Mussafah just outside the city proper Ennetbürgen, the island is Mussafah, the industrial mecca of Abu Dhabi. A jewel of individual hand-crafted pieces, as I have rarely experienced. In Mussafah to cross paths with those of the seekers of the modest, quiet providers. There is nothing that is not there.
Since days I have decided to subject my Volvo a thorough internal cleaning. In the absence of time, expertise and suitable tools, of course, not themselves. In Mussafah there should be excellent for addresses. And cheap to boot. Since I fit Linda's driving tests well into the concept. The second-born, which I have just yet the changing table entgegengelächelt has winds its way through every night in those weeks
Cones slalom on the grounds of the Emirates Driving
Com pany in Mussafah. The theory has brought them within a week behind, and also in the practical tests, they are full throttle. She has now completed the simulator successfully. The exam date is within reach.
After I sold the subsidiary for the double lesson in driving area, I drive my Volvo directly to the car-cleaning company. The traffic is slow, the road surfaces are full of holes and dusty. It's already dark when I reach my goal. The harsh spotlight exposes hustle and bustle of a narrow, with cars on featured, front yard.
buckets, rags, various cleaning products in bottles, cans and tubes confirms me in the hope that the black marks on my leather seats soon be snuffed out is made. After a moment's haggling over the price (between 300 and 500AED, we agree on 300 AED Plus generous tip if the quality is the job ...) I leave the car and are strolling the busy industrial road along unknown direction. It is too early to grab a taxi and pick up Linda. My route leads past blocked driveways and garages. To cigarette smoking and tea-drinking figures with dark eyes. It is shortly before 20 clock. In the dimly lit stalls strum tool and coffee spoon. The work is going slowly. Grinning, I study the large-letter name signs on the gates: As electronics stores rows of booths and exhaust carpenter workshops. In between a Hair Dresser, and next door a sign which provides for Upholstery Car Seats. Banks, car spare parts and Grocery stores with their distinctive plastic curtains at the entrance to alternate in any order. At an intersection a sign emblazoned with the words
Al Sultan recovery. I wonder what will probably restore the good Sultan: engines, coffee machines, vacuum cleaners, computer?
The scenery is mostly of Pakistani controlled. On the streets dominated by heavy trucks, the rattling curl their supporters through the roundabouts. In between, open pick-ups, old and less old PW's and of course taxis.
lights at a corner a sign saying Ghazna Bakery. Kneeling behind an open window, the baker and the dough slapping against a flat stone. Although we have already eaten at home, I can not resist this temptation.
"Kam fulus wahid chubs?" I ask. The Pakistani replied with a grin:
"Wahid dirham." A dirham for a freshly baked pita bread. The trade is made quickly, the warm bread tastes wonderful. And gives me energy for the next few miles through the fair this survivor.
beautiful Saturday evening, you still love her =) 
