There is definitely something about nightly turn down service in a 5-star hotel that makes me feel just plain fabulous. You leave your room, it's a little messy from your afternoon's return. There are used towels (hung up nicely in case the hotel follows the fun saving-the-environment-by-not-washing-anything policy) and messy bedsheets and maybe a coffee cup or two sitting around. And when you come back to freshen up before dinner, voila! The bed is remade, the towels are clean (or at least folded nicely, which is as good as clean in my book), the coffee cups are gone, your stuff is folded into a cute and unobtrusive pile in the corner, and there are little gold-foil-wrapped chocolates on your down pillows. And apples on the bedside table, to boot! Not to mention fresh bottles of water for your enjoyment, compliments of the hotel.

I mean, how cool is that? It's the closest thing I've experienced to honest-to-god magic since I went to Disney World all those years ago. Maybe that tells you the kind of hotel I'm USED to staying in, or makes some mention of my social status, but I am totally that chic who gets all giddy and smiley when made to feel like I actually have money, even if it is pretend.

At any rate, today was more conferencing, and as I was out of money (ahem), I decided to just take it easy. By the pool. I took this time to get some work done for one of my classes (as I had been, actually, whenever I hung out at the pool). Working out notes and thesis statements is way more entertaining in a bikini in the sunshine. I managed to stay out a little too long, however (Tuareg artisan politics is dreadfully entertaining, I plumb lost track of time), and was to later discover that I was awfully (and most happily) crispy. I felt it was a worthy sacrifice, as after tomorrow I won't see the sun for another 6 months or so. After baking, I returned to the room, showered, and headed to the Vienna Cafe for some of that wonderfully fresh fruit juice and some soup for lunch. Once again, great people-watching, and I could see people coming in and out of the conference, mostly looking forlorn at their lack of lunch tickets. I spent the rest of the afternoon working on a paper on modern (to use the contentious word cautiously to mean, more or less, contemporary, or "of today") Tuareg art as cultural preservation.

By evening, it was time for dinner with the work crowd. It was the first time I was to meet some of the bigwigs and the first time for me to socialize with those I had already met. Luckily, it was at the Bamboo Lagoon, a fabulous South Pacific mostly seafood buffet, which kept everybody relatively busy. I did have to deal with the usual question of why am I interested in Middle Eastern studies. The answer changes every time, whether truthfully or just because I need variety in my life, I know not. I am worried that eventually by answer will be "shits and giggles" or, worse, "I'm not." But the food was wonderful; I've never felt so seafoody satisfied. Worth all the money that I didn't have to pay: it was all on the company. They all seemed quite eager to meet me, as I'm sure Jonmikel has told them much.

After dinner, while everyone else retired for the night, Jonmikel and I went up to the roof of the hotel to the small cafe up there to partake in the traditional Arab nightcap of shisha. Despite Western belief that shisha is some kind of drug, it is actually a word that refers to the water pipe used to smoke flavored tobacco. Scientists seem to be divided as to whether or not smoking through a water pipe is better or worse that cigarettes, but its surely less tar, and beyond that I will argue nothing. We picked a simple lemon tobacco and were quite satisfied with the flavor. Definitely NOT like cigarette smoke. We were in the company of some other tourists, but mostly rich Emirati businessmen, noted by their flowing white robes and their knowledge of all the popular Arab music of today. Most sung along by heart. We managed to get a seat on one of the loungy couches placed right on the edge of the swimming pool, closed by this time, which gave the whole thing a very exotic feel. Clear night, reflection of the water, brightly decorated hookas, men in robes, the smell of fruit and smoke in the air. 1001 Arabian Nights, all wrapped up into one. Minus the belly dancing.