Gulf News - Part 3: Culture Shock and Coffee

Culture Shock.

It's an occupational hazard when you travel a lot, either for a living like me or just for vacation.  It does get less noticeable with experience and Airmiles, but it's never far away.

My first experience of it came with my first overseas trip, when I was 20.  My dad had died the year before and my uncle (my mum's brother) invited us over to his home in Ottawa, Canada for a holiday to help us get over the bereavement.  After a  lot of thought - my mum and sister weren't keen on the eight hour flight as none of us had been on an aeroplane before - we accepted the invitation.  It took the best part of year to get the money together and book the flights.  I've written about the trip on here before (see In the Beginning....) but the biggest surprise was the food.  We ate well when I was a kid in England in the 50s through 70s - my mum was a great cook, schooled during the war years and could conjure a good meal out of very little (I particularly remember her egg and potato pie, a concoction of mashed potatoes and sliced hard boiled eggs covered in a creamy white sauce - it doesn't sound much but was delicious - and her home made cakes).  The vegetables were always fresh and came from my dad's garden or allotment, as were the strawberries, raspberries, gooseberries and rhubarb that went into the puddings. 

But the culture shock came as soon as we arrived in Ottawa - before we had unpacked my Aunt Maria (a lovely Austrian lady) dished up what Uncle Tom told us was a typical Canadian dinner: t-bone steak, mashed potatoes, vegetables.  The steak was about the size of my laptop and an inch thick, cooked to perfection.  It was superb.  It set the scene for the whole three weeks we were there as we were introduced to bog-standard Canadian eateries that were at that time (1973) unheard of in rural England where we lived.  Steak houses were two a penny, the A&W Drive-In hamburger joints (where your meal was delivered on a tray that clipped onto your wound-down window) a totally new experience to us.  Sadly A&W no longer exists, it was driven out of business a few years ago by the inexorable world domination of McDonalds.....a shame, because their burgers are probably the best I've ever eaten (and I've eaten a few now!).    Anyway, over the three weeks I probably put on over a stone in weight, and I've never lost it in the intervening 40 odd years.

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Let's put a definition on "Culture Shock" at this point.

For me, it's encountering something, anything, that is not usual where you live - not necessarily something you have never seen or experienced before (although that is usually the case).  Canadian food was one such culture shock for me.  Horse meat steaks with salad or minced in a cornish pasty concoction in Almaty was another.  Dallas, appallingly dubbed, on my first night in Poland was another, as was the totally different driving style and road-rules (or apparent lack of them) when I started driving there a year later.  This is something I've encountered everywhere, with Kazakhstan and Lebanon being by far and away the worst of the lot.   Saudi was very strange, and I never felt in the least bit comfortable during the few days I was there - the absence of visible women and the "Men Only" swimming pool at the hotel had a lot to do with that, as did the cobra that slithered across in front of the car on the way to work one morning as we sat at traffic lights.

So I expected more culture shock when I flew down here for a month - my first extended exposure to a Muslim country, albeit one that is very Westernised and has many ex-pats here, courtesy of the oil and banking industries.

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I haven't been disappointed.  Some of it I've already mentioned in Part 1 and 2 of Gulf News - notably the bizarre (at least to my Western sensibilities) toilet arrangements.

I've been here a week now, and it's been straightforward enough.  As befits a pretty liberal Arab/Muslim society, women are far more visible and acceptable, if I can use the term, than they seemed to be in Saudi.  There are many women in the office, for a start - something I did not see at all in Saudi.   Although the majority dress according to Islamic code - meaning the floor-length black robes and veils, some covering just the hair, others the entire head, still others the face too - others dress in a more Western fashion - jeans and tee-shirts, trousers, ordinary dresses.   Women clearly contribute more to society here than in many Muslim countries, and this can only be good.

That said, there is still a clear hierarchy here, but it seems to be dictated more by nationality than sex.   All the senior people I have seen at the bank have been true Arabs, complete with white robes and headdresses....and splendid they look too.  Below them, the middle management if you will, are more Arabs, but dressed in Western style - suits, ties and shoes - and a good smattering of ex-pats.  English is very common indeed: in most places I go to the backgound noise in the office is invariably the local language with a smattering of English but here, at least in this client office, there seems to be more English spoken than Arabic.  I've heard German in the lift too.

Outside the bank, all the taxi drivers so far seem to have originated in the Indian sub-Continent - Indian, Pakistani, Sri Lankan, Bangladeshi - and there is also a high number of, shall we say, Indians working at the hotel and also on the building sites that still proliferate in the city.  All the domestics at the hotel, cleaning rooms, maintenance and so on, are Indian.  Move into the many restaurants in the hotel and the staff are all Phillipino or Malay.  Interestingly, so far I have seen no more than 2 or 3 Negroes - gardeners at the hotel, raking the sand on the beach, sweeping the paths and so on - whether they are West Indian or African I have no idea, but I assume African.

So Abu Dhabi is clearly far being an equal opportunity state.

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But despite its relatively cosmopolitan make-up, there has still been a culture shock.

I mentioned it previously in Part 2 - this arse-about-face working week.   I am struggling with it, frankly.

Look at Europe or any other Western society.  Unless you're a clergyman or a doctor or something of that nature, the working week is Monday to Friday.  Saturday is also a working day, inasmuch as most people do their gardening or laundry or housework or whatever, as well as playing - football matches, partying or whatever.  Sunday is the day of rest (unless your team is playing this day instead of Saturday).  Church of whatever denomination.  Roast dinner.  Relaxing with the family and playing with the kids.  For me it's the natural order of things.  It makes perfect sense.  In most countries, there are shops and malls open throughout the weekend (unless you happen to be in Geneva where everything shuts down on a Sunday and there is bugger all to do if you're stuck there in a lower quality hotel or something).

Here and throughout the Muslim world it is different.  The working week is Sunday through Thursday.  Friday is the first day of the weekend, and the main day of prayer - yesterday (being Friday) everything outside the hotel was closed until about 3 in the afternoon.  There was little traffic and it was very quiet and peaceful.  Saturday is busier, not dissimilar to Saturdays elsewhere - the malls and shops are open from about 10 in the morning to 10 at night. 

It's normal here, and follows the Muslim culture......but to me, still it's strange.  I'm going to be here for another three weeks, and back in August (the month of Ramadan this year, which will be even stranger) so I'm guessing I will get used it, and the culture shock will go.

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I took a stroll around the Abu Dhabi Mall today, as it was open.  The idea was to buy some 'fridge magnets, which my wife, mother- and sister-in-law assiduously collect.  And maybe a book or two to keep me going the rest of the trip.   The Mall is a five minute stroll away from the hotel - and in 40+ degrees a stroll was all I was likely to do.  And here at least was familiar ground.

It's no different to any mall I've ever been to - Bluewater in the UK, the one close to my hotel in Beirut (the name escapes me), any of half a dozen in Warsaw.  All the normal stores were there - Zara, Tommy Hilfiger, Virgin Megastore, Mothercare, the Early Learning Centre, Samsonite and so on - and the food court on the top floor (why is the food court always located on the top floor?) had McDonalds, KFC, Pizza Hut, Subway, a Greek place and a Chinese place.  There were local stores and restaurants specialising in local goods, fashion and food, and on the ground floor a Tesco style hypermarket for all your household needs.  And a multi-screen cinema complex showing the latest releases (Green Arrow, Super 8 and so on) - in English.  I felt quite at home.  About the only thing setting it apart from Galeria Mokotow, where I live, was the majority of the people walking around, talking on their mobile phones or struggling to keep the kids under control, were dressed in full Arab robes.  I smiled at two kids, about 11 or 12 I guess, who were strolling around in their white robes, but instead of the headdress they were wearing baseball caps, one a Man Utd, the other Ferrarri.

I strolled around for an hour or so, and bought a couple of books, but there was not a 'fridge magnet to be seen.  But it's ok, I have another three weekends to find them.

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I felt even more at home when I spotted a Starbuck's.   Say what you like about them, but I like their coffee and I like their cakes, and I like their ambience.  There are loads of Starbuck's clones out there - Coffee Heaven, for instance, and Cafe Nero amongst others -  and I've tried them all at one time or another.  But I still love a Starbuck's grande latte and a slice of lemon cake, while I chill out in one of their deep and comfortable armchairs, listening to my music and reading my book.

Now I've found it,  I'm guessing it will be a regular Saturday destination.  The coffee is certainly better there than the stuff served at the hotel at any rate -  in my room I have individual sachets of Nescafe (regular and decaff) that keep me going, but the stuff on offer at breakfast is foul - probably Arab but way too strong for my taste.

Give me Starby's anyday.