Christmas Cards

Christmas Cards

Holidays again!  I’m now officially on three weeks Winter Break.  Fantastic.  However, the past few weeks have been full on at work getting student data entered into Esis, which is our reporting system.

I’ve been troubled once again by an upset stomach so have had three days off work over a period of a week or so.  I used two of these days to enter my student data in between trips to the loo.  I’ve had further investigation done in the way of an abdominal scan but I think it’s just going to be par for the course while living here.  Possibly too much spicy food upsetting things?  I’ve been living on bread and bananas with a bit of white rice at times.  The Indian nurse gave me a great tip for dealing with diarrhoea - drink strong black tea with lemon.  And it seems to have worked.

I did decide to venture out with a friend on the Sunday during this time to pay a visit to a Swiss Market being held at one of the hotels here.  Quaint stalls were set up in the courtyard at the Beach Rotana Hotel, right next door to the Abu Dhabi Mall.  Another Swiss band entertained us using traditional cow bells.  By the time I get to Switzerland with the sista I'll know it all. 

These stalls were selling all things Christmassy and I purchased a set of Christmas cards to send back to a few of you in NZ.

The hotel itself has the most spectacular Christmas tree reaching about two stories high.

A gingerbread house inside the hotel was selling all sorts of Christmas goodies to eat.

The numerous restaurants all had their own Christmas trees.

Back to the cards.  Anyway I write the cards and get them all ready to send.  They then sat on the table for a few more days as I was still not feeling the best.  By Thursday I decided I could risk a visit to the Post Office to send them so off I head after work, walking over the one block.

I check out my PO Box to find a welcome package from Wellington containing some Christmas goodies (and treats if the wonderful aroma of peppermint wafting from the beautifully wrapped packages is anything to go by).  I opened two of the parcels and the teenager put together the wonderful kiwi while I hung the delightful Christmas stocking decorated with a tui and pohutakawa.  A real taste of home!

Then into the Post Office itself.  I report to the security desk and collect my number, 799.  I look up at the counters to check and see I have at least 50 people before me, and this is only for the postage counter.  This doesn’t include the other hundred or so men all sitting around waiting to be served.  I’m hoping my body will behave and I don’t have to run out in a hurry, not that there are any loos around there.

So I sit and wait.  Normally I’d have bought a book but having come straight from work I don’t have one.  So I read the info on renewing my PO Box and head back to the guard to get a ticket for doing that.  It turns out it’s at the same counter so don’t really need it but keep it anyway.

So I sit and wait and wait.  Eventually it’s my turn and I rush up with my number.  At this time the numbers are rapidly being called as no-one has the tickets so I give my second number to a man waiting.

Now I have 12 cards to post, only 12.  Four have a small gift inside.  One card is still at home as I don’t have the address and can’t find it online.  Remember I’ve had plenty of time to sort the cards while waiting so I hand over 7 cards and say, “Post to New Zealand.”  Not too difficult, one would think.  But I want 8 stamps, not 7.  So first problem.  She’s counting in Arabic and I have to keep saying 8.  8.  8.  Finally I get 8 stamps with a snake on them.  Only 5.50 AED to post today.  Last card was 11AED so you never know what it will cost. 

“Only take a week,” I’m told.  Yeah right!

So I get my 8 stamps and she comments on the snakes and smiles and laughs.  Then I confuse her by handing over the other 4 cards and saying, “New Zealand.”  So eventually she weighs them and they are 22.75AED each.  Ooohh, she says.  So expensive.  She writes down the price and then finds me some stamps.

She hands over a lovely set, like a first day cover, of birds and tells me I’ll have to cut out the seven stamps on it and stick them on.  I’m like, what?  Cut them out?  Here?  Now?  But they aren’t worth enough so she duly finds me two more stamps.  Then she gets confused and tries to give me 7 sets of these.  “No, only 4!”  Several exchanges later I have paid my 120AED and have moved over two counters to an empty one to begin the process of cutting out the wretched stamps.

Anyone would think I’d chosen to do this.  As if???

Next to me a friendly Emirate man asks where I’m from.  Then asks, Don’t you have internet in NZ?  Why not use email he says?  Good question I’m asking myself?  Why you do this, he asks?  Why indeed????  My original plan of an email Christmas card sounds pretty good about now.

Then in a random switch in conversation, which often happens here, he begins asking me about the price of NZ honey.  Our manuka honey with its medicinal properties is highly sought after here.  All this while I’m cutting stamps with a tiny pair of folding nail scissors which the clerk lent me.

                                               

You have to visualise this.  I’ve hardly eaten for a week, my stomach is unpredictable and there’s probably two hundred men behind me.  I’m wondering if I can last.  I stash my carry bag at my feet, my handbag on the counter and spread the cards out.  I’ve got 11 cards, four of which need to have stamps cut and stuck on.  So I’m spread out over this counter cutting and sticking.  I do the 7 single stamp cards first then begin on the others, one at a time so I get the right stamps on each.

In the meantime the clerk sells another unsuspecting victim the same set of stamps and requests her scissors back.  Then the clerk starts cutting the stamps for her.  I say, what?  Why I have to cut my own?  The Emirate man agrees with me.

Behind me a man, in an English voice, loudly says, 30 minutes to get a stamp.  Silently I agree with him about the ridiculous system in this country, while continuing to cut and stick.

I hand over the 7 cards and get the scissors again.  As I reach over to her counter, a man approaches me and begins, Did you know?  I think he’s going to tell me there’s an easier way to do this (now I’m half way through) and turn to him.  But no!  He’s asking me, Did you know that there’s 20 people waiting here and you’ve taken over ½ an hour to get a few stamps!

“Not my problem,” I reply.  “It is your problem,” he snaps.  Luckily for him that I’ve learned Patience and Flexibility since I’ve been here, isn’t it?  I’m surprised he didn’t ask if we don’t have internet in NZ as well.

                                               

I’m seething but unwilling to make a scene with security hovering so return to my stamps.  I’m not at a working counter and had long finished with the clerk, who was serving the man I gave my second ticket to.  He’d been at the counter as long as I’d been cutting and sticking so why wasn’t he getting an earful?  Don’t be mad at me, be mad at the system.

The crazy thing is that I agree with the guy.  I’m the one who should be mad, it’s my time that is being wasted, not his.  The whole system is ludicrous and painstakingly slow.  The 30-45 minutes I waited for my turn, a young Emirate man sat at the next door counter with a closed sign and did nothing.  No, I lie.  At one stage he threw five forms at a customer, another time he bit his fingernail, and then he was texting on his phone.  So he did do something.  And, no doubt, he’d be getting paid double or treble what I get paid.

But back to the stamps.  I continue with the process and by now I’ve got into a rhythm, finding the most economical lines for cutting.  But the real fun begins when I try to stick them all on the envelope.  Has anyone tried to put 8 or 9 stamps on an envelope while still reading the address?  No, I hadn’t either.  I thought about putting them all on the back, some on the back, covering the name, ????  I ended up by trying several arrangements and by the last one I had it sussed as to how to fit them on.

In my stressed state I never thought to take a photo before I handed them back over to the clerk for posting (now that would have really irritated that man, wouldn’t it?)  So if you are the lucky recipient of one (and you’ll know what I mean if you are) please snap a photo and send it to me and I’ll add it in here.

I've put up a few pockets of Christmas decorations to make the apartment seem cherry.  Nothing like I do at home though but just had to  have some flashing lights.

 I really wanted a wreath for the front door and a woman was making them and selling them online.  But I decided to buy a much cheaper version and add a few additional decorations myself.  Here is the finished product hanging on my front door.  I must say I'd be lost without 3M removable hooks!

Merry Christmas to you all.