Welcome to Marketplace's coverage of The Middle East @ Work
Members of the Marketplace staff visited Cairo and Dubai March 3-14. They posted their thoughts, experiences and observations below.
The air here in Dubai this morning was thick. Some strange combination of sand blowing off the desert, dirt from the construction sites, and fog coming in off the Persian Gulf. Made it hard to see more than a couple of hundred yards ahead.
I know this is an imperfect analogy, but that's kind of the problem we've been having the past two weeks. We came here to figure out whether business can change the Middle East. In Egypt and the northern part of the region, where we spent our first week, crowded old cities and religious differences make even the simplest transaction a contest of wills. Down here in Dubai they all but say. "Please, come. Spend your money, start your companies. Pay no taxes." That seems to have worked the way Dubai wants it to, so far.
Still, my lasting memory of this city is going to be its incompleteness. Not just physically, although that for sure. But also because for all the building and booming, Dubai's place in the global economy still isn't a sure thing. Too many people here are being left behind. And I get a sense a lot of the rest of them are here because they're afraid to miss out on . . . something . . . they just don't know what.
So, can business change the Middle East? Sure, and it already has. We just don't know how much more.
-- Kai Ryssdal
By Richard Core on March 14, 2008
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I will have to learn how to ski one day. Just to know if I could have lied when the woman at the ski Dubai counter asked me if I knew how to ski. I said, "no, can I take a class and learn?"... "you have to take four classes"... "I don't have time for four classes"... "then you can just go into the snow park". That didn't sound like a lot of fun. But I did it anyway... I have a tendency to only work when I travel for work. So sometimes I just have to force myself to do something else.
The snow park is basically a crazy place. But it doesn't feel that crazy when you are there. I have not been in a theme park but I suppose the feeling is fairly similar. The guy in charge of the toboggan didn't object to me riding it 5 times so I could get different video shots. After one hour, it became boring. Probably like any other theme park. I visited the bathroom and noticed that this very serious Asian young waiter was washing his hands. He was the waiter that helped us a couple of days ago when we had dinner at the mall. Back then, he was extremely smiley, extremely nice, in a way that made me feel it could not be fake. He was too nice to be faking it. But now at the bathroom he looks like a different person. It is not that he is not smiling (who smiles in the bathroom?) it is that he looks like he is thinking, like he is worried, like he is in the middle of a process... he looks like a musician before entering the stage, or an athlete before starting a competition. Focused, that's what it is.
Continue reading "The Cultures of the Future"
March 14, 2008
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We took a few hours off to go to the beach today. Jumeirah Beach Park costs just 5 dirhams to get in (less than $1.50), and it's beautiful. The water is swimming pool blue, and so salty you can just sit back and float with no effort.
The scene is pure Dubai. European women in thong bikinis seemed right at home alongside fully-covered Arab women. Yet I saw a lifeguard tell an African man he couldn't go around in his briefs. It's easy to be lulled into thinking Dubai is just like America. Until your web search gets censored. Or...as it turns out...you try to get on the bus.
Continue reading "Unlucky Thirteen"
March 14, 2008
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One of the ironies of Dubai is that all the cab drivers live in Deira, and yet it's impossible to find a cab there. At least for a white guy who wants to go to Knowledge Village. I broke my feet walking around in circles trying to find a place where cabs might congregate. I tried the main thoroughfares first but all the traffic was whipping by too fast. I tried flagging down something that at least looked like a taxi as it waited at a stop light. I waved and waved but the driver ignored me. Finally I walked right up to his window and said, sort of desperately, "Can I get in your cab?"
Continue reading "All Hail ... Taxi"
By Richard Core on March 11, 2008
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Price: 150 dirhams (about $40) for two hours
Vertical Drop: 203 feet
Snow base: 6,000 tons
Temperature: 28° F
Time to ski from top to bottom: 25 seconds
Carbon footprint: Scary
By Richard Core on March 11, 2008
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This room has fluorescent lights, white and blue tiles on the walls. This room doesn't have a whole lot of light. If I had to guess I'd say I am in a hospital waiting room somewhere in Queens, New York. I can't find the glamour. There is something odd about this room. When we finally board in our Boeing 777 I am still trying to figure out what's odd about that situation. I go to the bathroom and only then I realize that there is a PA system playing music across the plane. Some innocuous music coming out of a movie about the future. I can't recall ever hearing any music when boarding a plane. But maybe I was just not paying attention. And why am I paying attention now?
The flight from Cairo to Dubai is about three hours. Emirates is supposed to become the biggest airline in the world at some point in the near future. This plane is quite fancy. The food is quite fancy... we even get to see the plane take off on the screens across the plane. They placed a camera in the front of the plane. So you see those lights on the runway passing faster, faster, faster and finally... the stars. No one in this plane seems very surprised by this. I am so surprised, I take out the video camera and I start shooting the TV monitor. The flight attendants, who had been wearing some sort of traditional hats while we were boarding the place, now don't have any hats. And they don't look very Middle Eastern to me. They look more like... Scandinavian models. The luxury of this plane, the food, the staff... none of that fits with us, the people on the plane... regular people... Workers, visitors with not too much money, a pair of surprised public radio producers. No one seems very excited in this plane. Is this what the future will look like? A calm, somehow melancholic, un-surprised, luxurious, apathetic, melting pot? Either I am missing something big here, or the future has no soul.
-- Miguel Macias
March 11, 2008
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To go from Cairo to Dubai is to go from the horizontal to the vertical. The Arab sky replaces the Arab street. Skyscrapers go up like flags on a flag pole. Construction cranes are everywhere. So is the noise from jackhammers. This is a city that has never said no.
It is like being invited into a brainstorming session. You are told, "Don't think about the cost or the time or the staffing needs. Just imagine what you want to do. How you would plan this project?" But, at the end of the brainstorm, practicality sets in. You take your ideas and prioritize. What can we accomplish given our limits? Dubai doesn't operate that way. They are the brainstorm. And then they execute their ideas. New coastline -- check. Seventy five skyscrapers in a four-block radius -- check. Ski slope -- check. The more impractical, the more probable it is. It feels like the grand experiment in the Middle East, the globalized city state. A professional gold rush, a place where ambition and adversity live in the same frame. Migrant workers are building the monuments that soon will become Dubai's legacy.
You'll notice one big difference between Dubai and Egypt: How they talk about their history, their legacy. Unlike Egyptians, Emiratis prefer the background. You will meet lots of ex-pats who will tell you they love Dubai. They have lived there for years and yet they have never been inside an Emirati home. Egyptians will talk about the past, the pyramids. They'll point to ancient buildings as proof that the present day matters. This is what we gave to the world. In Dubai, they are inventing their history now. History is being written by those who can build, build, build. They don't have Egypt's wealth of ancient artifacts, but they do have something they consider more valuable -- family. And in a country where citizens get free housing, free college education, and free health care, you can understand why the family concept still matters. They have the time and the income to preserve their bonds.
-- Nancy Farghalli
March 10, 2008
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Dubai is one of the most successful cities on the planet: brave, ambitious experimental, safe, tolerant, peace-loving and prosperous. I hated it. Or to be more precise I loved the idea of this city but hated the reality of it....
Continue reading "A nice place to visit but . . ."
March 10, 2008
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Up at 6:40 or so, couldn't bare the cheese/processed meat/grapefruit breakfast again so
I had yogurt with frosted flakes in it. (They didn't have any granola.) Helmut Mackleburg didn't have any breakfast, just coffee. He's the General Manager of the Taj Palace Hotel in Deira -- the first and longest standing sharia-compliant hotel in Dubai. He's a large man presiding over a large place - massive ceilings (the hotel I mean), four restaurants, beauty salon, pharmacy, etc. And like the other sharia-compliant hotels I visited it had those same framed drawings of the president, the former president and the vice president of the UAE. behind the concierge desk. Most of the female guests in the lobby wore abayas. Some had their faces fully covered, tucking fork-fulls of eggs under their veils at the balcony cafe. . . .
Continue reading "A Glimpse"
By Richard Core on March 10, 2008
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Strangely, a Dubai DJ will play Sean Paul and The Proclaimers right next to each other. I don't know where in the city we were but the club was called "Rock Bottom." And it was. White people paid 40 Dh for a blue drink called a "Bull-frog." Main ingredient: Red Bull. And by "white people" I mean me. Barely an Arab there tonight except one man who told me his cousin lives in Minnesota. One of the new American friends I was with hails from Minneapolis. Small, small world tinted with blue food-coloring.
Continue reading "The New Saturday"
By Richard Core on March 10, 2008
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After a few days I finally made it down to Dubai Creek. Most of the Dubai I'd seen thus far was still under construction and almost wholly unwalkable. But Deira, sometimes called "the heart of the city," is a much more lived-in area by the water - boats packed with tourists slipping past the skyscrapers. A boat pilot came up to me and tried to hand me a brochure. He was speaking English but I couldn't make out any of the words except "boat," "go" and "okay." He wanted to take me on the water but I had to interview Tamsin Sherifa Madgwick at the Sheik Mohammed Center for Cultural Understanding. . . .
Continue reading "Old and New Dubai"
By Richard Core on March 10, 2008
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I landed in Dubai on a Saturday, which is the new Sunday. That is, the work week here begins on Sunday, which makes it the new Monday. Thursday is the new Friday. It's hard to get used to.
The problem with foreign reporting trips is that you only have a limited window of time to get everything you need. So if something unforeseen happens that limits your time even more, you start to panic a little. (Of course, I tend to panic a lot over everything. Enough said.) ...
Continue reading "First Days"
By Richard Core on March 10, 2008
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First of all, greetings from Dubai. If you've never been here, if you have, or even if you don't think you'll ever come, this is a place you ought to know about. More about this when the show hits the air later today.
Second, yes, we're staying in a Holiday Inn. This is public radio, you know. (Technically, it's 'Express, by Holiday Inn' which makes me think it's a franchised-out sub-brand or something.) Still, it's clean and has a free continental breakfast, so it works fine for us.
Finally, and the real reason I'm writing, Knowledge Village.
Continue reading "It's the Holiday Inn Express, next to Knowledge Village."
March 10, 2008
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If you don't have a car in Dubai, you can spend half your life in a cab. So I've gotten to know a few drivers since I arrived last week. Most come from India or Pakistan. One of them, John, is an electrician by training. He's from Kerala, in southwestern India. When he arrived here 8 years ago, he says his rent was 70 dirhams a month. That's about 19 US dollars. Sounds cheap, but consider he was sharing that one room apartment with three other people. Today? That same room costs him 650 dirhams ($177).
Continue reading "Cab Driver Econ"
March 10, 2008
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As I finish washing my face, I see out of the corner of my eye someone standing right by me. About one foot away from me. Or at least that's what it feels like. As I turn around, a paper towel is right in front of my hands. I see the paper towel dispenser on the wall, and I learned to take care of myself pretty early in my life so I'd sort of rather pick up the paper towel myself. But this nice man is standing between me and the paper towel dispenser. And he's got a paper towel right in front of my hands. There is no way to say no without feeling terribly rude, or mean, or a combination of rude, mean and un-understanding.
There is something to understand in this situation. ...
Continue reading "A Secret Union"
By Richard Core on March 9, 2008
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Cairo hits you in the gut. The city selfishly takes control of all your senses. Sometimes, you'll just want to hide. It is the Arab Street -- in all of its contradictions and its complexity. Girls wear headscarves and tight jeans. Women in long hijabs -- black fabric covering their mouths -- only to move when they smoke shisha. Boys who play video games only to hit pause when they hear the call to prayer. Men who stare at all those who walk by. An Egyptian friend remarked, "We don't have freedom of speech, but we do have the freedom to stare."
Continue reading "Cairo hits you in the gut"
March 7, 2008
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The thing I'll remember most about my trip to Egypt is definitely the people. Egyptians are perhaps the warmest, friendliest folks I've ever met.
When you pass them in the street, they'll say, "Welcome. Have a good day." They say "have a good day" even at night or when it doesn't make sense to say it. You can't help but smile. And that's the one thing Egyptians do a lot - smile. And the kids? They are precious. They swarmed around me everywhere I went and wanted to speak English and shake my hand. What is your name? How are you? Welcome to Egypt!
There was a security guy on my hotel floor who looked like a secret service agent. The first time I passed him, I kind of gave a little nod and said hello. I wasn't sure the protocol for greeting a security officer. He responded with a big smile and a warm greeting. It's very charming. My housekeeper made a point of talking to me every day.
The hotel staff, the waiters, the shopkeepers - everyone goes out of their way to provide good service. They earn their tips for sure. It's quite a departure from much of the customer service in the US. And these people don't make much money. I kept asking myself, how can they be so pleasant when their lives are so hard?
Continue reading "From Cairo, with a smile..."
March 7, 2008
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I wasn't sure what to expect in Egypt for meals or adult beverages. I'll start with the food. I haven't had a bad meal here yet. I was warned to be leery of uncooked vegetables and definitely the water. I've stuck to bottled water but I have eaten cucumber and tomato salads almost every day without problems. The lettuce, I hear, can be a little dicey. They use a lot of pesticides.
One of my favorite dishes is koshery. It's pasta and rice mixed with lentils and tomato sauce. It's a very hearty - and cheap - meal. Expensive koshery is less than $3 US. It's supposedly a dish of the lower classes. I could eat it almost every day, although I might have a carbo-ttack.
Meat-eaters will love the shish-kebab, and something called Fatah. It's minced meat rolled into a patty. I also had a "hamburger" at a Cairo restaurant. There was no bun. It was four small meat patties spiced with Cumin. Very tasty!
Vegetarians will love the fuul. It's a fava bean dish cooked with butter, tomatoes and onions. Delicious. Doesn't sound like a breakfast, but a lot of Egyptians eat it first thing in the morning as a hearty way to start their day.
Continue reading "Eating and Drinking in Egypt"
March 6, 2008
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We walked around Old Cairo until we found a place where they were giving music lessons. The students were learning to play an instrument called an oud. It was the predecessor of the western lute. They've been playing the oud in this part of the world since about the 8th century!
An oud looks like a pear-shaped guitar with the neck bent backwards. There are 11 strings and no frets. This is so players can be expressive with slides and vibratos. Just think of the Middle Eastern music you've heard and all the microtones in the music. The "pick" is a piece of metal about the size of your index finger.
Since I play guitar, I thought it'd be fun to try it, but I did not make beautiful music with the oud:
(Listen to how bad he sounds. He sings even worse.)
It was much different than a guitar, although with a few lessons, I might get the hang of it.
I listened to the teacher play for a while. He was extraordinary. I could've listened for hours. He was only 16 years old!
(Now, this guy rocks.)
Hear some more from a recording taken from the same music academy:
A real pro.
Continue reading "A Music Lesson"
March 5, 2008
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In Cairo, negotiating is an age-old art form. And it's actually a lot of fun once you catch the spirit of it.
I spent a few hours at the Khan al-Khalili market. It's a narrow cobblestone street full of shops where tourists can buy souvenirs, spices, even gold. It's been around for about 600 years. As you walk along, the merchants will try to physically steer you into their shops or least barrage you with sales pitches. You want some jewelry? A mini-Sphinx? Nefertiti? Or my favorite, "How can I take your money??? I'll give you good Egyptian price."
Trust me, you don't want to pay the Egyptian price. If they say 100 pounds (20 dollars), it's probably a 100 percent mark up. If you don't say anything and just walk away, the price immediately drops 20 pounds. But if it's something you want, start the bidding. So you might say, 30 pounds. 70? No, 40. 60? No, 50. Okay, deal.
Continue reading "Let's Make a Deal..."
March 4, 2008
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Tonight we ate dinner at a Lebanese restaurant in a fake Moroccan souk, served by Indian waiters. And this pretty much sums up my impression of Dubai so far. Exploring this city, where less than 20% of the population actually comes from here, where “Old Town” is still under construction, where the University of Phoenix shares a campus with Mahatma Gandhi University…it’s easy to find yourself asking over and over again, “where the heck am I?” It could be the middle of anywhere.
Like so many workers here, our waiter came from India to make money to send back home. But after just 19 months, he’s leaving next week. After all the folks we’ve talked to who seem pretty darn happy here (despite the high rents, the inflation, the lack of rights, no path to citizenship), it was surprising to find someone who admitted to not really loving it. He thinks he can do just as well back home. And next week some other South Asian will serve foul moudames to an American visitor wondering where on earth she’s landed.
P.S. Kai and I are in Dubai this week preparing for next week’s live broadcasts. Hope you can tune in!
-- Amy Scott
March 4, 2008
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I'm guessing no one in the history of the world wore as much bling as King Tutankhamun.
Not by choice, mind you. King Tut's body was buried with 143 pieces of jewelry -- bracelets, anklets, amulets -- attached to it. And I mean attached. When Tut's body was found in the 1920's, Howard Carter's team cut up the mummy into several pieces because the jewelry was glued to Tut from all the embalming resin. The only reason I bring this up is that I saw a lot of this bling at the Egyptian Museum.
The most magnificent piece was King Tut's death mask. Pure gold. Weighing 220 pounds. It truly is a sight to behold. It got me thinking -- how many people must have worked on the King's death? And for how long? There had to be an entire industry around this one event. Tut was buried in THREE coffins, each one placed inside another. They weighed 3,000 pounds total. The inner-most one was also pure gold.
Continue reading "King Tut's Bling"
March 3, 2008
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After visiting the Egyptian museum, I have decided to stipulate in my will that under no circumstances, should I be mummified when I die.
I actually debated whether to even enter the Royal Mummy rooms. My colleague, Miguel, stayed put. He said these people were buried in a specific place and did not intend to have their remains gawked at under a glass case 3,000 years later. Pretty good point, but I am here to experience Egypt in all its... gory. So, morbid curiosity got the best of me, and I paid the 20 US dollars to visit the two rooms.
First of all, it was fascinating. The Ancient Egyptians went to extraordinary lengths to preserve the bodies of the dead. One woman's face was packed with soda and fat to make her appear more "life-like". Unfortunately, they used too much soda and fat, and the result is that she appears disfigured beyond belief and very definitely dead-like.
But other mummies looked like they could rise up out of their case right then and there. I got a good look at one of Egypt's greatest kings, Ramses II. He lived a long life for a man at that time - well into his 80's. 3,000 years later, he kind of resembles a man in his 80's. Or 200's, tops. For some reason, I imagined him sitting in a rocking chair reaching out for my hand, as if i were his grandchild. It was then that I realized I shouldn't stay in the mummy room very long.
Continue reading "Still dead after all these years..."
March 3, 2008
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Somewhere I read a saying about Egyptians: If you drop your wallet on the street, an Egyptian will run after you to give it back. Then he will try to get you to voluntarily part with the contents.
After my short time here, nothing could be truer. Egyptians are extraordinarily friendly people. They shout "Welcome!" to strangers on the street. They seem genuinely warm and hospitable. They want to help you.
But they also want a tip for every single thing they do. Point you in the right direction? Five pounds, please. Carry your bag down a flight of stairs? Something for me, please. Five pounds? Is that all you have?
It is a serious conundrum for visitors. The boat driver who gave us an hour tour of the Nile was a lovely Egyptian man who'd worked on the river for 50 years. He sang us songs and laughed and took pictures with us. He praised Americans. Oh, they are wonderful tippers, he said. He said that a lot.
Continue reading "Here's your money. Can I have some?"
March 3, 2008
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One of my first encounters with the particularities of Egyptian culture ... A driver met us at the airport. When he brought his car from the parking lot to pick us up at the curb, he was stopped by a policeman. They argued (chatted?) for a while, and then he came back to the car to ask us if we had change for a 20-pound note. (Twenty Egyptian pounds is about $3.60 US.) We did not. So he took the twenty, paid off the cop, and came back to the car. He didn’t speak enough English to tell us what had happened. But I assumed we’d encountered our first illustration of baksheesh.
Baksheesh in Egypt is the term that describes everything from the tip you leave the hotel housekeeper, to the spare change you give the beggar, to the ... ahem … bribe you apparently pay the policeman at the airport.
Continue reading "Baksheesh . . . or Bribery?"
By Richard Core on March 3, 2008
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As far as I can tell, very few people use maps in Egypt. Point to the Ace Club in Ma’adi on a map, and you’ll get a blank stare from your cab driver. Asking for directions however, is a way of life. A driver going to an unfamiliar address will pull over as many as a dozen times to ask where such and such a street is. Unimaginable in the States, where self-sufficiency is a badge of honor. You get a sense in Cairo that there’s a communal interest in getting people where they want to go. Locals tell me all the asking is partly insurance. You’re bound to get at least a few wrong answers, so the more people you ask, the likelier you are to find the place.
-- Amy Scott
By Richard Core on March 3, 2008
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Crossing the street in Cairo is an act of pure faith. An estimated 3 million cars clog the streets, and there are no traffic laws to speak of. (Lights turn red, but no one stops.) So walking —anywhere — can be a nerve-wracking ordeal. If you’ve ever played the old arcade game “Frogger,” you get the idea. My guidebook advises visitors to wait for a group of locals crossing the street and essentially use them as human shields. It works pretty well, actually. If you walk quickly and confidently, the cars will stop. When I'm back in New York, though, I'll have to shake that habit because the cars there will not stop.
-- Amy Scott
By Richard Core on March 3, 2008
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"No, I can't take you there," Yusra, my Iraqi translator told me. "It's not acceptable." I wanted to go to one of the coffeeshops in Amman's downtown where Iraqi refugees like to hang out. The reason? I'm a woman.
I was skeptical. Yusra's a liberal 40-something divorcee, who says what she thinks, and would never consider covering her head. Plus, she had lived in Baghdad through much of the worst. Could a coffeeshop really be worse than suicide bombers?
So I asked Rana, my secular Jordanian friend if she'd take me. "No," she said. "You could go there because you're a foreigner. But I can't." The most I could get out of her was that it would raise serious doubts about her reputation. And bring ruin to her family if anybody saw her.
I didn't want to be rude, but the idea still seems almost funny to me. I tried to think of a place in the U.S. where I simply can't go. There are places I'd be afraid to go. Or places that I can't imagine wanting to go. But can't go?
But I got a hint of what she and Yusra meant the day Rana and I went to interview Egyptian day laborers on a bitterly cold January day. We'd barely made it out of the car when we were surrounded by what felt like an enormous crowd of men. All staring at us.
Continue reading "No place for a woman "
By Richard Core on March 3, 2008
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When I was traveling in Jordan, I didn't always tell people where I was really from. But when I did, it inevitably seemed like they had relatives in Chicago or New York -- or at least knew somebody who did. And looking at the names of some of the businesses I saw, maybe they were right. Except it seemed like maybe those relatives actually live in Tempe and Tenafly.
I mean, if I were going to name a business after something American, I might choose The Ritz. Or the Golden Gate. Instead, I found places like the gas station in West Amman called Grand Central Station (It was neither very grand, nor very central. I suppose it was, indeed, a station.) Smack up against the divided highway that runs between Amman and Zarqa –- not far from my favorite road sign ever, indicating exits for Syria, Iraq and Saudi Arabia -- was a furniture store named Newjersey (sic) Furniture. And around the corner in the same building was Newjersey Majestic Hall for Celebrations. Maybe living in New York I'm biased, but majestic is not a word I usually associate with the Garden State.
On a charming little street in West Amman, I found a business, called -- appropriately, I thought -- Arizona Dry Cleaners. After all, you wouldn't want to take your dry cleaning to a place named after someplace damp, like Seattle or New Orleans, right?
There was the American Doors business that advertised on a billboard along the road to the airport. I wasn't sure what that was supposed to imply. But perhaps my favorite of all was the Biggly-Wiggly supermarket. I imagine it's probably a bastardization of the southern grocery store chain, Piggly Wiggly (P's in English tend to become B's in Arabic, so you drink Bebsi, which you can buy at the Subermarket.) But I like to imagine that it was intentional, to avoid a run-in with the original's attorneys. Or maybe just in deference to the Islamic prohibition on anything to do with pigs.
-- Alisa Roth
By Richard Core on March 3, 2008
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An observation about doing radio interviews in Egypt: They’re constantly interrupted by the call to prayer . . . and the delivery of tea. There’s a knock on the door. In walks someone with a tray. Delicious. And you simply can’t say no. I finally learned to ask for herbal tea in the afternoons so that I could sleep at night.
-- Amy Scott
March 3, 2008
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