Moving to Abu Dhabi

I moved to Abu Dhabi from California about 5 months ago, and I witnessed some striking differences. One could say that I experienced a cultural shock. I would like to clarify that I did not envision the UAE to be a desolate desert with a pack of camels running around; I was well aware that it was a highly industrialized urban center. I feel blessed to call this place my new home for the time being. I have learned a few things about living here as a female American teenager although I am also an Arab.

As a student, differences in school systems were the most obvious to spot. My classes resemble the United Nations. There are children from many different countries and cultures representing a broad range of learning levels within one classroom due to differing educational backgrounds. Students are exposed to a very multicultural environment, embracing an environment of acceptance of all individuals regardless of ethnicity. Back in the US, it was more convenient to attend a free public school and attain the same top tier quality of education as a private institution. However, in Abu Dhabi, only private schools offer the more prestigious international curriculums such as the IB diploma or A- Level classes as opposed to public schools. Class size is small; however, students move in and out of school frequently due to their parents’ job placements, and so the graduating class may not be the same group as the one that started in grade 9.

If you ever need to get to a destination, chances are that within a couple of minutes you immediately find a roaming taxi. Even though Uber services are available in the UAE, the company has garnered more interest in the US in terms of on demand transportation. On your ride over to your destination, you are bound to encounter an unnatural number of speed bumps and spot a traffic camera every 150 meters, but at the same time you appreciate the safety regulations in the city. You casually look around at a stop sign and point out several supercars- Ferraris, Porches, etc. - that used to make your jaw drop anywhere else in the world, but now they seem to be a mundane, ordinary sight. Just yesterday you saw a red Lamborghini aventador pull up next to your car in front of the salsa studio. At this point you find yourself having to describe landmarks as opposed to actual street names to your taxi driver because no real addresses exist.

Weekend days are shifted to Friday and Saturday due to Muslim’s religious observance of Friday. It is typical for Abu Dhabi locals to go try out new restaurants and buffets in hotels or to visit the bustling business hub, Dubai. If you are not up for an outing downtown, you can be sure to order anything to your doorstep ranging from toilet paper or a case of water to sushi and ice cream, guilt free.

We are nearing the end of June, and the one undeniable factor of living in Abu Dhabi is the significantly high percentage of humidity- it really gets us all. The minute you step outside of the comfort of your air conditioned building, you are hit by a wave of moisture and unpleasant stickiness, similar to the sensation you get when you have just stepped out of a sauna or a really hot shower.

I will admit that living in Abu Dhabi differs greatly from California, but ultimately, I am thankful to be able to experience living in such a beautiful city.

Recounts from a Syrian American

To preserve a memory from being extinguished, it must constantly be sparked. When a culture has lost its state of unity, it is essential that we all become carriers of our traditions and share these keepsakes with our children and our children’s children.

Currently, over 220,000 people have been killed by the full-blown Syrian conflict, a majority of who are civilians. Bombings and air raids have destroyed crowded cities and reduced them to a mere pile of rubble. Basic human needs of food and medical care are sparse.

According to the UN, 7.6 million people are internally displaced- an increase of more than three million in just one year. More than half of the country’s original population of 23 million is in need of urgent humanitarian aid whether they have escaped as refugees or remain in the country.

Even though I only visited my parents’ homeland, Syria, once as a child, I am also affected by this conflict though I may not be as deeply injured as my parents who constantly reminisce about their memories from childhood to graduation. I always hear about how they listened to Firouz songs in the morning, inhaled the fresh scent of Turkish coffee mixed with sweet jasmine and orange a blossom, or awoke to the dripping of the water fountain in the courtyard. Now that Ramadan is here, they remember the voice ‘musaher’ or man in charge of waking up the community for suhur with the beating of his drum. Unfortunately, I probably will not get the opportunity to share my parents’ experiences and trace back to my origins.

Unless grotesque news of a bombing or of a child’s death appears on television, Syria is on the backburner of our minds- for some it has a greater presence than others. Since I only have a second hand connection to the country, news of Syria has an almost unreal, artificial feeling to them, as if the events are not really happening.

It saddens me to realize that the fragments of such a rich culture remain with the previous generation and is prone to be lost with the dispersion and assimilation of Syrian people in other countries. They are burdened with the immense responsibility of ensuring that they pass down the customs of their home country. Likewise, this generation has to be willing to listen to these stories and not dismiss them as irrelevant history.

My heart goes out to all families struggling to overcome this conflict- whether they are currently in Syria, have migrated as refugees, or constantly have their heart strings pulled by fear they have for people left in the war torn area.