Merry Christmas 2011

and now words, by Randy...


Spain and the Holiday Cruise

By

Randall D. Ball

Over the Christmas holiday, we traveled to Spain, taking a cruise from Barcelona out to the Canary Islands off the coast of Africa. We visited the colorful port town of Funchal (Madeira), a part of Portugal; Spanish Tenerife, with its volcanoes (including the very tall, impressive Mount Teida) and “lunar landscapes,” as all the travel brochures and advertisements rightly describe, Arrecife, and—back on mainland Spain—Malaga (Granada) Spain, where Christine enjoyed part of her Christmas present (a day to herself with a tour of the Alhambra, a famous Moorish palace). My primary regret is that we missed the Rock of Gibraltar; both times that our cruise ship the Norwegian Jade passed through the Strait of Gibraltar, it was during the night, and we were sleeping soundly in our cozy (not quite cramped) cabin.

The cruise featured tons of constant food, activities, shows, and entertainment and games for the girls, especially Anastasia, who decorated her own cupcakes, made a pizza, played pirate, and had fun with other little kids on our ship. Talula was too young for those activities, but the ship did have a small, simple under-two playroom for her. Santa Claus paid a visit on Christmas Day; both girls received a little gift from the cruiseline. Christine attended a few art lectures and an art auction, and Anastasia and I caught two “Broadway” shows. In between all this excitement over the course of nine days, we ate at the buffet and at two separate dining rooms.

Upon our return to Barcelona, we toured Guell Parc and the famous cathedral of Sagrada Familia, designed by the architect Gaudi and still under construction since 1882 (estimated completion date: 2025). Then we enjoyed some tapas at a little restaurant in the neighborhood where we were staying; the squid and scallops were especially tasty, although the goat cheese and the bread were good as well. The girls struggled, however, to find something to their liking. They preferred bananas, chocolate sponge cake, and microwave popcorn that we found at a little market around the corner. It was a change from the spaghetti that Anastasia had been living on for the past few days. Talula was willing to eat nearly anything on the cruise ship.

We stayed in a furnished, rented apartment in the Old Town, a trendy and very pedestrian-friendly area near Parc de la Ciutadella. On our last day, we walked over to the zoo in that park, much to the girls’ delight. Of course, they were just as interested in trudging through the fallen leaves and in chasing pigeons as they were in observing the animals. They did enjoy the petting zoo, however, as our photographs suggest. Nearly all of our photos from the zoo focus on that petting zoo—goats galore! Anastasia and Talula were also impressed with the peacocks, giraffes, elephants, and the Komodo dragon.

Both girls get excited about airplanes and airports, by the way. As soon as they see a packed bag, they start talking about airplanes. At the airport in Frankfurt, Germany, Anastasia had us draw pictures of airplanes. Then she’d show the drawings to the airplanes out the window of the terminal. Anastasia and Talula also made “snow angels” continuously, lying on the floor of various airport terminals, waving their arms and legs. One particular comment was my favorite, however. Anastasia pointed to a fellow passenger at the terminal in Frankfurt who was sleeping under a blanket, and she asked, “Is he hiding?” Yes, Anastasia, he’s hiding, but he doesn’t want to be found. That’s part of the point behind a holiday, after all.

December activities

National Day facepainting

































First dance class open to parents. There are 3 brief videos that you can watch if you follow the link.


Up Next: 1 week of school (3 days of which Christine will be at Desert Camp), 2 weeks of holiday in Barcelona and cruise to Canary Islands and then another week back in AD before starting up school in 2012.

Lebanon, Eid Al Adha 2011

(CLICK on the slideshow to make it full size or see at your own pace.)

Return to Beirut: A Love Letter
By
Randall D. Ball

Eight years ago, as a single man who was a mere thirty years old, I traveled alone to my beloved Middle East for the first time. I was centered in Beirut, Lebanon, and wrote of my experiences in my first-ever travelogue. Now it’s 2011, and I have returned to Beirut, numerous travelogues later. I return to Lebanon as a married man with two small children, and as an expat teacher now living in the Middle East. I wondered who had changed more—Beirut or me? That may have been the wrong question, however, because perhaps neither of us has changed that much after nearly a decade.

I booked us into the same hotel in the Hamra district of Beirut, and we walked the same streets that I meandered through eight years ago: along Rue Hamra and the Corniche, past the famed, overly-touristy Pigeon Rocks, by the walls of the American University of Beirut, even ending up at the same spot for lunch on our first full day in Lebanon: at the Hard Rock Café overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Not much had changed; I was just sharing the experience this time. Anastasia and Talula enjoyed lunch at the Hard Rock. They both ate with gusto (it’s a rare moment when both girls have simultaneous, hearty appetites), and afterwards, they played around the small stage in the nearly-empty restaurant. It was lunchtime on a slow Saturday, and even the waitress joined in the fun, playing with the girls.

They must have played hard. By the time we worked our way back along the Corniche, around the bend in the peninsula up to the Pigeon Rocks, they were asleep in their strollers. Christine and I enjoyed a coffee al fresco, soaking in the mildly warm sun that was finally overcoming the chilly morning showers. By the time we returned to the Mayflower Hotel, it was fairly late in the afternoon. We opted for some shwarma on Rue Hamra, about a block and a half from the hotel.

Sunday, we joined a half-day tour to the Jeita grotto, eighteen kilometers northeast of Beirut. The tour guide picked us up an hour late, which is irritating enough even before you add two small, impatient kids into the mix. Fortunately, Talula slept on the hour-long bus ride through town and up the coast into the mountains (it seems that no matter where you go in Beirut, no matter which way, or both ways, you end up going straight up). Christine’s arms were tired holding her for so long, but she’s easier to hold when she’s asleep than when she is squirming. I spent my time amusing Anastasia with a made-up game called “tickets.” Don’t ask. It’s complicated.

We took a gondola ride to the upper grotto, which was surprising in that we still had more “up” to go after climbing the mountain by bus. Anastasia seemed really interested in “flying” in the gondola; she kept repeating, “up and down, up and down” and “fly…fly.” The grotto was an incredible sight: massive caverns with crystallized stalagmites protruding from the cave floor and stalactites acting as chandeliers. A truly awe-inspiring place. Then we took a kiddie train (how quickly natural beauty is supplanted with man’s folly) to the lower grotto. We could have walked, but Anastasia insisted on the train—and it was included in the ticket price anyway.

We took a brief boat tour of the lower grotto, motoring about the underground river as if we were on the River Styx. After riding the bus back down the mountain, we took another gondola and an additional funicular (we were covering all bases of transport today) to the top of a mountain in Harissa to see Our Lady of Lebanon, a statue of the Virgin Mary that presides over the coastal Mediterranean cities of Jounieh, Beirut, and Byblos. The church, statue, and surrounding property offered a great view above the bay around Jounieh.

This “half-day” tour ended around 4:30 in the afternoon. We were all pretty tired.

In the morning, we joined a full-day tour, which started on time and ended at 5:00 p.m. Apparently, the difference between “full day” and “half day” is ninety minutes. Our tour this time was in a little van, but we filled out the relatively roomy backseat. The girls were well-behaved, and unlike our trip to Sri Lanka earlier this year, no one got sick as we made our way up and over the mountain range into the Bekaa Valley. Our first stop was at the Umayyad ruins of Aanjar, an Islamic archaeological site that was discovered entirely by accident in the 1940s. It previously had been lost in trees, its actual city walls covered in mud. Its location was significant in trading—along the route between Damascus and Palestine.

At Aanjar, Anastasia kept climbing on rocks and posing, asking us to take her picture, or “pickwick,” as she says. Talula played with pebbles and sticks, acting as if she had never seen such things. Then again, she is from Abu Dhabi. She probably hasn’t seen such natural artifacts. Both girls, in fact, were quite fascinated with rain as well. Of course, after being in the United Arab Emirates for five years, Christine and I were just as appreciative of the precipitation.

We continued onward into the Bekaa Valley, an infamous Hezbollah stronghold not far from the Syrian border. On several occasions, vendors offered me Hezbollah t-shirts. I resisted.

We also passed numerous Palestinian refugee camps before reaching the Roman ruins at Baalbek. We took the quick, kid-friendly self-guided tour, which meant stopping for fifteen minutes at a little hole in some rock where the girls played, and then spending thirty seconds admiring the Temples of Bacchus and Jupiter.

From Baalbek we traveled to Ksara, where we toured a fascinating winery that keeps its barrels of wine in ancient caves, perfect for maintaining a certain degree of temperature and humidity. The tour was followed with a wine tasting. Anastasia was not much interested in what we were doing, but Talula enthusiastically sampled a few drops of each wine. She was a big hit among our fellow travelers, who laughed as she tried to suck each wine glass dry.

We had a late group lunch in a hotel dining room in Ksara. A man from Jordan sat across from us and commented on Anastasia’s eating habits. She was tearing tiny bits of Arabic bread and dipping them gently into hummus.

“I love the way eat,” he commented. “Children are such a blessing.”

At that moment Anastasia took a huge piece of bread and stuffed all of it into her mouth. She looked at him, choking on her bread, as if to say, “Do you like the way I eat now, sucker?”

On the drive back to Beirut, we became friendly with a young Indian couple from Dubai who were seated in front of us in the van. Anastasia and Talula played with them vigorously, for want of a better adverb.

Tuesday was our last full day in Lebanon. We walked past the American University of Beirut, where Christine took several photos of graffiti, much of it calling for revolution, anarchy, or other wise engage in attacks upon the powers-that-be. Other examples of “freedom scrawl” urged people to kill their televisions and “Make designers, not clothes.” Ras Beirut, as the area is known, is quite the “college town” in that way.

We walked past the port to downtown Beirut, where we spent some time around the ruins of a Roman bath. A friendly, local old codger gave the girls some chocolate while I marveled over the fact that I could find the Lebanese Parliament, the Roman baths, and the Place d’Etoile amid all the recent Solidere construction. Eight years ago, I could use landmarks such as the clock tower at the Place d’Etoile to find my way around, but now, the construction that began in the 1990s (after the destruction of the previous decade) obstructs such views. Anastasia and Talula didn’t mind, though, because the pigeons still congregate around the clock tower, and they spent an hour chasing the birds around the square. They clearly had a blast. We managed to tear them away from the birds long enough to eat lunch at an outdoor café near the square, and then they spent another hour chasing pigeons.

On our way back to the hotel, we paused to admire the beautiful Al-Omari Mosque and to see the Place des Martyrs (Martyrs’ Square), where the Ottomans once executed a handful of Lebanese nationalists during World War I.

Then we retraced our steps, stopping for tasty crepes across from the American University before returning to the Mayflower. We had spent a busy few days in Lebanon, but it was winding down. My return to Lebanon was different in certain outward appearances; Beirut’s skyline has evolved just as my own life has, but the Land of the Cedars is intrinsically the same country, even as it adapts. In that, we are alike.

Two Little Fairies

Talula's First (Beach) Birthday

Anastasia goes to AISA

Anastasia began preschool on Sunday, October 2. Her teacher has a son in my class so we joke that we have just done a child exchange program. So far, Anastasia is loving it. She gets to go to school with Randy and me, she plays with kids her age all day and then gets to ride a bus home at 1pm. I have heard from her teacher Mrs. Sunette, her gym teacher, the bus driver's wife and several other people about how well she is doing. She hugs and kisses the other kids, joins in as if she has been there from the beginning and gets frustrated when she is working with something the other kids had done in the weeks before she joined them (which I see as a good sign: wanting to know).

Below are a few photos from the first and second day:

Anastasia with her new monster backpack in her gym uniform


Running down the hallway trying out her giraffe shoes


In regulary AISA uniform on Day 2


Teaching Talula a few things

Photo update 23/9/2011

Utah, Indiana & Illinois

OK- so this has been really delayed due to some compatability issues. But here is the end of our summer!

Florida & South Carolina

The first part of the summer is about to end as Randy and Anastasia head to Virginia to visit his sister Rebekah while Talula & I go to Utah to visit Kim, Kent, little Grant, Talula's godfather Vince and Holly. Here are a few photos from our time with family and friends in Florida and South Carolina. (if you click on the slideshow it will take you to the album so you can see them more closely)

Oh, the places we'll go... this summer!

This summer's plans are a bit more complex than normal, but for happy reasons. Here's our schedule:

25 June- 4 July
Winter Haven, Florida to see Randy's mom and grandmother, also a bonus visit with Rob and Joyce

4-21 July
Beaufort, SC to see Randy's dad, old Battery Creek friends, Randy's high school friends and my cousin Ben on vacation with his family

21-25 July
Christine & Talula go to Utah to see Kim & Grant, and hopefully Andrea & Collette (the 3 little ones will range from 6-8 months!!)

Randy & Anastasia go to Virginia to see Randy's sister Rebekah and her husband Dale

25 July-14 August
We all meet up again in Indiana for weddings, wedding receptions and birthdays galore. Brian & Hannah will be married on 5 August with Anastasia acting as flower girl

14-18 August
Off to northern Illinois so Randy's maternal grandparents, aunt & uncle can meet the 2nd great-grandchild of the family, our little Talula

And then back on the plane for the always dreaded 15 hour flight back!

Recent photos

Talula at Teagan's baby shower

















Trying to get a pre-school enrollment picture of Anastasia

















Finally smiling for one of them

















Talula on the move- crawling is secondary only to trying to pull up

















Anastasia dressing up Talula- only like a big sister can

















One for the embarassing book

















Anastasia still loves wearing dresses...

















...and posing for pictures in them!

Spring break Sri Lanka

Sri Lanka, April 2010

Spring Break in Sri Lanka
By
Randall D. Ball

My wife says that the straightest line we traveled in Sri Lanka was the airport runway. With its curves and hills and hairpin turns and zigzags and mountain roads, and with the colorful driving habits of its denizens, Sri Lanka can give even the mightiest iron-stomached bulwark a good dose of motion sickness. My two-year-old daughter Anastasia and I fared well, and my wife Christine took Dramamine tablets to counter the dizzying, nauseating effects of the twisting highways and aggressive driving. Our six-month-old, Talula, wasn’t so lucky, and thus neither were my pants, shoes, or the floor mat in our driver’s car.
Our first day, however, was gentle enough, with an easy four-hour flight from Abu Dhabi to Colombo. Our driver Senaka greeted us at the airport, and within minutes we were loaded into the backseat (no car seats for the kids, either), zipping past creeks, marshes, and rice paddies, marveling at the lush tropical greenery that always serves as a stark contrast to our brown desert life and grey concrete city. Senaka drove us three hours to the central Sri Lankan city of Kandy, a most un-Sri Lankan-sounding name amidst towns such as Kadugannawa, Katunayake, Wattegama, Nawalapitiya, Ratnapura, Angunukolepelessa, and my favorite, Uragasmanhandiya. Our hotel in Kandy was nestled in a tropical landscape and had an infinity pool on a bluff overlooking the Mahaweli Ganga, by far the longest river in the country. It was a perfect spot for Anastasia to play. She enjoyed the kiddie pool, adjacent to our outdoor dining area, so we could eat while she played, even in the rain. She didn’t mind. Rain is a special occasion when you’re coming from the United Arab Emirates.
The next day, Senaka picked us up early to see the elephants. Our first stop was a little business that sold elephant rides, and along with this photo op, we also fed our elephant, and Anastasia—with Christine’s help—got into the little creek running through the jungle to wash—and climb all over—a reclined elephant. I stood on the dry riverbank, Talula strapped to my chest in the Baby Bjorn, trying to take photos while she grabbed at the camera strap. Anastasia clearly loved the encounter. When we arrived at the Pinnawela Elephant “Orphanage” (originally founded as an orphanage, but now it’s more of an elephant breeding program to continue to attract tourists), Anastasia made a mad dash toward them. Unlike a traditional zoo, here you get up close with the elephants, standing next to them, petting them, hoping one doesn’t absent-mindedly step on your feet and crunch your bones into oblivion. The big event at this pachydermal orphanage is the twice-daily elephant march across the street, through a souvenir-shop-lined pedestrian walkway, down to the river where dozens and dozens of the beasts wash themselves and frolic as tourists watch from the riverbank or from one of the cafes that line the waterfront. Back at the hotel, a visibly frightened Anastasia ran away from a brown frog and a tiny lizard. She has no fear of humongous elephants, though.
That evening, we attended a “traditional” dance and music performance, put on nightly for the tourists. It may have been artificial, plastic, and contrived, but the grand finale did involve two men who walked on very hot coals. Following the performance, we took a drive around “scenic” Kandy Lake, which is just as artificial as the performance but at least with the lake, the locals get to enjoy its presence too. Then we visited the famous Temple of the Sacred Tooth relic, home of a tooth of the Buddha himself.
The next two days tested our stomachs’ ability to hold its contents as we twisted and turned up into the mountains toward Nuwara Eliya. Along the way, Talula deposited her contents into my hand, arm, pants, shoes, and floor mat. It was close to noon, before the cooling afternoon showers, and the morning sun baked us in the “air-conditioned car” (the AC only worked properly when it was cold outside). Her car sickness provided us with an impromptu stop by a tea plantation, and an Indian family on holiday stopped alongside us—to take pictures of Anastasia and Talula, not of the fields of tea plantations, the mountains, or the beautiful waterfalls in the background. Both girls got a bit upset and fussy on this drive up into the mountains, trying our patience and ensuring that the driver earned his tip. At one point, Anastasia announced to the entire car, “I farted.” It was her first use of past tense and one of only a few complete sentences that she has ever spoken. Senaka thought her statement was funny, even if he wasn’t too amused by their outbursts of cries and occasional screams.
We stopped at a tea factory overlooking one of the many plantations in the hill country for a tour and a free cup of tea. Anastasia had a chance to run around the little English garden outside the factory and chase a stray dog, one of many that we saw on our trip. After lunch at our hotel in Nuwara Eliya, Senaka drove us to Hakgala Botanical Gardens, where once again the girls became the star attraction as Sri Lankans and Indians on holiday all wanted to take their picture with her.
Then we visited a small, modest Hindu temple near the gardens. It was free to enter, unlike the touristy Buddhist Temple of the Tooth in Kandy, but there was a little donation booth. I had to wake up the guy to make my donation of one hundred rupees (less than a dollar). I thought I was making a donation for the general upkeep of the temple, which I was, but to my surprise the somnolent fellow was a Hindu priest (a “Pujari”) who gathered the whole family around for a Hindu blessing, right down to saying prayers for us and giving us those holy red marks (“Tilak”) on our foreheads. He then handed me some symbolically blessed food wrapped in a banana leaf (“Prasad”) and offered us a drink of blessed water (“Cholera”). It was Easter Sunday, and we had our Hindu blessing.
The next morning, Senaka warned us in advance. “Today, 263 kilometers.” Driving in Sri Lanka, you can barely average 40 km/hour, so 263 km was going to take us the better part of the day. And we had to wind our way back down the mountains, through the same hairpin turns and tea plantations and camera-happy Indian tourists. Talula vomited on Christine this time, just to break up the monotony.
We left the hill country with its tea plantations, heading into the rainforest. The road finally straightened out a bit, by Sri Lankan standards, but then the pavement quickly deteriorated into a series of pot holes, craters, and small rivers, further slowing us down and jarring our teeth in the process. At lunch time, we asked Senaka about a restaurant stop, and for the next two hours he drove past street stalls and shacks selling flat soda and stale crackers before finding us a more proper restaurant. Dining was outdoors next to a shabby, rusty children’s playground, but the sweet potato curry and the spicy dahl were tasty and flavorful and felt more like Sri Lankan food than any of the hotel cuisine we had been eating since arriving in the country. Anastasia enjoyed a plateful of plain white rice before screaming for more playground time. We made sure she had some, because we still had a way to go, stuck in the car, all four of us squirming sardines crammed into the backseat holding on to one another.
“Just an hour and a half more, maybe,” Senaka assured us. This meant we had at least two hours more of driving. It’s important to be able to translate what the driver really is saying.
Over two hours later, Senaka broke the news to us. “I can’t drive to rainforest hotel.”
This was news. Then he explained that he would park at the base of the hill and we would have to take a tuk-tuk (a three-wheeled auto rickshaw, quite common in developing southeast Asian countries) up the narrow path to our rainforest lodge. It certainly felt that we were off the beaten path! Our rainforest hotel was in Kalawana, just outside the Sinharaja Rainforest preserve, and it was a beautiful location offering a panoramic view of the lush jungle from its hilltop perch. The staff were most welcoming and friendly, although perhaps we were just happy to be out of our vehicular prison. Dinner was a splendid candle light affair with delicious chicken, rice, a wonderful pumpkin curry, and other vegetables, concluding with a dessert of “kiri pani,” yogurt topped with treacle. We slept well that night, the sounds of the rainforest just outside—and occasionally inside. I heard something rustling in the bathroom, which—although still private—was open to the great outdoors on one side. In the morning I inspected the little bar of soap by the bathroom sink. It had been either clawed or chewed up…by something.
At breakfast one of the wait staff warned us about Anastasia petting the cat. “Maybe she not touch. Cat hair may be poison…” I knew about the venomous snakes in the area, such as the green pit viper (in the trees!) and the krait, but I was unaware of the rainforest’s poisonous feline fur. Christine and I figured that he meant Anastasia might be allergic to cat fur, but just to be sure I kept an eye on that cat for the rest of the morning.
“Only 100, maybe 110 kilometers today,” Senaka told us after our huge breakfast of various fruits, breads, pastries, omelets, and curried vegetables. “Maybe hour and a half.”
I calculated that, after the quick tuk-tuk ride down the hill, it would take us nearly an hour just to drive out of the rainforest in Senaka’s car, which took quite a beating in the pot holes and craters that make up the road. It would then take us another hour just to get to the coast, and another half hour after that to arrive at our beach resort in Unawatuna in southwestern Sri Lanka. My calculation was much, much closer than Senaka’s optimistic one.
We took two breaks on our way to the coast, one after Talula pooped on me (fortunately, I was wearing the same vomit-stained pants from two days ago, and she managed to hit the same spot on the pants) and another stop at the Kosgoda sea turtle farm, a conservation project run by volunteers. Anastasia loved the turtles—a little too much. At one point she licked a turtle’s fin, which our guide said he had never seen before. He was a young Englishman who told us that the previous night they had had a terrible storm and a tsunami warning, which turned out to be a false alarm, thank goodness. But we were staying in Unawatuna, which was hit worst and destroyed by the big 2004 tsunami. And I thought the poisonous cat was dangerous!
Anastasia and Talula really enjoyed the beach resort, though. Our bungalow was just a few feet from the surf, and from the looks of it, it must have been the only thing left standing after the tsunami. The girls enjoyed splashing in the water, both in the Indian Ocean and at the pool. The waves in the ocean were a little more fierce than what we’re used to, but Anastasia didn’t mind getting knocked down by their force. We spent an extra day there, a day with no car ride, which made for a nice change of pace. Our second night there, Christine and I took turns dancing with Anastasia to the unusual entertainment: five blind musicians who played their hearts out.
In the morning, we piled back into Senaka’s car for the long ride back to the airport north of Colombo. We stopped in Galle along the way to see the fort there, and to pay a visit to a Dutch Protestant church within its walls.
Senaka warned us, however, not to purchase anything in Galle. “Too much expensive,” he said. “You want shopping? I take you to market in Colombo.”
Two and a half hours later, we were in Colombo, and he took us shopping—at what was essentially a Sri Lankan K-Mart. Clearly, our driver wasn’t taking commissions from any souvenir shops or gift stores. While Christine politely looked around the store, I asked Senaka how much farther it was to the airport.
“Forty-five minutes,” he assured me. I just smiled.
After we had left the department store and crammed ourselves back into his car, Christine asked him the same question.
“Maybe one hour,” he said. I decided if we added up the two answers, that would probably be more accurate.
Over two hours later, we had finally fought our way through the city of Colombo and well north of it, grateful to see the airport and bid farewell to our backseat jail. We said our good-byes to Senaka, with Anastasia giving him a nice hug, and our holiday in Sri Lanka came to a satisfying close.

Data Analysis of Two Daughters

We took Anastasia and Talula in for Talula's vaccinations. While we were there we forced them on a scales and heightometer. Here are the results:

Weight: 8.2 kg, 18 pounds, 80.36 N, 87th percentile

Height: 66 cm, 26 inches, 71st percentile

Weight for height: 75-90th percentile



Weight: 13.1 kg, 29 pounds, 128.38 N, 25-50th percentile

Height: 93 cm, 37 inches, 50-75th percentile

Weight for height: 10-25th percentile

Also in current research, Randy's sister sent us this link: Key to a Happy Family Is 2 Daughters, Study Finds. I guess we'll find out! I think they're off to a good start :)

Masdar (Carbon-neutral City)

Anastasia's Art Portfolio

Talula Update

Rebekah and Dale's Visit

Becky and Dale arrived Thursday night, 20 January. I met them at the airport and drove them into town, where they stayed with Leanne (who lives about a block away). Friday morning, the tired couple had to wake up early so that we could head to the camel race track. Surprisingly, it was raining, which is unusual for the Dhabi. The last time we had seen that much rain, Christine had visitors--and that was over a year ago. Visitors=rain. They didn't mind. It was warm enough, certainly a nice respite from the snows in Virginia.

We saw plenty of camels, enjoyed a bit of racing, and then made a pit stop along the wetlands in Al Wathba near the race tracks to see a few hundred flamingoes in the wild. Then we made a quick stop to the Rainbow Sheikh's National Car Museum (his own private garage, but it's huge, with over a hundred cars, including the world's largest automobile). We were back in town by the afternoon so they could get a little rest. Dinner that first full day was various food from popular, local hole-in-the-wall eateries: Afghani bread, lamb and chicken shwarma, grilled chicken, zatar pastry, and filafel and hummous. It was quite a spread on our dining table--and everyone was stuffed silly.

Saturday morning, we visited Sheikh Zayed Mosque to see a few more world records (largest dome, largest carpet, largest chandellier). Our nanny Noy and her husband met us there; they then took Talula and Anastasia while Becky, Dale, Christine, and I headed for Dubai. We had a good lunch at a Lebanese restaurant in the Mall of the Emirates, overlooking the indoor ski slope, and then we headed for Burj Khalifa, the world' s tallest building. We were fortunate that the skies were very clear by Dubai standards, about as clear as I've ever seen. The Burj Al-Arab (the seven-star hotel that sits out in the Arabian Gulf and looks like a ship's mast), the world's tallest hotel, was very clear that day. We had parked the rental car at the Mall of the Emirates, and then I made the spur-of-the-moment decision to leave it there and take the Metro further into town. We got off at Dubai Mall (by some standards, the world's largest), which sits at the base of Burj Khalifa. Then we took the elevator to the "top," although the observation deck is at the 124th floor, and there are another 40 floors above that). Still, it's the world's tallest outdoor observation deck and the world's second tallest indoor one, and the views are impressive overlooking the other skyscrapers in Dubai.

Sunday morning, Becky and Dale had some time to themselves while Christine and I were at school, but I met up with them early in the afternoon to take them to Emirates Palace in Abu Dhabi, the other seven-star hotel in the UAE. Emirates Palace and Sheikh Zayed Mosque are good examples of the opulence in the Dhabi, and neither place ever fails to impress. Too bad the world's most expensive Christmas tree was taken down a few weeks before their arrival.

Sunday evening, we took them dune bashing, which is a little like a roller coaster but without the tracks and safety. In other words, it's fun. Not sure Becky and Dale thought so, however. They were in the back of the SUV (the bumpiest seats), and things got quiet behind us as we kept flying over dunes. Our view out the window alternated between sand and sky for a good thirty minutes. We did stop around sunset for some beautiful views of the rolling red sand dunes. Becky and Dale also rode a camel, tried out the national UAE dress (chandoora for Dale, sheyla and abeya for Becky), and enjoyed some barbeque under the stars. The evening concluded with sheesha and a belly dancer, who got Dale on stage for a few minutes before singling me out for an extra long dance. At one point, we were dancing together; then she switched to just dancing around me, using me as her pole. Did I mention that it was my birthday? I don't think she knew this, though.

Monday, we took Dale and Becky to a nice breakfast at Mugg and Bean above Spinney's Grocery Store, and then Christine took Becky to a spa (manicure, pedicure, Moroccan bath) while Dale and I went to the movies (we saw THE DILEMMA, which is almost two hours I won't get back). Monday afternoon, we had a little walk along the Corniche, and Becky and Dale dipped their toes in the Arabian Gulf. We ended their visit at Heritage Village, at a nice restaurant on the shore of the breakwater with a great view of the city. The weather was gorgeous, the evening was quiet on the breakwater, and it was a good way for them to bid farewell to the Dhabi (they flew out shortly after midnight).

It was good to see them and to show them the place that we have called home for the past four years. They also have bragging rights--first family members to see Talula, and of course, Christine and Anastasia hadn't met Dale yet. A quick but satisfying visit...Now everyone is waiting for us to move on so they can visit us somewhere else, but they'll have to wait. We have signed on for another school year in the Dhabi.