Barcelona to Abu Dhabi: Abu Dhabi to Pensacola
Ashok brings breakfast to our room just as we finish dressing and we are able to say our last goodbyes.
The new Abu Dhabi Louvre, which will feature the painting bought by Prince Badr bin Abdullah Al Saud, attributed to Leonardo Da Vinci for $450.3 million at auction.
We are excited. We have a lot planned for Abu Dhabi, and we are eager to begin our journey home. We can hear the baggage being unloaded, ready to be claimed by disembarking passengers.
Buses are waiting to take other passengers on tours, or to hotels.
Compared to other disembarkations, when we had to leave at 3:00 a.m. to catch flights back to the US, this is very civilized; breakfast at 6:30, and departure scheduled for 8:00. As it turns out because we have made independent arrangements, we can depart before the groups, and we do.
Our driver is not there, but there is an Azamara ship parked just next to ours so AdventureMan leaves me with the bags and walks over to the next parking lot to find our driver, waiting with a sign with our name on it. He directs him to our ship, we say goodbye to our Belgian friends, who are also expecting a driver, and we load up. He takes us to the Marriott, where we are given a beautiful room on the 21st floor and we look out in awe and the sheer awesomeness of Abu Dhabi architecture.
It is already really hot outside, even at 8 in the morning. We shower. We settle in.
I can’t believe it. There’s a mall, and a LuLu within walking distance. AdventureMan promises to take me there at nightfall. The LuLu was one of my favorite stores in Doha – we did a lot of our grocery shopping there. It had a lot of prepared foods, mostly Indian, and a lot of foods we had never seen before. One time the LuLu had a Mango-Fest. Who knew there were so many kinds of mango, like more than 80 kinds?
This is a qibla. We haven’t seen a qibla in a long time. It is the mark on the ceiling that tells us in which direction, in which we would find Mecca.
We have the same driver at 10:00, and he takes us to Abu Dhabi’s Heritage Village, which we love. Abu Dhabi has gathered craftspeople from all over the Middle East to demonstrate dying crafts – boatbuilding, wool-spinning, weaving, making thobes trimmed in real silver and gold threads, made of the finest camel wool, beating copper into pots and bowls, making silver-trimmed daggers (khanjars), weaving tent bands. It was lovely, stimulating – and also very hot.
We take a photo of our driver’s car so we can find him when we are through at the Heritage Park.
The boatbuilder
The man who made elegant traditional winter robes, bisht, for men and women
The weaver of wool, and of pictures
The maker of Khanjar, the curved daggars worn at the waist, and also maker of the sheaths which protect them.
Next stop was the Abu Dhabi “souks” – more stores selling souvenirs and handicrafts, but a level up from the tourist-oriented markets.
AdventureMan spotted the shop I had been looking for, a shop selling fresh saffron, but it had so much more! Camel milk soap in natural and in black, with varied scents, loofahs and treats for bathing, and thousands of spices, some of which we had no idea how to use. I invested in saffron, for us, for our foodie friends, and loved knowing we had found just the right shop, Wadi al Zafran.
We were hungry, and the concierge at the hotel had given us the name of a good family restaurant, Zahrat Lubnan on Defense Street, where we could get good food at local prices. We found it, and I laughed, it was just what we had asked for, full of families, and it was noisy! But one look at the menu and we knew we were in the right place, the food is the food we have learned to love with all our years in the Middle East, all our favorites. The noisiest of the families leave, and we enjoy our lunch thoroughly, including more very fresh pomegranate juice and strawberry juice.
This gave me a giggle; I had forgotten how traditional restaurants used tissue for napkins.
Muhammara! My favorite! To my delight, it tastes a lot like mine, made with a recipe given to me by a generous Kuwait blogger many years ago, thank you, Yousef!
The stuffed vegetables and lamb special – if only we had been six people we might have been able to eat it all. It was delicious.
Back at the hotel, in the heat of the afternoon, we nap, knowing we have a long night ahead of us. We are so thankful for a nice room, a good shower, and a breathtaking view.
At 11:00 pm our driver takes us to the airport, we get checked in, ticketed, and we go to the lounge to pass the hours before our flight would begin loading.
Processing our shipboard experience is ongoing. At the very beginning of the trip, we met Ed and Alan. I saw them at breakfast in Barcelona and liked them. We became acquainted on the bus to the ship and kept running into one another and having good conversations the entire trip. In the end, AdventureMan saw them as he was retrieving his passport and said our goodbyes. We really enjoyed knowing them.
We met a Belgian couple; he was 59 and had had a stroke that left him immobile and unable to talk, but he was still alive and lively in his head and his desire to participate. His wife is 50 and very committed to living as normally as possible, wheeling him everywhere in his chair, taking him on excursions where possible, and giving him every experience they are able to arrange. I liked them both and admired their courage and resilience, and persistence in the face of daunting circumstances.
We felt very fortunate to have next-door neighbors we also really liked, Miguel and Margarita, so sweet and so kind to one another, and with such an interesting history.
I admire the staff. For passengers, we get on and it’s like the party begins. For the staff, with endless cycles of passengers, it’s like the party never ends, and they are the hosts. It is exhausting to be so chipper, so helpful, so willing to facilitate, and to make it look so easy. It is hard work, and we admire their commitment to making every experience good for the passengers, often at great sacrifice in their private lives.
We had a great flight on Etihad en route to Brussels. We slept well and had a nice breakfast. I had yogurt but AdventureMan shared his “Brioche” which was hot and goopy and fancy with a huge burst of flavor from the first bite.
Brussels was easy. We settled in the lounge until our flight was called. Then the flight was delayed waiting for some passengers, and delayed, and the passengers never came. As we sit, waiting to depart, we are now scheduled to land about 25 minutes before the next flight is scheduled to depart. AdventureMan talked to the flight attendants; they say our connecting flight probably won’t be held and we will have to schedule on the next flight. That throws the flight out of Atlanta into question, too. We’ll need to make arrangements for our cats to be covered another day, or two until we can get back to Pensacola.
Afterword:
Montreal was a nightmare. When we arrived and were shuttled through the arrivals, we assumed we would go to transit, but all passengers to the USA were directed into a third line which went into US Customs. We had given ourselves extra time in Atlanta to go through customs. We had never heard a word about the “convenience” of going through US Customs in Montreal. It was confusing, it was cumbersome, and we had our faces scanned for facial recognition software. We were tired. This was new and unexpected. There is also a new system of baggage screening so you wait until your bag shows up as “cleared” on a screen, then you can pick your bag up and head for your next flight.
Do I need to say we missed our flight to Atlanta? We were directed to a customer service man who would direct us to our next flight. There was one man, a very patient and long-suffering clerk in a booth, and 20 agitated people in front of us. The line behind us grew quickly; the line in front of us moved slowly. One woman, who needed to get a flight to Paris, he told to sit and wait while he took care of all the others – and the line is stretching on into oblivion by this point. I went to the Air Canada lounge to see if they could help; they could not.
Finally, we were put on a Delta flight, and we would not make it to Atlanta in time to catch our flight to Pensacola. While AdventureMan gleaned two seats in the Air Canada Lounge, I tried to find a quiet place (the lounge was in an uproar with the customs change and all the people who had missed their ongoing flights) to connect with Delta and arrange for a later flight. After a lengthy conversation, we determined there was no flight for which we had a hope of connection, so she booked us for the next day.
Here is one ray of sunshine. It is Thanksgiving weekend. When Oceania had told us they would only book us out of Atlanta, and that Pensacola to Atlanta and back was on us, the only ticket I could find on Delta were two full-fare first-class tickets. They were the only tickets on the flight. I bit the bullet, way back months ago, and bought the tickets. Good thing, as it turned out, because with a full fare ticket, and calling before we actually missed the flight, we were able to book a flight for the next day with no extra fees charged.
I found AdventureMan and explained the situation to him. The lounge was packed, and getting unruly as more disturbed and tired passengers entered. I suggested we leave, find the gate (which changed twice as we waited), and that I really needed him to find us a room in Atlanta; I was fried and needed his help. My hero, he pulled out his trusty mobile phone, looked at Atlanta, found the nearest hotel to the airport and reserved a room.
We had one checked bag, which Customs had shown us arrived and was cleared, but it had not been booked on the flight on which we were scheduled. We checked the Apple AirTag Find My Carry-On, and it showed us exactly where our bag was in the airport and some very good Delta agents tracked it down and had it put on the cart for our plane. I will never travel anywhere again without AirTags in my bags.
At this point, something very odd showed up. “Find My” showed my “backpack,” which just before departure from Pensacola had actually turned into a duffle. It was shown to be in Cadiz, Spain, which was very odd, because I had it with me, I was holding it. Only later did I discover the AirTag was not in the “backpack,” it must have disappeared somewhere in Barcelona (I had last checked on it when we were boarding the ship, and it was on the dock) but while the bag was with me, and that is what matters, the AirTag had been liberated and was leading a life all its own.
We were exhausted. We had been traveling for about 20 hours at this point, and had hoped to be home. The flight from Montreal to Atlanta was sheer hell; we were hoping to sleep and there was a (sweet) family behind us with an 18-month-old baby. It is late at night, the baby is fussy and the Mom, God bless her, is tossing the baby up and squealing loudly, to keep him from crying and disturbing other passengers. So we would be nodding off and (SQUEAL!) or (SCREECH!) and then we would be not sleeping.
I have full sympathy for anyone traveling with infants and children. I had to do it for many years myself. The Mom was doing her best. It’s not easy traveling with a very young child.
After what seemed like an eternity, we landed in Atlanta, a very COLD Atlanta, late at night and we are still in our Abu Dhabi hot-weather clothes. Our checked bag shows up on the AirTag finder as having arrived with us (another blessing we don’t take for granted) and we picked it up and got in the line for bus transportation to the terminal where airport hotel buses pick up.
Fortunately, I had a sweater in my duffel, which I pulled out and put on. Buses for hotels came and went, but not ours. Then, it came and it was a large bus, for the Airport Marriott Hotel, and it was just us and the crews from two or three different airlines, chatting about mutual friends and funny things happening on flights.
When we got to the hotel, we loved it. The lobby was full of young people, mostly with computers, some working intently (it was 11 pm by this point), some socializing, all laid-back and having a good time. It was so relaxed, it felt like a college dorm. We were quickly checked in and reached our very simple but quiet room where we were delighted to have hot showers and get to bed. Well done, AdventureMan!
Sunrise in Atlanta
We slept and slept, and woke with plenty of time to dress and get ourselves back to the airport, to check in for our flight, and even to have some breakfast in a familiar bookshop where we have eaten before. We decided having the unexpected overnight in Atlanta was really not such a bad thing.
Our big worry would have been our cats, but our caretaker was able to stay another day and the cats were fine. We got to sleep without unpacking, unconcerned with transitioning back to our normal life, and the short flight to Pensacola was uneventful. We had a great cab ride home, unpacked, went to lunch, and had a very unhurried day as we began to sink back into our Pensacola lives, and prepare for Christmas. 🙂
“Has Your Wardrobe Changed?”
I was on my hands and knees, sandwiching two new quilts when AdventureMan seated himself near me and asked if he should take his grey-green pants on the upcoming trip. With all the baggage insecurity going around, we’ve made a decision to take a carry-on bag and one personal item, and skip checked luggage altogether.
Being the kind of person who used to over-study for tests, this is causing me some anxiety. I told him that the pants did not coordinate with enough of his wardrobe to make them useful, to stick with the tried-and-true khakis which used to be his staple, and his blue jeans, which will get him through some of the more rugged places.
More than once, we’ve had luggage go missing. It always caught up with us, but once – in Lusaka, we were headed out into the bush the next day and had only our traveling clothes and night clothes – and, thank God, some shoes. We grabbed a taxi and found a street mall with a combination grocery and department store, stocked with camo and green clothing from China which was more or less apropos. We couldn’t be choosy, and we were thankful to find something that would get us through until, we hoped, our baggage showed up. I still love the thick green socks I found; they have worn like iron.
But this is different, this is not the bush, it is a lengthy cruise, and I am trying to pack enough cool-weather clothing for cooler places, warm-weather clothing for places that are pretty hot even when they have cooled off, and clothes for dining in specialty restaurants with a dress code. I need clothes which will be modest. I need something for just hanging around. I’ve saved old swimsuits I can wear and leave behind, so that’s one thing solved.
“We’ve never lived in one place this long, ever,” AdventureMan continued, “and I have clothes I never wear anymore, things that have just become irrelevant. I keep thinking I need to get rid of more, like the pleated pants and the dress shirts, but it’s hard, I wonder if I might need them. Does that happen with you?”
I pause in my pinning and laugh. I have one dress in three different colors, another dress in two colors, and two jean skirts. I have a winter hooded dress in five colors. I am not a big shopper, so when I find something that works, I go with multiples.
Meanwhile, yes, AdventureMan, I have that other closet full, like you, with just-in-case clothes. I still have what is left of my evening dresses. I have clothing for in case I have a business meeting, or a funeral, things maybe I’ve worn once or twice since moving here. I have the odd specialty pieces, like Christmas clothing. When will I be ready to part with my cold-weather clothing, so beautiful and once so expensive?
I laugh and tell him all the above, and then tell him that of all the clothes I wear, I still have the clothes which were made for me in Qatar and Kuwait, copies of one particular Coldwater Creek linen dress which I had copied in both linen and cotton. I have three left. I’ve been wearing them for fifteen years, and they still look like new.
“I’ve taken them in,” I tell him because I’m smaller than I was when I was relatively sedentary in Kuwait. “And I’ve taken the hems up at least twice as I’ve gotten more used to being back in America. People tell me I look nice – they used to ask me if I was a missionary wife,” I added, and we both laughed. When you live in a different culture for a while, you become adapted to local ways. I remember how disconcerting it was in summers coming back to the USA and finding all the women shockingly and scantily dressed in their sleeveless dresses and shorts and T-shirts, even respectable women and I knew the change was in me and my perceptions, not in my culture.
I am thinking the backpack will be my Godsend. I am hoping I still have the strength and energy to run through Charles de Gaulle airport with the backpack on my back, lifting the carry-on if we need to run up or down stairs. I am thinking I can strap the backpack onto the carry-on handle in the straight places. I am thinking whatever I take will be enough; I am hoping it might even be a matter of discovering I have overpacked a little less than before.
It’s a curious mentality you develop when you’re nomadic. You become aware of so many possibilities, things that can go wrong, and things you might need, so you are always thinking “just in case.”
We have a backup plan. We know there is a Carrefour (large French supermarket) in walking distance to our hotel, so we can stock up on things we don’t have room to pack, or which we can’t carry on-board an airplane – manicure scissors, needles, sun protection, and some good bottles of dry red wine for our cabin. My list gives me a small illusion of control.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that this is our get-away, our escape, and that anxiety is counter-productive. We will be fine. Enough is enough, it will be a grand adventure.
Abu Dhabi Police Capture Suspect in Killing of American Teacher
. . . And they put together a movie to show how it was done. Wow. If our police could do this, cases would clear courts a lot faster. Here is the story:
From AOL News:
DUBAI, United Arab Emirates (AP) — The United Arab Emirates’ interior minister says police have arrested a suspect in the killing of an American schoolteacher in the capital, Abu Dhabi.
State news agency WAM says Interior Minister Saif bin Zayed Al Nahyan said on Thursday that the suspect also planted a makeshift bomb outside the house of an American doctor. He says the device was successfully dismantled.
Police say the teacher was stabbed to death by an attacker wearing the full black veil commonly worn by women throughout the Gulf Arab region.
When I watched it YouTube, it showed sponsorship by No Nonsense, LOL, which I thought ironically appropriate.
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