Let's Get Physical!

I am happy to say that I have finally started Physical Therapy.  Just over a month after el accidente, I went to San Diego, California for two months of intensive therapy at Project Walk.  I also traveled to Barcelona on two separate occasions within the past year for a bit more therapy.  As for all that time in between...well...I have pretty much done my own thing (if anything at all), and I'll admit that it has not been very consistent.

So now that I am back in Dubai and turning over a new leaf, I decided to jump right into my fitness aspirations again.  After some research, I finally settled on a certified Physical Therapist/Pilates Instructor who has experience working with cripples like myself and who is suprisingly familiar with the Project Walk method.  The week after I arrived, I had my first appointment.

The sessions are held one-on-one in a private room full of trapeze machines and mechanical chairs and springs and other Pilates gimmicks.  I don't do any major meathead moves or anything, but all the exercises hit right in those small muscle groups and I'm always tired at the end of each one-hour session; however, I'm not exhausted, but at the "Oh Dear Jesus!" price of $110 per hour, I can't exactly afford any extra time.  

At any rate, I'm going to physical therapy twice a week, riding a stationary bike for one hour every day, quickly depleting my bank account, and getting stronger by the day.  I've even started working on taking a few steps without using crutches (one crutch is pretty easy).  These tricks are definitely not ready for the public yet...I do still have my pride, after all.

Headband--Check.  Knee Socks--Check.  Off to physical therapy!

The Great Job Hunt

My number one priority now that I'm back in Dubai is to find a job.  Once I have a job, I will have free healthcare.  I will also have a paycheck.  I haven't had a paycheck in ten months, and my bank accounts are certainly looking worse for wear.  When I have a paycheck, I can finally kiss cohabitation goodbye (that's another blog altogether!) and move into my very own flat with all my own furniture and personal items and use the bathroom with the door open and eat cereal for dinner again.  But, like I said, I'll save all that for another blog. 

My point is this:  Job=Independence.  Now many of you out there might shake your heads in disagreement, convinced that slaving away 9 to 5 (8-8 in these parts) for, proverbially speaking, "The Man" is the antithesis of independent living.  I would have wholeheartedly agreed with you two years ago.  However, given my current circumstances, I just want to feel normal again, and by normal I mean no longer living out of a suitcase, no longer depending on others for everything, no longer being a leech.

Therefore, Operation Job Search has now commenced and I'm taking no prisoners.  Within days of arriving in Dubai, I began setting up meetings with recruiters, scouring job boards, sending my resume this way and that, even updating my Linked In profile (although I'm still not convinced people actually look at that).

So far, the search has been quite interesting, to say the least.  For example, a colleague had passed my resume on to a guy who was hiring.  This guy immediately began to constantly hound me for numerous examples of my previous work...I spent hours sending him this information while he ignored my requests to see the job description.  The final straw came when, after a week of back and forth correspondence, he asked for my picture.  I politely told him to *&%@ off. 

I have also started to get a bit disgruntled with recruiters in particular.  There have been countless incidents in which a recruiter has contacted me, told me about an available position with such-and-such company, asked for my updated resume, gotten me excited about it...and then disappeared off the face of the planet.  And when I do call them back to find out what's going on, they always act flustered and nervous and give me some lame run-around excuses, like "Oh, I was just about to call you!," and "Unfortunately, that position was put on hold," or "Yes, well, they were already in the final stages of interviewing when they received your resume..."  Cut the crap!  

Not all is doom and gloom, however, as yesterday I had my first official interview.  It was for the position of Training Manager at a US-based company in Abu Dhabi.  I met with the HR Director and the Head of Recruitment, and they loved me (naturally!).  The job sounds interesting, the company seems stable, and the pay is great...but it is in Abu Dhabi.  Abu Dhabi is an exhausting 70-minute drive from Dubai on a road where driving 80mph would put you in the slow lane.  I would never do that drive twice a day, so I would move to Abu Dhabi.  Since most of the good jobs seem to be in Abu Dhabi, I'm trying to make peace with the probability of having to move there.  Pros:  Fresh start, good salary, change of scenery, more cultural events (art, music, performances).  Cons:  Boring city, high rent, far from friends, chiropractor, social life (not that I really have one), and comfort zone. 

So let's see what happens.  I am trying to be open to everything but at the same time I don't want to get desperate and just jump for the first opportunity that comes my way.  Ramadan is coming up in just a few weeks and everything completely dies for a month, so I am hoping I can get something before then!

Oh, the joys of job hunting.  In the wise words of Dolly, "It's enough to drive you crazy if you let it!"

Back in the Sandpit

After seven official months away, I am finally back in Dubai--for good (hopefully).  Of course, I've been reminded numerous times that I could not have chosen an absolute worse time to return:  July is the smack dab middle of the stifling Middle Eastern summer and just a month shy of Ramadan.  Despite this, I am ecstatic to be back and to finally experience a bit of normalcy again after so many months of vagabonding.

As soon as I arrived at the airport and was met by the Spaniard, we immediately whisked to Ravi's, a former hole-in-the-wall cheap Pakistani secret in the heart of what I call "Real Dubai" that has gained a massive cult following among expats.  I had been craving the greasy, ghee-laden Palak Paneer, Dhal Fry, and hot Roti for months, and once again Ravi's did not disappoint.

Much of the weekend was spent relaxing by the pool, catching up with friends, and of course battling my jet lag.  However, the highlight was yesterday's World Cup Final.  I donned my thick polyester Spanish jersey, emblazoned with a mustard-yellow 9 and Torres (my new football/soccer crush...Cristiano Ronaldo just doesn't do it for me anymore), and watched the match at an empty flat in the building.  Thankfully, the Spaniard was able to continue riding his high with the slightly boring but nevertheless happpy-ending match. 

On another note, I am back on my feet...since getting my cast removed last week, I am now sporting two bulky black walking boots and therefore out of the wheelchair and moving about on crutches.  You wouldn't believe how wonderful it feels to walk again after five months sitting on my bony bum...I am pleasantly surprised that while my legs are still quite scrawny and pathetic, I haven't lost as much strength as expected, and my walking gait is 100 times better than what it was before my surgery.

Anyway, at this point I have pretty much beaten the jet lag bug and am now focused on the biggest challenge of all:  getting a job.  Here we go!

Up, Up, and Away

I can't believe it's been two weeks since my last blog-fession.  I have no idea what I have been doing with my time.

Let's see...I rode down with my parents to my sister's place in Miami on Monday the 28th.  The following day, I went to see Dr. Muy Caliente for another follow-up appointment.  First, they cracked off my ugly, dingy, brownish (formerly off-white) cast to reveal an extremely skinny gorilla-esque right leg.  Who knew I could put Robin Williams to shame?  Despite attempts at light-hearted banter and eyelash batting, I couldn't distract the doctor's eyes from my leg.

The doctor moved on to my toes, and with a bit off coaxing, he yanked out the metal pins; needless to say, it didn't hurt a bit.  The doctor then proceeded to explain a few things about my recovery and walking boots and splints and physical therapy and probably some other monotonous information that I wasn't listening to, as the only question on my mind was:  "How long do I have to stay here in the US???"  I got the answer I was hoping for:  "You can go now!"  Jackpot. 

So the next day I went to get fitted for new ankle splints (also known as AFOs...ugly, enormous, and unattractive devices that I'll have to wear at all times to keep my newly floppy feet from...well...from flopping).  After the fitting I was immediately at the Delta Airlines ticket counter, booking my seat on the following Wednesday's flight back to Dubai.

This past weekend was 4th of July, and it was my first in the US since 2004.  Of course, in Miami the heat and torrential summer downpours prevented any type of beach or bbq action, but we did manage to get a few hours of calm to watch some fireworks.

So now it's Tuesday, and we're heading back up north to my parents' place in Valdosta.  We first must stop by the Orthotics place so that I can pick up my new AFOs.  There's also a massive Zappos box full of shoes waiting for me at my parents' house, so tonight upon arrival I will be busy trying on shoes and packing up my bags, because after a morning haircut and a few errands, I'll be off on the 6:00 pm flight tomorrow for Dubai.