Battling the Vang Vieng Mud Monster with Hmong Help

Laotian village against mountainous back-drop near Vang Vieng 

Rent a bike- $2. Head out of the tiny tourist area and start cycling up the main drag. Contrasting the small bars, restaurants, and convenience stores that line the streets stands a Buddhist temple, lighting the road in its splendid colors, behind it the lush, rain forest covered mountains. I keep pedaling, not exactly sure what I am looking for or where I’m headed, but secure in the knowledge it’s impossible to get lost, this being the only road and all.

I stop at Vang Vieng high school, watching students ride in on their bicycles, all holding umbrellas, to shield them from the tropical sun this moment, and for their way home, the afternoon's guaranteed rain storm.

Vang Vieng children riding to school with umbrellas

Passing trucks and buses kick up dust from the dirt road. The drivers of SE Asia's ubiquitous motorbikes smile and wave friendly hellos to me as they slowly ride by. 

Seven km outside Vang Vieng, I pull off the road and onto a gravel path. Not far ahead a water buffalo sits lazily in a gigantic mud-hole. I try to impress him by riding through his domain, but instead of proudly passing by, my tire collapses into the foam-like softness of the terrain. If I was going more than 1 mph I would have flown over the handlebars, but without the necessary forward momentum to perform this feat, I instead fall off the bike to the side, my legs sinking close to a foot into the mud. 

I pull my right leg out with great difficulty, placing it back on more “solid mud” but my left leg is stuck. “Hey water buffalo, call for help! Use your bell!”

With enormous difficultly and strength, I remove my leg from the trap, well, most of it at least. The Mud Monster has swallowed my shoe. I had to pull so hard to get my leg out, my sneaker was the left over prize in the battle for survival. Warily I reach in, and attempt to pull it back to safety. The Mud Monster growls, but relents.

I continue, finally arriving at the river and the local Eco-Lodge. No one’s there, but looking around I find evidence of Laos’s Communist past.

Photo of Lenin on the wall in Vang Vieng at the Eco-Lodge

The bar is fully stocked and if someone were dastardly enough to wish to steal from these poor people, it would be all too easy. Instead I meditate for 15 minutes by the river before someone comes and offers to cook me lunch.

I keep going down the road, 14km later, I find signs pointing me towards the ”Great Caves of Vang Vieng.”  What choice do I have but turn-off and head in this direction. I stop by a canal with children playing, cannon-balling, diving into the water and cooling off on this hot day.

Hmong children at play in this distant canal

I finally arrive at cave headquarters, a simple stand renting “torches” (flashlights) for $1.25. A group of men lies on a wooden deck beneath a thatched roof. After briefly exploring the caves, which I was ill-equipped for, I ask if I can join them.

Their Hmong, a minority group in Laos who fought against the communist Pathet Lao during the Laotian Civil War, and were allies of the United States during the horrendous, turbulent times of the Vietnam War. Knowing that now, I shouldn't have been so surprised to find them able to speak some English

They tell me stories from when they were young children, of an American fighter jet being shot out of the sky, the pilot successfully crash landing close by to where we are. The Hmong found him first, alone, injured, and naturally frightened. “Come with us,” they implored him. He refused, behaving like a cornered animal.

“Come with us, we will protect you,” they tell him again, but he won't leave his downed plane which might be the only way the U.S. could locate him.

“Come with us before the Communists find you, they will kill you. We will hide you and contact your commanding officer.” Finally, he heads out with them. A few weeks later he is re-united later with his squadron.

They ask questions about America, amazed as I tell them the differences between their impoverished country and my own. Amazed at the possibilities, the resources, wealth, and ability to advance economically that America offers. It's as if I was describing Disneyland to a child who had never been. 

me and the local Hmong

I ask about the forests, and whether not there are tigers.

“Not here,” comes the response, “But over the mountains, yes.”

“Do you hunt tigers?”

“No, it is illegal. Plus when we have guests we like to show them the wild nature. We don’t see tigers, but occasionally, deep in the mountains, we hear them in the night. Their roars are very loud, but they are scared of man.”

“For good reason. So these forests are protected?”

“Oh yes, protected forests. The trees provide air conditioning, create rain, we like our forests. The government protects the forests.”

“The government protects the forests?” I ask a little surprised. ”Is the government in Laos good?”

I didn’t know it when when I asked, but this is a taboo question in Laos. It’s a one party system and there is no opposition. Speak badly of the government and you wind-up in prison, for how long no one knows. Only later did I realize that most people would refuse to respond honestly, but they answered me, and I believed them sincere.

“Government is good,” they nodded, “Protect forests, help us a little. Government okay.”

Later research corroborated that they were correct in telling me their forests were under protection, the reason for this however is not necessarily a forward thinking government, but rather how difficult it is to remove lumber from the very steep mountains, so why not go ahead and deem them “protected lands.”

fishing in the rice paddy

“It’s going to rain soon, you have long ways back to Vang Vieng,” they tell me. I nod my head, and thank them for their time. Before I leave, they ask me one favor. “Please tell all your American friends back home, that the Hmong people love them. That America is number one. We love America.”

“I can do that.”

“Tell them Hmong of Laos say America is number one. You promise?”

“I certainly do.”

Tubing in Vang Vieng with the Grim Reaper

Stunning jungle mountainous backdrop

Nestled in the highlands, a five hour bus ride climbing the sole Northerly bound road emanating from the Laotian capital of Vientiane, lies the small town of Vang Vieng.

The unbelievably beautiful backdrop of mountainous jungle is in seeming stark contrast to its famous party atmosphere, a cheap place for backpackers to drink themselves into oblivion, before swinging Tarzan like on a rope over a fast flowing river, or willingly plummeting nearly twenty feet off the Death Slide into, at times, the rather shallow waiting waters below.

Death Slide- note size of person compared to drop

Reflexes and common sense dulled by liquor, a few extra souls are harvested here yearly by the Grim Reaper, saying nothing of the everyday injuries that range from mere scrapes to broken bones or worse. The accidents are no secret, and tales are commonly discussed among adventurers, an awkward pause between downing shots of homemade Laotian whiskey. It’s party at your own risk.

The rope swings, the zip-lines, mud volleyball ring, Death Slide, and the other attractions of this riverside backpacker amusement park are built with the sole purpose of enticing the relatively affluent traveler into purchasing a few dollars worth of the identical liquor served in each establishment.

After tiring of one bar, you hop into river, sprawled out on an inner-tube, floating downstream with the current, and a bar employee from overhead heaves a lightly weighted water bottle tied to a rope in your direction. Grab a hold of it and they'll reel you in. Fishing for backpackers- pays more than any other catch on the river.

I don’t drink a drop of alcohol, but still enjoy myself, watching everyone else play their drinking games, spray painting their bodies, diving in the mud like pigs, and exchanging travel stories. If people want to drink and take part in risky behaviors that’s their right, so long as they don’t endanger others. 

Mud warrior - dirty girl

As I tube down the river, I pass the last bar, ignoring the fishing lure thrown to me, and head towards “open water.” With the spectacular scenery around me, and the quiet solitude of nature whispering in my ear, I feel immense peace. The water swirls, a bird flies by, the sun warms body. I see the Grim Reaper in his black hood standing on the riverbank. I smile and wave hello, Death smiles back.

Vang Vieng- like any other moment, there is no place I would rather be.

Trekking Through the Laotian Jungle

A Swiss girl, a Finnish couple, myself, and two guides pile into the four wheel drive vehicle necessary to traverse the often muddy and impassable unpaved back-roads of South East Asia. We've signed up for a trek run by Green Discovery Laos, an eco-tour company whose prices I don't mind paying as a portion of my fee goes towards keeping the forests in tact, and children schooled in the distant village where we'll be spending the night.

Three hours later, we begin our adventure, floating down a river, friendly bathing trees whose lower halves are swallowed by the bloated waterway, point us towards the jungle.

Take a quick look at the height of our the river

Twenty minutes later we exit off the boat and begin exploring the wilderness. Being in a national park means an intact rain forest with almost unbroken vegetation, but sadly, here, most of the mammals have been hunted nearly out of existence, and those that remain, are incredibly shy.
Can you blame them?

Me crossing a fast flowing stream any way possible
'

Regardless, I am entranced by the forest's beauty; the fallen, often rotting trees blocking our path, the vegetation poking us from every angle, the sounds of the cicada, a type of cricket which rubs its legs together producing a sound far louder than its body would suggest possible, and the lush green plants- cleaning pollutants from the air, supplying us oxygen in return, the lungs of the earth.
To some it might seem an area in complete disarray, a messy, muddy, unpredictable mass of vegetation, to me, I see perfect harmony, billions of years of almost unspoiled evolution.

Laotian jungle

A large, spiked, poisonous caterpillar on a tree branch is swarmed by red ants. To avoid an un-fateful end, it releases it grasp of the bark and falls onto the low lying vegetation.

Awesome shot of poisonous caterpillar if I may be so bold

The jungle is green beyond a color reproducible on any computer, in any movie. One must see it in person to fully appreciate its vivid nature.

waterfall in rainy season

A view of the trees and jungle below

While I dream of spotting a wild tiger, which still exist in the furthest reaches of Laotian forests, the last known sighting in this National Park was five years ago. The few wild tigers left, even if their habitat somehow becomes protected across the board, will be poached out of existence by demand coming from idiots in China who believe that eating tiger penis will armor them with greater sexual prowess than Viagra; or exercise. The world must be educated, and quickly.

The jungle however, is not without its dangers. From deadly centipedes, to king cobras, to green vipers, one of which I nearly step on, getting lucky I wasn't a few feet faster. (see a shot of it in the video below)

A tour through some of the sights of the Laotian jungle

We have lunch by the waterfall, enjoying the rushing water, the tranquil and steady sounds of the forest. I feel blessed to be able to see one of the few truly wild places left on earth, with humanity ever encroaching on Mother Nature, making her take what might soon be her last stand.
Consumerism, rapid population growth, man's avarice, and egoic need to dominate, will, unchecked, lead to the demise of the human race. I see human beings as fleas, sucking our host dry, greedily extracting all they can, without realizing the possibility of living in a sustainable and harmonious manner.

A river in the jungle, our guide Ola in center. No crocodiles here! They're just about extinct! Hooray?

Is there hope? Will humanity destroy itself and our beautiful planet, or will we take collective action, before it's too late, allowing dorks like this Laotian rapper to continue performing his "craft." Either way, it's hard to be enthusiastic about our future. 

The greatest rap in Laotian history. Grammy? You be the judge.

Getting Laid Back in Vientiane, Laos

I step onto an old, worn down, sad looking bus, its driver’s eyes glazed over, on autopilot, his only purpose in life seemingly to ferry passengers from the Thai side of the Mekong River over to the Laotian, a task he's performed dozens of times per day for at least a decade straight.

My phone rings, I stumble slightly under the weight of my gear as I try to answer. “Careful! Careful mister!” a thin, withered, elderly man cautions with fear in his eyes. I look down at the floor, my shoe hovering only inches away from a large plastic bag filled with water, two fish swimming inside.

“Sorry, sorry,” I smile reassuringly, letting the fisherman know I’m aware his day’s earnings are literally beneath my feet.

On the other side of the bridge lies the Laotian capital of Vientiane, too big to be a town, too small to be a city. I check into my guest house, simple but adequate and costing all of $25 a night, which, outside a major hotel chain, makes it the most expensive room in the entire country.

Meandering through the streets, I stop to chat with a few fellow backpackers, who I discover later I will run into repeatedly during my seventeen day trek through the country. There is only one real road heading to the North, everyone making the same two stops along the way.

The tourist area is small. I quickly find what I am looking for, Green Discovery Laos, an eco-adventure tour company, where I book a trek through the jungle and one of several national parks Laos has created, my eco-dollars one of the few barriers to the chainsaws.
Outside, it looks like rain. Five seconds after making this profound observation the deluge begins, the volume of water falling is such that if I were taking a shower, I’d immediately attempt to decrease the pressure. Apparently I rotate the faucet the wrong way, the rain coming down even harder. There is no hiding from this downpour. I stand outside alone, my arms outstretched towards the heavens, my clothes completely drenched, enjoying every moment of it.


Check out the rainstorm which less than a minute earlier was clear skies

I find an Indian restaurant. A delectable three course meal, masala tea, and desert costs me all of ten dollars. Fifty dollars a day you makes you a veritable king.

Traffic is light, with the roads easily able to handle the limited number of cars. Few Laotians can even so much as dream of owning an automobile. In fact, if you make so much as $250 a month here, you’re doing extremely well.

I go for run on the waterfront, stopping to examine some of the few monuments and statues, with the exception of Buddhist temples, that exist in Laos.

First down and ten!

A mile later, the concrete riverfront road morphs back to dirt and clay. I run up the street away from the river, and find the city extending itself, like yarn being stretched too far, the economic well-being of the citizens becomes more and more frayed as I move further from tourist central.

The exhaust from the cars becomes stronger, choking me for a moment. It starts to rain again, I turn around and head back towards my guest house.

Chinese temple "Fu De Miao" on the waterfront- quite beautiful

At night, the city sleeps. Street lamps are distant, allowing an unusual amount of room for darkness. A few bars, generally owned by expats, serve liquor to the locals and tourists alike, as soccer games from the British Premier League play out on TV in the background.
I am told that not so long ago, the main products you could buy on the street corners were opium and prostitutes. While I am offered both at various points, its obvious that the sex and drugs that once made Vientiane's economy go are either much more hidden, or on the decline.
The vendors here are far less aggressive and more laid back than just about anywhere I've been. Perhaps because so few Laotians have money, the all-mighty dollar seems to have less meaning than in the West, the drive to accumulate not nearly as intense. In this capital city, there's a quietness and solitude not found in the majority of the world. I take a breath, hold it and exhale. That seems like one of the most productive things I could accomplish here. I'm okay with that.

Penetrating Prostitution in Bangkok, Thailand

Nana Plaza- Sukhumvit Road

Everything you can imagine is for sale here, from tailor made silk clothing, pirated DVD’s, flowers, and fresh fruit during the day, to the bodies of scantily clad Thai girls at night.

“Mister, mister, I go with you?” is a common offer heard walking these streets in late hours of the evening.

A stream of girls spills out of a crowded bar, I go inside to investigate the river’s source.

Thai hookers open for business

Hundreds of girls in their sexiest outfits line the walls and tables, hoping to “get lucky,” to make the 2,000 baht ($60 dollars) asking price for an hour’s worth of their time. The majority of these girls will earn no money tonight, but they’re likely accepting of that outcome. Even if they only find work one of two evenings a week, their earnings will still be higher than the average citizen of Bangkok, SE Asia’s wealthiest city, saying nothing when compared to the rural countryside where most of these girls come from, in an effort not so much to make “easy money” for themselves, but rather be the primary breadwinners for their families back home.

At the bar in the center of the room, an old Irishman in his late fifties drunkenly serenades one of the girls in his raspy voice. When he’s finished, she applauds, giving him the significance and connection he was after when he began, the likelihood of her making a sale increased accordingly.

In the corner, two young Chinese guys chat up one of the cuter girls. I can’t translate their words, but I can decipher the body language of someone pretending to be interested.

At an outer table, some old and fat British men with red noses nurse their beers, arguing over the English Premier League, enjoying the hopeful looks the girls offer them when they turn their heads and make eye contact.
Do you blame the girls? This business is like any other; it's all about getting paid. 

Walk down Soi 11 and you'll be propositioned numerous times.

One Night in Bangkok

Bangkok’s Premier Night Club- the Q Bar

Walk down Soi 11 and you’ll find two of the premiere clubs in Bangkok. The trendy clubs where passports are needed to gain entry.
The Q Bar, just around the corner, which tonight has contracted DJ Marky from Sao Paolo, Brazil to play their venue. It’s 800 baht ($26) to get in, not cheap by any standards, much less Bangkok. The deal does however include two drinks which takes some of sting out of the price. “DJ Marky costs,” the manager tells me, “We’ve got to pay for him.”

Upstairs at the trendy Q bar in Bangkok

Looking around, there’s no surprise, the majority of gents here are foreign, with a smattering of their European girlfriends, the rest are Thai women. Some are here just to party and have a great time, some are here looking for work; the talent is pretty choice.

I get on the dance floor and just express, having fun. A half hour later, DJ Marky steps behind the turn-table and starts spinning. I have little idea what qualifies a DJ as outstanding, but I have the feeling he’s pretty damn good, and the reaction of the crowd jumping up and down backs this assertion. I groove to the sounds he’s creating, and as I watch his perfectly timed actions, begin to understand the skill and amount of practice it must take to excel in his profession.

DJ Marky- from Sao Paolo, Brazil in Bangkok

The Night Begins

At 2 AM Q Bar shuts down according to the law. I’ve ignored all the working girls, as well as a few that might have not been who gave me the thumbs up sign, and begin walking home. I pass by Levels and watching the trendily dressed foreigners and Bangkok elite exit. I look up and make eye contact with a Super Hottie standing on the balcony above. She’s dressed in white pumps and a light green mini-skirt, cut low enough to show her beautiful natural breasts. She has to be amongst the best looking girls I’ve seen in Bangkok.

“Hey cutie, are you the right guy for me?” she calls out.

I have to see where this leads. “Maybe,” I reply.

She walks down the ramp, and attaches herself to my arm.

“We’re going to go get something to eat, you come with us.”

“Who’s we?”

“Me, and my friends.”

She points, I glance over and see two other girls dressed to the nines with two older guys, in their late forties, maybe fifties. I’m in the mood for adventure, and agree.

Apparently my girl had been harassed by a couple guys earlier in the evening. “I’m leaving with my boyfriend,” she states, her arm wrapped around me, almost taunting them. Both the guys are huge, what have I gotten myself into?

As if on queue a valet pulls up in a new Mercedes. The German guy jumps behind the wheel, accompanied by his woman riding shotgun. There’s not enough room for four in the back, so Super Hottie sits in my lap. Beside her is her friend, and then a bald headed muscular American, (especially for being 50) who just won’t shut-up.

“I’ve been cast in a Viking movie shooting here in Bangkok,” he tells me. He’s been cast as the “King.”

“I did a reading for a smaller part, and the director told me, ‘You’re not getting this part, I have a much bigger part for you.' ”
I had no idea I had taken a plane home to Los Angeles.
“Great,” I respond.

Next he starts talking about real estate, and how much land he has bought and sold, how easy it is to make money in the profession. Meanwhile Super Hottie is grinding into my lap, teasing me, doing her “best” to keep my attention, which veers to her, angering the King.

His voice raises in anger. “I don’t get it, you have the opportunity to learn from a guy who’s made multi-millions in real estate, and you’re paying attention to everything else.”

“There are some distractions here man,” I state, thankful that there’s another girl acting as a buffer between us.

“That’s bullshit!” yells the King violently, “That’s just perennial background noise you’re letting distract you.”

I look around, the girls are seemingly too drunk to be fazed by his outburst. I look around, we’re in a major traffic jam at 2:30 AM, highly unusual, but I still have no idea where we are in the city. I’d just jump out and find a cab, if not for Super Hottie ...

Next the King starts talking about his former career as an elite special forces officer in the military, continuing by telling me that China is absolutely inferior militarily to the U.S., that their equipment is shoddy. “What, you think we let them have the good stuff?” he asks with a strong note of sarcasm.

“I still wouldn’t really want to tangle with them,” I offer.

“You don’t know how the world works! You don’t know ex-top KGB agents like I do. I worked on a movie with Jean Clause Van-Damme! You don’t know what goes on behind the scenes. You know nothing.”

Behind the scenes of what, world espionage or film making? Maybe I’m in a movie right now, or some kind of candid camera reality TV Show. Super Hottie wriggles in my lap ... so maybe that’s why she’s sitting there.

I’m actually getting excited to hear what’s going to come out of his mouth next … which is the fact that he’s also a krav-maga expert, and went through the course with the ultimate master faster than anyone in history.

I’m dead serious when I say this, I’m going out of my way not to insult this guy, not necessarily because I believe a word that's coming out of his mouth, but because he has the ego that would love the opportunity to prove itself if met with anything but rose petals laid before its feet.

“Wow, that’s very impressive,” I reply, hoping we arrive at our destination, and quickly.

“Fuck this traffic, maybe you should just drop me off at Nana Plaza, and I’ll pick-up a girl,” he states with frustration, then adding,“You know I’ve probably boom-boomed 2,000 girls in the last six years I’ve lived here,” he offers, “I’ve gone through so much money.”

I’m not that uncomfortable, I’m playing along, but I am glad when we finally pass the road block (an accident) and speed to our destination.

The six of us sit around a table, me as far away his Highness as possible. Course after course of Thai Food arrive at 3:30 AM, the majority of it being consumed by the King. Beef, a whole crab, pork, soup, and an entire fish, he downs it all, the rest of us nibbling like mice in comparison. The food’s absolutely delectable, and I imagine the bill at this late hour will be too.

At last finished with his feast, the King lets out a contented sigh and speaks in surprisingly good Thai, which I translated as, “The food was excellent, and I’m full. Now let’s talk about how great I am.”

Super Hottie looks at him, and says, with a straight face, but obviously kidding, “I don’t like it when foreigners speak in Thai.”

And the King takes it in and absorbs the statement, his face grows red with anger. Disrespect in his court. Oh fuck, please don’t strike her …

The King’s body convulses. “I need to speak Thai dammit!” stupidity and ego clouding the obvious, that if she didn’t mean it as a joke then she has her own problems. “I have a Thai daughter, and I need to speak Thai to her! … I don’t like the fact that you said that …” his face becoming swollen with red anger, “In fact, I don’t even want to be here anywhere near you! I’m leaving!”

And he gets up, and storms away, leaving everyone at the table in speechless.

“I was joking,” she explains, needlessly defending herself as everyone else already understood, only one us the least bit annoyed by the ramifications of her actions.

 “Why are you shaking your head?” Supper Hottie asks me.

“Couldn’t you have at least waited til he chipped in for the bill?”

Landmarks of Dubai-- Jumeireh Beach, Burj Al Arab, Burj Tall Khalifa, Ski Dubai,

Dubai Landmarks. IE- If you go, these are probably the best things in Dubai to see!

Jumeireh Beach
The beach is so exclusive and the water so hot, you can pick fully cooked lobsters off the ocean’s surface. It literally felt like I had stepped foot into a hut tub, and had to dive down several feet before getting any relief from the heat.

Jumeireh Beach during Ramadan

It is normally way more crowded, I went during Ramadan.

Burj Al Arab

You'll notice the sailboat shape of the Burj, it is the world's first "7 Star Hotel," or so it is advertised as. 

The rooms run from "as low" as $1,000, to up to $60,000 a night! And people call me crazy!

The Best Way to get into the Burj?

What you think, you, a "commoner" can just walk straight into the Burj. Hahahah! Don't make me laugh. You need a reservation, which will cost you Monneeeyyyyy just to go see it. If you want to eat something, a non-guest breakfast costs about $65 a person, or afternoon tea for $70.

But, if you want to know the cheapest way to get into the Burj Al Arab, make an appointment for a manicure or hair treatment at the Frank Provost beauty salon inside the Burj. A manicure is only about $20.
Once inside you walk around and witness the beautifully designed hotel. 

Burj Al Arab- 7 star hotel

Fountains at the Burj

Burj Al Arab lobby

Bar/ Lounge area inside the Burj

Burj Tall Khalifa- World's Tallest Building


In what is architecture purely for bragging rights and ego, Dubai has constructed the world's tallest building. It's $30 and an advanced reservation if you want to go to the top. Being scared of heights, if I want to ascend to that elevation, I'd rather go a few feet higher and go skydiving!


Sky Dubai
Snowboarding in the desert. Mankind trounces the forces of nature once again, creating a refrigerated ski zone.

Ski Dubai

It is located in Mall of the Emirates, and in a lot of ways, kudos to those who created it, which took guts, no matter whether or not I'd rather be on real slopes.

For those of you who found us via search, please feel free to follow by email/subscribe/ forward links to your friends. Please feel free to check out the following Dubai write up, called Dubai- BIG MONEY, No Soul which has been very well received by readers.
and feel free to look around/ leave a comment :)

Life and sick TORTURE in Dubai (Part II) workers rights, abuse, and manners

Part II
We continue our discussion from Life in Dubai Part I <-- see part I here if you missed it)

Ali: Well, look, every place has its good and bad sides.
Jerome: For one, as I touched on earlier, there is discrimination. If you're from Asia you'll get a very low salary and you will not be treated nicely, but if you're from Western countries, you're considered superior.
Ali: I tend to agree on salary discrimination. Usually Arab countries and decision makers trust Western educated people and their skills/capabilities without even checking their backgrounds. Western people get higher positions and much better salaries due to their proficiency in English , work specialization , and better protection from their Embassies. On the other hand, often many of the Asian workers come with fake degrees, lousy English, and are untrained, so it is largely the corruption and educational system of their country to blame, and not necessarily the system here.
Jerome: What about the British?
Ali: Well, it’s definitely true that British citizens have the most influence of any of the expats, and are almost always on the board of any high profile corporation.
Me: Is that because the Emirates used to be a British protectorate?
Ali: That undoubtedly plays a part.
Me: Before we move on, Jerome, you stated that people from the Western countries are considered “superior?” In what way? Superior to Asians, superior to Arabs, or both, and why?
Jerome: Superior to both. People here see Westerners as more civilized, educated, moral, and fair.
Ali: This is mostly true. Most of us desire to work under American or British owned companies as well.
Jerome: Let's say for example you and I are applying for the same position. I have a bachelor's degree, and you are only a high school graduate. Employers will choose you over me 100% of the time, just because you're American. And if we’re working at the same company, with the same position, you will get a higher salary, even working fewer hours than me.
Ali: This is reality here in the UAE. It’s unfair but true. Some Arabs and Asians think British and Americans do nothing and get high salaries. But also, in partial defense, they do not understand that Europeans work more efficiently, and thus are more productive.

The Dubai Marina

Jerome: I can tell you a few more things. Labor rights for foreign workers are lacking, and the laws in this regard are inconsistent.
Ali: I have to disagree here. If a laborer respects local rules and labor laws no one will bother him. If he is sponsored to work without high qualifications in hand, then he should accept the deal offered upfront, of working for two consecutive years with the same employer before being able move on to another opportunity.
Me: Two years. That sounds like indentured servitude to me.
Jerome: If, as a foreigner, you have signed a contract to work here, it means you are tied to the company for at least two years, often three, because your employer is your sponsor, meaning they provided you your visa. You can't easily shift to another job if you found a better one. If you desire to change companies before your contract expires, you will have a labor ban and be unable to work for six months. If you want the ban lifted, you have to ask for a Non Objection Certificate from your previous employer which is very difficult to get, and even if you’re lucky enough to get them to agree to sign-off, you still have to pay a minimum of 5,000 dirhams ( $1,390).
Ali: This is the deal offered upfront, and made to protect local sponsors from being at a financial loss from paying to bring employees here from foreign lands, and then to find them leaving the next day.  However, I must state, this does not apply to senior manager positions with bachelor or master degrees.
Me: What about work hours?
Jerome: Most of the employer's don’t pay workers overtime. More work, less pay. In my case, once a week I'm working twelve hours a day, and fifteen during Ramadan, with no overtime pay. It's because my colleague is taking her day off, and vice versa for her.
Ali: C'est la vie, due to high competency rates here, an employer can easily find people to replace you, so if you start asking or nagging for overtime the day after you start, you could be fired easily. Working in any oil rich/wealthy country, people need to show great levels of sacrifice and extra effort to keep their job. However, this does not always apply to Westerners as sponsors usually count to ten before firing them as the worker is likely to go to court to demand all contractual compensations.
Me: I wish Tea Party members in the U.S. who think it’s best that corporations have completely free reign, and should the supply and demand of the free market dictate it permissible for companies to publicly flog their employees with a slave whip, that the S+P 500 should be allowed their "constitutional right"  to exercise their triceps in such a manner, would read this balanced argument and perspective on labor laws ... But, let me be fair to the the Tea Party who believe NO regulations are the only good regulations, companies should only be allowed should to do so IF employment opportunities in the free market are so scarce, that people would allow themselves to be subjected to floggings because they need to feed their families. After all, the wheels of capitalism must always be left to spin to their own devices.
A beat.
Ali: And I thought Jerome went on rants.
Jerome: Oh, don't get started! Most employers here abuse their workers, My Lebanese boss is always shouting at me, calling me a fool, and I find it hurtful.The owners of the company I work for have every desire for us to cheat customers to remain profitable. You’ve seen yourself firsthand Richard,  the outrageous prices we charge. There's nothing special about the items, and sometimes we are knowingly selling damaged goods at margins of 500%. I told you before our products sell well. that was a lie. Why did I tell you that? Because there is a live video feed in my store, and I was afraid my boss might overhear.

Dubai's 7 star hotel- from a distance

Me: And what is it like to live in the city? Living conditions?
Jerome: Very congested accommodations due to high rent.
Ali: This applies only to low income workers, anyone making below 4,000 AED a month. ($1,100)

Jumeirah Mosque

Me: What is the police force like? Are the Emirati?
Jerome: No, like any low to medium level job, they are performed by expats. Because police provide security, the royal family chooses to employ people closer to their blood lines, generally Arabs from Yemen and Oman. Most of the policemen speak no English, which makes it really tough for Asians like me here.
Ali: I have to step in, I believe Jerome's statement is inaccurate, perhaps not good English, but in general they speak some.
Me: Are the police fair and protective of everyone?
Jerome: Fair? Ha! Please.
Ali: Again, I'm a tad annoyed, I think what Jerome is saying is inaccurate. Police in the UAE  respect  all nationalities and treat everyone equally.
Jerome: Really?
Ali: Absolutely.
Jerome: Care to eat your words? Watch this.
The three of us huddle around Jerome's IPhone watching the following Youtube clip. 


Before you watch, know that is not for the squeamish. What you see here is a brother of the Crown Prince torturing and attempting to Kill an Afghan grain trader

Scary torture shown on ABC News of the Crown Prince's brother torturing an Afghan. THIS STUFF IS DISGUSTING be careful watching!!! Not for the squeamish!

Me: This is not something discussed in the UAE is it?
Jerome: Actually, it made the front page, it was disgusting, just swept under the rug, his defense attorney said he was drugged, and therefore not responsible for his actions. Despite that, look at us, we're clandestine, we both gave you this interview on anonymous basis, there's no real freedom of speech here.
Me: Hey, who are those guys looking at us.
We look over at what are likely plain clothed security officers. Or thugs, maybe the same ...
Ali: I thank you for your time, but if you'll excuse me, I must be going.
Me: I have plane to catch to SE Asia. Gentlemen.
And with a nod and a handshake we all walk briskly away.


Closing thoughts on the UAE
First of all, the more I travel, the more grateful I am to have been born in America, and for the foresight of our forefathers and founders of our nation who created the First Amendment, something most US Citizens can thankfully take for granted growing up.
When I see places like the UAE which look progressive, and actually are compared to much of the world, and then discover the fact that law enforcement was involved in the torture and attempted murder depicted in the above video, and that they got off, and the people who leaked the tape, and also shot it it, were the ones convicted, in absentia, and the royal family just sweeps this horrific act under the rug because it was some utterly sick member of the ruling family who was the perpetrator, I am doubly grateful to live in a country with the ability to bring this to light, where no one, except maybe OJ Simpson, could get away with this heinous crime with direct video evidence against them.

I also thank God for the Internet, and for Google and Youtube, where such a clip is stored and can be explored as more than just a 5 minute segment on ABC News, and discussed once at the dinner table.
I think it's safe to say, I have little interest in going back to Dubai.