I have been invited to a Superbowl party...

...that starts at 3am.

Four days in Cairo and it's hard to tell what impressed me most

These:





...or this super-fantastic creature created by Ahmed, the extremely enthusiastic cleaner assigned to our 17th-floor room at the Hilton.



(Augmented by our partially-consumed bottle of Egyptian scotch, a glass, mobile phone and two carnations)

Another New Year's Resolution, in ruins

It's been a hard slog, this resolution to recycle. I set up the house using a big, reusable shopping bag under the sink for cans and bottles, another in the living area for newspapers.

Several weeks ago I embarked on the first journey, with a fairly "unsupportive" friend helping (and by that I mean he acted slightly embarrassed), to dump them at the Spinney's depot. The next week I had borrowed a friend's car for errands, so recycling was a piece of cake.

The next two weeks lovely and thorough cleaning woman Zara threw out the recycling altogether. Ooops. So this week I rushed to get it to the Spinney's depot before she came, instead of calling her for fear of sounding like a spoiled expat who could never afford a weekly cleaner back home admonishing her cleaner not to throw out the stuff she threw out. As I walked toward the taxi stand, the cans-and-bottles bag clanking and even worse, dripping, the newspaper one a heavy drag on my right arm, I though about just how arduous this particular New Year's resolution was turning out to be.

I pulled the bags into the back seat of the taxi with me, the driver already wrinkling his nose. In a confined space, I have to say, that week's collection smelled a bit gamey. You might wonder why I didn't put the recycling in the truck of the taxi and my answer to that question is, that's what I did the last time I took a taxi, only to open the trunk and find it scattered everywhere.

Anyway, I meandered to Spinney's last night with a displeased taxi driver possessing the world's worst sense of direction – it took us 10 minutes just to get in the parking lot. By the time the driver had managed to manouever us to the dead-end front of Khalidiya Police Station, I had grown quite agitated, due to his overzealous use of the brake and because I was running quite late for the 8.30 showing of Avatar – not to mention when we sailed past the place where the depot was supposed to be it seemed to me that it wasn't there.

Sure enough, by the time we squeaked back there, I could see that it was gone. So there I was, with a cab full of recycling, 10 minutes from a movie date with a friend, and a vanished recycling depot.

If you can come up with a better solution than I did for that predicament – which was throwing everything in the dumpster, bags and all, and heading to the flick – you are a better person than I. (And I wouldn't mind hearing it).

Anyway, the depot is gone and I don't know where. Clues, hints, ideas – and other options – are all encouraged.

"Ann": Not as easy to pronounce as you might think OR why my name is now Mary

Living as an expat in a land that uses a jumble of different languages presents particular challenges. One of the biggest is making ourselves understood to each other. I realised shortly after arriving that I would probably not become fluent in Arabic, let alone Urdu or Pashto. But that was the least of my worries - I could not get a taxi driver to turn where I wanted him to for the life of me. Weeks of frustration later, I learned that "turn right" means nothing; "signal right" means everything.

And so it is with my name. Barely anyone can understand what I am saying. And hey, I get it. I am challenged by loads of the names here. So last week, in an effort to ease the process, I decided to go with just "Ann". Hilarity has ensued. It seems, particularly among people from the Philippines, that "Ann" is even harder to understand than "Ann Marie".

This was about the third conversation, when booking my spot in a yoga class last week, and the point when I decided I needed another method of making myself understood.

Staffer: What is your good name please ma'am?

Me: Ann.

Her: Eye'n?

Me: No, Aaaahn.

Her: Eeen?

Me: No, ah, ah, Ann.

Long pause.

Her: I am sorry ma'am, Em?

Me: Marie?

Her: Ah, yes, Mary. Thank you ma'am!

"Winter" in the UAE

Yes, brrrr, it's a chilly willy 24 degrees Celsius out there right now.

And though I am being sarcastic, I have to say living here for almost 2 years has changed my definition of the word "chilly". As in I am about to head out to see a movie this evening and have already donned Uggs and a hoodie for the occasion. It's a little embarrassing, actually; but any excuse to be cosy, I find.

Anyway, since it's "winter" – the kind where you can sunbathe in a bikini all day – all the malls and shops are featuring winter clothing sales and promotions featuring snowflakes and fur and fleece. Here is the one for Abu Dhabi Mall, and by frosty I think they must only be referring to the air conditioning they continue to use.

Can you guys help Koala? He wants to open a bagel shop in Abu Dhabi and I for one do not mind if he does

Message from Koala:

Hello there fellow Canadian. In response to your posting on new businesses needed in AD, I would like to inform you that I am currently working on opening a bagel deli & bakery. That being said, I was wondering if you would help me get some market research in by writing a post asking your readers how they would feel about having a proper bagel place in AD. Since AD is filled with expats I thought it was a safe bet that most of them would be delighted :) i miss my bagels!!!

Consider it done Koala. Comment one: I would visit your shop at least once of week. After I wrote that post I googled "home-made bagels". You know what? Making bagels looks to be a long, complicated process. No wonder I've left it to the experts all these years!

It would be even better if you would sell different flavours of cream cheese too, while you are at it. Now if we could just get going on that diner...

Abu Dhabi living tip, #1

The best massages in the city are neither expensive or hard to get; nor are they at the poshest spa. Phone up the Beach Rotana and ask for the Beachline Club. Not Zen the spa. Beachline Club. The one by the gym and the pool. When you get through, ask for a massage with Nina or Jackie. Not only are both of them masters of their craft (it's like the most relaxing massage you ever had, but the knots and aches are worked out too) they are absolute delights. Their rooms are lovely, tiny havens. Massages there are Dh210 for non-members, a price you can't beat, and either Nina or Jackie always works on Friday.

You will thank me for the experience. In advance, you are welcome.