How I got attached to the Middle East

Trade missions allow me to do things I normally wouldn’t pursue in my regular mundane routine, such as climb the world’s tallest building. Tom Cruise does his own stunts; I don’t. My climb up the outside of Burj Khailfa  in Dubai was accomplished in front of a green screen, safely ensconced inside the building, and then transformed into the picture you see at the bottom of the page. Had I known when I got up that morning I would be climbing buildings, I would have fretted about it. Sometimes it’s better not to know what’s around corners.

Danger is not my middle name, but I am becoming much more brave on these missions than my first one to India. I still cringe when I think of that foolish woman who walked out of the Mumbai airport into the oppressive heat and stench of sweat and unknowingly dropped the entire contents of her wallet in the parking lot.

I was so much wiser in Vietnam, when I tried to tip the taxi driver’s assistant 500,000 dong ($23, the cost of the trip) because it was my smallest bill. Conversely, I am not so generous on my own turf. I recently played in a charity golf tournament and resented having to tip the caddy $20, after having to rake my own sand traps. Plus, he never had to retrieve my ball in the scramble, because I consistently hit up the middle, within walking distance.

I would not normally say this out loud, but I will write it. I was afraid when I boarded the plane to Abu Dhabi. I had just seen the movie Argo about the escape of American diplomats from Iran during the hostage crisis, and I knew I would not be stellar captive material should something happen to us in the Middle East. There were news reports daily of political unrest in Egypt, but we were assured we’d be safe. I have always told my children to avoid at all cost sharing state secrets with me, because if I am ever captured and tortured by an enemy, I will sing like a canary. (I think it would probably be wise to insert here that none of my three children has state secrets to share.) 

But like most things in my life, what I anticipate happening and what actually does happen are rarely the same thing. I loved the people I met in the four countries we visited—the UAE, Egypt, Jordan and Qatar. They may have looked formal and a bit daunting in their traditional Muslim dress, but they were friendly and quick to laugh. 

The majority of the business people dressed in Westernized fashions, which is what is being sold in malls. The only time women in our group were required to cover our heads was our visit to the largest, and I’m sure most ornate, mosque in Abu Dhabi. Like the Wizard of Oz behind the curtain, the caller is well protected so no one can interfere when he does the call to prayer since it is broadcast throughout the entire city. At one time every mosque had its own caller—thus the wonderful chimney-like towers attached to mosques.

Driving in any of the countries must be a nightmare, because being a passenger required a strong constitution and a stronger faith. In Egypt especially, traffic lanes were up for grabs. Just because you started out in the center lane didn’t mean you couldn’t share the left lane or the right lane. Passing another car was a matter of an inch, not a foot.

That’s why we shouldn’t have been surprised when the cab driver gave us a hand-scrawled receipt on the back of an accident report form. It was a little disconcerting that he had a stack of them at the ready.

Security measures weren’t just for airports. Purses went through scanners on the way into our hotels, public buildings and several malls. In Jordan, we had to pass through a secured entrance before going into the parking lot. Guards used angled mirrors on poles to look under the car. I wondered why they didn’t just wear patent leather shoes. (OK, that’s a joke a speaker once told at our finance conference about Catholic mothers warning their daughters not to wear the shiny shoes because boys could see up their dresses.) I know, I’m digressing. 

I didn’t have a favorite country, just like I don’t have a favorite child, but Qatar was pretty amazing, mainly because the cityscape we saw was designed for the 1 percent: luxury hotels, tall buildings that looked like flying vehicles should be buzzing around them, expensive cars on the roads and multi-million dollar yachts.

One evening we visited the old city, which in contrast was like a movie set for the Middle Eastern version of our Westerns. It was a marketplace with restaurants, most likely a tourist trap, but it was so authentic looking, I forgave it.

We ate dinner on top of a two-story building overlooking the marketplace. A large screen displayed old and cheesy Egyptian music videos. Rogelio Martinez of Tutor Doctor ordered baby camel. I hesitantly took a bite of the shredded meat, trying to convince myself that had this baby camel not been slaughtered for meat, it would have grown up to be one of those spitters at the San Diego Zoo. Surprisingly, it tasted pretty good. 

I am adventurous when it comes to vegetables, but not meat. The other night, I learned I’m not the only one. I was playing host at a restaurant to a vegetarian and a man who said he would never eat passive animals, such as duck or rabbit. "You know," he explained, "animals that can’t fight back." Apparently that doesn’t apply to cows, who could put up a fight if they wanted to, according to my friend. Perhaps we should be careful with all those steroids we’re giving cows before they get mad, or worse yet, get ‘roid rage.

At the Four Seasons Hotel in Doha, there was an unlocked cabinet in the lobby filled with diamond jewelry and expensive watches. Apparently, there is no danger of theft because if you’re caught stealing you forfeit your hand. A different breed of justice than we know.

Arabs like American food and goods, and they like us. But there’s still a lot of work to be done to blend our two cultures. My only suggestion on how things could be more franchise friendly is to change the MENA Franchise Expo (Middle East/North Africa) to the NAME Franchise Expo. Everyone in franchising loves a name brand.