I found out that the first time … that, instead of the fantasies that you have when you’re a little kid, I had dreams now and that they were different, it was different, and that if that was possible, that I didn’t have to live my life the way that I was, that things could be better. If you just go out, take a chance, find out what’s going on … - Bruce Springsteen, 1980.


Riveting, right?


Boy, did this cause me to reflect.  To think back.  Recognizing that reflection isn't always pretty.  And in this case, pretty scary would best describe it for me now.


How many kids have gone through my classes that I passed judgement on because of their lack of academic skills?  How many brilliant minds did I dismiss because I couldn't engage them in the prescribed lessons and required learning?  How many gifts and talents did I miss seeing in my students because they didn't perform the way I expected them to?  


How many students who were tossed aside grew up to do extraordinary things?  As teachers, do we recognize the power we hold?  The power to encourage, to promote and lift up.  And the power to discourage, demote and deflate.


What would I do differently if I went back to the classroom?


Would I be more patient and understanding, and more in tuned to the needs of my students, if given the opportunity for a "do over?"  


I hope so.  I really, really hope so.


Of course, knowing something intellectually is one thing; embracing it and using that knowledge to promote change, is another story altogether.


I shudder to think of the students I overlooked.  The opportunities missed.


As with parenthood - and what was done or not done as a teacher - the questions linger, waiting for time and history to judge.

Chocolate-Colored Camels

I spent the day in Abu Dhabi.  I was there for a meeting.  The highlight was sitting next to an acquaintance who shared some info on cruises.  I think that was the reason I was there.

Interestingly, this woman is a neighbor.  She lives on my floor, a few doors down, I think.  She also works next door to me in Um Ghafa.  However, I never see her, so we don't get a chance to chat much.

I'm working on plans to be someplace else during the massive heat wave expected soon, and the info she shared was most helpful.

Now about the scenery to and from Abu Dhabi -

Both ways, I was treated to sightings of dark chocolate-colored camels riding in trucks. I'm guessing they're rare because of the hundreds of camels that I've seen, I've never seen any this dark.  They're usually the color of sand, a golden brown.

These dark camels reminded me of the black squirrels on Stanford's campus.  They were seemingly a rare breed, too.  Of note - the black squirrels were mean and not at all interested in mingling with humans.  They simply occupied the same space as the folks on campus, reluctantly sharing it.  I wonder if there is a difference in the temperament of the different colored camels?  I'm betting someone, somewhere has done research on this very subject.  I should google it.

Maybe tomorrow.

It's late.  So, I gotta go.

Good night to me.  Good morning to you.

Jail Time

Warning:

This post is a little sleazy, but I wanted to share the cost of a roll in the hay.

http://www.thenational.ae/news/uae-news/couple-jailed-for-sex-out-of-wedlock

If we had this law in the US, they'd be a whole lot of folks in jail.

Thoughts?

New York, New York!

In less than a month, I'll be in New York for a week.  I'm really excited to be back in the US, if only for a short visit.

Frankie and his wife, Cara, are having a wedding ceremony, something they didn't have when they married almost two years ago.  I'm happy for them and I'm thrilled to be a part of the festivities.

Seeing Zadie tops my list of things to see and do.  She's 18 months old, and growing up so fast.

Today as we ended our video chat, she blew me a kiss goodbye.  The last time we chatted she said "I love you."  Precious!

It was years before I enjoyed motherhood.  Probably not until Ben and Frankie were grown and on their own did I really appreciate it.  When I was knee-deep in it, it was hard.

Being a grandma is a slice of heaven.  So much easier.  You get to enjoy the kids without the pressure of raising them.  I love this!

Funny, I didn't think I would be a doting grandma.  God knows, I wasn't a doting mom.  There was nothing warm and fuzzy about me or the way I did things, especially when it came to parenting.

I could absolutely be described as a doting grandma, though.  Oh, how the tables have turned.  I know Ben and Frankie have a hard time recognizing the woman/grandma I've become.

Side note - The visit will be short because my school doesn't end until mid-July and I need to be back here to help close it up.  July and August is when the temperatures start to rise past 120.  I'm planning several short trips to cooler climates during this time.

But first, it's . . .

New York City, here I come!

The Little Machine That Could

Years ago, I use to sew, making a lot of my own clothes.  But that was years ago. Now the only time I think about sewing is when I need to make some quick repairs.

Of course, with a "three luggage" limit traveling here, the thought of bringing a sewing machine didn't/wouldn't even occur to me.

Since I've arrived though, there have been a few things that needed repairing, so I went online - yes, to Amazon, my favorite store - and found the cutest battery (4AA) operated sewing machine that is so small it fits in the palm of my hand.  It costs $22.  It looks like a toy, but don't be mistaken, it's a powerful little booger.

"SMARTEK Mini-Sewing Machine
sitting next to a remote so you can get an idea of its compact size

For those of you who sew, you'll understand - It feeds the thread using bobbins on both the top and the bottom.  And, it came threaded and ready to use.

The reason I needed a sewing machine that is battery operated is because our electrical outlets run on 220 voltage instead of the 120V that we use in the US.

The quickest way to fry a motor is to plug a 120V into a 220V.  Yep, I speak from experience.

The uses for this little amazing sewing machine are countless.  And because of the compact size, you can take it anywhere.

Side Note - Interestingly, I haven't found anyone who knows what a crock pot is.  Of course, I could order one, but the voltage wouldn't be compatible and I would be adding it to the list of motors I've fried.

Side Note 2 - I think I missed my calling.  I should have been in sales because when I like something, I want the world to know about it and experience it.

Long Week

As I've gotten older, I've learned to appreciate time more.  Time to live. Time to enjoy life.  Time to experience new things.

But this was a tough week.  Time seemed to drag on, with each day longer than the previous one.

I'm dealing with sensitive personnel issues, and as the de facto problem solver for the school - how in the world did I get that role? -  it has made for some long days.

I went to bed as soon as I got home, with no intention of writing tonight, but Forrest called, as usual, but today it was sad news about a friend back home.  She had an aneurysm, collapsed and is on life support.  She is 54.  Her sister and I were the best of friends. We still are.

How quickly I went from feeling sorry for myself for being tired, to feeling like an idiot for making a mountain out of a mole hill.

My issues are microscopic compared to this family's.

On the days like today when I'm living in a fog, I hope that I remember how blessed and fortunate I am.

This news shocked some sense into me.

Don't make my mistake.  Take a minute now to recognize how good you have it.  No matter what's happening in your life, take the time to appreciate all of the goodness that surrounds you.  Even if you have to search . . . hard . . . I encourage you to do it.

I promise you - suddenly - your day will be better for it.

 

Mission Statement

Aramex is the awesome shipping company I use to get packages from the US here in record time.  I have the boxes shipped to their office because I'm not at home when they deliver.

There is a framed picture of their mission statement in their office that hangs prominently for all to see.  It reads, "The mission is to be one of the top five global logistics and express transportation service providers in the world."

This is fascinating to me.  

Why is their goal to be "one of the top five" and not number one?

Are they flying low instead of reaching for the stars?

Is this goal a more realistic one?  Is that why it was chosen?

And if one of the top five, why not the top ten or the top twenty?

My thinking is, if you're going to compete, shouldn't you always seek to be the best, to be number one?  

What do you think?

 

Last Minute

When the boys were growing up, Ben was always very punctual in every thing he did.  All of his assignments were turned in on time and often early.  He was always on time for events, sporting and otherwise.

Frankie, on the other hand, was perpetually late.  He would have his buddies fax over his assignments because he would loose his somewhere between school and home.  He always waited until the last minute to do his work.

Last night, when I started working on something that was due today, and I knew about it months ago, I knew then that Frankie is just like his momma.

I take back all those times I nagged him to do his work.

He would say he worked better under pressure.  Did he hear me use that excuse?

Oh, the things we pass on to our kids.  So much of which I wish I could take back.

Frankie hated homework.  Me too.

He would say - Momma, you know I know how to do it.  The teacher knows I know how to do it, so why do I have to do it?

He made a great point, but who cared?  He had work to do and all this lollygagging wasn't getting it done.

Round and round we would go.

Would I have dealt with him differently if I recognized he was just like me years ago?  Or, did I nag him because I "sensed" he was like me and I wanted him to be better?

Do we ever get to the point where we stop second-guessing our parenting skills?

UAE in NYC

I shared this with some of my New York City folks, but I think it deserves a wider audience.

The tourism department of Abu Dhabi set up a tent or majlis in Times Square in celebration of the opening of an office in New York City.


This is fascinating on many levels.


First and foremost, with the backdrop of 9/11, New York City would not be the first place I would think of to set up a tourism office for an Arab country.  On the other hand, I think it's a brilliant move.  It's a way to say, check us out.  Come and get an up close look at who we are and what we stand for.  


Secondly, they're reaching so many nations because of all of the international visitors to New York City.  They're tapping into many markets at once.


Finally, it's an opportunity for others to experience a little of the hospitality that the UAE is known for.  

Check out the article for yourself.  It was featured in The National newspaper a couple of days ago.

http://www.thenational.ae/news/uae-news/tourism/abu-dhabi-majlis-lights-up-new-yorks-times-square

Final, final note.

The temperature is averaging about 110.  It cools down to 100 at about 11pm.

I'm thinking they're probably not mentioning this in their presentation in NYC.