Goodbye Dubai

Before Christmas, I had my final poker night at Orlando and Tanya’s. This group spawned from our bible study (go figure), and I will miss the deep friendship and hysterical antics of this group. Sitcom-worthy. To get me to stay, Deb had even offered room and board and meals by her housekeeper. It’s not every day you find friends offering to support you, just for your good company.

From Last Three Weeks in Dubai

Carlo teaching Zach how to lose at poker

From Last Three Weeks in Dubai

Our poker crew

Move out day was bizarre. It started off with the movers blocked by security due to a misplaced form. It was resolved too late, and I went down to find seven of the movers and security in a shoving match, shouting in Farsi, showing the bottom of their feet (a significant insult). The head mover, once very professional, ran to me saying “he called him a bad word!” Where were we, high school? And do I look like someone who could break up a street brawl between ten middle eastern men yelling in Farsi? No. Eventually the company got banned from the premises, but luckily that was after they got my stuff out. Whew! (Too bad I don't have photos for the blog)

There were a few more gatherings and drop-by’s, mostly small. During the last few occasions, I felt the clock racing down, and I stood helpless. If only I could channel myself from the future (a common feeling I have); once I've had time to stew and be distant, surely there will be things I wished I'd said or done. Used the time better. But all you know to do is just go along as you always have.

From Last Three Weeks in Dubai

Last night with Hanno, Michelle, Chris, and Carla

From Last Three Weeks in Dubai

Last night with the Summers

Through the power of SMS, Tanya selflessly organized our church small group and many other UCCDers for dinner at Old Town Burj Dubai, and a few close friends saw me and Gemma off with drinks at the Emirates Towers sky bar enroute to the airport. I left Dubai just as I came into it: well taken care of and never alone.

From Last Three Weeks in Dubai

Finally, Gemma rushed me through the airport, closed out my visa, and sent me on my way in a painless flash. With a snap, my most favorite roommate, my caretaker from day one, my lazy day companion, and my beach/pool/gym buddy returned indefinitely to how I first knew her- a screenname in a different time zone.

An incredible chapter of my life ended, and now in Australia, I am still trying to recover. Nothing else will compare with the past three years, and that is heartbreaking to think on today. 4 months later, people ask me what Dubai was like, and I already find myself giving the bullet-point pros and cons. But in the retellings, I struggle to convey the excitement and hesitation I felt on arrival, the path of growing comfortable in a backwards Muslim country, the flash and absurdity, the joy of having a new and unique identity while never feeling isolated, the radical bonding and generosity among displaced internationals, and the mystery of where it all would lead. But these beautiful things become the norm, along with the horrific and ugly.

I think of the nights after Clemson Homecoming football games. Downtown is flooded with middle-aged men given one night of the year to relive the comradery, their youth, the dream of life-after-exams. But these roles have been passed on to those who can't conceive of appreciating it. Most people leave Dubai bitter or relieved or angry- My hope is just to move on.

The chance for me to leave the US with such great provision was an exceptional blessing and lesson. I feel confident I could have spent my time there better- hopefully the lesson will transfer to me in Australia.