In the United Arab Emirates, no one uses addresses -- not even parcel deliverers. You just memorize landmarks. You're lucky if the road that runs by them has a name, most of the time you just mention the big roundabout, the third roundabout, past the sculpture, etc.
I actually did figure out what could be considered my address from the numbers on my building. Imagine them something like this:
WW-XX-YY-ZZ
WW was the area or neighborhood. Al Ain was segmented into a dozen or so. I was in the fourth, so 04.
XX was then the north-south parallel streets. I was on the second, so 02.
YY was the east-west streets, which I was like 28 or something.
ZZ was building number on that block, of which I was in the 08.
Funny thing, the apartment was also numbered AA-BB: floor, room.
So my address could have been stated as 04-02-28-08-01-04 Al Ain (or something like that. Memory inexact.)
Once I figured that out, I thought it very practical, EXCEPT literally nobody Arab, Western, or South Asian I was surrounded with could understand what the hell I was talking about. I'd even show people the little tiles with the numbers on their buildings and they'd just be like, "How did you even figure this out?"
I even tried telling couriers my address to see if they knew and it was immediately apparent they were having none of it. Dudes that has lived there for decades were like, "Nobody else is gonna figure out this system, dude."
My son will be leaving for Morocco in early June to study Moroccan Arabic as part of a summer scholarship. I should have him read your essay, as a primer for the joys of getting lost in the Bazaars.
In the United Arab Emirates, no one uses addresses -- not even parcel deliverers. You just memorize landmarks. You're lucky if the road that runs by them has a name, most of the time you just mention the big roundabout, the third roundabout, past the sculpture, etc.
I actually did figure out what could be considered my address from the numbers on my building. Imagine them something like this:
WW-XX-YY-ZZ
WW was the area or neighborhood. Al Ain was segmented into a dozen or so. I was in the fourth, so 04.
XX was then the north-south parallel streets. I was on the second, so 02.
YY was the east-west streets, which I was like 28 or something.
ZZ was building number on that block, of which I was in the 08.
Funny thing, the apartment was also numbered AA-BB: floor, room.
So my address could have been stated as 04-02-28-08-01-04 Al Ain (or something like that. Memory inexact.)
Once I figured that out, I thought it very practical, EXCEPT literally nobody Arab, Western, or South Asian I was surrounded with could understand what the hell I was talking about. I'd even show people the little tiles with the numbers on their buildings and they'd just be like, "How did you even figure this out?"
I even tried telling couriers my address to see if they knew and it was immediately apparent they were having none of it. Dudes that has lived there for decades were like, "Nobody else is gonna figure out this system, dude."
Thank you for adding that intriguing story and your comment DB.
My son will be leaving for Morocco in early June to study Moroccan Arabic as part of a summer scholarship. I should have him read your essay, as a primer for the joys of getting lost in the Bazaars.
Moroccan Arabic is such a dynamic language, and that sounds like a great experience. Thank you for the comment John.
This is so beautiful. I love the way you think and the way you write. Thank you so much.
Thank you very much for the kind words, Clara.
Carapace of Stubbornness 🤘🪲
Yes, absolutely—thank you for the comment Brendan.