Welcome to my blog. I write about fitting in, sticking out, and missing the motherland as a serial foreigner.

Don't tell the feminists.

I don't know quite where to begin this post. What do I tell you first?

That I applied for a UAE driver's license today, and was required to produce a letter from my husband telling the Traffic Safety department that he gave his consent for them to issue me one?

That Jeremy figured out last night that the Arabic instructions on the brownie mix box are conjugated as if addressing a woman (when usually instructions assume a man)?

Or that in the eyes of the UAE I am officially, irrevocably a housewife by profession, as declared by my new residence visa?

Honestly, I am amused more than offended at all of the above. We are not in Kansas anymore, after all.

(Just don't tell them that's my maiden name WHICH I KEPT, thank you very much, right there on the residence visa. Mwahahahahahaha.)

Flashback Friday: Things that go knock in the night

Our reward for putting up with bureaucracy