Due Gambe in Italia...

According to trusty (and not always correct) Google Translate, that means "Two Legs in Italy..."

Last Wednesday I was riding the stationary bike, trying to remember why exactly I want a job, remembering that it has something to do with an ailing bank account, wondering where I'd spent all my money, remembering that it had all gone to physical therapy, flights to the US, doctor's appointments....

I thought about how dependent I've become, how I can't do anything for myself, how I always need people to help me do things, take me shopping, reach high objects, pick up things I'd dropped, piggy-back me when I'm too tired...

I thought about my upcoming trip to Europe in September with Spaniard, I thought about how long it had been since I'd been anywhere by myself, for myself...how long it had been since I'd spent my money on something fun, something exciting, something other than these two freaking skinny-ass legs...!!!

Lightbulb!

Within 24 hours I had changed my flight to Frankfurt on September 3rd to a much earlier flight to Italy.  I'm off in just a few hours...I'm flying into Rome, staying in an apartment right next to Trevi Fountain in the city center for a few nights before heading to Tuscany, Florence, and Venice.  I'll have about twelve days to explore the country before I fly out of Milan on September 5th.  Punchline: By myself. Completely Solo. Me, my crutches, and a 20 Liter backpack...Now that's what you call a recipe for disaster!!

I'm completely excited and nervous and I have no idea what to expect.  I know it will probably be more miserable than fun, but I'm prepared for whatever challenges come my way, be it Roman ruins or Vatican staircases or Tuscan hills or Venetian bridges!  And this time I won't have anyone to carry me (or my bag!) when I get too tired!

 

I'll meet Spaniard in Brussels on the 5th and together we'll continue our pre-planned trip through Belgium, Germany, and Switzerland.  If you don't hear from me before then, then it means I've probably fallen into a gutter somewhere...

Hello Ramadan

Last Wednesday was the official moon sighting/start of the Holy Month of Ramadan.  If you're not well-versed on all things Islam, it's basically a month where the Muslims fast from food, drink, sex, smoke, and impure thoughts from sunrise to sunset.  Of course, there is a lot more to it than that, but I suppose that's the part that affects us non-Muslims the most.

Anyway, Dubai strictly enforces the fast, and most restaurants are closed until sunset.  If you want to eat, smoke, or even take a sip of water, you have to hide it well, or risk getting a ticket...even if you're not fasting!  Throughout the entire month, the city is eerily quiet during the day, roads are empty, and most businesses have shortened working hours.  However, when the sun dips below the horizon and the calls to prayer erupt from the minarets, the city comes alive.  The streets become snarled with traffic as drivers race to restaurants for the Iftar meal and shopping malls are bustling with shoppers taking advantage of extended opening hours.

Anyway, as you can imagine, Ramadan is basically a month where things slow down to the point of shut down, particularly true this year as it falls in the summer.  This also means that there are zero jobs on the market.  Not a good thing for me. 

Just yesterday I was contacted by the company with which I had interviewed in Abu Dhabi; unfortunately, they had to put the job on hold.  As soon as they told me, I felt a wave of relief...who was I kidding?  I did not want to move to boring old Abu Dhabi, no matter how much I tried to pep-talk myself into it!

So now it's back to square one...I've pretty much given up on the job search until after Ramadan.  Actually, I'm off to Europe for a few weeks the first week of September, so I might as well put it off until I'm back on the 25th!  No need to rush these things...

Omani Run

To celebrate my one-month anniversary back in Dubai, Spaniard and I decided to spend the weekend in Muscat, Oman (read:  My 30-day UAE visitor's visa was about to expire and I needed to make a run to the border). 

This was supposed to be a cheap trip.  After all, I am chronically unemployed.  Muscat is about a four to six-hour drive through the desert and mountains from Dubai (depeding on the busy-ness factor at the border).  Once you arrive, there are plenty of cheap, roachish motels in a corniche and souk area called Muttrah (one of my favorite places), not to mention tons of laid back and inexpensive restaurants. 

However, somehow things went a bit off course from the original plan.  First off, I found a special online deal at the über chi-chi Chedi Muscat:  Stay two nights, get the third night free.  Who in their right mind could ever pass up such a steal?  I then looked into flights and discovered that it's pretty cheap to fly...why drive when you can fly?  Hmmm...

So Thursday afternoon we were on a plane to Muscat!  We arrived at the swankypants Chedi  and were immediately whisked to our posh seaview room.  After that the weekend was a bit of a blur of delicious food, infinity pools, sunshine, prosecco, and even a facial.  We didn't even leave the hotel!  So much for my big plans of trying to be like locals for a weekend.

When we got in the taxi to leave the hotel on Sunday, I asked Spaniard if I could see the bill.  As I opened it, I gasped and tears began to well up in my eyes...No!  This can't be!  I can't afford this!  I felt my heartbeat quicken and Where was the fresh air?!  But then I figured that overall it wasn't so bad, considering it was three nights and all meals, not to mention that facial.  I began to calm down, and said, "Whew!  I was really worried for a second!"  But then Spaniard reminded me that we had already paid for the room online...this bill was only for the extras...