The next day Kate, Neil and I were packing up to head to The University of Al-Buraimi, which had only been established the same year I arrived, 2010. On our days off we could hop over to Dubai, which wasn't far from Buraimi.
I felt sick after breakfast because the orange juice was a bit "off," but I was also a bit nervous about the drive. I left three bags of my stuff and my guitar with Jackie and Tom. Hopefully they wouldn't be going down to Ibra before we got back. That would be bad because then I’d have to worry about my stuff.
I immediately put the kibosh on music in the car because I didn't want to travel for four hours listening to that whiny crap. I had to surrender on every bus in South America to the bad music or violent films that were played on overhead televisions and I was over it. Nobody protested. I chatted with Neil as he was in the back beside me. He revealed that he had been a born again Christian for ten years, but also considered himself a Buddhist. He’s read a lot of Carl Jung. He comes across as a complete dolt, but it just goes to show how you can never assume that you know somebody after one or two weeks.
The trip took us through flat barren land with bleached shrubs and rugged mountains that looked like chocolate ice cream cones. I felt like I was in Jordan once again because the territory is identical to the area north of Aqaba - the rocky terrain, the desert, the various shades of gravel and sand, the physical features of the landscape.
When we got to Buraimi, I still had my headache and it increased in intensity when I discovered that the air conditioner in my room was not only smelly, but loud. I made it through the night until the phone rang and a voice said “we’ll pick you up at 7:30 and you will teach tomorrow.” Oh sweet. I hope not because I haven’t taught for a while and I’m rusty. And God only knows what to expect. In my years of teaching I've learned to hope for the best but prepare for the worst. Perhaps they'll have some books and supplies?
