You know what really sucks?

Not having a car in the UAE. Yes, we unloaded the Audi--she is now making daily trips between Abu Dhabi and Dubai as the primary commuting vehicle of a co-worker--which means we are on our own for transport around the city.

Now, taxis are cheap. You can get from one end of the island to the other, 20 kilometers or so, for about $8. The same ride in Chicago would cost $30, easily. But they are not always convenient. For instance, if you don't know exactly where you're going, including several nearby landmarks, you're out of luck unless the cab driver is experienced and speaks good English.

Or if you want to just go somewhere non-specific, i.e., "Let's go find a cup of coffee," you're forced to decide on a destination before you head out the door. It takes a lot of the fun and spontaneity out of random weekend drives. And of course road trips become a matter of either renting a car or, if you're going someplace like Dubai, just ponying up Dh250 ($68) for one-way taxi fare.

And that doesn't even count the inconvenience of ordinary errands if you don't live within walking distance of the places you're going. Fortunately, now that it's winter, foot travel is a little easier. So when Mrs Blog heads to the market (and by that I mean the nearest mall), she can hoof it over there through beautiful, scenic Tanker Mai and the greater Al Wahda neighborhood without breaking a sweat.

Getting the groceries back is another issue altogether, although at least the malls have regular taxi stands.

Anyway, the upshot of all of this is that:

1) Abu Dhabi is not a pedestrian-friendly city...

2) Taxis are cheap but not always convenient...

3) Re-adjusting to life here is always a bit of an exercise, but it's especially exhausting when you don't have wheels.

So shall we start a petition for the Municipality to start work on the Abu Dhabi Underground?

The grrs of Tanker Mai

Somehow, some way, our car has been turned into a jungle gym.

I took it to be washed today--a weekly ritual of scrubbing off seven days' worth of the airborne grit that blows in from the desert--and noticed a bunch of long scratches on the hood. Black car, white scratches. Grrr. This is after discovering that someone had ripped off the little rubber dome thingy* that seals the base of the radio aerial with the car body. Grrr.

My conclusion, base solely on circumstantial evidence, is that bored kids are playing on the Audi. I guess the scratches could be from large and energetic cats, but without opposable thumbs, the aforementioned dome thingy ain't going anywhere.

Great. I'm only 33, have no lawn, and find myself wanting to shout "Git off mah property!" out the window.

*not technical name

In which the author buys speakers from a guy on the street

Not really on the street, per se. But not in Best Buy, either. In Abu Dhabi, you see, if you want car work done you have the option of getting ripped off by the dealership or going to Salaam Street.

Ah, Salaam Street. A magical place that is equal parts construction dust and Mos Eisley. Various stretches of it will sell you specialized goods for your car, your phone or your home stereo. Everything is hawked out of storefronts marked only by giant, illuminated brand-name logos, and often there is a shortage of actual useful things. By that I mean, if you want a chrome side-mirror, you're in luck. But if you want a headlight lens, you're probably not.

Anyway, Ye Olde Audi did not have a brilliant speaker system when we bought it. (although it certainly did when it was new) So, given the two choices listed above, I did the following... and then wrote about it for the newspaper.

How does one decide where to go in a situation like that? Everyone wants your business. Everyone shouts that they will give you the best deal. And worse, all the shops seem roughly equivalent; window tinting, stereo installation, speakers and GPS systems in equal measure no matter which direction your neck swivelled.

So I fell back on a two-pronged standard: 1) I would look for a sign advertising brands I knew and trusted, and 2) I would look for the shop with the most expensive cars parked out front.

It was a frustrating drive that took me almost to the end of the lot. Then I saw it. “Pioneer,” in big, illuminated letters. Parked outside were two Mercedes, three BMWs, a Hummer and an enormously customised Toyota Hilux. Check and check.

I walked into the shop and introduced myself to the technician, who was just finishing a cigarette. He was Filipino and covered in tattoos. He said his name was Mike. Together, we walked outside to check out the car.

Allegedly there is a place in Dubai that functions more like a Best Buy--you go, you pick out some stereo equipment, you wait for a couple of hours while they install it. But where's the fun in that?

He said his name was Rupaul

He wasn't a drag queen. He was the Bangladeshi equivalent of a CPA. And before I met him, my toaster caught on fire.

Yeah, it's been a weird day.

We returned from Britain and discovered that our Audi's battery was deader than the Chiefs' playoff hopes. And, as is tradition here in the UAE, there was no easy way to go about getting it taken care of. Call a tow truck? Sure... and then spend a half-hour just reciting landmarks to try to get the driver in the vicinity of your car.

Buying a battery seemed the easier route, but there was a catch: The car had some kind of fancy anti-theft system built into it that made the radio inoperable if it were disconnected from the battery, even for a short period. To reactivate it, you had to enter a four-digit code. This code was conveniently stored in the car manual... or it should have been. None of the previous owners had written it down.

Tough choice. But we needed wheels. And that's how I ended up talking to Rupaul.

He works at the stationery shop next to the place where I bought the car battery. After haggling for a throw-in oil change, I was stuck there on foot for a bit and he came out to see what was going on, stapler sales apparently being pretty flat.

Interesting guy. Kind of a study in capitalism. His uncle works in Italy; his brother works in Germany; he has a cousin in Chicago. He was an accountant back home and has a degree in business. But, as he pointed out, he could come here and make 17 times more than he could back home. So he has committed to a three-year plan: Sell paper and file folders, send most of the money back home to his wife, and count the days.

In the meantime, he said, "I watch expensive cars go by."

Not a bad attitude. And maybe his positive outlook rubbed off on me--when I restarted the car, the stereo clicked on too.

Oh, man

It has been a week since I last posted. I have a good excuse, but no good pictures (Mrs. Blog is in charge of those at the moment).

We have had friends in town of the old, dear variety, visiting us from New Zealand. Naturally, we wanted to show our digs off to them, so the last week has been filled with mosque visits, beach lounging, camel riding--yeah, I know that's where the lack of pictures really hurts--and a ton of driving.

Also, I fixed a tape adapter for a car stereo. I think.

Anyway, although life remains busy, as soon as I have some digital images in my possession, they'll be up here, amazing and entertaining you. The sand of the Empty Quarter, for instance, would work perfectly as a screen saver. It's that beautiful. And sandy.

Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and rather than cook a turkey and be American, not that there is anything wrong with that, run-on sentence, we are packing up our Audi and heading to Oman. Oh, man, indeed.

This is how we roll

It seems there is a little confusion over our new vehicle. "Does it transform?" people want to know. No, no... I just wanted to find something more interesting than the obligatory magazine cover shot.

So, to clarify:

1) It does not turn into a robot

2) It is black, not orange

3) It is an Audi A6

Note: There are no wet streets in Abu Dhabi.

Today we took 'er to the gym, and I have to say, it makes the whole experience a lot more pleasant. No more hunting down a cab to get there. No more waiting on notoriously cab-poor Al Saada Street for a cab to take us back home. And of course there are leather seats.

Anyway. As much as it hurts my soul to be part of the car problem here, having a car solves a lot of problems. And because Abu Dhabi is the land of a million daily annoyances, that goes a long way... and a longer way, now that we're not walking.