racing and pacing and plotting the course...

Quote from Haruki Murakami: There were three reasons I failed. Not enough training. Not enough training. Not enough training.


I read that yesterday. It's dogged my steps and consciousness ever since.


Tomorrow at 4:30 AM I'll be walking out the door into the dark, shoes loosely laced, chafable parts lubricated, (big shout-out to Vaseline, here) sunscreen in place, a rapidly gobbled banana sitting uneasily in my stomach.

2 1/2 hours later, give or take, our relay team of 5, the Wanderers Return (though, technically, Graham and I are the only ones back from last year's team), will be setting out into Musandam and up the Hajar Mountains from the Straits of Hormuz.

The Wadi Bih race. 72.2 kms of rugged running.



I am nowhere near trained to where I wanted to be for this.

Oh, God, why do I do these things to myself?


Wait! I remember. Because, and no, I can't explain it, it's fun.


Is it too late to have myself committed to a mental institution, to keep me from harming myself, for my own good?


Yeah, waaaaay too late.


Wish me luck, people!

I'm a little teapot...

My lovely friend Sariya has her birthday just before mine, and she included me in a mommy get-together/get-away to Raffles Dubai.

For Afternoon Tea. In the Salon.


Now, there may be those of you out there who wonder my use of capital letters there. Well, if you question it, you obviously have not experienced one of these. When you get Tea-d, you know you're getting it. There's nothing you can do but sit back, let it happen, and enjoy yourself.

We escaped our families and responsibilities for the afternoon and met at Raffles, which is at Wafi, a luxuriously Egyptian-themed shopping mall with much in the way of stunning architecture and stores that I can't afford. Or at least can't make myself afford. Also very easy to get lost in, but at least you're lost in a pretty place.

(Enormous glass spiral in the center of equally spiraling ramps sweeping around it. Bethy and Thomas really love to run up and down these, and of course they have to make lots of noise while they do. )

Raffles is the Singapore-based 5 star hotel there, and amongst the gold and cream columns, rife with hieroglyphics, stretching to the high ceilings, we lounged on sofas from which we were unsure we could extract ourselves. With ceremony, we were presented with our tea and cakes. And pastries. Scones with blissfully clotted cream. And more cakes. And little finger sandwiches. And so on. In other words, enough so-called dainty food to satiate a football player.

One does not eat lunch, and possibly not breakfast, before going to one of these.

Very indulgent. Very la-dee-dah. Very Dubai.

Just makes me wiggle with happiness, if you want to know the truth.

I thought I was getting a handle on the desserts, but then the lovely tea maidens mercilessly pushed a ridiculously rich birthday torte on Sariya and me and it was all over.

Chocolate and hazelnut and candles for wishing.

We all ended up with takeaway boxes. Big, full ones.

One of the ladies there, who I'd met exactly once before, had actually gone out and gotten me a present: Haruki Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, translated from Japanese, something I've been meaning to read. It's a slim volume that fits beautifully in my purse for enjoyment whenever I am waiting somewhere, or in a stolen moment with a cup of coffee.

Three of us reminisced endlessly about Seattle, all being from there, and our solitary Brit friend looked patiently on; we spoke of our kids, our plans, of being expats.

One thing my benefactress said stayed with me. I've heard it before, but it is telling of this place and I'd like to share it with you. Essentially she said we are all away from our friends and families back home, the folks who would fuss over us on our birthdays. So here, we look out for one another, celebrate each other, and make the best of it.

Thus the utterly unexpected birthday gift. A gift in more ways than one.

The remains of the day

I ran at Safa Park that evening, but it was a pathetic effort. Who says sugar give you energy? It gives me the need for a nap. So there is your final mental image for the day: empty calorie-laden me, huffing around the park,

and having teacakes for breakfast the next day. Not an ounce of regret, except probably on my thighs.

Such a love triangle, sweets and me and running. Someday I'll have to choose. Perish the thought. Until then, c'est la vie! Or should that be, bon appetit?

I said hey, what's going on?

Bethy, gettin' her mermaid on.

While I was blogging....at great length...about our trip to SE Asia, time passed and other things have been happening with us, like, oh, my sister and her husband visited us from Idaho and spent Christmas, then there was New Years, I ran some races.... I feel the need to bring you up to speed.

Just to give you your daily "good gravy does that girl love those birds" moment, here are my sis Julia and her husband Jeff.



No, seriously, this is not me. This is Julia. And Spooky the owl.


and this is Jeff with a bird who needs no introduction:



Yes, I dragged them to the Birds of Prey Show. Yes, they seemed very willing to go. Yes, when Julia was holding another owl it spooked and clawed Jeff's arms and across his stomach...some excitement there,


and yes, I got a photo of that but you'll have to ask them to show it to you.


We spent an awesome, and too-short (isn't that always the case?) two weeks with them, visiting the souks and sights, they went out in the desert and rode camels and bashed the dunes, and Julia got to realise one of her life's dreams: to swim in an ocean without having to get out in 6 minutes or suffer acute hypothermia.



We went to the mosque, we went to bargain for Persian rugs up in the mountains, we laughed and drove around a lot, and took many photographs.



Basically, we did our darndest to show them a heck of a good time.

For Christmas, after presents, during which Thomas got his very first big-boy bike,



we did the Dubai thing and ate and drank ourselves close to oblivion


at a very nice hotel brunch that encompassed several restaurants. The kids got to visit Father Christmas and play to their heart's content; we'd brought a DVD player and there was a bouncy castle and the like.

Mike and I were particularly happy with this non-Halal menu option:



Pork, glorious pork. The ultimate in gluttony.


The next day, after we all slept in (except for the one person who was up sick all night and shall remain unnamed) I tried to take everyone out for an authentic fisherman's lunch. Strangely, Julia and I were the only ones who partook in the fish.


Sheesh, I thought eating spicy fish and rice with your fingers, fish heads and skins essentially intact, in a tiny 4 table place where there was little or not English spoken, would be the perfect hangover cure.


Guess not.


Julia conducted herself well at the Predictor Run, twice, forever solidifying my pride in my sis, not that that needed any nurturing. I particularly enjoyed when people mistook her for me out running and also asked if we are twins. She might not have been quite so happy with that question, as I'm older by 8 years.

Can you tell which sister is which?

Also over the holidays we dog-sat a beagle named Aggie. I've been having puppy longings and we are absolutely NOT getting a dog here. Aggie, while a good dog in many respects, gave me a complex by not listening to a single thing I said and did not endear us with her habit of forcing her way out the front door and taking off as fast as her short legs could go. Daily, at a minimum.

I did a lot of sprint runs during that time. Often in my bare feet. In front of the neighbors. Stupid dog. I was truly worried she'd get lost or hit by a car, as she had no road smarts either. Not something I wanted to happen to her, nor explain to her owners who'd entrusted her to us.

Thomas was deeply afraid of her the first few days, not being used to dogs, and a little wary the rest of the time. This did not deter her in the least from sleeping on his bed...after he fell asleep.

Mostly I was happy she cured me of dog-longings. And like I said, she wasn't a bad dog. Even though she did jump up on the table and kitchen counters.

Julia and Jeff went home just before New Years, sparing themselves the additional liver damage that may or may not have resulted from the evening's revelry.

In the morning we lit the candle my Grandma sent us for good luck. It was the first time I ever let Bethy light a candle and she felt darned special.

For races, I ran the Dubai Half Marathon, the Dubai Road Runners Pursuit Chase, the Dubai 10K (wimped out on the marathon and went 10K, still vaguely depressed over that one), and another 10K last Friday.

I think I raced more than I trained. Whoops.

I figure I get points for showing up. Mike and I have a saying: success through lowered expectations.

So, it may not be the best I could do with my running, but it is the best I can do, and when I am running, I give it my all.

After all, I was busy.

And that's a good thing.

Fly with me...

Kid's birthday parties are supposed to be a memorable, wonderful time for children, a time for simple joy, being with friends, singing, and togetherness.

I can almost hear some of you out there reading this right now and rolling your eyes, oh pullllease.

Let me tell you a tiny bit about birthday parties in Dubai.



They can, unfortunately, be about one-upmanship. This happens everywhere, but I think it's especially obvious in Dubai.

I heard with much amusement the story of a 5 year-old little boy who received a pink invitation to a little girl's party. He hated pink and told his mother he would not go. His mother really wanted him to go because the hosts were Emirati, and the last time they had gone to an Emirati party each child was given a Wii Game System.

So what did she do?

She went and bought Ben Ten (ie boy-acceptable) birthday invitations, forged a second one from the little girl and gave it to her son, who then agreed to go.

Oy.

For the 7 year olds in Bethy's class, we have been to a fully catered garden party at the Weston Hotel, and also to Atlantis in the underwater kids club where kids can play Wii and look out at the Whale Shark swimming by at the same time, or clamber on the ship rock climbing walls. There are a lot of parties at MyGym, where you drop your kids for 2 hours of play and cake, than come back and get them later.

These are fun, and interesting, and we were happy to be invited and to go. However, they were also not really our style.

So what is our style?

You may remember how I blissed out at the Birds of Prey Show in Dubai. How could I help it?

Well, Bethy loved it too, and it wasn't hard to convince her to hold her birthday party, hereafter refered to as her "Bird Day Party", there.

Bethy wearing a falconer's glove
holding Hetterich the Barn Owl,
her guests, and a documentary photographer

Birds of Prey is out past Mirdif, near Sharjah, away from the city. In other words, not on the beaten path. I spent agonising hours trying to make a good map with directions for parents to follow, squinting at various online maps, fighting tooth and claw with our Garmin (it won), and finally pestering gracious friends who were familiar enough with the area to help me figure out the best way to tell people to go. (You know who you are and I am eternally grateful!)

Setting out on the day with a (probably illegal) drive over sand and curbs to avoid construction, other parents who felt the map wasn't quite enough following me from the school in their SUVs, (they agreed to the unconventional route,) out onto Al Khail Road, at 100 kph, through the scariest roundabouts in Dubai. Also in the tightest following formation you can imagine. I felt a little bit like a race car driver in the front of the pack.

These parents were following me, per their request, having learned the hard way about trying to find places here. It was gratifying to hear how many other moms and dads also spend a great amount of time lost and frustrated on the roads. It was very gratifying to lead them straight there. All our guests, following or not, arrived safely, phew.

At 3:30 in the afternoon there was a nice breeze that made lighting Bethy's bird day candle nearly impossible, but one we were grateful to have: the temperature was in the 90s. Yes, my friends, it is early February. Welcome to the Middle East.

There is something about being out there in the desert land among the palm trees, hearing the wheee of the Snowy Owl, admiring the stunning orange eyes of the Eagle Owl, and witnessing the sheer majesty of the American Bald Eagle, that nurtures the soul.

Before the show Bethy and her little friends ran all around in the sand, gaping at the owls, eating chips and cotton candy and ignoring the fruits and yogurts I had brought. Of course.

When the show started the kids were much more dynamic than I'd seen before, getting up, quite unafraid, to be near the birds, yelling and laughing, the parents with their cameras got gorgeous shot after shot of the beautiful owls and hawks, falcons, eagles, and even giant vultures in action, and I was excited to hear the ooh and aahs.

Bethy had changed into her Princess costume in the car and was every bit the birthday girl.

In short, it was fabulous.

For the pièce de résistance, our friend Dalia made bird-on-a-nest cupcakes that would have left Martha Stewart weak in the knees.

I know. Happy kids, beautiful raptors, and cupcakes? It's amazing I didn't stroke out.

In addition to a regular sort of party gift from us, each child also received a leather falcon hood from us and a falcon feather from the Birds of Prey people to take home with them. More happiness.

Compared to other parites, we certainly didn't outspend anyone, nor was there glitz, and the glamour was all from the elegant hunter birds, but the kids (and I daresay the parents too) had a great time and learned lots.

Bethy was ecstatic.

How wonderful is that?

Special thanks to our guests, to Sandra and Zoli at Birds of Prey (http://birdsofprey-show-dubai.jimdo.com/), to Dalia for her ridiculously awesome baking skills ( http://www.homebakedtreats.com/), to Sariya (you know why!) and to Shuko, Ilka, Lizbeth and Karen for sharing their photographs.

Just a perfect day...

Opened my gift from Bethy first thing this morning. She'd paid for and wrapped it herself and couldn't wait.


She did good.

Skyped for hours with family members back home in the USA. Beautiful flowers arrived at the door.


In the afternoon, got a babysitter for Thomas and a Balinese foot massage for my deserving feet.


Taking advantage of the babysitter, went to a bookstore and bought Robert B Parker's last Spenser mystery, not even dithering with myself about the price.


Sat in a blissfully quiet spot and read while enjoying a cappuccino and a berry cupcake.





A nice run is planned with a friend this evening after the kids are tucked in bed. It should be pleasantly warm with a sky full of stars. We've had a gorgeous moon lately.


Happy, happy birthday to me.

We sail tonight for Singapore

Our cruise ended back in Singapore Harbor. There, as the boat was coming in, finally we got some rain. Only perhaps half an hour of it, but the kids and I went and did some happy rain dances out in it on the deck, then gathered our things and disembarked.

Sunset at the entrance to Singapore Harbor

Fireworks over Singapore Harbor, also as seen from the ship

and the Fullerton Hotel

Back to our old haunt, the luxurious Fullerton. Sometimes you have to suck it up and deal when you travel. This was not one of those times. Now we were on the top floor on the other side of the hotel from our previous room, overlooking the Marina Bay, the great lit wheel of the Singapore Flyer in the distance. We were gifted two commemorative golden Christmas ornaments in the shape of the Fullerton to hang on our tree when we returned home and a soft knock at our door produced two waiters carting plates of beautiful exotic fruits, glasses and a bottle of wine.

Honestly, had we been so inclined, we could have spent every waking hour at the Fullerton comfortably sloshed. I saw several persons in good dress but unsteady walk while we stayed there. Champagne breakfasts, in-room wine, the afternoon tea which included wines or beers, and then the evening cocktails...good thing we are such models of restraint, or we would have spent all our time in Singapore snoozing.

Plus, we had that great coffee maker which distracted us from such pursuits. Well, mostly.

Thomas settled into the sumptuously deep bedding with an apple after we scientifically tested for springiness:

Thomas and the bed both bore up well.

We had no plans, and decided to go for a ride on the Flyer and then to dinner to have some crab. Just the right level of plan for your last day of vacation, I think.

The Singapore Flyer is, at 165 meters high, the world's largest observation wheel. It takes 30 minutes to rotate slowly up into the sky and then back down again.

You may remember, I am not overly fond of heights.

View of the Singapore Flyer from our balcony

I spent most of the ride firmly seated in the middle of the capsule, alternating between trying not to freak out when, way up in the sky, the kids repeatedly crashed and pushed against the doors that I knew could, theoretically open...we'd come in through them after all, and being irritated with myself for being such a lily-livered namby-pamby milksop sissy wuss.

Bethy looking over the panoramic view and the Fullerton way below

Singapore skyline

As I was looking a little gray, Mike asked me flat out why I'd suggested an experience I knew would make me miserable. Well, the Flyer is what you DO when you're in Singapore, therefore we did it!

Sometimes he asks the silliest questions.

Back on the ground, the capsule doors having done their job and stayed closed when they were supposed to stay closed and opening only when it was time to let us back out (oh, thankyou thankyou thankyou ye Gods of the Flyer for giving us safe passage, we praise thee,) we went in search of some crab.

Pepper crab is the dish you're supposed to eat in Singapore. And we almost ate it. But then we started to order, the only whitefolk among all the Asians happily ingesting seafood and raucously toasting one another in a nicely upscale restaurant, the waitress interrupted, "Pepper crab?" before we'd even gotten the words out.

It's possible we'd already annoyed her by asking for what was bland enough for the kids to eat and probably also by singing the "fish heads" song, though come ON, who wouldn't have with this page on the menu:

and then chortled over the "Live Frogs, minimum 2 frogs " page,

but even so. Who wants to be that predictable? Pepper crab indeed! I quickly asked instead for the chili crab. Ha!

Thomas conked out early. Fortunately, on this side of the earth, they bring the kid's food first and the adult food a bit later, so at least he ate some rice and noodles, and had already had a good time staring google-eyed at the seafood swimming around in a huge wall of tanks with fish, crustacians, octopi, eels, the lot.

Those poor fish could stare out at the customers on one side as they ate their brethren, or they could watch their fellows being cooked in the kitchen on the other side. At this point I can only hope the sealife represented there has no comprehension of such things.

As for our crab, whether it knew its fate or not, it was delicious. A whole crab in a giant puddle of garlicky spicy sauce, full of sweet meat, with bread to mop it up, and since Thomas was snoring quietly we had ample time to linger over it and lick our fingers.

Quite messy. Good times.

A long walk back to the hotel, after deciding not to wait in the seemingly endless line for taxis, arms aching from carrying Thomas who was both heavy and noisily sad, past the huge silver spiky Esplanade building that Singapore locals have affectionately nicknamed "the Durian" and the Merlion, lit up in the darkness. Our vacation was essentially over.

We had an early start the next morning, a taxi to the airport and then flew home on Emirates. I can see why many people refuse to fly any other airline...the in-flight entertainment was truly exceptional. Lots of choices and the flightcams are great, especially as you come into Dubai.

Almost home

My views from my seat. I think if you squint you can almost make out the Burj Khalifa (the tower formerly known as the Burj Dubai) on the righthand side of the screen there as we begin our descent and turn towards the airport.

OK, so just take my word for it. It was cool.

Then, as we flew Emirates, we got to go through their exclusive terminal, wait for it, YES, the world's largest building by floorspace ( more than 370 acres) built for a paltry 4 1/2 billion.

Yeah, it was pretty nice. And considerably less walking than if you fly with another airline which all have to drop their passengers off at Terminals 1 or 2. A bonus for a tired little family, full of wonderful travel memories and more than ready for baths and laundry.