6) Mohmmed (In Dubai) Poem by Otradom Pelogo

Muhammed, from Pakistan, whose face I've become quite familiar with, and whose conversation, each time we meet, is welcoming. This is the Deira district of Dubai, and getting to know someone is a pleasure; a generous imperative, creating the feeling of being at home, though I'm sure they wonder why this is my favorite place when Dubai is such a grand city, and there are many western hotels, though I've only stayed in one or few others; the Al Bustan, the Millennium and the Holiday Inn, since first coming here on several trips back and forth, as I said, a friendly and cordial hello, making the feeling of familiarity appropriate. The waiter, a younger guy; and though we don't know one another's name, (I apologized today to someone, explaining that I may shortly forget, after being told, but no disrespect intended,) and we could, after today, see one another passing buy on any street in the US and say hi, forgetting that we either don't, or should I say, do know one another.

When I had first gotten there, to the Ambassador, I stopped in the waiting area of the lobby and sat down just to think about how I would plan my next few days stay there, with no agenda except to do as much as I possibly could. I met a few guys there, it's a very diverse city, so you could try all day, and probably not get it right, where everyone is from, but can figure out what they are doing; a hot cup of Turkish coffee or tea, a cigarette or shisha; the water bubble pipe with flavored tobacco, a sandwich or a game of pool; the cordial male gathering place, though frequented by as many women; and I have enjoyed seeing them, the social bonding coffee shops, on the east coast; where you can walk in for a hot drink on a cold day, a donut or sandwich, where the older guys are sitting down, reminiscing and spending time with old friends. And as time went on, I eventually, after becoming the familiar stranger, had occasional and brief conversations over a game of pool, even playing a couple of games with the chef and of course the locals who walk in from time to time.

There is a TV that sits up high in the corner; which changes frequently from the world news to video stations, the pop culture of the Middle East, though you will see many American videos mixed in also; and except for the language, you couldn't tell them apart, to the daytime soap operas. They don't sell alcohol, and it's equally as difficult to find throughout the city, even though Dubai may be one of the few that sells it. So, a row of video games is the extra entertainment of the hour. I sometimes feel, even after sitting there for a couple of days, out of place, but then the jeans that I usually wear, will fit in, as someone dressed as casually as myself will walk through the door; for the dress varies from the traditional Middle Eastern wear, to the latest in Western or European designer jeans. A face that may look quite familiar, but only that it's several thousand miles away, or a hello, abating what can easily be perceived as the apprehension from being, (although trying to, as they say, fit in) , different. Seeing them walk up and put their arms around the beautiful women that I have talked to since being there, creates a discrete bond of silent friendship that's more of a welcome that's rather priceless. Or sitting outside and having a sandwich, and having someone feel comfortable enough to sit and have a bite to eat with you, which Rita did, and I think it made myself and others around us feel even more comfortable that things, after an extended period of time being there, was still going well.