Culture reproduces – kids and outsiders learn what to do because of written rules and standards and/or people inside the culture explaining and enforcing.
The how of that replication is always interesting to me because it is so easy to see when parents instruct children, but not always clear in every-day life.
This morning I had a good example at the check-out line in the cafeteria. I put my carton of food on the scale and as soon as the clerk told me the price, I picked up the carton and set it in my purse, then I pulled out my wallet.
As soon as I picked up my carton, the person in line behind put their carton on the scale, making me realize that I was working on the assumption that people don’t put their food to be weighed until the person ahead of them has paid.
As I was handing over the cash, the person behind me asked the clerk a question, which the clerk answered. Then, as I was putting the change into my wallet, preparing to walk away, I heard the clerk say to the person behind me, “Usually, just wait for the person ahead to finish.”
I thought that was an interesting statement first, because the clerk was making expectations clear. Often in the States, there are few or no written directions, especially in stores or restaurants. In this cafeteria, you serve yourself and pay by the weight of the food but there are food workers standing near the food so someone might expect, for example, that the staff will put the food in the container or that there is a certain amount that you can take.
Second, the clerk’s statement is an order (verb first, no “you”) but it’s softened by the “Usually” and “just.” It’s bringing someone into cultural rules gently, without “you did it wrong” or “this is what WE do.”
This makes me think about how an adult corrects another adult about a cultural convention. Sometimes people uses glares or “excuse me” to point out mistakes, or they ignore the person. But when it’s a simple mistake, how does a stranger learn the right way to navigate?
When I lived in Germany, I was terrified of bakeries which were full of fierce, elderly clerks. I could read and write about difficult 1600s German texts, but the glare of a little old lady behind the counter utterly disarmed me. I was confused and made do with pointing at the kind of roll and holding up my fingers to show how many I wanted. It took for weeks until I was confident enough to say my order.
In Oman, I watched the same kind of learning curve with people in bakeries who were used to first-come, first-serve. They would wait until all the people who were in the store before them had ordered, then start to speak, only to realize that the clerk was ignoring them.
Sometimes they would speak louder or try to say “I was here first” but no one would pay attention. Clerks do not care about the order in which customers walk into the store. The order of service is: Omani women, Omani men, foreign women, foreign men and oldest to youngest within each category. I would sometimes point to an expat man and say “he was here first” but the clerks would not care. I was female; I got served first.
Now that I am in the States, it’s first-come, first-served. You spend years learning how to behave, then you have to re-learn how to behave.
Me Talk Pretty Never: Learning Arabic, part 1
Adjusting to Oman: My Dangerous Taxi
How NOT to Describe People Who Are Foreign to You: Exoticizing Omanis
I left Oman exactly one year ago and I miss Salalah every day. This is one of the first essays I wrote about Dhofar, sent to friends in October 2005
When I said I was moving to the Middle East and people asked me, “Isn’t that dangerous?” I replied “Not really.” What I meant to say was “What is ‘dangerous’ is not what you would understand nor what I would I be able to foretell.” Witness my taxi driver.
In many place in the Middle East, taxis don’t have meters and there is an accepted ‘in-town’ fare for ‘just go’ and one for ‘go and come back’ which, considering how long it takes to get a check cashed, find the right form, mail the letter, etc. basically means the driver will wait 10 minutes or so for free. And since usually you are running around trying to get your errands done Thursday morning (ME equivalent of Saturday morning) from 9 to 12, if you have a driver who doesn’t smoke, spit, leer or drive like a maniac, you will often just keep him all morning, giving him one lump sum when he takes you home.
If you find a really good driver (knows some English but doesn’t ask if you are married), you can work out a weekly rate for taking you to and from work every day and Thursday morning errands. As you can’t lease or buy a car without your official visa, which can take up to a month once you are in-country, getting a good driver quickly is essential. This is usually a process of having a lot of bad taxi rides (blaring music; passing on the wrong side; getting lost) until you find a guy you like. The paradox is that drivers who offer to be a regular driver are usually exactly the wrong kind of guy (a “any club who would have me as a member…” issue – you want a taxi driver who does not particularly want to talk to a Western woman, who treats you as one more anonymous fare).
My second night I was in town, I stopped by a schwarma stand (a few tables inside, clean, well-lit) and sat for a few minutes to have my chicken wrapped in pita bread and fresh fruit juice in peace. My colleague, X, walked in by chance so I started to ask him what some of the items on the menu were. X didn’t know what “Maryam” meant in this country and as we were discussing, a middle-aged local sitting at another table, explained the meaning (mixture of orange and mango juice) to X in Arabic. I asked about another term; X asked the local guy, who explained with a few smiles and gestures, fruit juice and frozen ice cream. I tried a third item; X, not interested in my linguistics endeavors, left. As I was paying, the local man introduced himself as N and asked if I wanted a taxi.
I said no, but, impressed that he had kept talking to X, not trying to talk directly to me until X had left, I asked for his mobile number. After he gave it to me, a man walked up to me and asked “You want a taxi,” I laughed, then glanced at N, who met my eye and laughed too. Ah, a sense of humor!
The next day I asked one of the secretaries to call N to pick me up from work. We went to the telephone company – I wanted a mobile, the ne plus ultra necessity of ME life. I had various forms, all of which were rejected by the clerk. N, who had wandered over to see what the problem was, jumped right in. Fifteen minutes of heated discussion later, the clerk agreed I could have a cell phone. Then it was two hours of paperwork and waiting. Once I had the phone chip in hand, back in the taxi. “Could you please take me somewhere to buy a phone?”
This was a request, but also a test – were we going to end up in his cousin’s overpriced House of Cell Phones? Nope, straight to a real store (i.e. you would get a warranty). But the man at the cell phone counter hadn’t shown up for work yet. I told N I would go to the grocery section for 15 minutes. When I returned 20 minutes later, he tapped his watch and said “I have been waiting five minutes!” Part of me thought “give me a break, I have been in-country 48 hours, I don’t even own a coffee cup”; part of me thought “Getting scolded by your taxi guy is a good sign. The more he sees you as a regular person, the better.”
Cell phone man arrives; I pick out a phone; N takes over. He installs the chip, sets the date and time, adjusts all my settings, programs a password, calls my phone and puts his name on my contact list, then calls himself on my phone so he has my number. We are now joined.
I put my groceries in the truck and collapse into the back seat; “Time to go home” I say. N drives off in the opposite direction. I am going to get a tour of the town and there will be a quiz: “This is Water Roundabout. What is the name of this roundabout?”
“Water.”
“Very good.” Then he heads out of town – as in away from all buildings and up a mountain road. Hmmmm, then he turns off the main road and onto a small side road. I contemplate whether I should ask him to turn around, attempt to jump out of the car or scream. I wonder how one calls the police, given that I have a brand-new cell phone in my purse, which for all he I know he has sabotaged. I wonder if this qualifies as “dangerous.”
I don’t do anything – trust? stupidity? jetlag and culture shock and general weariness? Ten minutes later he pulls up at beautiful scenic overlook. “Too much beautiful” he proclaims. Well yes, not that I wanted to go a scenic overlook, but then I hadn’t seen anything of the town yet except the inside of offices, so it was rather nice.
After sufficiently impressing upon me how nice his town was, he pulls into an open air restaurant and disappears for 5 minutes. When he comes back he hands me over a carefully wrapped plate of something. “Fish,” he says with a smile. “Special fish.”
Then he drives me home. Where I discover it is a plate of grilled beef cubes. Ok.
Two days later we are out for more errands. We go to find me two small lamps, which he insists on plugging in to make sure they work; fuse boxes, which he inspects carefully; plastic bath mats, which he allows me to choose in peace; cleaning supplies, he picks up and looks at, but doesn’t comment on. I’m starving.
He pulls up to a mini-cafeteria, toots the horn and asks me “chicken or egg?” Well that is a Mobius strip sort of question. The guy comes out of his shop and looks at N. N looks at me. OK. “Egg.”
After a few minutes, the restaurant comes back and hands me a wrapped sandwich which is a bun shaped like a hotdog roll, but sweeter, with a chopped up boiled egg, cucumbers, tomatoes, ketchup, mystery sauce and cold French fries – which pretty much covers whatever one could possibly want or need.
“Nice?” N asks.
Nice indeed.
He has a real job besides taxi driving so he can’t take me to and from work every day, but I call him for errands and for longer missions. When I was stuck at a hotel far from town with 2 obnoxious Brits and a bunch of local taxi drivers who wanted 5 times the going rate, I called N.
“Let’s take one of these taxis and just pay what we want to pay when we get there, not what we have agreed to pay,” said one of the obnoxious guys.
“You can’t do that. And N said he would come, he’ll come.”
“Why would he come all the way here?”
You can’t explain the intricacies of the taxi relationship to Middle Eastern newbies, so I keep quiet. N comes; the guys start to ask him why the hotel taxi drivers were ‘so stupid’ as to charge so high a price that I ended up calling him instead. N doesn’t understand the question, thank goodness, and I try to steer the conversation to other issues. But both men spend the taxi ride complaining about Middle Eastern taxis and the Middle East in general.
When we drop off the second guy, N gets out a piece of paper to write his mobile number. “No, no, no,” I say softly in Arabic. N looks at me – why am I depriving him of a customer? – but puts the paper away.
As we head to my home, he says accusingly, “I give my number; you say no.”
“Those men too much bad, argue with you, not pay you fair price. My friend, I give your number. Not bad men.”
“Bad men?” He looks at me in the rearview mirror, not quite believing but sometimes you just have to trust across that cultural divide.
“Too much bad men,” I say.
“Ok.” He drives me home then refuses to let me pay him. “I was sitting, no work, you call, I am happy.” I tell him to look over there, he looks, I drop the cash in the front passenger seat. He laughs.
He goes to his village for a week and brings me back a large plate of fresh dates and an indescribably ugly black plastic bath mat.
I call him to ‘go round.’ He picks me up and we drive out of town. I don’t say where I want to go, just that I need to be back home at 6pm. “7pm,” he says. He switches on the English language radio station and, carefully avoiding the herds of camels in the road, drives for two hours – beautiful scenery flashes by. I drink the water and eat the ‘pizza’ flavored potato chips he insisted on buying for me.
I trust N with my life on steep, winding roads with camel obstacles; I trust him as he drives lonely roads hours outside town to places I couldn’t find on a map. I get in his taxi, say “Bookcase” and he takes me to the, by his carefully reasoned standards, the best place for bookcases in town.
When I said I was moving to the Middle East and people asked, “Isn’t that dangerous?”, I replied “Not really.” What I meant to say was “I have a lot of fresh dates in my kitchen I am trying to give away and a very ugly black plastic mat I am trying to discreetly throw away.” What I meant to say is, “May I introduce you to N?”
Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: How to Sit, Not Wear Shoes and Use Your Hands
Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: Dealing with Loss
Ethnography – Navigating Shaking Hands on the Arabian Peninsula
I left Salalah a year ago and am still processing that loss. I miss my friends and so many aspects of Dhofari life, especially:
What’s nice about where I am
Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: Using the Arabic Language
Ethnography – Finding the Middle Ground, part 1 of Discussing Photographs
In my book, Researching, Teaching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula: Creating Effective Interactions [ Researching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula: Creating Effective Interactions | SpringerLink ], I make the point that being thirsty, hungry or hangry does not necessarily generate assistance:
saying “I’m hungry” in Western cultures usually produces a response along the lines of “let’s get you something to eat” or “here, have an apple” because there is a general sense that hunger is a negative sensation that should be avoided because it may cause low blood sugar, dizziness, weakness, irritability etc.; a “hangry” person should be fed. Saying “I’m hungry” in Oman works differently; it’s more akin to showing a weakness and will usually not create a need for anyone to do anything to help you. Hunger is a sensation that, as a grown-up, you should be able to control. This is in part because of the large part fasting plays within Islam. Complaining about hunger to people who regularly fast 12 or more hours in 90-degree heat is not going to elicit sympathy. (149)
I learned this first-hand during many picnics. It didn’t matter that the food was ready and I was hungry, if not everyone had arrived, then we waited to eat.
When I taught cultural studies, I would say that cultures are made up of interconnected objects, practices and beliefs and everyone would nod. Then I would say that interconnectedness does not always make sense across borders and everyone would nod. But when I started to give examples, the conversation often devolved into “they are doing it wrong.”
For example, in North American some people carry containers with water in order to not buy or use plastic bottles of water. This habit presupposes access to drinking water, as well as special scrubbers and/ or a dishwasher. On the Arabian Peninsula, some tap water is viewed as not drinkable and there may not be places with free, potable water at your archive/ school/ business. Thus, there may not be practices (placing water fountains in convenient locations) to help support your belief (don’t buy plastic bottles of water) and your object (your water bottle). This can lead to frustration, thirst, headaches and heat exhaustion.
Further, if you are traveling, you might not want to carry scrubbers or have access to a dishwasher. And a not-perfectly clean water bottle plus very hot weather can equal your water bottle becoming contaminated.
Another set of object/ practice/ belief that often falls apart on the Arabian Peninsula is the concept of eating at work. Many Americans eat lunch at their desk which creates an industry for adult lunch bags and bento boxes. On the Arabian Peninsula, it’s not common to eat lunch at your desk, and if you do, it’s usually something simple such as a fatayer or paratha. It’s also not common to bring food in to share, although people often bring in packaged sweets to pass out if they have something to celebrate such as the birth of a child or a wedding.
Practicalities: Managing a Short Research Trip to the Arabian Peninsula
Practicalities: Managing a Short Business Trip to the Arabian Peninsula
Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: How to Sit, Not Wear Shoes and Use Your Hands
Outline and Chapter Abstracts for Researching, Teaching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula: Creating Effective Interactions [ https://link.springer.com/book/10.1007/978-981-96-5326-3 ]
Chapter 1 – Situating Work and Research on the Arabian Peninsula 1
Overview 1
Audience 3
Locals 5
Non-locals 7
Becoming Local and Controlling Interpretations 8
My Background 11
Doing Research 14
Research and Safety 16
Other Voices 18
References 24
Chapter 2 – Literature Review for the Arabian Peninsula 27
Overview 27
Ethnography and the Importance of Changing Your Ideas 28
Ethnography and the Importance of Writing About When
You Are Wrong 29
General Anthropology Texts 32
Textbooks 32
Fieldwork Journals 33
Discussing Fieldwork/Fieldsites 33
General Texts About Anthropology and/or Arab/Islamic Countries 35
Arabian Peninsula Countries 36
Situating Arabian Peninsula Studies/History 36
Bahrain and Kuwait 37
Oman 38
Qatar 38
Saudi Arabia 39
The United Arab Emirates 40
Yemen 41
Arabian Peninsula Themes 43
From the Society 43
Islam 44
Labor/Migration 46
Partner Studies 47
Politics/Power 47
Social/Family 47
Survive/Thrive 48
Tribes 49
Women 50
References 53
Chapter 3 – Before Moving to the Arabian Peninsula 77
Overview: Thinking About Adjustments 77
Learn the Alphabet 79
Starting to Understand Islam If You Aren’t Muslim 80
Ramadan 80
Religion and Public Performance 82
Get Ready for Culture Shock 83
Get Ready for the Weather 85
Get Photos, Make Copies, Find a Bank and Get Change 86
Get in Touch with People 87
Buy Stuff 88
Plan for Happiness 88
For Travelers 89
Starting Out—Working 91
Starting Out—Teaching 92
Starting Out—Researching 94
Thinking About Fieldsites 95
Think About How You Present Yourself 96
Figure Out Your Way of Taking Notes, and Be Ready to Entirely Change It 97
Be Able to Explain Your Research in Ways That Make Sense to the People You Are Talking To 97
Proceed Slowly and Hope for a Hand-Off 98
References 100
Chapter 4 – Adjusting to Life on the Arabian Peninsula 103
Starting Out—General Points 103
Know Yourself and Be Prepared 103
Smile 104
Over-Explain 106
Don’t Lie 107
Refine Your Ability to Read People 108
Get Local 108
Get Generous 109
Be Yourself in Your Downtime 110
Time/Money Continuum 111
Safety/Anonymity 112
Transportation 113
Communication 114
Visual Cultures 118
Information Brokers 120
Friendship/Hospitality 121
Family 123
Busy/Lazy 125
References 130
Chapter 5 – Key Topics for Expat Researchers on the Arabian Peninsula 133
Overview—Positionality 133
Tribes 134
You Aren’t in a Tribe/You Are in a Tribe 135
Talking About Tribes 137
Clothes 138
Language 140
Knowing/Not Knowing Arabic 140
Age and Gender 142
Men 143
Special Themes 146
Exhaustion 146
Authenticity/Modernity 150
Prejudices 151
What Happens When You Love (or Hate) the People You Talk To? 153
Claiming Expertise 156
Safety 156
Payback 157
References 164
Chapter 6 – Strategies for Research on the Arabian Peninsula 167
Overview 167
Research Practicalities—Meeting Other Researchers 168
Getting in Touch with Other People for Information and Assistance 168
When You Meet 169
After Meeting 169
When Other People Get in Touch with You for Information 170
Research Practicalities—In the Field 171
Be the Most Cautious Version of Yourself Until You Are a Little Settled 171
Be Careful About Becoming a Dancing Monkey 172
Be Careful of Newspaper/Radio Interviews 173
Be Calm/Don’t Be Calm 174
Start Talking/Stop Talking 175
Go with the Flow 176
Think About Different Explanations 177
Be Wary of the Inclination to Save Anyone from Anything 178
Be Ready for Deflection Strategies and Deal with Them Calmly 179
Accept There Will Always Be Changes to Make and More to Do 180
Refinements 180
Have Situational Awareness 180
Sit Where You Are Told to Sit and Stay Seated 181
Giving and Receiving 182
References 184
Chapter 7 – Suggestions for Expat Professional Workers on the Arabian Peninsula 185
Overview 185
Starting Out 186
Greet Everyone 186
Modesty Is Equally Important for Men and Women 187
Stay Formal at Workplaces 187
Ask Questions 188
Understand That “Yes” Does Not Mean Agreement 188
Everything Is a Precedent 189
Do Not Notice When What Was Impossible Becomes Possible (or What Was Done for Years Becomes Impossible) 189
At a Job 190
Keep a Change List 191
Sit in Your Seat 192
Names and Phone Calls 192
Find Your Dumping Ground 193
Find Mercy 193
Find Your Expat Veneer 194
Dissembling 194
Meeting Important People 195
Pay Attention to and Follow Up on Off-Hand Comments 196
Don’t Be Evil 196
Cultural Understandings 197
Power and the Chain of Command 197
Value Honesty 198
Louise Penny as Management Guru 199
Tribes in the Workplace 200
Refinements 201
Judging Behavior 201
Providing Food 201
Making a House Visit 202
Attending a Funeral 203
References 205
Chapter 8 – Suggestions for Teachers on the Arabian Peninsula 207
Overview 207
Arrival and Expectations 209
Research on Teaching 209
Culture and Pedagogy 210
The “Third” Option 211
Cultural Constructions Within High Context Cultures 212
Cultural Constructions of “Power” and “Authority” 213
Cultural Constructions of “Magic Words” 215
Cultural Constructions of “Patience” 216
Cultural Constructions of “Shame” 217
Techniques 218
Understand That Fear May Appear as Anger or Silence 218
Stay in Calm and in Control 219
Check for Understanding 221
Make Statements Instead of Asking Personal Questions 221
Explain Your Reasoning 222
Do Not Fight the Family 223
Do Not Make False Threats 224
Use Distraction 225
Use Humor 226
Stay Realistic—What You Can Control 227
Stay Realistic—Expectations 228
Give Clear Directions 229
What I Had to Rethink 231
Assumption: Students with a Low Level of English Will Be the Hardest to Teach 231
Assumption: Teachers’ Interactions with Students Are Based on Professional Considerations 232
Assumption: You Make Your Choices and You Live with the Consequences 233
Assumption: Try the New 234
Teaching Fiction to Non-literature Majors 235
References 237
Abstract
Researching and Working outlines strategies for current or soon-to-be anthropologists, government employees, business professionals, researchers and teachers to communicate, study and work effectively on the Arabian Peninsula. Using first-person accounts, as well as scholarly research from the fields of anthropology, history, literature, political science and travel writing, this text gives clear advice so long- and short-term visitors can create successful interactions with people from Arabian Peninsula societies. By discussing how the practicalities of work and research intersect with cultural norms, this book fills the gap between guides aimed at the casual tourists and academic texts on narrowly defined topics. The author has lived and taught on the Arabian Peninsula for more than 20 years and this book is a distillation of observations, academic research and longstanding, deep involvement with local communities in southern Arabia.
Chapter 1 – Situating Work and Research on the Arabian Peninsula
Chapter 1 begins by discussing the audience and scope of the book. It then delves into the questions of who is “local” on the Arabian Peninsula and who speaks for whom? Next there is a brief overview of the author’s background and work in the United Arab Emirates and Oman. Lastly, the author gives several extended examples of research and teaching to highlight elements of cross-cultural communication and confusion.
Chapter 2 – Literature Review
Chapter 2 is an annotated bibliography of texts from the fields of anthropology, history, literature, political science and travel writing which relate to the Arabian Peninsula. The books and articles are arranged by topic and country for researchers interested to see what kinds of work have been done and for readers looking for more in-depth information. There are also short essays on the importance of changing your ideas and acknowledging when you are wrong while doing research, as well as how to pick a fieldsite. Next the chapter gives a selected bibliography of texts pertaining to specific Arabian Peninsula counties. This is followed by short lists of texts pertaining to reoccurring themes in Arabian Peninsula research: Islam, Partner studies, Labor/ Migration, Politics/ Power, Social life/ Family, Survive/ Thrive, Tribes and Woman.
Chapter 3 – Before Moving to the Arabian Peninsula
This chapter is for teachers, researchers and business professionals who have not spent significant time on the Arabian Peninsula. It covers basics such as learning the Arabic alphabet, starting to understand Islam and managing Ramadan as a non-Muslim. It also has specific advice on how cope, for example how to deal with the hot weather, the need for using an international bank and how to prepare paperwork. The chapter includes information for how to get in touch with people before arrival and how to plan for happiness in-country. It ends with sections for specifically for business professionals and teachers. For researchers, there is information about how to create a network of acquaintances, integrate with the local community, decide how to present yourself and figure out the way to take notes.
Chapter 4 – Adjusting to Life on the Arabian Peninsula
This chapter covers the nuts and bolts of first steps on the Arabian Peninsula for teachers, researchers and business professionals. For example, it explains that new arrivals are often taken directly from the airport to meet colleagues and/or start house hunting. The chapter sets out necessary adjustments such as the importance of smiling, over-explaining, not lying and learning how to read people. In addition, the chapter addresses topics such as safety/anonymity, movement through public spaces, effective communication and the consequences of working in cultures that are often visual-, not text-based. How friendships, family relations and information brokers are handled on the Arabian Peninsula are also discussed.
Chapter 5 – Key Topics for Researchers on the Arabian Peninsula
This chapter is for researchers and addresses the issues of positionality, tribal structures, clothing, language and gender. The text includes advice on general topics such as coping with exhaustion, handling prejudices and claiming expertise. It also discusses what happens when you love (or hate) the people you talk to, how to keep safe and how to manage payback.
Chapter 6 – Strategies for Research on the Arabian Peninsula
This chapter helps researchers think through specifics. There are sections about how to do interviews, talk about your project, deal with the press, give presentations and keep up connections with interlocutors. It gives suggestions about being the most cautious version of yourself until you are a little settled and not allowing yourself to be set up for public mockery. It covers how to cope with deflection strategies and keep up situational awareness.
Chapter 7 – Suggestions for Expat Professional Workers on the Arabian Peninsula
This chapter is for business professionals and travelers with guidance for how to prepare for the weather and bureaucracy on the Arabian Peninsula. It explains the need for quiet, modest and formal behavior at workplaces, public spaces, cultural locations and homes/hotels/hostels. It explains that a “yes” is not necessarily an agreement and “I can” does not necessarily mean the person has that ability. Further, it clarifies how to create a positive work environment within cultures which often value family-based events (births, weddings, deaths, recovery from illness, etc.) more important than work requirements. It gives details about settling into the work environment with details about power structures, the value of honesty, how to behave with important people and the importance of having an expat veneer.
Chapter 8 – Suggestions for Teachers on the Arabian Peninsula
This chapter is for teachers and covers how to set achievable expectations for classroom management and workplace behaviors. The focus is on how meanings of words such as “power,” “authority,” “patience” and “shame” carry specific, and possibly new meanings, within high context cultures on the Arabian Peninsula. The chapter sets out techniques to create a positive classroom atmosphere, check for understandings, stay realistic and use distraction. Lastly, the text explains the concept of the “third way,” meaning a combination of the teacher’s pedagogical background and local expectations within a classroom can create a space for win-win interactions between students and teachers.
Practicalities: Managing a Short Research Trip to the Arabian Peninsula
Practicalities: Managing a Short Business Trip to the Arabian Peninsula
Ethnography – Whatever You Do, Don’t Smile, part 2 of Discussing Photographs
Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: How to Sit, Not Wear Shoes and Use Your Hands
Researching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula: Creating Effective Interactions, https://link.springer.com/book/10.1007/978-981-96-5326-3
First, look at the calendar closely – check for Ramadan, Eids, national holidays, school vacations – museums, archives, schools, stores will be shut without notice but at least make sure you are clear from the major closures. If you want to see people at a university, look at the school calendar. For example, many universities have their graduations ceremonies in the fall, not spring, so that means several days of canceled classes and everyone being busy. Check for tourist seasons; short-term rents can vary widely depending on the month.
Pack
If you are not with a group, politely get in touch with people before hand – use whatever method you want (e-mails, LinkedIn, social media, etc.) at least a few weeks ahead of time. The whole arrive-in-country-and-spend-the-first-night-trying-to-set-up-appointments-for-the-next-morning endeavor is not usually helpful. Once you are in-country and have a few acquaintances, then you need to be ready for last-minute invitations, but try to get some contacts ahead of time.
Get a seat towards the front of the plane, be ready to get in the aisle and move as soon as it is your turn, move as quickly as you can to immigration – immigration can take 10 minutes or 2 hours, get is line as fast as you can.
You want to go to the most important place first but, if possible, try not to meet anyone or go to the archive/ museum/ university/ site on your first day in-country. Unless you already have a lot of experience in the Middle East, the heat/ humidity may be a shock. Give yourself a day to adjust and (depending on your home culture) get used to being stared at constantly. Take yourself for a practice run on the subway/ metro/ bus to wherever you are going to be working, walk around the neighborhood you are staying in, browse through grocery stores, find a café you like, etc.
Figure out what you are going to do for your down time; you can’t always be “on.” Reading, interviewing, translating, searching, walking through libraries, studying, taking photos: all that mental processing in a new culture is exhausting. Take breaks! Go back and forth six times in a row on an abra in Dubai, walk along the beach if you are near one, get a day-pass at a resort and lounge by the pool, read in a hotel lobby, go through the souq and buy cute leather slippers with gaudy, gilt threadwork. Do not try to spend all day every day chasing your research goals. Do not attempt to spend every night writing up notes. Make haste slowly.
Never get into a situation you can’t get out of. Until you have been in-country a few weeks, stay in more public areas and don’t rely on phones, electronics, web sites, apps, etc. to help you the same way as they did in your homespace. For example, if you meet a local, have a great conversation and they invite you to a restaurant for lunch, there are a lot of ways this could go right and some ways this can go wrong. You could ask a taxi driver if they know the restaurant, he says “yes,” you get in, he starts driving, then he confesses that he does not know, you can’t find the location on-line and it’s 30 minutes of aimlessly driving in the general area. Maybe that’s fun; maybe that’s not fun. Or you get to the restaurant, your friend cancels and you don’t feel comfortable in the place alone. Or you have a great lunch, your friend takes off and you decide to walk back to your hostel at 2pm, when it’s 98 degrees with high humidity. By the time you decide to get a taxi, there are none because everyone rests from @ 2pm until @ 4pm, so you have given yourself heat exhaustion and are in bed for a day. Malls are your friend until you are settled.
Judge what is going on by actions, not words. If you are from a culture in which people point out mistakes and/or say what they feel, it may be disorienting to have people tell you what you want to hear, which might have no relationship with reality. If you can, ask “is it better if I do x or y” questions.
Remember that on the Arabian Peninsula, self-control is highly valued. If you are rude, sometimes locals will stay calm and pleasant, so you may not be aware of how big a mistake you are making. If you come from a confrontational culture in which it’s accepted that people argue loudly and with passion, it may be disorienting to have people who won’t engage with you. If you love dashing into political talk (or as one American undergraduate did, met Dhofari women and within a few moments asked them if their husbands beat them) you might find people who are happy to argue, but are always busy if you want to meet them a second time.
Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: Using the Arabic Language
Ethnography – Finding the Middle Ground, part 1 of Discussing Photographs
Bibliography for ‘Researching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula’ (2025, Palgrave Macmillan)
Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: Getting and Sending Mail/ Packages
Researching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula: Creating Effective Interactions, https://link.springer.com/book/10.1007/978-981-96-5326-3
If you travel a lot for business, you should be all set in the Arabian Peninsula – just remember that you never want to do anything to draw attention to yourself. Unless you are a social media influencer, stifle the urge to share details about your life or emote. This is not Italy and this is not the place for hijinks.
If you don’t travel a lot – make sure you have your basics covered for what you need to get good sleep. Jet lag + hot, humid weather + new cultures + no sleep does not usually equal good life choices. Bring what you need: lavender spray for hotel rooms perfumed with oud, eye mask, an app on your phone that makes white noise, painkillers/ aspirin/ Imodium in your purse/ briefcase at all times.
Get a seat towards the front of the plane, be ready to get in the aisle and move as soon as it is your turn, move as quickly as you can to the immigration line – immigration procedures can take 10 minutes or 2 hours, get is line as fast as you can.
Get a duty-free cologne – a good scent is mandatory. People in the Middle East are very sensitive to scents and you do not want to be the reason someone moves places in a meeting.
Unless you are in fashion/ media, you need clean, bland clothes. Remember that locals have worn the same type of outfit in public (black abayha for women/ white dishdash for men) for all of their adult life and most men and women keep their hair covered in public. You will never be able to tell the price differences of these outfits, so stay in your lane: clothes, watch, shoes that you can afford which do not draw attention. I strongly recommend that women carry a pashmina/ shawl with them at all times; the AC can be brutally cold.
Know yourself and know your body – one of the worst-case scenarios is you are tired because of jet lag, drink coffee to wake up and end up so wired you sound like Alvin the Chipmunk. Pace yourself with the caffeine.
No sudden movements, no big movements, no stretches, no cracking your neck or knuckles and for the love of all that is good in the world, no yoga poses in public. Keep your body calm and under control.
Do not bring the focus of the conversation to you – if you are asked your opinion about anything regarding the country you are in, your response is positive and brief. This is not the time to share your experiences or opinions unless they are specifically related to your work.
Do not, whatever the temptation offered, start talking about your hobbies except in the most general sense. Trust me. For example, if you run marathons and someone mentions marathons, do not start talking about marathons. People who run marathons start chatting and within minutes they might be comparing stories of how much they threw up and grisly descriptions of blisters. Understand that people may bring up topics as a way to judge and understand you, so that someone with zero interest in X will mention X as a way to see how you respond. Keep your focus on work.
Do not express surprise or get thrown off track by someone casually mentioning a fact about you that is hidden/ not on your resume/ not widely known. Do not ask, “How do you know that?” Blandly say “yes” and return to work topics.
Do not get tangled up in trying to get all the cultural conventions right; even very small companies will have employees from 20 different countries. Try to hold back and watch what others are doing but if something goes wrong, do not create a fuss. If you are male and try to shake hands with a female who refuses, say “I’m sorry” and move on.
If you are trying to recover from 12 hours in a plane by leaning over to touch your toes, then you straighten up and realize that 5 people have quietly walked into the conference room and are staring at you, say “I’m sorry” and walk over to begin introductions.
If pour a cup of coffee down your shirt, say “excuse me a moment,” go to nearest bathroom and do what you can, then walk back in and resume meeting as if nothing happened.
Keep calm in the face of whatever happens – laugh later, cry later, vent later, scream later. In a business setting – or after-work dinner! – you should be as emotionally available as an ice-cube. [Note, this is for short business trips. If you work for an extended period or full time, then of course your personality and interests will shine through, however a 2-day/ week-long business trip should be treated as if you are on a long job interview.]
Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: Using the Arabic Language
Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: How to Sit, Not Wear Shoes and Use Your Hands
Ethnography – Navigating Shaking Hands on the Arabian Peninsula
In my book, [Researching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula [ https://link.springer.com/book/10.1007/978-981-96-5326-3 ] I talk about the adjustments needed to smoothly adapt to new countries and cultures, but I realized I forgot to talk about the bottom of your feet! and shoes! and right hands! so I will address those issues here.
Firstly, a piece of advice that is constantly repeated for newcomers to the Arab world is: don’t point the sole of your foot at someone. This is repeated like a mantra, but I didn’t talk about it in my book because, to me, to focus simply on one aspect of sitting is not helpful.
The issue is not just ‘the sole of your foot/ shoe’ – it’s that lounging/ sitting casually in business settings is not good behavior. And the reason that it is not good behavior is that you need to show your ability to control yourself (body movement and emotions) at all times.
So it’s not useful to list all the things you should not do: don’t slouch, don’t sprawl, don’t scratch yourself, etc. And it’s not useful to think in terms of which actions are ok in which locations – that is too much data to try to keep straight.
The correct way to maneuver is much harder than lists of dos and don’ts; the correct way to fit in is to constantly check what other people are doing. Most of the locals on the Arabian Peninsula are in tribes – being “tribal” means continually deciding when to be part of the group and when to do as you please. As a newcomer, you need to work to be part of the group.
So don’t walk around saying to yourself “don’t cross my legs!” – ask yourself “what are other people doing?” If everyone is sitting still with both feet on the ground, then that is what you do. If they are drinking tea, you drink tea. And if for some reason, you need to do something that no one else is doing, don’t bring the attention of the whole group to you. If you are diabetic and someone places cup of tea in front of you, either decide not to drink any or whisper to the person, “no sugar.” Don’t explain or create a group discussion centered on what you want.
Another piece of advice that comes up is: take off your shoes if you are in someone’s house. That’s true but, of course, the issue is more complex. The good news is that you probably won’t be invited to a local’s house. The bad news is that if you are invited, you need to be barefoot – no shoes, no socks – and for people from cultures where shoes are always worn indoors, this can be uncomfortable.
Going into someone’s house is not like going through the security check at the airport, where people line up patiently behind you as you sort out what you are doing. If you aren’t fast, your host might think that you are deliberately stalling and they will start insisting you come in with your shoes on. So you are leaning on the doorjamb, trying to unlace/ unbuckle your shoes and pull your socks off while your host is telling you that it’s not necessary and you should feel free to stomp over the antique carpets in dirty shoes. Don’t get caught it that type of situation; make sure you have slip-ons (like driving shoes). For women, talk to your hostess ahead of time if you can; taking off your shoes and putting on black, nylon footies with a lace pattern and no-skid soles might work for formal parties.
Lastly, newcomers are told to eat with their right hand. True, but there are two other aspects to consider. First is that some locals on the Arabian Peninsula are left-handed. It is not like someone will gasp with horror if you pick up your fork with your left hand. Don’t make a disaster trying to use only your right hand at a formal dinner if you have never eaten like that before. However, if there is a shared platter of food, you will not want to use your left hand so try to figure out a work-around (quietly ask for a plate, use a utensil to bring food from the platter to your plate).
Second, left hands are viewed as unclean (used for dealing with bodily functions) so everyone has to adjust; you should only use your right hand to give someone something, including pieces of paper, plates of food, cups of tea, pens, keys, etc. This can get confusing as sometimes people greet each other by shaking right hands and gripping with the upper part of the other person’s right arm with their left hand – but the left hand is touching fabric, not the person.
Not using your left hand is difficult because there are so many actions you do all the time (like giving change or passing something to the person next to you) and there is usually no outside reinforcement to remind you (i.e., people will usually not say “use your right hand!”). You might hear “just set it down” but not understand that the reasoning is that you are offering something with your left hand.
As I said, no one will faint in shock if you make a mistake but fitting in means mental effort; there are no easy answers.
Bibliography for ‘Researching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula’ (2025, Palgrave Macmillan)
Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: Dealing with Loss
Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: Navigating Public Spaces
part 1 – https://mariellerisse.com/2025/03/15/ethnography-navigating-shaking-hands-on-the-arabian-peninsula/
When I lived in Oman and came to the States in the summer, I always used Arabic expressions in every-day interactions, like saying shukran, (thank you) to grocery-store clerks. When I moved back permanently, I wondered if that would continue. I used Arabic a few times, but quickly stopped; language use was the easiest part of moving back.
I slowly got used to Americans moving around in self-contained bubbles, usually looking at the cell phone, using earbuds to have a conversation or wearing large headphones. The American dislike of interacting with anyone in public is really pronounced in the winter. Boston often has icy sidewalks with one narrow part that’s clear. It makes sense to me that someone wanting to walk by me would just say, “passing on your left.” Then I would shift/ lean to the right, so they could easily get by me. Instead, people suddenly and silently show up at my left elbow. Sometimes they do this awkward maneuver of walking with their right foot on the snow bank and left foot on the clear part of the sidewalk as they stomp by.
And I am still trying to get conversations right. When I came to USA in the summers, I spent almost all of my time talking to family and friends or I was in conversations in which I knew my part, e.g., talking to clerks, buying something, navigating an airport etc.
But now I have all sorts of short conversations with colleagues and acquaintances so things often go pear-shaped. Someone complimented me a few days ago and I still can’t tell is that was really a compliment or an insult. In Dhofar, compliments are often used to point out a fault, so I am wary of positive statements. And for this statement I can’t read the intention of the person who made the comment and I can’t figure out a way to ask, “What did you mean?” Either I would look like I was fishing for more compliments or the person would have to spell out the insult.
I sometimes revert to Omani understandings at the worst possible times and strand myself in embarrassment. A male colleague introduced me to his wife and I cheerfully said, “THE WOMAN!” We chatted for a few moments and, as I walked away, I realized that saying “THE WOMAN!” was NOT the way Americans greet each other.
I stood still and debated what to do. I could walk back to them, apologize and try to do a 5-minute cultural lecture, or keep walking and hope they didn’t notice or would forget and forgive. I kept walking. Sometimes I try to explain but this seemed like one of those times in which the explanation would just make the situation worse.
In Dhofar it’s rude to put someone’s name in public, especially if it is a female family member so all the research guys referred to their wife as “the woman” or “my family.” For example, if a man said, “I will take my family to Muscat,” he meant “my wife and children.” Men know their close friends’ and relatives’ wife’s name, but there is no reason to say it. I would ask some of guys about their wife and kids if we were waiting for other guys to come but not in front of the group.
Only one of the research guys, who was adorably in love, ever said that name of his wife in front of the other men. When I finally met his wife, I said (in Arabic), “THE WOMAN!” and we smiled, laughed and went through the long process of exchanging greetings. By saying “the woman,” I was showing that I did not know her name (although I did) so that she could introduce herself to me. This is not what an Omani would do, but it was my work-around as her husband had told her about me and she had never met a Christian/ North American before (and might have been wondering why I was hanging out with her husband and his friends). I wanted to appear as non-threatening as possible and signal that he had been respectful of his wife by not saying her name.
When I met my American colleague’s wife, I somehow reverted to that situation and repeated the phrase instead of the expected, “how nice to meet you.”
Another hurdle is getting rid of things. In Oman there was always someone who wanted whatever I did not. If I bought cookies, tried one and didn’t like them, I would put them in a bag for the man who cleaned my office or the man who ran messages to different departments. I washed, folded and set out sheets, towels, clothes, shoes and purses for the woman who cleaned my house; the man who watered the plants got blankets and pillows. I recycled cans and cardboard and had a compost heap.
Living in a studio apartment, I do more recycling (yeah Cambridge!) but what to do with Christmas lights that are the wrong color, a pillow that’s too hard, a paint set I won’t use, freebies sent along with a mail-order? I finally started to leave things stealthily on a shelf in the laundry room of my building or in the kitchen at work, like a multi-purpose Easter bunny.
But the worst cultural hurdle for me is handshakes. I spent 19 years avoiding touching a man [ https://mariellerisse.com/2025/03/15/ethnography-navigating-shaking-hands-on-the-arabian-peninsula/ ] and I haven’t been able to get back into the habit.
The first time it happened, I was doing a simple task (like picking up an insurance card) and the man at the desk put his hand out. At the same moment I thought, “I do not want to shake his hand” and “I have to do this.” My primary reaction was unreasonable anger: “Why is this man forcing me to do something I did not want?” yet I also understood he was behaving normally. I was the one who was at odds with the prevailing culture. I managed to get my hand out and shake, but was relieved when I had to move to another clerk. But then when I left, I had to stop by that man’s desk again and, again, he wanted to shake. “What is your problem?” I thought to myself, forcing myself to be polite.
I had many years of verbal greetings and now 2 handshakes within 1/2 an hour! I was miserable and sprayed my hand with sanitizer after I left the building.
Before that day, the last time I had shook hands with a man was the day I left Oman. The Muslim man who drove me to the airport had been a friend for 19 years. As I turned to say goodbye, he put his hand out; we had never shaken hands so I was not expecting him to. I started crying so hard I could not speak; it was such a kind action, to do something against his culture and religion to signal my leaving. What was a simple every-day action by the American clerk at his desk, was a huge, important gesture at the Salalah airport.
A few weeks after my first American hand-shake, I was in trouble again. A pleasant colleague held his hand out for a fist bump and I froze. Again, I was stuck thinking “I do not want to do this” and “I have to do this and I have to do this quickly or he is going to wonder what is wrong with me.” So, with kind of the same feeling as sticking my hand into a tiger’s cage, I managed the fist bump.
After a few more fist bumps and a few more weeks of working together, I had a short conversation with him about my reluctance as, if he had noticed my hesitation/ discomfort, I wanted him to know it was not personal. My unease had nothing to do with him; it was caused by almost two decades of carefully avoiding that exact situation.
For the future, I don’t know what I will do. I might get back in the groove and glad hand people like a politician. Or I might retreat back to putting my right hand on my heart. I have told people for years that re-entry can be as difficult as moving abroad. And I was right about that.
Leaving Oman: Grief, Grandeur, Museums and Bringley’s ‘All the Beauty in The World’
Come From Away 
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