From 4:30-5:30 today we attended the formal maglis of the Minister for Higher Education, cousin to the President of the UAE. It was a highly traditional “See-and-Be-Seen” event. The formality of the audience was astounding and made us feel a bit like peasants pulled in from the field to see how the other half lived. We also felt a bit superior in manners even as we utterly inferior in rank. In addition to the Fulbright Hays delegation (us), it seemed that there was a higher ranking Australian delegation there as well. They were comprised of the Australian minister for education (I guess), the Australian ambassador to the UAE, and various assorted Australian delegates. Aside from the Americans and the Australians, there were assorted Emiratis who seemed to come and go, some wearing the traditional white robe, and others in western business suits.
The room was a huge rectangular room spectacularly furnished. The windows were elegantly appointed in heavy green striped curtains caught back with gold ropes. There were curvy orange and yellow modernistic chandeliers that look like they were in the style of that Italian guy who makes the blown glass hanging art. You know, like the one covered in dust at the Cincinnati Art Museum. The floor was the biggest “Persian” carpet I have ever seen in my life. I didn’t know they came 100 feet by 50 feet. The front of the room had the traditional portraits of the royal family, and the paintings seem to have been done about 10 years ago. The present Sheikh was the one in the middle, and he was painted in his sunglasses. In from of these paintings were five chairs in which dignitaries sat. The Australian minister of education sat in one, and the direction of AMIDEAST, our lady, sat in another. Two more Emiratis sat in the other two on the left side of the Minister.
We, as visitors, sat on the long couch like benches that lined both sides of the room. These “benches” were upholstered in a tasteful taupe striped fabric that had gold thread woven into the stripes. These benches were quite wide, so I could not lean back to touch the back of the couch without looking like I was trying to take a nap. I perched on the edge as the only option.
The entrance set the stage. Ordinarily, women do not attend these events, and as we entered the Minister’s building, there were quite the phalanx of Emirati men who looked slightly weirded out to see this parade of women. Luckily, as we ran this faintly surprised gauntlet, were very modestly dressed: no knees, no elbows, no collar bones showing. We entered this huge, formal, gold embossed room and sat down in a little row on the couch-benches. Each time a high ranking person entered the room, we all stood. The high ranking official would walk around the room, shaking hands with every single person there. All the older men deigned to shake our girl-hands, but some of the younger guys politely declined to touch girl-hands. After one’s hand was shaken (or not), one would sit down until the next dignitary came in. The dignitaries would greet other dignitaries by touching noses. I’m not making this up. Sometimes they did the French style cheek-kissing, but mostly it was nose touching with a handshake.
While all this greeting was going on there were two young men who poured coffee for the guests. There must have been at least 50 people sitting on the couch-benches. The coffee guy would pour about 1/8” of coffee into a little cup and hand it to a guest. It was very hot and very cardamomy. After one finished one’s coffee sip, one handed the cup back to the coffee guy, and he would then fill it for the next person. This group of 50 people shared about 10 cups. It was okay to just raise one’s hand to indicate “Thank you, enough. I do not want more coffee.”
And thus we passed the hour. We chatted amongst ourselves, the Emiratis chatted among themselves. New Important People would arrive and greet. More coffee would go around. Sometimes the Minister addressed somebody, but mostly he talked to the Australian minster, who scandalized us, who had taken the dress code very seriously, by wearing a skirt well above the knee, a shirt well below the collar bones, and crossing her feet such that she showed the soles of her shoes to the entire gathering. It was hard to tell if the Emiratis were as scandalized as we were, but we noted that the head of AMIDEAST absolutely observed all the protocols that this person did not observe, and the Sheikh publically lauded her for being a most excellent colleague.
After an hour of “Seeing and Being Seen”, the minister agreed to take a photo with us. We went out on the steps of his building and had a formal photo. Maybe we might get a copy! Then we were dismissed.
Wow. We were not clear on what happened, who was there, or what may or may not have been accomplished, but it was all done with great pomp and circumstance. Ah, and there was no music: just the gentle buzz or conversation between Important People entering and leaving. So, that was our audience with the Sheikh Nayhan Mubarak al Nayhan, cousin to the President of the UAE, Minister of Higher Education, and, actually, really nice person with the bushiest moustache I have ever seen.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
The Dubai Museum
What a wonderful ethnographic study of the imagined, romanticized past! It was very insightful for me to see this construction of what Dubai would like to present as its cultural and historical heritage. The first room you enter focuses on the rapid change, or rather "progress" that the city has made. It started with traditional music and pictures of Dubai in the 1930s when Dubai was just a sand bar and a few adobe buildings. Then the music got a little 1950's rock n roll, and we saw the first high rises go up along the dirt roads. Then the music went all disco and we saw the high-rises increase, until the techno music started up and we see the Buhr Khaleefa, tallest building the world, the Atlantis, swankiest hotel in the world, Dubai Mall, biggest mall in the world (does Edmonton know this?), and the oil wells, richest in the world. Finally, the music became techno trance music and picture of "Vision for 2015" flashed by in bright computer graphics showing the modern marvels of a Dubai even swankier and flashier than it is now, if that can even be imagined.
After the CGI of the Dubai of the Future, one walks immediately into comparative darkness to wend through a narrow, dim alley filled with little dioramas of metal workers, break makers, net menders, boat builders, and date sellers. In a previous post, I mentioned the model of the Emirati man sitting on the bench that many visitors enjoyed sitting with, and that was quickly followed upon by the adorable camel with his mujahadeen halter-holder. If you turned left at the camel and resisted his cameley charms, you got to see a diorama of the interior of a house like place with models of women still veiled, but doing homely chores like child care, but oddly enough, no cooking.
From the domestic dioramas one moves on through romantic semi darkness to a tent with a sheikh in formal regalia and his noble falcon. A helpful docent explained how his knife was a sign of honor. From there, one goes into a large room that simulated men diving for pearls. It had a glass ceiling with a boat bottom on it and pair of legs signifying a pearl diver coming to the surface at the boat. In another corner was an upside down man who was reaching into the sand. There were cases of tiny little pearls, and there were many photos celebrating the early 20th century pearl trade. It is emphasized everywhere I have read about this that the pearl trade took a nosedive when the Japanese figured out how to culture pearls. According to the romantic literature, this devastated this "small but proud" community, and they suffered terribly until they found oil and never looked back at pearling.
Actually, none of the pearling areas have oysters anymore. We saw an historical map in a cultural center that had all the pearling areas that were still extant in the 1930s. I asked the tour guide, "Are these areas still active?" He replied, "Yes, these are the pearling areas. This map is from the 1930s. It was reprinted in 1971." I have a lot of conversations like this. Just as a tangent, I also asked in another museum exhibit about textile arts, "In dowry negotiations, who decides how valuable the textiles are?" The docent replied, "Yes, the bride works on these hangings, and they are displayed to show her craftsmanship." And I said this morning to the man who was trying to fit too many suitcases into the van, "It's okay. There is another van coming for the luggage. Abu will be here in five minutes." The harried driver responded, "I don't know what we will do: there is not room. There are too many suitcases." I tried again, "Yes, that is true, but another van is coming." He worriedly shook his head, "No, no they will not all fit," and he looked disconsolately at the pile of luggage. We were speaking the same language, or variants thereof, but our conceptual spheres overlapped in no way.
After the pearl diving came the gift shop. Oh, the gift shop that every so telling museum of fictional ethnographic material culture. Gentle reader, what do you think was in the gift shop that the city of Dubai would want its foreign visitors to take away as mementos of their trip to the Middle East? There were camels, and compasses (to find Mekkah), and genie lamps, and coffee pots. There you have the material culture. But what about the people? There were fat, frowning, ceramic, bearded men in dishtasha, and there were fat, glowering, ceramic, veiled (could have been bearded, who would know?) women in abaya. They may have been salt and pepper shakers, but I was so bent on the surreptitious ethnographic photos that I did not look too closely. But what made me take a full step back were the pens: in the shape of women in hijab and men in gitra where to get the pen to extend, you push on their heads! Good grief, Charlie Brown.
After the CGI of the Dubai of the Future, one walks immediately into comparative darkness to wend through a narrow, dim alley filled with little dioramas of metal workers, break makers, net menders, boat builders, and date sellers. In a previous post, I mentioned the model of the Emirati man sitting on the bench that many visitors enjoyed sitting with, and that was quickly followed upon by the adorable camel with his mujahadeen halter-holder. If you turned left at the camel and resisted his cameley charms, you got to see a diorama of the interior of a house like place with models of women still veiled, but doing homely chores like child care, but oddly enough, no cooking.
From the domestic dioramas one moves on through romantic semi darkness to a tent with a sheikh in formal regalia and his noble falcon. A helpful docent explained how his knife was a sign of honor. From there, one goes into a large room that simulated men diving for pearls. It had a glass ceiling with a boat bottom on it and pair of legs signifying a pearl diver coming to the surface at the boat. In another corner was an upside down man who was reaching into the sand. There were cases of tiny little pearls, and there were many photos celebrating the early 20th century pearl trade. It is emphasized everywhere I have read about this that the pearl trade took a nosedive when the Japanese figured out how to culture pearls. According to the romantic literature, this devastated this "small but proud" community, and they suffered terribly until they found oil and never looked back at pearling.
Actually, none of the pearling areas have oysters anymore. We saw an historical map in a cultural center that had all the pearling areas that were still extant in the 1930s. I asked the tour guide, "Are these areas still active?" He replied, "Yes, these are the pearling areas. This map is from the 1930s. It was reprinted in 1971." I have a lot of conversations like this. Just as a tangent, I also asked in another museum exhibit about textile arts, "In dowry negotiations, who decides how valuable the textiles are?" The docent replied, "Yes, the bride works on these hangings, and they are displayed to show her craftsmanship." And I said this morning to the man who was trying to fit too many suitcases into the van, "It's okay. There is another van coming for the luggage. Abu will be here in five minutes." The harried driver responded, "I don't know what we will do: there is not room. There are too many suitcases." I tried again, "Yes, that is true, but another van is coming." He worriedly shook his head, "No, no they will not all fit," and he looked disconsolately at the pile of luggage. We were speaking the same language, or variants thereof, but our conceptual spheres overlapped in no way.
After the pearl diving came the gift shop. Oh, the gift shop that every so telling museum of fictional ethnographic material culture. Gentle reader, what do you think was in the gift shop that the city of Dubai would want its foreign visitors to take away as mementos of their trip to the Middle East? There were camels, and compasses (to find Mekkah), and genie lamps, and coffee pots. There you have the material culture. But what about the people? There were fat, frowning, ceramic, bearded men in dishtasha, and there were fat, glowering, ceramic, veiled (could have been bearded, who would know?) women in abaya. They may have been salt and pepper shakers, but I was so bent on the surreptitious ethnographic photos that I did not look too closely. But what made me take a full step back were the pens: in the shape of women in hijab and men in gitra where to get the pen to extend, you push on their heads! Good grief, Charlie Brown.
Dinner on a Dhow
Dubai is like a tardis. It is bigger on the inside than on the outside, and it transports the visitor to radically different places in matter of moments, depending on traffic. There is the high-rise government office area focusing on high tech answers to complex geo-political problems. There is the romantic Bedouin history area where a past of grit, mystery and majesty is imagined in dark cool rooms. There are the construction sites full of temporary workers lined up to get on busses to go home to a single room they share with six to ten other guys all sending money home, if they can. And then there is the creek.
Creek? What is that word doing here? Dubai Creek? Who advertises a creek? What miscreant called a big honkin’ estuary a creek in English? In Arabic it is Khor Dubai. How is a 24 kilometer long, 50-100 meter wide body of water a creek in anybody’s definition of creek? I asked a tour guide from Kerala who spoke German what word he used in German when he told German tourists about the Khor Dubai, and he said “I say creek because there is no word in German for creek.” I was quite unsatisfied with this answer. I am sure Frau Page can think of six options. Gentle Reader, it is not a creek by any stretch of the imagination. It is an estuary, and it is big, and it is full of many kinds of boat traffic. (photo to come when wireless becomes an option).
We have interacted with the Khor Dubai in three ways. First, if you are in a taxi, you have to get around it. So we have driven up and down it. It is cheaper, evidently, to take on of the water taxis across and then re-obtain a taxi, but we only found that out later. Still, it was a nice drive. Secondly, we walked down to it with the mad dogs and Englishmen at about 5:00 (real people come out at about 7:00). It is really pretty, and we walked along the walk that follows it until we couldn’t stand the heat any longer and dove into the shaded streets again.
Our third interaction with the khor was on a dhow. Our program directors had booked a dinner cruise on a dhow. It is the exact, exact I tell you, exact experience of booking a dinner cruise in Cincinnati on the Ohio River. The only difference was ethnicity. We got to the dock at about 8:00 to board the boat. Evidently, this is the thing for South Asian families to do on a weekend night (the weekend here is Friday and Saturday). We were the only a) adults unaccompanied by children and grandparents, and b) people of northern European descent. So, we joined our South Asian friends for a drive up the khor (you can’t get me to call it a creek). The brisk waiters cast off and we began our “cruise”. At once the Indian music was turned on and up. It was so loud! But the music had a purpose: it was to accompany the magician. He was wearing a black suit that was drenched with sweat as he was working hard for a not so appreciative crowd. He also wore a battered top hat that was made of crushed velvet and had a red bow tied to it. He did a long series of magic tricks that involved burning tissues and pouring water from one pot to another, but I paid more attention to the passing sights after he had poured water from one pot to anther several times. His narrative was slow, and I lost interest.
The shore was very interesting. As we went up the khor, the buildings got smaller and more populated. At 10:00 at night, there were lots of children out with their parents all sitting and playing and enjoying the evening. There was a positive fleet of dinner boats out on the khor, all lit like christmas trees and all blaring Indian pop music. However, the barges that carry merchandise had only two lights on them, sometimes, one green, one red. I was entertained and alarmed that these running lights appeared to be intermittent. So here is the mini-fleet of dinner boats hooting and sparking up and down the khor, and then these huge shadowy hulking barges navigating between them as the khor narrows and widens. It was amazing to watch this weighty water waltz. In the brief hour and a half that I observed this negotiation, it seemed to work. Surely, there are accidents….
Creek? What is that word doing here? Dubai Creek? Who advertises a creek? What miscreant called a big honkin’ estuary a creek in English? In Arabic it is Khor Dubai. How is a 24 kilometer long, 50-100 meter wide body of water a creek in anybody’s definition of creek? I asked a tour guide from Kerala who spoke German what word he used in German when he told German tourists about the Khor Dubai, and he said “I say creek because there is no word in German for creek.” I was quite unsatisfied with this answer. I am sure Frau Page can think of six options. Gentle Reader, it is not a creek by any stretch of the imagination. It is an estuary, and it is big, and it is full of many kinds of boat traffic. (photo to come when wireless becomes an option).
We have interacted with the Khor Dubai in three ways. First, if you are in a taxi, you have to get around it. So we have driven up and down it. It is cheaper, evidently, to take on of the water taxis across and then re-obtain a taxi, but we only found that out later. Still, it was a nice drive. Secondly, we walked down to it with the mad dogs and Englishmen at about 5:00 (real people come out at about 7:00). It is really pretty, and we walked along the walk that follows it until we couldn’t stand the heat any longer and dove into the shaded streets again.
Our third interaction with the khor was on a dhow. Our program directors had booked a dinner cruise on a dhow. It is the exact, exact I tell you, exact experience of booking a dinner cruise in Cincinnati on the Ohio River. The only difference was ethnicity. We got to the dock at about 8:00 to board the boat. Evidently, this is the thing for South Asian families to do on a weekend night (the weekend here is Friday and Saturday). We were the only a) adults unaccompanied by children and grandparents, and b) people of northern European descent. So, we joined our South Asian friends for a drive up the khor (you can’t get me to call it a creek). The brisk waiters cast off and we began our “cruise”. At once the Indian music was turned on and up. It was so loud! But the music had a purpose: it was to accompany the magician. He was wearing a black suit that was drenched with sweat as he was working hard for a not so appreciative crowd. He also wore a battered top hat that was made of crushed velvet and had a red bow tied to it. He did a long series of magic tricks that involved burning tissues and pouring water from one pot to another, but I paid more attention to the passing sights after he had poured water from one pot to anther several times. His narrative was slow, and I lost interest.
The shore was very interesting. As we went up the khor, the buildings got smaller and more populated. At 10:00 at night, there were lots of children out with their parents all sitting and playing and enjoying the evening. There was a positive fleet of dinner boats out on the khor, all lit like christmas trees and all blaring Indian pop music. However, the barges that carry merchandise had only two lights on them, sometimes, one green, one red. I was entertained and alarmed that these running lights appeared to be intermittent. So here is the mini-fleet of dinner boats hooting and sparking up and down the khor, and then these huge shadowy hulking barges navigating between them as the khor narrows and widens. It was amazing to watch this weighty water waltz. In the brief hour and a half that I observed this negotiation, it seemed to work. Surely, there are accidents….
Thursday, May 27, 2010
What does it mean to be Emirati?
So, Emiratis make up about 10-15.5% (got that .5%? One person made quite a point of that) of the population of the country. The other 80ish% of the population is referred to as "foreigners" or "ex-pats". English is the lingua franca even though all the signs are in English and Arabic. Often the Arabic is transliterated English, which is great practice to read for me. Thus, there is a feeling among Emiratis, also known as "nationals" that their culture is under threat. The ministry of education is requiring all schools to teach Arabic and Islamic studies, and there is Department of Social Development that is responsible to trying to preserve/define/cultivate (choose your term and your own implications for subtext) the local distinctive culture. The young, articulate Emirati lady, who got her masters degree at Indiana University in Bloomington, said that they were meeting with community leaders to discuss the issues of defining the components of Emirati culture. What were those components? They weren't sure yet, or they weren't saying. Probably not sure yet. The Secretary General, a distinguished gentleman, who did his advanced degree work in Colorado, said that the Emirates have been a cultural crossroads for thousands of years because they have been on international trade routes. They are used to have lots of cultures moving through, so there is a great tolerance for diversity. Only now, with technology and commerce flowing in like a tsunami of change, do they actually need to think about what it means to be Emirati.
Here is my attempt to help them out, with expertise of four days. In the last four days we have talked to government officials, school officials, cultural ambassadors, and the police. Today we were dragged through Dubai on a very touristy tour with Tour Dubai! Our tour guide was a gentleman from Kerala, and we visited the traditional tourist venues as well as a "modern souk" which was a mall in the ritzy area of Jumiera where the sales people tracked and pounced on potential customers like hawks on slow moving not-so-bright bunnies. We had to extract Brian from the rug selling place where he had been captured and made to sit on a throne-like bench while three salesmen snappily unrolled rugs in front of him. I put on my Big Mamma style and extracted him. The main salesman chided me, but I knew the game and apologized at the same rate and at the same time as he berated me. He gave Brian his card in the vain hope that Brian would come to his senses and return to buy many many rugs.
But back to my point about the contrast. The first three days we earnestly discussed the complex social and educational issues of the city with people intimately involved in them. Today we visited gift shops that sold the stereotype. With this contrast here is what I observe. Gulf culture is welcoming and unfailingly polite. This politeness is what Brown and Levinson (1974) define as "positive politeness", which is politeness that anticipates your needs and shows value of the Other by making that person comfortable from the start. It is an outward orientation to the needs of the Other. In every official place that we have visited, we have been gifted with a bag full of paper/brochures/booklets/pens that represent the venue. We have always had water/juice/coffee given to us. When we went to visit the police, we had three little plates along with the the juice and water that contained cake, sandwiches, and cookies, all delicately wrapped in plastic wrap. Often the water is offered with stemware for drinking. This tender care of the guest is accompanied with most attentive hosting by the people involved. They take us around, and when, as flakey academics, we linger too long, or we inquire too much, or we drift off towards shiny objects, they silently wait or solicitously follow. It is up to our group leader to herd us onwards since they are too polite to insist.
So there is the ritual traditions of positive politeness that is distinct here. In addition, there is a value of meeting and taking the time to talk things through until the topic has been sufficiently discussed. The art of elongated conversation is valued. We are sort of pillar-to-post here since we have a limited amount of time, so we do these conversational surgical strikes that could all be three hours longer. We are conversationalists ourselves, but we are also American academics with desperate personal agendas: we must ask our specific research questions quick while we can so sometimes we talk at cross purposes, or our ever so polite hosts are showered with a bewildering number of specific topics. They have all been very kind, and I hope our urgent focus on our topics does not offend. I think however, it does bewilder. We are intense and maybe a little pushy about what we want to know and when we want to know it (which would be right now, please). The Executive Council and the Education Consultant and the Police all discussed how the first approach to any problem is to meet to talk about it for awhile.
Positive politeness, value of discussion. Also, social relationships. Everyone has emphasized the value of the social group whether it is not going anywhere alone, not out of fear but out of a sense of conviviality, or not seeing anyone outside of a group. One person said, "Why would I want to be alone?" Good point. If the focus is on the value of social relationships, then it would be more comfortable to be in a group. In order to have the option of the group, one must cultivate those social relationships, and boy-howdy but the cell phone facilities that. Cell phone etiquette is that the cell phone trumps any face to face conversation, but the face to face conversation is always immediately returned to. In EVERY group we have been in, the presenter's cell phone has rung. The person turns away from the microphone, answers the phone, and turns back to the group. Many people in cars and on the street are on the phone. The cell phone is an extension of social relationships, so it stands to reason that if it rings (why would you turn it off? that would be rude), you should attend to that person who desires your attention.
Positive politeness, value of discussion, value of social relationships: education. OMG the emphasis on education is astonishing. Of course it is the Sheikh Mohammad bin Rashid al Maktoum's vision for the advancement of Dubai, and his visionary Minister for Education, but everybody seems to share the idea that it is through education that Dubai will prosper. However, this one is a little shakier than the others. It seems that for girls, education is a big deal, but boys can get a good job with a high school diploma if they go into the police or the navy. Some comment on the fact that more girls have higher education than boys now, and this is causing a bit of friction on the marriage market. I haven't heard any body talk too deeply on this topic yet, even under earnest academic prompting.
As for the Tourist Vision of the culture (hilarious photos to come with a better internet connection), it is the flashy Bedouin who uses a compass, makes coffee, and uses Aladdin's lamp whilst sitting on a pretty rug. The tourist shops all had fairly weighty compasses (which I held for longer than I should have), fat ceramic beard men in dishtasha (long white robes), fat ceramic women in abayas (long black robes), cheaply bejeweled lamps, and metal coffee pots. The Dubai Museum even had pens in the shape of Emiratis in traditional dress where you pushed the head to get the pen to work. I was appalled by this one. Oh, and the camels. I forgot the camels. You name the style of stuffed camel, plush camel, bejeweled camel, they have it in these souvenir shops. In the Dubai Museum, they have dioramas with life-sized models. The two most popular mannikins with which to be photographed by the American, Hispanic, Chinese, and Indian tourists were the Emirati man reading a newspaper on a bench and a camel being lead by an erst-while member of the Mujahadeen. There is a sense of the Emiratis being unapproachable by foreigners, and here was a model of one sitting on a bench for a photo! He was very popular.
Coming in a close second was the camel. The mannikin leading him was in traditional dress with a rifle slung across his shoulder. Everybody posed with the camel, not the man. This Bedouin past of camels, campfires, tents, falcons, and hand crafts is a romantic past that contributes to a sense of idealized heritage. However, I think the values that have endured of what politeness looks like, how important social relationships are, and how you solve problems by talking about it (politely with a group of people who are cultivating social relationships) is something that stand out to me if I were asked to talk about the components of Emirati society. I'm not sure where the camels fit in, but I will inquire on the subject for you, gentle reader.
Here is my attempt to help them out, with expertise of four days. In the last four days we have talked to government officials, school officials, cultural ambassadors, and the police. Today we were dragged through Dubai on a very touristy tour with Tour Dubai! Our tour guide was a gentleman from Kerala, and we visited the traditional tourist venues as well as a "modern souk" which was a mall in the ritzy area of Jumiera where the sales people tracked and pounced on potential customers like hawks on slow moving not-so-bright bunnies. We had to extract Brian from the rug selling place where he had been captured and made to sit on a throne-like bench while three salesmen snappily unrolled rugs in front of him. I put on my Big Mamma style and extracted him. The main salesman chided me, but I knew the game and apologized at the same rate and at the same time as he berated me. He gave Brian his card in the vain hope that Brian would come to his senses and return to buy many many rugs.
But back to my point about the contrast. The first three days we earnestly discussed the complex social and educational issues of the city with people intimately involved in them. Today we visited gift shops that sold the stereotype. With this contrast here is what I observe. Gulf culture is welcoming and unfailingly polite. This politeness is what Brown and Levinson (1974) define as "positive politeness", which is politeness that anticipates your needs and shows value of the Other by making that person comfortable from the start. It is an outward orientation to the needs of the Other. In every official place that we have visited, we have been gifted with a bag full of paper/brochures/booklets/pens that represent the venue. We have always had water/juice/coffee given to us. When we went to visit the police, we had three little plates along with the the juice and water that contained cake, sandwiches, and cookies, all delicately wrapped in plastic wrap. Often the water is offered with stemware for drinking. This tender care of the guest is accompanied with most attentive hosting by the people involved. They take us around, and when, as flakey academics, we linger too long, or we inquire too much, or we drift off towards shiny objects, they silently wait or solicitously follow. It is up to our group leader to herd us onwards since they are too polite to insist.
So there is the ritual traditions of positive politeness that is distinct here. In addition, there is a value of meeting and taking the time to talk things through until the topic has been sufficiently discussed. The art of elongated conversation is valued. We are sort of pillar-to-post here since we have a limited amount of time, so we do these conversational surgical strikes that could all be three hours longer. We are conversationalists ourselves, but we are also American academics with desperate personal agendas: we must ask our specific research questions quick while we can so sometimes we talk at cross purposes, or our ever so polite hosts are showered with a bewildering number of specific topics. They have all been very kind, and I hope our urgent focus on our topics does not offend. I think however, it does bewilder. We are intense and maybe a little pushy about what we want to know and when we want to know it (which would be right now, please). The Executive Council and the Education Consultant and the Police all discussed how the first approach to any problem is to meet to talk about it for awhile.
Positive politeness, value of discussion. Also, social relationships. Everyone has emphasized the value of the social group whether it is not going anywhere alone, not out of fear but out of a sense of conviviality, or not seeing anyone outside of a group. One person said, "Why would I want to be alone?" Good point. If the focus is on the value of social relationships, then it would be more comfortable to be in a group. In order to have the option of the group, one must cultivate those social relationships, and boy-howdy but the cell phone facilities that. Cell phone etiquette is that the cell phone trumps any face to face conversation, but the face to face conversation is always immediately returned to. In EVERY group we have been in, the presenter's cell phone has rung. The person turns away from the microphone, answers the phone, and turns back to the group. Many people in cars and on the street are on the phone. The cell phone is an extension of social relationships, so it stands to reason that if it rings (why would you turn it off? that would be rude), you should attend to that person who desires your attention.
Positive politeness, value of discussion, value of social relationships: education. OMG the emphasis on education is astonishing. Of course it is the Sheikh Mohammad bin Rashid al Maktoum's vision for the advancement of Dubai, and his visionary Minister for Education, but everybody seems to share the idea that it is through education that Dubai will prosper. However, this one is a little shakier than the others. It seems that for girls, education is a big deal, but boys can get a good job with a high school diploma if they go into the police or the navy. Some comment on the fact that more girls have higher education than boys now, and this is causing a bit of friction on the marriage market. I haven't heard any body talk too deeply on this topic yet, even under earnest academic prompting.
As for the Tourist Vision of the culture (hilarious photos to come with a better internet connection), it is the flashy Bedouin who uses a compass, makes coffee, and uses Aladdin's lamp whilst sitting on a pretty rug. The tourist shops all had fairly weighty compasses (which I held for longer than I should have), fat ceramic beard men in dishtasha (long white robes), fat ceramic women in abayas (long black robes), cheaply bejeweled lamps, and metal coffee pots. The Dubai Museum even had pens in the shape of Emiratis in traditional dress where you pushed the head to get the pen to work. I was appalled by this one. Oh, and the camels. I forgot the camels. You name the style of stuffed camel, plush camel, bejeweled camel, they have it in these souvenir shops. In the Dubai Museum, they have dioramas with life-sized models. The two most popular mannikins with which to be photographed by the American, Hispanic, Chinese, and Indian tourists were the Emirati man reading a newspaper on a bench and a camel being lead by an erst-while member of the Mujahadeen. There is a sense of the Emiratis being unapproachable by foreigners, and here was a model of one sitting on a bench for a photo! He was very popular.
Coming in a close second was the camel. The mannikin leading him was in traditional dress with a rifle slung across his shoulder. Everybody posed with the camel, not the man. This Bedouin past of camels, campfires, tents, falcons, and hand crafts is a romantic past that contributes to a sense of idealized heritage. However, I think the values that have endured of what politeness looks like, how important social relationships are, and how you solve problems by talking about it (politely with a group of people who are cultivating social relationships) is something that stand out to me if I were asked to talk about the components of Emirati society. I'm not sure where the camels fit in, but I will inquire on the subject for you, gentle reader.
How to say "No" in Dubai
There are so many ways to say no. For example, if you ask a German person if there is wireless in the hotel, and there is not, he or she will say, "No, there is no wireless." A Midwestern person would say, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid not, but the Barnes and Noble down the street has free wireless." A person in Dubai will say, "Wireless? Do you mean for the computer? Are you asking if we have wireless? You mean here in the hotel? Oh, well, maybe you can try in another place. I think I know of another place that might have wireless. You could try there." This means, "No. There is no wireless." It also means, "No, there is no wireless down the street, but maybe if you go on that goose chase, you will go away and stop painfully making a request that I am not able to fulfill." Such is the dire politeness here. This most entertaining exchange was repeated in the search for adapters. "You want a three prong American grounded cord adapter for a British socket? You want an adapter? What kind of plug was it? For British, right? Ah, maybe you can try another shop around the corner. They might have one like that." Translation: "No, we don't have that adapter. I don't know what you are talking about when you say grounded American plug. Please go away and ask your painful questions to other people, I don't care where. Maybe I will send you to my friend I am mad at in the shop around the corner. It will serve him right to have to talk to you with your embarrassing requests that cannot be fulfilled in his shop either."
Monday, May 24, 2010
The American University of Sharja
Our next stop was the American University of Sharja, a private university pretty much made possible by his highness the Sheikh Dr. Sultan bin Mohammad al Qassani. Evidently, he gave the American University permission to be created, but it was to be on the American co-ed model. Unfortunately, that upset some influential conservative people, so the Sheikh just build another University, Sharja University, out in “Knowledge City, the main drag for Universities. Sharja University is gender segregated to try to accommodate everyone’s taste.
The place was built in 11 months and is totally palatial.
We had a long Q and A chat with the chancellor and the vice president for enrollment management. It turns out that the private university gives out scholarships to about 65% of the student population. However, it is moving forwards with community service populations, a program for underprepared students, and increased alumni relationships.
Inside this university, it is much like other American universities, but the chairs are cuter. Here is a one of the finest I have found (photo to come of heart shaped chair when I get to a faster internet connection).
The library was in another palatial building and had a prominent sign up that sad “there is no external internet today. “ We wondered if that was a permanent exhibit. Hey, check out the libaray rug:
The place was built in 11 months and is totally palatial.
We had a long Q and A chat with the chancellor and the vice president for enrollment management. It turns out that the private university gives out scholarships to about 65% of the student population. However, it is moving forwards with community service populations, a program for underprepared students, and increased alumni relationships.
Inside this university, it is much like other American universities, but the chairs are cuter. Here is a one of the finest I have found (photo to come of heart shaped chair when I get to a faster internet connection).
The library was in another palatial building and had a prominent sign up that sad “there is no external internet today. “ We wondered if that was a permanent exhibit. Hey, check out the libaray rug:
Cool, huh?
They have two literature degrees here, on e in English and the other in Arabic. The collection of English popular literature included Ken Follet, Bill Bryson, Maeve Binchey, Stephen King, and Orson Scott Card. The librarian reported that the girls really liked the romance novels and even the boys read them on the sly. Interesting!
The Sharja Museum of Islamic Art
The Sharja Museum of Islamic Art is the eclectic collection of the rule of Sharja, one of the United Emirates. We drove to Sharja from Dubai, which took about an hour. As we drove, it was hard to tell from the sandy sprawl where Dubai ended and Sharja began, but the buildings did start to get smaller. Dubai does tend to tower a bit. Anyway, the ruler of Sharja, his highness the Sheikh Dr. Sultan bin Mohammad al Qassani, is a person who is highly dedicated to art and education. His collection of artifacts is personal and fascinating. In the Freer gallery in DC where they have two galleries of Islamic art, the focus is on the geometric motifs. Here, in gallery 1, we start off with the five pillars of Islam and pictures of the Hajj. Because his highness the Sheikh such an important person, there are several sections of the kiswa in his museum. The kiswa is the gold embroidered skilen covering of the Kaba’a in Mekkah. Here is the piece of the kiswah:
Here is a picture of the Kaba’a. See the gold band around the building? That is where this piece came from. There were lots of pictures of the Mekkah from the early 20th century up to now. It is interesting how Mekkah has changed over the last hundred years. The young lady who was asked to give us our tour was the director of education for the museum. She used to work for a bank, but she said this was more fun. She tried to give us a tour, but just try to give faculty a tour. Jill, the group leader, said that she once heard a tour guide say he preferred pilgrims to teachers because you tell the pilgrims to stay in one place and they will do so, whereas teachers tend to wander off like cats. Oh, but we were a herd of cats. The dear young tour guide did her best to answer questions and guide a bit whenever some one drifted into range, but this group was interested in reading, discussing implications, and debating obscure points. What a great group to hand out with! But I am not sure the tour guide knew what to make of such an incoherent group.
There were some interesting items in the exhibits. There was a whole room dedicated to astrolabes and other astronomical observing instruments. The sign said that the Arab scientists were prompted to develop highly accurate instruments because they had to figure out the lunar calendar, when Ramadan would fall, when the new lunar month would begin, and when the prayer hours would be. Jill Crystal also commented that in the Middle Ages, there was a lot of trade and interaction between Europe and the Middle East. In fact there are Arabic notes taken in the margins of Latin texts, but this close collaboration is practically written out of American and European history books.
In addition to the astrolabes , there was a grenade exhibit:
What did the artist think when he made these nice decoration? Could he have been reflective on the ideas of how ephemeral it is to draw decorations on a land mine? Also, the exhibit said that they had a form of “biological weapons” where they would put a snake or a scorpion into these grenade like mine like things that would cause “devastation to the enemy ranks.” Frankly, I think all you get from putting a poisenous snake into one of the ceramic boxes and launching it at the enemy is a lot of broken pottery and a very disoriented snake.
Another fascinating series of exhibits were the sport-hijab. Here is a tennis hijab.
They also had one for soccer and one for general fitness. The exhibits opined that these sport hijab, called “capsters”, were to allow young women to be “modest yet fashionable:, the implication being that the two could generally be considered mutually exclusive.
Zayed University in Dubai
We spent a few hours at Zayed University chatting with a professor, getting a tour from some students, and sacking the library. We were first greeted by an official who said nice things to us, got photographed with us, and then left. We chatted rather intensively next with a professor from the Department of Islamic Studies. He made quite a point of telling us that they took more a social science perspective on the modern realizations of Islam rather than a doctrinal approach. He told us that there were 2,400 students there, but that the campus could handle 5,000. The principal issue is that t is a public university. This means that Emirati nationals can attend for free, and they get their books for free. The university does not have dorms, so everybody has to live at home. It is also gender segregated. At the moment, all the students are female, but they will begin to admit males. However, this does not mean that men and women will be chatting with each other. Women take classes from 8:00-3:00 and men will arrive to take classes from 8:30 to 10:30pm. The buildings are beautiful, spacious, and well appointed. However, 15 feet outside the walls of the university, the desert laps in dry waves of sand up against those walls and be-palmed fountained courts.
All the young ladies wear abaya and shayla and some even use niqab. That was very interesting. In our group, we talked about how it was not a problem to chat with women wearing the head covering, but as soon as they covered their mouths and left nothing but eyes to talk to, then it felt uncomfortable. Studies show that when Westerners view a face, the saccadic rhythms of the eye follow a clear triangular pattern from eyes to mouth. I wonder what the saccadic rhythm is for a face that only offers the eyes for viewing?
The tour wound through spacious airy corridors and the young students who were giving the tour were quite forthcoming on some topics and not on others. At one point in the tour, we passed a square of tables that had a huge load of used books in English. These books included such classics as Goldfinger, Hell Blazer, and one called Space Prophet. I turned to our guide who was wearing the niqab and asked, “Why are these books here? “, “Oh,” she said, “A charity group donated them.” “Don’t you think some of the topics are not proper?” I asked, trying to understand the elusive concept of modesty, and she replied, “Oh, well. It doesn’t really matter because they are in English.” Very interesting! We then went to the University Bookstore (where students come to get their free books!), and for their most recent English lit class, they were reading, the Epic of Gilgamesh, some Euripides, Homer’s Odyssey, Mrs. Dalloway, and The Scarlet Letter, all in English. When I considered Mrs. Dalloway from the point of view of a conservative Muslim woman, it put a whole new spin on it. There was also a piece of art on the wall, which I was unable to photograph for you, gentle reader, which was a drawing of the last supper except that all the individuals in the da Vinci original positions were faceless women in abayas and shaylas. Whole new spin. I reeled down the hall after the group trying to get my cognitive dissonance under control.
Dubai: the cutting edge....of some things
If you read the websites and tourist info about the United Arab Emirates, it is the cutting edge of technology, architecture, and education in the Arab world. Oddly enough, one cannot get a wireless connection in this town. Nevertheless, Dubai has some truly funkyrific modern architecture. Here is the skyline of downtown Dubai: 
I read that Dubai is trying to keep a distinctive Gulf flavor to the buildings by making the windows be shaped in a more traditional manner, but these marvels of glass and steel look more forwards than backwards. Near the hotel where we are living, things are little more on the normal urban scale.
But there are things about people that never change, like laundry. As we do our laundry every night, we just festoon the room with our damp clothes, but these folks have their urban clotheslines right out there on the main avenue.
The traditional architecture that is supposed to maintain the national identity are the dhow (the traditional pearling boat that sometimes did a bit of pirating but is now used on dinner cruises) And the other emblematic bit of architecture is the wind tower. Now, all the buildings are totally air conditioned, but the wind tower hearkens back to the non-air-conditioned days of the 20th century (may it rest in peace) when these towers caught breezes and funneled them through the stone walls to cool the air so it would flow through the houses. When we visited the University, they gave us little wooden models of it. This omiage created a certain amount of confusion before it was figured out.
Part of our trip was a lecture and lunch at the Sheikh Mohammed Center for Cultural Understanding. Evidently this place opened up several years ago to help foreigners understand Gulf culture. However, as modernization has gripped the UAE by the throat, local people show up for their lecture/demos to reconnect with their heritage. Two very nice hosts, a young woman and an older man, entertained our questions. They were very gracious and offered quite heartfelt and earnest answers. On the concept of modesty, it seemed that their concept was that one does not engage in modest behavior because it is the law or because it is doctrine but because it is a way of being polite and showing respect for others. In our American understanding of “modest behavior”, it seems that we often see what these people are describing as personal restrictions on individual expression. As I listened to them describe their understanding of what it means to be polite, it was clear that this was an issue of Individualistic Orientation in contrast with Group Orientation. If I value the individual over the group, them I will value (tolerate?) individual expression regardless of social convention. If I value the group over the individual, I will value social convention regardless of the desires of individual expression. I read this very same sentiment in the student newspaper of the American University of Sharja, where a young lady was praising personal restraint as a way of being nice to other people.
After this discussion we had lunch, which was coffee with cardamom, noodles with sugar and cardamom, fried bred with date syrup, and an omelet like dish with cardamom. This was all followed by tea that was much stronger than the coffee. Cardamom is so tasty, I didn’t mind its pervasiveness, but I remember the last time I bought some at the grocery store and I minded how much it cost!
I read that Dubai is trying to keep a distinctive Gulf flavor to the buildings by making the windows be shaped in a more traditional manner, but these marvels of glass and steel look more forwards than backwards. Near the hotel where we are living, things are little more on the normal urban scale.
But there are things about people that never change, like laundry. As we do our laundry every night, we just festoon the room with our damp clothes, but these folks have their urban clotheslines right out there on the main avenue.
The traditional architecture that is supposed to maintain the national identity are the dhow (the traditional pearling boat that sometimes did a bit of pirating but is now used on dinner cruises) And the other emblematic bit of architecture is the wind tower. Now, all the buildings are totally air conditioned, but the wind tower hearkens back to the non-air-conditioned days of the 20th century (may it rest in peace) when these towers caught breezes and funneled them through the stone walls to cool the air so it would flow through the houses. When we visited the University, they gave us little wooden models of it. This omiage created a certain amount of confusion before it was figured out.
Part of our trip was a lecture and lunch at the Sheikh Mohammed Center for Cultural Understanding. Evidently this place opened up several years ago to help foreigners understand Gulf culture. However, as modernization has gripped the UAE by the throat, local people show up for their lecture/demos to reconnect with their heritage. Two very nice hosts, a young woman and an older man, entertained our questions. They were very gracious and offered quite heartfelt and earnest answers. On the concept of modesty, it seemed that their concept was that one does not engage in modest behavior because it is the law or because it is doctrine but because it is a way of being polite and showing respect for others. In our American understanding of “modest behavior”, it seems that we often see what these people are describing as personal restrictions on individual expression. As I listened to them describe their understanding of what it means to be polite, it was clear that this was an issue of Individualistic Orientation in contrast with Group Orientation. If I value the individual over the group, them I will value (tolerate?) individual expression regardless of social convention. If I value the group over the individual, I will value social convention regardless of the desires of individual expression. I read this very same sentiment in the student newspaper of the American University of Sharja, where a young lady was praising personal restraint as a way of being nice to other people.
After this discussion we had lunch, which was coffee with cardamom, noodles with sugar and cardamom, fried bred with date syrup, and an omelet like dish with cardamom. This was all followed by tea that was much stronger than the coffee. Cardamom is so tasty, I didn’t mind its pervasiveness, but I remember the last time I bought some at the grocery store and I minded how much it cost!
Friday, May 21, 2010
The Dinner Where Ismet Caught Fire
As an anthropologist, gentle reader, I tell you that food is a very important part of social relationships and interior adventure. With that introduction, I want to tell you about dinner where Ismet caught fire. Mimsy, Beth, Brian, Ismet, and I went to a Thai restaurant for dinner last night. Mimsy took charge, made the reservations and charged out of the hotel in the lead of our dining party. Mimsy and Beth set a brisk pace to Pasara Thai. We hit a minor snag on the street where the restaurant was supposed to be located since the street was busy and the doors were confusing. Mimsy did not break stride and briskly approach a large man dressed in black standing at a door with a neon sign and red ropes leading up to the door. For context of this interaction, there’s Mimsy, Yoga teacher and Academic Advisor, confidently approaching this Bouncer, with four humanities professors clustering confusedly behind her. None of us were wearing strappy sandals, nor cute little tops, nor short flirty skirts of any kind. The Bouncer ran his eyes over our academic huddle, looked down a Mimsy (petite in any context, but tiny next to Big Bouncer Dude), and haughtily indicated the restaurant next door. We obediently got out of the way of the chicks in strappy sandals, cute tops, and flirty skirts and entered the restaurant. Undaunted by the Haughty Bouncer, Mimsy briskly marched into the restaurant and got the tables rearranged for our group. No Fear: Mimsy’s Here!
The menus arrived and positively clunked when they hit the table because the plastic pages were enclosed in ½inch plywood binders. They could have been used as weapons had the occasion presented itself. In any restaurant where spice is involved, one has to deal with the amorphous scale of heat. I ordered a Pad Thai and said to the waiter, “High Medium, please”, and he repeated to me, “Medium?” and so I figured I should follow his lead and merely said, “Yes.” Ismet was less compliant. The waiter said to him also, “Medium?” and poor Ismet, trying to order some spicy food said, “Could you kick it up a notch?” and the die was cast. Was it a battle of testosterone? Was a merely a misunderstanding? Whatever it was, when our food arrived mine was predictably mild. Ismet began eating and became suddenly very quiet. He was eating very deliberately and fairly slowly. Neither of these behaviors was normal. Mimsy offered him a tissue as it looked like he really needed one at that point. “Are you okay?” I asked as he appeared to burst into flames. In a strained voice, he answered, “This is beyond hot. I am melting,” and he regarded his plate with a certain amount of distress. I offered him some of my mild Pad Thai, but he resolutely refused, claiming, “I can do this. I used to eat half a kilo of ornamental peppers for lunch. I can do this, “ but he did seem to waiver, and it did seem that he was trying to convince himself more than convince us. He doggedly made it though the volcanic Drunken Noodles, but he did seem a bit singed by the end.
And so we strolled back to the hotel, quite full of food, and Ismet slightly smoking.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Introductions and Ice-breakers
So we few, we happy few, we band of siblings, as it were, gathered all together and awkwardly stood around trying to figure out who we were. Luckily, there were these little cardboard signs that had our names an institutions on them. The leader of the group, an intense man with little hair, asked us to introduce ourselves. Lo and behold, we went around the table and each person recited what was on our cardboard cards sitting prominently in front of us: name and institution. I must admit that I am irritated by presenters who read their power point slides, so I thought I would add my research interest, misguided geek that I am. Everybody else just read their card. This made me worry about the dreaded ice-breaker. I so did not want to have to describe myself as some kind of carbohydrate rich dessert, but my fears were unfounded: it was a rather more mature ice-breaker. We were to interview someone not sitting next to us, and then introduce that person. I think that is a pretty good ice-breaker. However, they gave us a list of questions in case we couldn't think of what to ask. They consisted of questions like, "what was your first job", "what do you like to do in your free time", "what are you looking forward to" and such. Most everyone abandoned them summarily and had conversations about teaching. That was a relief!
Then the past ambassador to the Middle East, David Mack, addressed us. What an amazing person! He must have been in his 70s, and he was intense, energetic, well informed, and opinionated. He had been around long enough to have no illusions about human nature or the functions of diplomacy: he was an utter pragmatist and quite the Obama fan. His opinion is that the United States will benefit from listening more and focusing on common interests rather than trying to be a global nanny. He really said that. Then he did some hilarious Henry Kissinger imitations.
Then we talked briefly about the colonial history of the Gulf area, and some of the important pieces of political intrigue such as how the Gulf area has important geography issues. If you are from Iran, you say, "Persian Gulf" and if you are from the Gulf states, you say "Arabian Gulf" and if you want to be safe, you just say "Gulf" unless you are talking to an American who might get confused and think you mean "Gulf of Mexico" when you say "Gulf", so you need to qualify that. This is the same in Ulster where you communicate political orientation by whether you refer to Derry or Londonderry. Or the US where you refer to the Civil War or the War Between the States. Or the Webster Avenue Cafe where you refer to Budweiser as "Beer" or "Carmel Water".
Phase 1: Inside the Beltway
Yesterday my faithful MacBook died. Computers don't die in spectacular ways: they just go gently into that good night. The color wheel turned, and then it went black. In keeping with Dr. Kuhbler-Ross's stages, I pushed the on button so it the color wheel could turn and the screen go black a few more times until I understood what had happened. Then I bargained with it: what about a hard reboot? No. Then I got mad: Now of all times! But then I zipped straight off to acceptance when Ralph said, "Well, looks like it's time for a trip to the Apple store," and he rubbed his hands gleefully. Now I have a nice new MacBook pro that is doing yeoman work already. Ralph also has a nice new Ipod classic. We had a good time at the Apple store.
I got up at 4:30 am for our early trip to the airport, and the blessed hounds have such good internal clocks that they just stayed in bed until 5:00. On the other hand, Rocket, the not-so-very-clever was thrilled humans were up so early and insisted the my swinging the Bird Toy around for her was a billion times more important than any shower I had planned to take. Rocket's priorities are always quite clear though not always coherent.
I have one courier bag for my electronics and paper, and one Timbuck2 suitcase which, I found out at the Delta checkin counter, weighs 28 pounds. This was the most challenging packing ever because the concept of "Business Casual" confuses me, and this was an informal dress code splashed all across our itinerary. "Business" I understand: that means suit. "Casual" means jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, right? But "Business Casual" is a profoundly grey area in women's clothing. I looked it up online, and it was very strange. Essentially, the web says it is not a suit, and not jeans. I am not always happy with negative definitions (not what something is, but what it is not). Anyways, I'm from the Humanities, so our dress code is "Eccentric Flakey". I tried to translate that to "Business Eccentric Flakey" and though my dart might hit the target somewhere near acceptable.
Today is the Great Meeting Time. They are threatening to have a one hour ice-breaker on the schedule. Robin, I will tell you all about how this ice-breaker for "older academics" goes. My Faculty Development Radar senses disaster brewing. If I am asked to say what kind of cookie I am, I honestly don't know what I'll do.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Presenting information on something I know nothing about
So we got this flood of emails from AMIDEAST, the agency that is organizing all this for us, about how we need to be flexible, be ready for anything, and to give up any OCD tendencies that might include promptness and schedules. Quite sage advice, I would say. In that vein, they also asked us to present our curriculum projects. I think they need to be flexible about this and give up any OCD tendencies that would make them think I have any real idea about what is going to happen. I don't know who we will be seeing, I don't know if I can go to the mall by myself, I don't know what institutions we will be visiting, who we will be talking to, or anything. How can I present a project when I don't know what my data will be?
Anyway, as part of our pay-back for this experience, we are supposed to do some kind of curriculum project that cannot be just a blog or just a photo essay. I'm doing both, since it only makes sense, but I am also revamping a Middle Eastern Literature class that I will be teaching in the fall, gathering resources for my colleagues, and creating that verboten photo essay for a cultural presentation. It would be cool to get some e-pals for my classes to chat about the literature. In my Dr. Pangloss incarnation, I would like to hook up with an English Lit professor who has a lit class going on during my Middle Eastern Lit class, and have students comment on each other's blogs, which would be reflections on the literature. This way the students could be engaged in some real conversation about a literature that, on either side, could be considered highly wacky (to use a technical lit term).
In my imaginative preparations, I got into my car yesterday, wearing a business suit for a meeting, and it was toasting inside the car. I sat there for a minute before opening the windows first reflecting on how one must really adjust one's physical orientation for the kind of heat in that part of the world, and then I thought, "If I were a dog in this car, I would be dead." I kept the windows open all the way down to the main campus, but I'm still gonna have get some Dryell for that poor suit.
Anyway, as part of our pay-back for this experience, we are supposed to do some kind of curriculum project that cannot be just a blog or just a photo essay. I'm doing both, since it only makes sense, but I am also revamping a Middle Eastern Literature class that I will be teaching in the fall, gathering resources for my colleagues, and creating that verboten photo essay for a cultural presentation. It would be cool to get some e-pals for my classes to chat about the literature. In my Dr. Pangloss incarnation, I would like to hook up with an English Lit professor who has a lit class going on during my Middle Eastern Lit class, and have students comment on each other's blogs, which would be reflections on the literature. This way the students could be engaged in some real conversation about a literature that, on either side, could be considered highly wacky (to use a technical lit term).
In my imaginative preparations, I got into my car yesterday, wearing a business suit for a meeting, and it was toasting inside the car. I sat there for a minute before opening the windows first reflecting on how one must really adjust one's physical orientation for the kind of heat in that part of the world, and then I thought, "If I were a dog in this car, I would be dead." I kept the windows open all the way down to the main campus, but I'm still gonna have get some Dryell for that poor suit.
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