Dubai Part Seven (Lost in Translation)

This is my final post about our Dubai Adventure.

Those of you who have have it up to HERE with my travelogue, can breathe a collective sigh of relief.
Soon I will be back my my regular postings, such as:
"How I Gained Seven Pounds, and Why is it All in my Waistline?"
"Hot Flashes and Electric Blankets, a Match Made in Hell."
or
"Losing Control, The Cadbury Mini-Egg Season."
So bear with me, okay?

There is this place in Dubai that is the Mother Ship to all cheap shoppers.
It is only open in Dubai winter, cause it is an open market.
With summers soaring upwards of 120 degrees, I am sure the vendors would be baked to death then.
This mystical shopping extravaganza is called "Global Village."

To say it was huge, would be inadequate.

It was so big, we didn't even see it all.
We were plum tuckered out before we got to the end.
Global Village is a conglomeration of shopping centers, each based on a different country.
For instance, this whole huge pavillion is "Yemen."

("Friends" fans will appreciate "Yemen.")
So you walk into "Yemen" and inside the store you would find products indigenous to Yemen. All the tourist-y crap, genuine imports that are unique to Yemen, and anything else they see fit to ship into Dubai and sell in the store.
Like this honey.
They had dozens of different types of honey for sale.
They were giving out free samples.
Sam and I tried the "Adult Honey."
Can't say that it did anything spectacular.

I can't even tell you how many countries were represented there.
Hundreds.
Some stores were bigger than others, but I am telling you, there was a lot of stuff there.
The best part about it?
The prices were the same prices you would pay if you visited that country.
Dirt cheap.

In the center of the village they had a food court, some carnival type rides, and performers.
The day we went, we happened to get high divers:

They were crazy.
Mikayla, Shianne and Andrea's daughter rode this ghetto Merry Go Round.

I literally MADE Shianne ride it.
She is almost 12.
I was dying laughing.
The Merry Go Round was constructed out of tape-wrapped OFFICE CHAIRS.
Look for yourself.
Shianne was clearly thrilled.

Never too old to be subjected to foreign humiliation.

Here is a cute shop in "India" where I bought some hand-beaded pillows for like three bucks a piece. We are talking Pier One Imports looking pillows.
FOR.
THREE.
BUCKS.

Probably our favorite country in the village, the one we spent the most time in, was "China."
Go figure.
Think how much crap is made in China.
Andrea had a hook-up with a guy that had a store in China, and sold real pearls.
Granted, they were fresh-water pearls, but they weren't the normal elongated, squished, lumpy looking fresh water pearls, they looked like genuine high end pearls.
They were gorgeous.

How the shop worked, was some of the necklaces, bracelets and earrings were already made up, and hung for display. You could just buy those.
Then, on a large table, there were strings of pearls you could dig through, scrutinize the quality and color, pick what you wanted, and then have that strand made into anything you wanted.
If it was long enough, you could get a necklace, and a bracelet out of one strand.
Necklace and earrings?
You bet.
Three bracelets.
You got it, sister.
However you wanted to work it.
Same price.
They let you pick the clasps and everything.

This cute little girl working behind the counter would take your order and create it right there.

They had a few different colors of natural pearls, and some that were dyed.
The price depended on the size of the pearls.
The larger ones were really heavy.
I got my girls smaller pearls. They ended up being $2.80.
We spent a fair amount of time there.
Mikayla fell asleep standing up.

Poor baby.
She had a long day.
My boys entertained themselves with the surrounding stores in China.
This is the part of the blog post that I will call "Lost in Translation."
As a rule, our family has an off-the-wall sense of humor.
China did not disappoint.
They had stores and stores full of clothing, that they attempted to make look cool, by plastering with English phrases.

There were a lot of faux superheroes.
Or Spiderhman. <---that covers a lot of bases.

And apparently Chinese Spiderhmans don't say "Fff-tang! or POW!
They say:

I think this was trying to be "Adidas."

These are pretty self-explanatory.
Or something.
You may have to click on them to read them.

I believe this gem was inspired by a bank deposit slip:

I kinda wanted to buy this hoodie:

Whaaaat?

Jenn, this one is for you.
It said "cheeky."

Along with the Spiderhmans they had a lot of Spongebob stuff.
But obviously the Chinese Spongebob is far hotter, as it can sport the title of "SMILF."

Can you ever over-educate children?
I don't think so.
And China is reputed to have high priority placed on quality schooling.
They had plenty of reference materials for us ignorant Americans.
We need all the help we can get!
For reals.

I am quite sure that I, a high school graduate, am NOT familiar with "annular."
Just sayin'

In short, Global Village was awesome.

But not as awesome as Andrea and her family.
This is the part of the travelogue where I bear my testimony of how lucky we are, and the generosity of others.
Remember in addition to Sam and I, and our five kids, we brought Jack and Bonnie, my in-laws.

How lucky are we, that my kids get to spend that kind of quality time with their grandparents? We have traveled a lot of places with Jack and Bonnie, and also my mom and dad. My kids have shared hotel rooms with them, and joked with them, and explored the world with their grandparents right there beside them.
I don't think it gets any better than that.

A little insight into me.
I hate to put people out.
Hate it!
And the thought of crashing on Andrea and her family for almost a week was almost more than I could stand.
We e-mailed back and forth, and Andrea was always very positive, and accommodating.
I still felt weird.
"Can I bring towels?"
"No way. They are too bulky to pack, we have plenty."
Andrea and her family were beyond nice, and on top of that, they were really fun to be around.
This is the house they are living in:

This is the entryway to the front door.
The houses in the neighborhood are fenced in by high thick adobe walls, and contain a garden courtyard of sorts.
Andrea had a plumeria tree outside her front door.

The inside of the home was beautiful.
All marble floors, a sweeping staircase, wide wooden door encasements and baseboards.

Jack and Bonnie stayed in the guest room.
Sam and I stayed in Andrea's girls' room.
Our girls stayed with us.
Andrea's girls slept in their parents room for the duration, and our boys were bunked up with Andrea's boys.
I am embarrassed for the imposition.
Not only did we take over their sleeping quarters, but we took complete advantage of their taxi service.
Whenever we went somewhere, Andrea or her husband drove us. And gave us a tour on the way to the destination. Pointing out interesting things, stopping for photo ops. And Andrea's husband took the camera from me occasionally so I would be in the shot! Who thinks of that?
Good people.
Proof of what crappy guests we were:

Here are all the kids together:

You know how you meet someone, and it just clicks, and you automatically feel comfortable?
That is how I felt with Andrea.
She has a knack for making you feel like close family...not just relatives.
I learned a lot from her.
A lot about being a good hostess.
Anytime I asked her if I could help her do something, she always said "sure!"
Do you know how much better it is to feel helpful to someone, then have that someone say "nah, I am good, just relax."
She would probably rather just take care of things herself, but instead, let me have some pride.
Delegated out some small things for me to do, to feel helpful.
A good lesson.
I also learned that you can never have enough cold cereal.
Warm cookies and late nights are the best.
And you can always fit one more into an already packed car.

We miss those guys.
And we are so grateful to them for sharing Dubai with us.
I don't know if Andrea has found my blog...if you have, thank you again.

Our last night, Sam was checking flights home.
He made the statement that if we didn't make the Dubai to Atlanta, Atlanta to Salt Lake City flight, we could always catch the Dubai to Charles De Gaulle, Charles De Gaulle to Salt Lake City.
What?
Did you say Charles De Gaulle?

Isn't that in Paris?!!
Is Paris on the way home?

Dubai Part Six (Arabian Nights)

This night was our big splurge of the trip.
We suckered into a total tourist trap, and it was well worth it.
The company we hired was called "Arabian Nights."
Range Rovers picked us up at the house to take us out into the desert.
It was strange to watch the scenery turn from modern city, into desert sand.
The rovers stopped at a gas station before we turned off onto the desert trail.
This was a last ditch effort for them to make money off us on some cheesy souvenirs.

Check out the guy wielding the calculator...
Sam and his Dad:

Needless to say, we didn't buy anything.
And the public restroom was out of toilet paper.
Just sayin'
We loaded back up, and in a few minutes were were in the Arabian desert.
They run these tours each night.
There are several different companies who run them.
All the caravans of rovers meet at the beginning of the trail.
There were hundreds of rovers.

Then we started the trail to do some "dune bashing."
What is "dune bashing" you ask?
It is when the rovers line up, and take off at top speed across the desert hills.

Up hill, down hill...up hill, skid sideways down the hill...
Sometimes you feel like you are going to rear end the rover in front of you.

Have you ever been carsick?
The kids were cackling.
Sam was loving life.
I was white-knuckled and praying to die.
I felt like we might roll a any moment...
We passed a camel farm.
No kidding.

The rover slowed down enough for me to unclench myself and snap off a picture or two.
Finally, when I could barely take any more of the Arabian desert antics, the sun started to set.
Sunset on a rolling red sand desert?
Gorgeous.

The whole caravan of rovers stopped to let the tourists pose for pictures.
And barf.

We horsed around for a while.
Sam shoved Brendan into the sand and subsequently obliterated his camera.
Now you know why occasionally I feel compelled to tell people that I have six children, not just five.
Good times, good times.

A nice view of the rolling sand dunes:

Photo taken by Jayden:

(Can I get a collective "Awwwww, cuuuuute.")
Then we loaded up into the rovers again.
The sun was down.
Nothin' left to see.
I was worried about rolling over dunes again.
I was so done with that.
The drivers slowed down, cause it was pitch black.

Then there was a Christmas miracle.
We dropped down a hill, and lo and behold, there was a Bedouin camp!
A real! live! Bedouin camp! (wink, wink)

I wonder if we could go in?
Why, yes!
The first thing the kids wanted to do was ride camels.
Keep in mind, the sun was gone.
Therefore the photos are super-dee-duper craptastic.

Did I ride a camel.
Heck yes, I did.
It was awesome.
It was like straddling an over-sized barrel that swings side to side.
On stilts.
My mother in law took a photo of Sam and I.
For your viewing pleasure, I scanned it.
A really weird angle of my chest. Makes me look, well, chesty. Totally not true.

Then we entered the Bedouin camp.
We got Henna tattoos.
The mostly specialized in swirly vines and flowers.

Here is Sam getting his:

He requested a tattoo that was slightly out of the comfort zone of our little Bedouin tattoo artist.
A skull and crossbones.
He gave her his hat to look at, as an example.
I think she did a fine job...
You can click on it to get a better perspective.

Clearly, she can add this masterpiece to her repertoire.
And lucky Sam.
Henna tattoos last three weeks!

There was a stage set up in the middle of camp.
The stage was low to the ground, with even lower tables surrounding it.
Underneath the tables were colorful carpet covered pillows to sit on.
I could get used to that.
It was actually pretty comfortable.
We had two performers.
The first guy was from Egypt and was a Whirling Dervish.
He danced for about 30 minutes.
SPINNING the whole time.
Spinning.
Without stopping.
I am really not sure how he didn't puke on his own shoes.

Seriously, I was sick from the ride over.
I was getting re-queasy watching him spin.
His skirt lit up about halfway through the performance.
I think it was a skirt?
Is that offensive?
His costume?

It was pretty mesmerizing.
Meanwhile, they were cooking our dinner over open grills. It smelled delicious.

The next performance was a belly dancer.
My boys were front and center.
Ogling.
Sam too.

She had moves like Shakira.
Dang it.
Why can't I do that?
Oh riiiight. Cause I have a spare tire for a waist.

Then the food was done.

(Speaking of burgeoning waistlines...)
We had traditional shishkabobs of minted lamb.
Spicy fish, chicken, and mystery meat.
All really good meat.
Arabic potato salad. (Weird.)
Various other salads. (Like a church potluck!)
Some fry bread. (Way good, dipped in fresh hummus.)

And to end the night?
Rice pudding swimming with what appeared to be golden raisins.
Re-re-queasy.
Raisins are the fruit of the devil.
I opted out.
They did have some dried dates.
That'll do for me.
Then, the ghostly apparitions in the next photo are my boys, getting ready to take four wheelers out in the desert.

They loved that!

Sam thought he was a falcon whisperer.

No really. He sat and chortled with that bird for a long time.
I am not sure what they were discussing, but it looked pretty intense.
He always thinks he can communicate with birds.
I have only one "bird" I can communicate with.
I usually save it for my Utah road construction rage days.
We played dress-up with some authentic Bedouin garb. (wink, wink)
Here are my cute in-laws:

And some sexy American Arabs:

And that was our Arabian Adventure!