One week in

So, it's been a week since we jet-lagged our way into Abu Dhabi and our circadian rhythms have mostly fallen into step with the cadence of Gulf Time (or UTC + 4, for those who want to get all precise about it). Thanks to the seasonal ending of the magical nonsense that is Daylight Savings Time, we are now 9 hours ahead of the East Coast, which, based on what Christopher Lloyd taught me about time travel, is not far enough into the future to disrupt the space-time continuum.
So rest easy, friends.

Aside from the first two mornings, (when, between the hours of 2 and 6 AM, Jenn and I took turns trying to convince Q that it was not yet time to wake up) our time here has passed quickly. Jenn started work the day after our arrival, not only because "settling in" is for slackers, but also because having an Emirates ID card is a prerequisite for just about any transaction more substantial than buying a shawarma, and starting work was the fastest way to trigger the weeks-long process of getting the proper visa and ensuing ID card. The card is slightly easier to obtain than a license to practice law, but with no fewer seemingly arbitrary bureaucratic procedures and quite a few more passport-sized photos. And a blood test.

Don't play, Falcon is always watching.

Anyway, in one to seven weeks, we should all be officially recognized residents of the UAE, which is good because we already put down a non-refundable reservation deposit on an apartment in this building, which appears in the first image on a Google search for "Abu Dhabi." We will probably do a more in-depth post on the apartment search after we actually move into one, assuming we ever want to talk about it again. Until then, we will continue reflecting on how nice it will be to once again have more than one room and the ability to prepare our own food, which will not have to compete for space in the mini-bar. In light of how long things take to process here, please submit your applications to be our live-in maid and nanny ASAP.               Ha ha, just kidding! Sort of!

I'll close this post with a couple of observations about the city. First, it's very quiet. The loudest, most consistent sounds here are the five daily calls to prayer and the occasional car horn. I have not heard a single siren. I have seen only two helicopters. It's probably like what DC was like the day after helicopters were invented, assuming that day was also a snow day during congressional recess.

Sorry for you, low down floors.

Second, Abu Dhabi is quite clean, but very dusty. The insides of buildings are spotless, and there are people constantly cleaning every surface. Outside, there is very little litter, and the clean-up effort there is similarly ceaseless. But keeping the windows clean (and there are A LOT of windows) is a Sisyphean task. I'm not sure how many Arabic words there are for dust, but I'd bet that in the language of Abu Dhabi's window washers, dust is synonymous with job security.

See those tiny clean spots!

The Abu Dhabi World Trade Center residence tower rises 92 stories above our hotel pool, and we have spent some time speculating on the methodologies behind the various attempts made by tenants to wash their own windows from the inside. By far the most effective method is to hang a flag (UAE of course) from your window and let the wind beat the flag around, producing a perfectly circular clean spot. Who says national pride can't be practical?