Journey to the . . . Sand Dunes

It all began on Monday, Dec. 3 with a 14-hour or so flight to Dubai International Airport. Actually, it began a couple months earlier when a certain birdy invited me to go in the first place, and my parents magnanimously agreed. Anyway, after the arduous trek over the Atlantic Ocean and the European continent, with a lovely little 8-hour layover in Amsterdam, I finally made it to the safety of the Johnson's SUV by midnight of the 4th.

The excitement began on Wednesday morning with a sheep cheese-filled croissant, a game of Swap!, and a hike to the mountains. Yes, it tastes good; no, it's not an Arabic game; and yes, there are mountains in the desert.

We donned some shaylas and turbans before heading off to the mountains. Jeremiah just wanted to be....different.


Aren't we amazing?!

Throughout the rest of the week, I took pictures (though not nearly as many as I would have liked), went shopping, ate loads of authentic food, and got a henna job done. I knew the week was going to run right by, so I did what I could to get the full cultural experience.

I must say, I was very grateful Jon decided (or was impelled?) to accompany us girls on our shopping excursions. Without his skills, I would have been a sorry mess trying to bargain with the locals. At times, I almost felt bad for the shopkeepers, but oh well, it was SO worth it.

Too bad he didn't get his family's eyes. At least the shopkeepers seem to like him.


The inside of one of my favorite shops, where Jon haggled the price until the clerk's face was drenched in sweat.

The only Arab woman I was allowed to take a picture of. Yes, it's what it looks like: an Arab Barbie. They call her Fulla.

We spent a morning at the Mall of the Emirates in Dubai as well. Not to be impressed by the plethora of stores available in the U.S., we quickly resigned ourselves to the oversized stuffed animals and 'DA INDOOR SKI PARK!



Mrs. J. shows us how the cavemen used to do it.


I think that weird white mark is where Robyn threw a snowball at the window...maybe.



I wasn't sure what to expect of the food at first, but I knew that I was going to try EVERYTHING. To my relief, even camel milk wasn't so bad. Other delicious foods I tried included schawarma (think Arabic burrito), maneesh (looks like a personal pizza pie, but tastes nothing like it), baclava (ooh, so yummy!), pigeon, hummus of all varieties, laban (yogurt), Arabic coffee and tea,...

A "sweets shop" that makes the best baclava we've had yet!


An Arabic coffee set in the center of a round-about.

...and, of course, Starbucks.


So did the henna hurt? (Everybody seems to ask me that.) Nope, not at all. As you can see, it's just a paste that these super-skilled artisans squeeze onto your skin. Once it dries, it peels off, leaving a orange color that darkens by the next day. Pretty fascinating, huh? Just about every grandma, lady, and little girl there has henna, and theirs are way more hardcore than what I got.


In the henna shop


The final result

It happened that the weekend I was there, the Emiratis were also celebrating National Day (which day exactly? Inshallah, or "As Allah wills.") Check out this car:


There's so much more I could tell you about, but time and space constrain me. If you want some stories, ask about the "Only Arabi" taxi experience, the Indian shoe store guy, or the creepy polar bear.

All in all, it was an INCREDIBLE cultural experience, not just of Arabic culture, but of the Johnson-family culture, too. For a only child and city-slicker like me, it was an entirely new experience, and I can't say it enough: I LOVE your family, Robyn! Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. J, for hosting me so generously. Thanks, Ben, for the coffee. Jon and Kim, it was so much fun talking and going places with you. Jeremiah, Jake, Laurel, Lilly, and Stevie:

And of course, Robyn. Thanks for EVERYTHING--that includes the invitation, being a good host, the late night talks into undisclosed hours of the morning, beating me every time at Rummy-O and Upwords, sharing your family, and most of all your friendship. I love you, Rob, more than pointy shoes and NYLON!


So I'm home now, forever changed. (No, it has nothing to do with the head trauma I suffered at the ski park.) While my routine life of studying goes on and on, my thoughts often wander back across 14 hours in the air. Funny how after just one short week, I feel no regrets about leaving a part of my heart in the sand dunes of Arabia.


...Thus ends the account of your dearly beloved Norwexican. If you made it to the end of this post, I commend you. You are now ready to move on to the next level of Hooked on Phonics.