Amanda in Arabia: The Perfume Flask

Chapter 1

Amanda Ross closed her eyes, made a wish and blew out the candles on her birthday cake. She could have wished for anything, a new skateboard, an MP3 player or even a new bike; instead, Amanda wished for travel and adventure.

When she got the ticket in the mail to visit the United Arab Emirates she wasn’t surprised; after all, she had blown out every one of those twelve candles. All she knew about the United Arab Emirates was that her aunt and uncle lived there. When she found it on the globe in her dad’s office it looked awfully far away. Way farther than Regina and she hadn’t been anywhere past there. Perhaps she should have been more specific and asked for travel and adventure in Canada. In the future, she would be more careful when she made a wish.

***

A huge fan whirled overhead and a weird sound came from somewhere outside the window. Amanda sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. Where was she? The room was unfamiliar. A clock in the corner glowed a green 4:30 A.M. There was that strange sound again, something between a chant and a moan. It got louder. She spotted her open suitcase on the floor and remembered. She was half–way around the world, visiting her Aunt Ella and Uncle Ben in the United Arab Emirates.

She tiptoed to the balcony of the third floor apartment. The tiles under her bare feet were still warm from the heat of the day before. There was a breeze coming off the sea but it was still pleasant enough to stand outside in her cotton pajamas. She watched the moon shimmer on the water and noticed the glow of a white mosque in the distance. The odd sound seemed to come from that direction. She felt like she was having a bizarre dream. Maybe she’d wake up and find herself back in her bedroom in Canada.

Amanda still couldn’t believe she had traveled all that way by herself. She had been excited, but nervous to go so far on her own. It turned out alright. Traveling without her parents was great. For one thing, she could do whatever she wanted. Her parents were OK, but all their rules drove her crazy. The people in the airports and on the planes were nice to her and treated her like a grown–up. The fifteen–hour flight didn’t even seem that long and had been super cool.

An Arab boy, returning home to Dubai, had turned off his headphones long enough to tell her to call the United Arab Emirates either the UAE or Emirates otherwise she would sound like a dork. No one, he reported, no one called it the United Arab Emirates unless they were fresh off a boat – or airplane in this case.

Before she left Calgary, Amanda wasn’t sure what to expect and was surprised to find that the country was so beautiful. Not beautiful in a pretty sort of way, but beautiful in an awesome sort of way. From the very start she knew she had come to a fascinating place.

Amanda was so tired when her Uncle Ben picked her up in his Jeep Cherokee from the Dubai Airport, but she didn’t dare fall asleep in case she missed something. She noticed the barren scenery of sand and rocks as they sped along the modern highway, interrupted occasionally with a splash of green, date–palm groves or white–washed buildings. Every so often, a magnificent mosque would rise up out of the landscape; the crescent moon-topped minarets reached far into the cloudless sky. The mosques looked even more amazing and mysterious than the pictures she had seen on the internet. It was all so unreal, like she had disappeared into a book. Even though she fought to stay awake, her eyes closed and her mind drifted to scenes of Aladdin from the stories she had read when she was little.

You wanted to see a camel, Amanda. Well, look over here, said her uncle, as he gestured out his window.

Her eyes popped open and there he was, her first camel, sauntering along the side of the road without a care in the world. He looked friendly and sleepy. She wanted to get out of the jeep, put her arms around him and give him a big hug.

I can arrange it if you’d like to ride a camel, said her uncle with a grin. That is, if you’re not scared.

Scared? No way, said Amanda, as she thought about what her friends back home would say. The most they could hope for this summer was a ride on a dude–ranch pony.

Uncle Ben stopped for gas at what looked like a regular Texaco gas station, except the writing on the sign was in the fluid lines of Arabic. A young man came over to the jeep. She recognized the long, flowing, white dishdasha and a white ghutra headdress tied in place with a black