Monday, November 14, 2011

Queen of the desert

Some Canadians, some Germans, a Namibian, a Kiwi and another Englishwoman and I went on a dune bashing extravaganza in the desert on Friday. That's not even the start of an elaborate joke, we really did do that.

Here are some of the pictures to prove it. Let's start with the one where I helpfully took pictures while some of the rest of the group dug the vehicle of an inexperienced desert driver out of the sand after it got stuck.



 Then we arrived at Fossil Rock, up on the Sharjah border. It's quite a popular spot with dune buggy drivers, quad bikers and local dune bashers who zip around in 4X4s in various states of dilapidation.

Unfortunately I failed to get a close up of the lads in the above picture. They are in a battered four-wheel drive vehicle of some kind, sans numberplate, naturally, and had on traditional Arabic dress and gold rimmed Ray Ban glasses and nonchalantly shouted "Hi, how are you?", when they zoomed past us at a 45 degree angle spraying us with sand.

There's a feeling of cameraderie in the desert. We stopped to tow a Nissan Patrol belonging to a couple of local teens who had also got stuck.  Then, the less experienced desert driver managed to get his pickup wedged on a rock after he took a wrong turn (centre of pic below). He went up the slope, which as you can see is rather steep, and then rolled back on to the rock. Must have been a bit scary.


It was towed out of that particular hole by a much larger Toyota driven by more locals:

Another interesting sight was a desert village. Many were built in places where Bedouin used to camp.

Then we set up camp and ate a barbecue composed of many different meats. The Kiwi was in charge of that, obviously.

And there wasn't much to do but eat large amounts of meat, and sup a few cold ones, admire the view and watch the sun set. 


There was a lot of bandying about of advice about driving in the sand.

Here's some gems:

1. There's the letting your tyres down a bit to spread the load of the car to stop you sinking in. 
2. Drive in a wiggly way if you're following in the tracks of others, again, to avoid sinking in.
3. You should never go in just one vehicle as one might need to tow the other one out, or, if you're really stuck, give the others a lift in case you have to abandon it. 
4. Don't drive on the dunes in the dark because you might end up hitting someone coming the other way. Locals merrily ignored this advice.
5. Go in four-wheel drives. There was a lot of chat about the necessity of having a four-wheel drive and the inferiority or superiority of various makes and models. It was generally agreed that the Japanese makes are better.  Then, as we were leaving and pumping up the tyres before getting back on to the highway, what should fly past but a trio of saloon cars followed by a Toyota Yaris. How I chuckled. 

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

The biggest, the tallest, the most expensive....

This has proved to be the most popular page on my blog by a long, long way, so, in the spirit of giving the people what they want, I have decided to update it with new records when I hear about them.

If you're new to this particular corner of my blog, its purpose is to document Dubai superlatives, the biggest, the tallest, the most expensive, the widest, the fattest, the tastiest, the whatever. Dubai has them all.

The less kind commentators have said of this tendency to try to win accolades for the biggest and/or best shows that Dubai is an insecure place without culture or class that feels the need to win races and claim titles to draw attention to itself.  I could not possibly comment on that but here are some examples of the biggest/tallest/most expensive/only in Dubai.

1. The world's biggest shopping mall - Dubai Mall.

2. The world's tallest building - Burj Khalifa. This has held all kinds of world's highest records all of its own including world's highest swimming pool (now eclipsed by a Singapore hotel, I believe), world's highest bar/restaurant.

There have been claims that it is home to 3. The world's highest mosque but a story in The National makes a claim to the contrary. There's a can of worms that I'm not going to open as to why the rumour would start in the first place and if it indeed does exist, why it would need to be a secret.

4. World's single largest acrylic panel (certified by Guinness World Records and has a plaque and everything but developed rather alarming cracks and is partially covered by advertising hoarding) the Aquarium, Dubai Mall.

5. World's biggest ring which was displayed at the Gold Souk in Deira. No sniggering at the back.

6. World's most expensive handbag which was on display in Dubai earlier this year. Tasteful.


7. World's most expensive cocktail

8. World's only Seven Star Hotel, although how they measure such things when the ratings officially only go up to five stars, I'm not sure - Burj Al Arab.

Ace garden centre, Festival City, was briefly home to the most glamorous of all the tallest, longest, strongest, fastest records Dubai currently holds:

9. The world's largest garden spade.


Presumably, thanks to Kim Kardashian's recent visit to Dubai (October 2011), we can also claim to have a hand in: 10. The world's most embarrassingly contrived reality TV marriage.  What a claim to fame.

11. Thanks to a reader who reminded me that Dubai is home to the world's world's longest driverless Metro system.

12. The world's largest themed shopping mall in the form of the explorer-themed Ibn Battuta Mall. I must confess I have not visited it yet. I am clearly missing out.


14. The world's biggest book, which has been on display at The Dubai Mall, entitled This is Muhammed. 

15. The world's first indoor black run at Ski Dubai, the Mall of the Emirates. 

16. The world's largest natural flower garden, Miracle Garden, which opened earlier this year.

Please leave a comment on the blog or contact me via facebook, if you are one of my chums, if you hear of any more Dubai records. The more ridiculous the better.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Please don't shout at me, I'm NEW

I was wondering through Dubai Mall the other day and I spotted 'Please don't shout at me, I'm NEW' emblazoned on the back of the shirt of a lady who was walking in front of me. I didn't see which shop she worked at and I'm ashamed to say I chuckled when I saw this before feeling a pang of sympathy for the lady who has to have this pointed out on her shirt to stop her getting the hairdryer treatment.

It speaks volumes about the attitude that some people can have to customer service in Dubai, that people have to be told not to go mental.

Most people will have witnessed some restaurant or shop staff member having an absolute strip torn off them by a customer at some point in their time in Dubai. The wages can be extremely low and seeing some usually comparatively well off person holding forth about some minor issue, threateneing to have them sacked or whatever, is pretty unedifying.

Don't get me wrong, the customer service can be appalling and I've very nearly lost it on a few occasions, mainly in instances when people feel free to waste your time. The main problem I find is that staff will tell you what you think you want to hear: "Ie, is my photo print ready?" "Yes, Ma'am." "Shall I come in today?" "Yes Ma'am" then you arrive to find that it is in fact not ready, come back in three days but the shop worker was afraid of upsetting you by saying no it wasn't. This sounds fairly minor but when it happens again and again in various forms, it can be immensely frustrating. They've dispensed with the problematic customer on the phone for the present and will worry about the problem when you are actually in the store face to face, complaining that your photo is not ready. Hopefully you won't come and pick up your photo for several days by which time it will be ready.  You learn pretty quick that when people say they're going to do something 'today' in Dubai they mean tomorrow or possibly next week.

People do expect much higher standards of customer service in the UAE and they don't always get it for reasons mentioned above, hence shouting in stores and restaurants being fairly routine. I tried to imagine what the lady's shirt would have had printed on it if she worked in a UK store:

"Dear customer, I am new to the store, please be so kind as to be patient while I am learning to be a full member of the team" or some such corporate bumpf rather than the pleading Please don't shout at me.  Answers on a postcard, which will take three months to reach me because the postal service seems to be run by one bloke in an empty warehouse in Jebel Ali.    

In other news, the Khaleej Times is reporting that ex-pats in the Emirates will have to present their Emirates ID card to get their transactions finalised (whatever that should mean) from June 1, 2012 onwards.  Who wants a bet that this will be pushed back?

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Conversation curently typical of my every day working life

ARTISTIC PICTURE-FOCUSED GRAPHIC DESIGN-TYPE BLOKE: Sand Witch, this review of the Mercedes-Benz C63 AMG CoupĂ© Black Series (that you've never even seen, let alone driven, but never mind that, that's another story) that you've written, it's called the Black Series but in all the pictures you've sent, it's bright red.

ME: Yes, that confused me, too, but I assumed it was just one of those odd car things. Calling the car black when it is in fact red. I know nothing about cars, do you? In normal circs I would ask the PR to make sure we had the correct images but PRs in this country, particularly in the luxury industry, seem to take pleasure in being total numpties who could not find their arses to scratch them, let alone give you correct information. With apologies if you have friends who work in PR.

ADP-FG-TB: I have several friends who work in PR who could talk shite for England. I don't know much about cars. I can't even drive.  Black but red? Weird eh?

ME: *Hysterical laughter*  

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Identify yourself

We're an innovative bunch in the UAE and we like to forge ahead with schemes that others have cast aside as a massive waste of money. By which I mean, at a mystical or mythical point in the future, residents of the UAE are going to be required to carry an Emirates ID card. This move has been in the pipeline for years but the deadlines for when it's going to become mandatory to carry one keep being moved back... and back... and back...

I know plenty of people in the Emirate of Dubai aren't bothering to get them because they think by the time the law is brought in making them mandatory, they'll be long gone, on to their next ex-pat assignment in a country, far, far away, or home to the motherland.  People are not super keen on the authorities having yet more documentation on them, including detailed fingerprints. We're a data protection sensitive bunch, us ex-pats, but no such laws exist to protect us in the UAE. 

Him indoors was made to get one by his company, presumably because they're a wee bit government owned so they're a bit stricter about such things.  I decided I may as well get one too because, frankly, I got the fear.  From the middle of last month, in neighbouring Abu Dhabi, they made it mandatory to have at least applied for your ID card if you wanted to renew your visa. I think such is the volume of people still entering Dubai, even post financial crash, it would be a nightmare to require such a thing as the backlogs would be horrendous, but it wouldn't surprise me if something similar came into force here. In addition, in future, Abu Dhabians will present their ID cards to receive medical treatment rather than carrying a separate medical insurance card.  It strikes me that if they make similar moves here, renewing your visa or obtaining medical treatment without the wretched card could be a right pain in the arse, particularly if there's a backlog of applications.

So, we applied for my card last month by filling in a form and taking my passport to a typing centre where they fill in the Arabic documents for you.  Then yesterday I went to the Department of Naturalisation and Residency to get my fingerprints done.  I haven't taken a picture of the department because it's forbidden to take pictures of government buildings but it's an odd looking low rise place on the side of Sheikh Zayed Road which looks a bit like a 1970s idea of a building of the future, ie, it's covered in gleaming silver panels. It's also a bizarre combination of the old and new Dubai.  Inside, there is a Gloria Jean's Coffee, symbolic of how Dubai, like everywhere else in the world, is overtaken by the desire to drink bucket-sized paper cups of sub-standard milk-based caffeine drinks and eat muffins the size of their heads, but outside there are little typing and photocopying centres in shack-like buildings as well as a "cafeteria".  A cafeteria in Dubai is basically a kebab or shwarma shack which also sells soft drinks or juices and various other fried items that can be wrapped up in pitta bread.   

I trooped into the main building looked around for a sign as I was promised by the slightly helpful man I had previously phoned to ask for directions. None to be had. So I asked the policeman sitting at the desk who directed me back out to the overflow building which had sinister signs including "investigative services, blacklisted visas, visa bans" etc.  I went and sat down in the women's only section of said building surrounded by forlorn looking blacklisted women from South Asia or the Philippines who had apparently come to plead their cases. 

It soon became apparent that I was in the wrong place when I asked one of the Emirati officials who had a sign saying "bank" in front of her, presumably because she was the one that collected the money for visa fees, she said: "Go back inside". Did she know where the correct office was? Er, no. Why would she? She only works there after all.

So I went back inside and asked a policeman at a different desk who sent me to the right place, another women only desk.  I took a ticket (they love that here, ticket taking, reminds me of a 1980s UK supermarket).  The woman doing the fingerprinting and photographs ambled off for an extended coffee break straight after I sat down so I looked up at the various widescreen televisions suspended from the ceilings for entertainment.  It's safe to say that the loop video of Sheikh Mohammed being shown round the spanking new Emirates ID facility got old pretty quick.

After the fingerprinting on a clever lasery looking panel thing, I was told I would receive a text message within a month to go and pick the Emirates ID card up from a post office. Which post office? Who knows? Why post office instead of sent directly to me? It's a mystery.  One more of the wonderful mysteries of the Emirates.

Saturday, October 22, 2011

So that's why Dubai motorists drive like idiots

I haven't posted for a while because I have been doing the kind of writing that pays money instead. Part of that writing involved driving around in an inappropriately powerful car for a few days.

Here she is: The Infiniti M56S or Maureen as I liked to call her. I have been channeling my inner Clarkson again so while reading this, you can imagine the voice of the curly-haired, tight-jeaned one instead of my dead-pan librarian tones.


Compared to the Humvees, Landcruisers and other ginormous off-roaders that cruise down Dubai's perfectly smooth none SUV-needing highways, this car is actually pretty small fry but compared with my driving experiences of a Nissan Micra, a 15-year-old Vauxhall and 10-year-old VWs it was like being given KITT from Knight Rider.

I drove the Sand Warlock to and from work in the 5.6L engine shiny thing but I spared him the experience of clinging to the door in white-knuckled horror while I floored it on the roads out by the Meydan Racecourse during a little test drive.  The speed limit is 100km/ph and a lot of cars here (including Kevin the Toyota) are fitted with alarms that sound if you go above 120.  In Maureen, there is just a discreet flashing sign which is much less annoying for the discerning Kamikaze female motorist.  

It swoops up to 100km/ph without the slightest effort which brings me to the actual subject of this post.  This car is of similar style and levels of power to many on Dubai's roads and it goes really, really fast without you really noticing because of its stupidly powerful engine and noise reduction technology. Plus, it not only has parking sensors but lane sensors, driving too close sensors, and goodness knows what else.  Little lights flash at you if there's a vehicle in your blind sport and if you attempt to change lanes when there's a vehicle in your blind spot and there's a mechanism (which can be disabled) that will automatically steer you away if you attempt to drive towards said car in your blind spot, something which I am told is a world first.

The point being is that you don't have to blimmin' well know how to drive to drive it, something which seems to be very much the case for Dubai's motorists.  If you have a car that tells you "there's a vehicle in your blind spot so I'm stopping you manoeuvring, you pillock" what's the point of learning mirror, signal, check blind spot, manoeuvre?  And of course, you don't have the roar of a struggling engine to remind you that you've just cut up 15 people as you pulled out of a junction without looking at 90km/ph, so you're much less likely to be concerned by it because you've just left all the swearing, non-hand gesturing (because such things are illegal in the UAE) motorists/dying old ladies and desert animals whom you've cut up or killed in the dust. 

Needless to say, I felt myself turning into a tool as I merrily carved up inferior motors and refused to give way as people tried to overtake.  Him indoors will give testament to the fact that I actually uttered the phrase "I don't think so, b*tch," when someone tried to overtake me on the way to work one day. Oh, the shame. I had a few days to think about it and I started to think that other motorists were giving way more to me and generally showing me more, ahem, "respect" on the road due to my superior wheels.  But afterwards I realised they were doing nothing of the sort. It was just me driving more like a pillock than usual so they felt they had no choice to get out of the way whereas they would normally see me hesitate and cut me up first.

Mystery solved as to one of the many reasons why people drive so very badly in the UAE.  That and mobile phones. You will no doubt have heard the story that road accidents decreased dramatically while Blackberry services were out of action earlier this month.  Being on your mobile phone while driving is technically illegal in the UAE, you know.  I won't get started on the "technicallys" of Dubai again...

Thursday, September 29, 2011

You've got a frond

I think I've now recovered enough from our magical mystery tour of Europe, seeing friends relatives and meeting the world's cutest nephew, in order to get back to talking nonsense about the minutaie of life in Dubai.

We've started to regard the fairylight covered palm trees that line the road that leads past Dubai Mall and our home with some fondness.

They're quite symbolic, these palm trees, of what it's like living in a city that thrives on a special showiness that is a cross between Las Vegas and downtown Marrakech (not that I've been to Marrakech, mind).





When we both arrived, me about four months after the Sand Warlock, we both thought, "erm, those are a wee bit naff, aren't they? What with all the fairylights and everything." And then as you get used to them and the slight naffness and the slightly worrying waste of energy involved in keeping them lit 24/7, you start to think, "you know, I think I was a little harsh on the palm trees with fairy lights, in fact, I think all palm trees should be arranged in regimented lines along boulevards and festooned with fairylights. Aren't they pretty?"

Returning from our two and a half weeks in cooler climes, we discovered that the palm trees have gained some friends, or what I can only described as white fronds sticking out of the ground next to them.  In fact, we saw a man fixing them into place the night after we got back.  Closer inspection showed that these fronds are also covered in fairylights, as you can't really see from my somewhat blurry Blackberry pic. 

That's the thing about Dubai that makes me chortle on an almost daily basis.  Someone has obviously looked at those palm trees and thought: "You know what those palm trees that are already covered in fairylights need? Some more fairylights, that's what. Excessive? I simply don't know the meaning of the word, me."  I think that said fairylight covered fronds, which are not lit yet, are there to celebrate something or other, possibly the vintage car event during which they park lots of lovely vintage cars down the boulevard and no one steals them or vandalises them,(strange, I know, but that's what it's like here) or possibly for this year's National Day, on December 2, which is likely to be something of a big deal due to it being the 40th anniversary of the founding of the UAE.

No doubt all will be revealed depending on the date on which the frond lights are switched on but I wouldn't be surprised if they are there to celebrate nothing in particular but just for the hell of it.

Monday, September 5, 2011

Have fun down at the "beeeeeeep" garden

Oh how I chuckled listening to Dubai 92 this morning on the way to pick the other half up from work.

And not just at presenter Geordie Bird's "interview from hell" with Liam Gallagher (we've all been there, peeps, I still get palpitations when I hear the admittedly slightly less rock and roll name "Lionel Blair").

No, what made me chortle was at a commercial for the Red Lion at the Metropolitan Hotel's "beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep" garden.

That's right, you're not allowed to mention the word "beer" on air in case you cause offence.  For the same reason, you'll see adverts that mention wine worded as "grape based beverages" or beer as "hop".

To prove that my life doesn't solely revolve around booze-related amusements, although, that's a large part of it what with it being the Sand Warlock's job, I'll tell you what else I've been up to today.

I will now have to revise my mantra of "no, we don't get free samples because the watches cost thousands" when I tell people that one of my current occupations, apart from Jumeirah Jane, self-facilitating media node and general pain in the jacksie, is writing about Swiss watches.

This being because I met the brains behind this up and coming brand today at the not at all sycophantically named One and Only Royal Mirage Palace Hotel and he was kind enough to give me one of his watches.  No, it's not worth thousands but it's safe to say that these watches cost far more than him indoors or I would ever spend on one.

Unluckily for me it's a bit too heavy for me to wear so I'm going to give it to the Sand Warlock when he emerges from his day time sleep as long as he promises not to lose it.  That should cheer him up about being on night shifts and you lot get to find out before he does. Isn't that exciting? Cor Blimey the miracles of the modern age.

Here is my not very good picture of it that I took on my phone in the car:



I won't pass judgement on the One and Only Royal Mirage Palace Hotel because I only had the mineral water today but this picture of one of the courtyards will probably give you the beginnings of an idea of what it's like.



   Yes, those are gold camels with gold Arabs on their backs.  There's one thing you can say for Dubai and that's that it's pure class...

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Designer booze for the discerning royal

I'm going to recount a little anecdote to take my mind off the fact that the accounts department for my main employer seem to think it's perfectly fine to pay me five days (and counting) late.

It's a cultural thing.  My pay needs to approved by one of the company owners and he's been away, as have many people, for the Eid break. Far be it from the accounts dept to bother working ahead, as we do in the UK at Christmas/bank holidays/to make sure we get paid on time or, indeed, bother to contact the boss themselves to make sure it goes through or even let me know that my pay might be late. No, better to wait until I discover said pay still hasn't arrived in my bank account and get on the phone grumpier than a troll with ant bites on its arse and then get me to chase around after said boss because of course I have nothing better to do with my time such as getting on with work/ranting on this blog.

This is one of those many points in life in the UAE when it's best to take a deep breath and remind yourself that this country is just under 40 years old and therefore there are, of course, fewer efficient systems in place to make sure that life as we in the West know it runs smoothly and that we just have to live with it and appreciate the lack of rain instead.

Anyhoo. On with the anecdote

My best beloved was about to clock off from work this morning when a High Up Important Airport Person sashayed into view saying: "A female member of the royal family of a state which doesn't totally ban drinking but doesn't encourage it which shall remain nameless (that's not exactly how he put it, obviously, but you get my point) would like to buy a bottle from you."

"Rightio, then, send the old duck in," quoth he (why do people become cockney in mind's eye? Is it because my mother was born within earshot of the Bow Bells? Who knows?)

"She would like to buy a bottle of Chivas Alexander McQueen and will send her representative shortly," said the High Up Important Person.

For the unitiated, this is bog standard Chivas but in a limited edition and in a bottle which was one of the last things designed by the late Mr McQueen.   A picture of said bottle can be seen here

"Gor blimey, strike a light, send them in, then, the Missus is waiting outside the airport revving Kevin the Toyota to take me home and I went to get out of here sharpish,"  he chuntered. Well, that's an approximation of what he chuntered. Knowing him it was probably some really polite chuntering.

"Nyes.  It would be better if you had a bag with no labelling," pointed out the High Up Important Person.

It's a funny old world, isn't it?  A member of a royal family hiding their booze inside a plain package like a park drinker with a bottle in a brown bag.  Well that's me distracted, I'm off to count the 33dirhams I currently have to my name. Oh, such riches are to be found in the Middle East! I'm teetering on a pile of oil cash, here, you know.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Headline of this Eid day, Expert Advice: Eat less food

Eid Mubarak my dear readers.  May the day be full of festive fun and joy. Or, if you're in a non-Muslim country it will probably pass you by, but there we are.

In case you're wondering what we're up to, the Sand Warlock is at work (no time off in the twilight world of the airport) and I will be at home chewing my nails, scratching my head and working half-heartedly until he gets home.

Then we're off to dinner at the dwelling of an ex-pat with an assortment of Dutch, Egyptian, English and Scottish people.  That sounds like a joke, doesn't it?

In the mean-time, I just had to share some expert advice and a possible winner of headline of the month from the ever marvellous Gulf News.

That advice is: eat less food

What a truly groundbreaking and though provoking piece of advice, and published on a day associated with feasting after a period of fasting and abstinence throughout the Muslim world.  Until this day, it had genuinely not occurred to me that if I ate fewer pies, I would be healthier. Gulf News, I salute you for your foresight. 

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Say it in Broken English

I heard a funny story about the misinterpretation of the words of an innocent English hack. This innocent hack was writing about a high up person in a global jewellery brand attending a fancy-schmancy Dubai event sponsored by his company.

She used that classic British language device of understatement by stating that said high up chap "knows a thing or two about jewels, gems and bling" or something similar.

Unfortunately, this was misinterpreted.  The reason this was misinterpreted is that many of the PRs that we indirectly deal with are Lebanese who speak Arabic, French and then English as their third language. The reason many of them are Lebanese is that they are often working with Swiss and French companies so being in the Middle East and speaking French and Arabic is extremely handy for this purpose.

Malheureusement, the PR people, reading as they were in their third language, took this to mean that what was being implied was that high up person knew just one or two things, that he knew little, and took great offence and demanded a retraction, etc.

No amount of persuading on innocent hack's part convinced them otherwise, so, presumably, in the next issue of the magazine, a clarification along the following lines will be published:

XXXX magazine previously stated that Mr X knows a thing or two about gems, jewels and bling.  We wish to clarify that Mr X knows a great deal about jewels, gems and bling and any implication that Mr X knows just one or two things about this matter was unintentional and we wish to apologise for any offence caused.

Innocent hack told me a similarly entertaining story about a time she covered a horse beauty competition in Saudi Arabia and she used the phrase "fairest of them all" for a headline.  Unfortunately, the King of Saudi Arabia, who sponsored the competition, took umbridge at this saying the magazine was accusing participants of cheating and threatened to pull the plug on cooperation.  Several 10 page missives later explaining the story of Snow White, the dwarves, the wicked queen and the magic mirror, he was placated.

Ah, the perils of international publishing. 

Monday, August 22, 2011

Up on the roof

Being the dedicated housewifey that I am, I drop the old man off at work at the airport each morning. OK, that's a lie. I work at home and I know if I didn't have to get up to take him to work, I probably wouldn't get up until 2pm and would therefore accomplish nothing.

Each day I like to watch the tiny little men running around on top of Dubai Airport's Terminal 4 which is currently under construction. Well, I have to entertain myself somehow. The Sand Warlock is many things but a morning person is not one of them, therefore the conversation tends to be somewhat monosyllabic.

As an aside, I know the men are regular-sized really. I'm not like Father Dougal in that scene from Father Ted in which Ted has to explain to the younger priest the difference between "small" and "far away". 

You can just about see the poor beggars running about up there already, by 7.30am.

They remind me of that compulsive computer game Lemmings as they do look very tiny, as high up and far away as they are from Marrakech Street where this pic was taken.

They seem to wonder about quite freely, unencumbered by such boring, tedious things as harnesses or climbing ropes to prevent them hurtling to their deaths.  You can't really tell from this picture but the shell of the terminal, which I have been told will be for A380 or double decker passenger jets only, is made of glass and this morning I watched one of Dubai's several billion cranes swinging about merrily in the wind as materials were lifted on to the roof perilously close to it. 

Really, living in a society relatively unfettered by that silly old Health and Safety nonsense doesn't half make the morning commute diverting.  Such fun, as Miranda Hart's onscreen mother would say.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

The terrace where taste dies

I'm a young(ish) fogey and I listen to Radio 4 including programmes such as Gardener's Question Time.  Let's just get out the way so you can smirk at my tragic life and then read on.

I was reminded of Bob Flowerdew's recent controversial comment that hanging baskets are "the place where taste dies" by this divine item spotted at Ace, the Dubai equivalent of Homebase:

 That's right, people, it's a free standing water feature modeled on Dubai's seven-star hotel the Burj Al Arab.

It's clearly for the discerning buyer for whom a keyring or ornament is not enough. They want to tack up their garden while simultaneously causing all who come near to want a pee with the permanent sound of running water.

At least you now all know what to buy us for Christmas. 

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Eat a big supper at a luxury hotel? If(tar) you insist

Ramadan, I've been reading in the local newspapers, is a great time during which people spend more time with their families and sit down to evening meals together at the end of a hard day's fasting rather than ordering a takeaway and collapsing in front of the 3m flatscreen.

That may be the case for Muslims, anyway, particularly those who have the good fortune to be living with or near their families.

For us non-Muslim ex-pats, it's a bit different. I'm not going to moan about it, partly because Ramadan is really no hardship for me, and partly because a British woman recently got taken to court for insulting Ramadan on Facebook. But the differences are marked: Obviously we tend not to fast but you have to be a bit careful about making sure you don't eat in public in case someone sees you and is offended. Things tend to be closed and raucous Western-style partying is not as well tolerated, so quite a few people in search of entertainment, us included, give the old Ramadan suppers a go at the local hotels. They're basically the same as brunches, but with a bit more focus on Arabic cuisine and no booze.

We tried the one down our local.  It was rather sweet with delicious food. We were sitting near a man who had clearly been observing the fast as he barely paused for breath between mouthfuls. 

I then got a bit keen on the idea of the Ramadan tents I keep reading about and having purchased a Time Out Dubai we spotted Al Majlis at Mina Al Salaam Hotel, Madinat, which promised an authentic Arabic Iftar experience and a luxurious Ramadan tent.

"That sounds fun," I thought, picturing myself, Sand Warlock and a recently arrived fellow ex-pat who we knew in Blighty, sitting cross-legged on cushions sampling authentic Gulf region delights in between puffs on a Shisha. So we put on our trousers and skirts with the elasticated waists and off we jolly well went.

It turns out that the Mina Al Salaam's idea of a tent is a little different from your average marquee or indeed Millett's camping shop Eurohike job as it looked a little bit, well, in fact, exactly like this:




There were blokes in fezes rambling round lighting and keeping shishas going and sumptuously-attired waitresses looking elegant and not minding in the least when I barged into one of them spilling her glasses of juice because I had fallen into a diabetic coma just from passing by the pudding table.


It was a very enjoyable experience as the food was delicious.  I took care to sample as many Arabic-style things as I could which seemed to largely consist of huge quantities of grilled or roasted meat, including whole lambs roasted surrounded by rice, which I believe is known as Lamb Ouzi, and various couscous or chickpea-related dishes.  Generally speaking, I have found the Emiratis I have met so far to be somewhat acerbic and deadpan (which does make me wonder if I have some Emirati heritage somewhere along the line) so seeing them tuck into large buffet dinners with something that resembles enthusiasm was diverting.

The experience also differs from brunch in that it's in the evening and they play a recording of the call to prayer before everyone chows down.  There were plenty of Gulf Arabs there which suggests that it is at least close to something resembling authentic, however, I'm still in search of a real Emirati Iftar.

Next stop, the snappily named Sheikh Mohammed Centre for Cultural Understanding which I am told serves Emirati dishes at Iftar in a wind tower.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Milky milky

It turns out that getting people to agree to be interviewed is a lot harder in the UAE than it is in the UK, particularly when said people are effectively employed by one Sheikh Mohammed. 

Hence this relatively simple story about the viability of camel milk in the UAE took weeks of wrangling. Another lesson learned.  

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

I predict a riot, except I didn't and neither did anyone else

I've spent the day, when I really should have been concentrating on my glossy magazine stuff, compiling stuff on what British ex-pats think about the riots for the ever brilliant Khaleej Times.

The premise of my story is that I, as a person living abroad, worries that the England I will go back to visit and eventually for good will be a changed place with new, tougher criminal justice laws intended to crack down on people who think the police shooting of a man is a good reason to go out and nick a microwave.

I felt the same during the News of the World malarkey because the actions of a few will probably eventually mean that privacy laws are tightened to prevent it happening again meaning the job will be harder for mid- ranking hacks like me.

Things I have discovered today are:

1. I am still really, really crap at vox pops. 

2. British ex-pat men are pretty happy to say what they think in a newspaper but British ex-pat women, less so, particularly if you ask them to have their picture in the paper.

3. I am the only over-opinionated prima donna that I know in Dubai apart from possibly one of my bosses.  That must be why we got on so well.

4. I am somewhat rusty at this news reporting lark.  Just ask a certain editor who was greeted with roughly 17million words of copy to sort out half an hour past deadeline

5. Trying to do news reporting to a first edition deadline while simultaneously trying to do a different assignment which involves arguing with people in PR about why they can't just send us one image instead of 1GB of info that we have to dig image out of and crashes our computer is not a good plan. Still, I signed up to this freelancing thing so I shouldn't complain.

6. Not many people share my opinion that Britain will change thanks to the riots.  Must remember to check people think what I think they think before I start writing a story.

I am genuinely appreciative of everyone who's put up with me ruthlessly mining you for information and pics today, particularly when I'm the only one getting paid for it (it's not very much if that makes you feel any better) and when some of you have been directly affected by having your communities torn up by these little plonkers.

I couldn't include everything that was sent to me, some of it because there just wasn't room and some of it because it might have looked like we were taking the mick. 

One of the ommissions was this comedy gold nugget that one of the Sand Warlock's colleagues sent to me in response to being asked if he knew anyone directly affected by the riots. I thought it should reach a wider audience even though it didn't make it into the hallowed pages of the KT.

"I once shopped with Carpetright, and although not in the Tottenham branch, it’s still sad they’ve been targeted. I can’t think why they’d be victimised; I bought a really lush rug at a competitive price and experienced nothing but fine customer service throughout – I can only imagine wrong place at the wrong time?"

I think that says it all.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Ramadan Kareem

I'm on my eighth day of Ramadan and you'll be pleased to know I'm surviving extremely well.

No, no, please, there's no need to pat me on the back. Yes, I know, this not fasting, not getting up early to pray, not making any kind of religious observance whatsoever, doesn't half take it out of a girl, but please, no, I really don't deserve your praise.

Seriously, though, fasting in the desert is obviously no joke.  No food or drink between sunrise and sunset is tough when the sun's fully up long before you're normally awake and sets between 6 and 7pm, and, of course, there's the temperatures and the ever present drying out air con which makes the lack of liquids particularly difficult.  To give you an indication of what it's like at the moment, we trundled past a temperature indicator on Beach Road this morning and it was 46degrees by 9.30am so kudos to everyone who's managing the fast.  

We have already noticed the effect of it on some of the people we meet going about our day to day business.

The Sand Warlock was in the post office the other day and his conversation with the man behind the counter went a little something like this.

SW: I would like to pay this parking fine and post these letters to the UK, please.

MBC: OK, that's 150 dirhams for the parking fine plus 10 dirhams for the admin fee.

(SW pays the 150) SW: And how much for the letters?

MBC: Oh yes, I'll weigh them.  9.50 for each of those and five for that one.

(hands over stamps)

MBC: Is that all?

SW: Yes, but I haven't paid you for the stamps.

MBC:  Oh, right, how much is it?

SW: Well, it's usually you that tells me that, but it's 24 dirhams.

MBC: OK.

SW: Here's the money.

*pause*

Can I have my change?

MBC: Yes.

*another pause*

MBC: How much is the change?

SW: It's a dirham, but, again, it is usually you that tells me that.

MBC: You don't have exact money?

SW: Er, no.

MBC: *grumbles a bit then hands over a dirham.*

SW: What's the 10dirham admin fee for the parking fine all about? 

MBC: It's Dubai, they just find ways to take money off you. Don't complain.

SW: OK, thanks, cheerio.

Poor chap. Barely knew what he was doing and there was at least another six hours until sunset at this point.  A lot of offices and facilities, particularly the Government ones, close early during the holy month presumably because there's such a dip in productivity in the afternoons.  

There does appear to be some confusion as to who has to fast and when.  Despite what I thought I knew about it in the UK, it would appear that children are at least expected to have a go at fasting and those from aged 15 and upwards should make even more of a commitment,

I've also read on The National that diabetics have been given advice on how to observe the fast safely along with pregnant women, although I've seen conflicting articles in the last few days, first saying pregnant women do have to fast, then today the Gulf News  they don't unless they've had health checks first. 


The reason being for this is that, from such a height, the sun sets a little later and therefore, iftar comes later.  Incidentally, I have to get used to seeing the word "fatwa". Child of the 80s that I am, I still associate it with the "fatwa" against Salman Rushdie.  Remember that? Such fun. It meant that he was in hiding rather than being photographed at literary events looking increasingly grizzled with progressively younger women.  But a fatwa is not a death threat, it's more like a decree which may be related to Jihad but usually it's a simple rule for followers of Islam to observe.  

Anyway, my usual glibness and flippancy aside, Ramadan does affect all of us non-Muslims in this part of the world because it means a lot of cafes and restaurants are closed during fasting hours so the Dubai habit of barely using your kitchen goes to the wall and you actually have to cook for yourself.  It means that parts of Dubai Mall dedicated to restaurants look like the apocalypse has happened, if the apocolypse was a very orderly and organised event in which everyone left on a particular date, that is.  Some outlets, such as the Starbucks near my block of flats, are open but only for takeways and they have black screens up lest a Muslim pass and see someone consuming something. 

We're also asked not to eat or drink, even chewing gum or water, in public, in case someone sees us.  Even eating in your car is considered extremely disrespectful and you can get a police warning and then a fine if you're caught doing it again.  So, you really need to make sure you've had plenty of water to drink if you're going to be walking anywhere or outside for any period of time to avoid dehydration unless you can find somewhere out of sight to have a drink. 

Oh frabjous day, calloo, callay. I nearly forgot, a benefit of Ramadan, apart from the delicious Iftar suppers on offer at the hotels and restaurants, is that public music is not really the thing, so it appears to that the loud and offensively rubbish young people's music, drippy R&B with that annoying computerised voice effects, that they normally play in the gym, is turned off.  So, I can listen to CNN news or my own music without having to turn up my iPod so loud that my ears ring for hours afterwards. 

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Fashionista

Here's something to get you through 10 minutes or so at work during the heatwave back home, my attempt at fashion journalism

They cut my comment about me looking like Harry Potter's deranged auntie in a pair of designer shades which I thought was the best bit, but it can't be helped.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

The Dubai stone

I had another one of those: "You know, this is a rather strange place" moments when I was arthritically lumbering around the gym this morning.

Gyms are not my natural habitat. Tapping away on a computer while slurping six cups of a tea in a row, that's more my usual comfort zone, but you learn pretty quick that the combination of home delivery takeaways, being within walking distance of every variety of restaurant under the sun and it being too hot to set foot outside for more than five minutes means that you'd better do something quick if you still want your buttocks to be able to cram into your plane seat on your trip home. It's known as the Dubai stone. 

So, several days a week I am to be found clad in lycra and ancient running shoes pounding away on the treadmill and lifting really quite pitifully small weights while being bemused by screens showing Animal Planet, CNN, MTV and the like.

After attempting some pathetic situps and staggering to my feet with my usual head rush (low blood pressure, it's a family thing) I spotted a gardener wondering past one of the building's glass doors pushing a wheelbarrow.

This is not unusual as the gym building, like many, is surrounded by lush green foliage which is tended by teams of gardeners who work for the property company Emaar.  The "this is a rather strange place" moment came when I clocked the fact that he had some kind of scarf or cloth draped over his head to protect him from the heat and he was painfully thin, as are many of the manual workers from the sub continent that you see tending gardens or working on construction sites.

"Bizarre," I thought to myself.  "Here I am, having paid for the privelege of trying to burn off my excess calories in this air conditioned environment when I could save myself a lot of hassle if I ate fewer pies and made the effort to brave the heat and go for a walk.  That chap probably gets paid in a month what my three-month gym membership cost, if he's lucky.  The last thing on his mind would be trying to burn calories, just getting enough fluids onboard to survive the heat and enough food in his belly later so he has the strength to lift that wheelbarrow and enough money left over to send a bit home to his family. I am, in fact, a ridiculous person."

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Life here is strange, people. It can be really very nice and easy thanks to the cheap labour represented by my wheelbarrow pushing chum but you're constantly reminded of what a priveleged position you're in as a  European ex-pat as opposed to a poor migrant worker.  I do worry that I will stop noticing people like that gardener if I stay here too long. I hope not.

Monday, July 25, 2011

No woman, no buy

I crawled out of a doomladen weekend of news of the deaths of dozens of people in Norway in a terror attack by some right wing nutter and the inevitable but still miserable demise of Amy Winehouse searching for something to convince me that yes, life in the dust bowl still goes on as normal and the (immensely fierce and really quite burny) sun will continue to shine. Thanks to the Gulf's, erm, most peculiar news source, I found it.  

Any news story that incorporates a play on words into a Bob Marley song title for its headline is alright by me so gold star to my beloved Emirates 24/7, purveyor of fine headlines since, well, probably a few years ago.  

But there's more than just the headline to love in this story about shopkeepers sneakily taking advantage of discounts at the new Union Coop in Al Barsha, Dubai.  The very idea that taking a woman with them will stop these men buying up huge amounts of fruits, vegetables and household goods in order to sell them on at a profit, that a woman will be way too honest to countenance such behaviour tickled me a great deal.  

I am also now entertaining a host of mental images. 1. These men dressing up in saris or abayas, shaving their beards and donning wigs and makeup, such will be their desperation to profit from the Coop's generous discounting. Or perhaps, not because they're not best keen on cross dressing in Dubai.  2. They could send their wives or sisters down there to buy half a ton of onions and tomatos and innocently tell the manager that they're having a really, really big dinner party.  3.  Grab an innocent woman shopper at the doors of the Coop, bribe her and convince her to accompany you on your supermarket discount sweep.  Marvellous stuff. 

I applaud them for taking the really rather forward thinking step of banning men from the store rather than, say, stop people buying up goods in large amounts. No arguments about the reasoning for buying 20 sacks of spuds, just ban the man. Awesome.

They've well and truly got their message across that the Coop is offering really quite massive discounts.  If they weren't relatively innocent in the dark arts of press releases and PR in this part of the world, I'd suspect a publicity stunt.  Oh no.  Perhaps they're not, perhaps the protested innocence is all part of the clever plan to suck you in with their genius PR and I've fallen for it. Argh! *Black hole opens up as the universe collapses in on itself and Sand Witch melts in manner of Wicked Witch of the West in Wizard of Oz.*   

Friday, July 22, 2011

Beneath the veil

I was surprised by this article which I found on the Gulf News this morning as it's by a young Emirati woman who nearly expresses discontent at feeling compelled to wear the abaya.  Expressing discontent isn't really the thing in the Emirates, at least, not that I've seen in the English language media anyway, unless you're a conservative politician quoted expressing muted complaints about the amount of foreigners "coming over here, taking our jobs" (which shows there's nothing new under the sun), or the decline in the standards of behaviour of the youth.

She says she likes wearing it but obviously feels a bit fed up about it when she sees pictures of her mother at her age dressed in Western-style clothes.  She also hints at a double life, the one you live with your parents and the one you live with your friends.

Women's dress in the Emirates is something that is often on my mind because walking around Dubai Mall, which is the equivalent of walking around your local town centre, particularly in summer when it's too hot to be outside, I've noticed more and more women wearing the niqab or face covering.

It's also been in the local news recently that the number of visitors from other Gulf states has risen dramatically thanks to bargain-rate hotel rooms in Dubai.  It could therefore be that they are visitors from stricter states like Saudi Arabia, because, as I've said before, many of Dubai's young Emirati women tend to be beautifully made up with their veils pushed back to show elaborate hair styles and wearing ginormous designer heels.

In contrast, I've noticed some of the younger women still in their abayas but have thrown off their head coverings and stuffed them into their bags.  I think I would do the same if I knew I was going to be walking out into 40+degree heat or if I had made any kind of effort with my hair. It must be the Emirati equivalent of rolling up your standard issue knee-length unflattering box pleated school skirt. 

Sunday, July 17, 2011

It's July in Dubai so get your warm clothes out

I haven't gone mad but since the temperature has crept above 40degrees (46 today, 45 tomorrow and 41 on Tuesday) I've had to get the warm clothes out.  The reason being that our block's air conditioning seems to have been cranked right up to cope with the heat.

It's particularly a problem in the late evenings. The humidity ratchets right up after dark has fallen meaning that it still feels incredibly hot even though the temperature's probably dropped a bit. The air con seems to respond to the humidity outside rather than the heat so it keeps on pumping deep freeze into the flat. The other night I had to put on trousers, jumper and pashmina to keep warm.  I also put on socks for the first time since I came here other than when going for a run or at the gym.

I resorted to opening the patio door wide this morning to let some warmth in.  The heat is such that when you stand in front of the open door, it's a bit like being in front of an open oven.  A very odd feeling indeed.  At least the sand storms seem to have stopped for now.  There was a period last week when I felt like I was in Lawrence of Arabia because of the grains of sand blowing into my eyes when I nipped out for a pint of milk.

Maybe that's why some of the women here favour the transluscent, completely covering, black veils over the niqab face coverings which have a slit which leave the eyes exposed.

Still, at least I've got Ramadan to look forward to. Thankfully, it starts the day after my birthday this year.  There have already been warnings in the newspapers that people seen eating or drinking in public during fasting hours will be given a first warning and if they are caught again, they will be prosecuted.  My plan is to stay indoors and out of the way of all that, which is pretty much what I've been doing since the hot weather started anyway.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

My farewell to the NoW

Here is my take on the News of the World debacle which was published in the Khaleej Times today. 

I promise I will stop banging on about this shortly because I realise it's of limited interest to you lot but for obvious reasons it's been taking up rather a lot of my thinking time during the past few days. It's not a particularly good scan but I'm sure it's good enough for the two or three of your that may be interested. 

Anyway, despite the fact that Rebekah Brooks is now claiming there is "worse to come" on this, I do still think that it's a bad thing to close the News of the World, not least because it will put good people who have never been near a phone hack out of work.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Well, we didn't expect that, did we?

I have to confess, I had an evening of feeling pretty miserable earlier this week about the News of the World scandal. 

As the week's gone on, I have started to feel that when we return home from our time in Dubai, for me it will be to an unrecognisable media landscape with far tighter privacy laws than I'd been used to in the UK thanks to a surge of public opinion behind harsher controls because of the actions of a few hacks. 

Now it turns out that this alleged problem has been nipped in the bud in a brutal way and I was right that it will be a different media landscape but not for the reasons that I thought.  There's already claims that thanks to the demise of the Screws there's going to be a Sunday Sun of some sort in its place so you have to hope that some of the good people that have lost their jobs will be mopped up by that.

And, of course, there's already claims that the evil Murdochs have been planning this move for a while and it's a way of looking like they're doing something decisive to get rid of the bad apples in order to protect their BSkyB plans while saving themselves a bit of cash in the costs of running a newspaper that had to fight harder and dig deeper and dirtier for exclusives to keep the attention of its readership. 

Still, it's a shock.  I did work experience at the NOTW when I was a green little journalism student (I had my hair cut and lowlighted especially for the job, such was the excitement at landing such a placement. Tragic, I know) and did the odd job for them during my time at a news agency.  I also got to the interview stage of their scholarship scheme, losing out to one Robbie Collin, who I believe still works there to this day. How different my life would have been if Robbie, who was frankly far and away more suited and qualified for the job than I ever was, hadn't applied.

The stuff I did for them at a news agency was relatively low key. For example getting the parents of a child sexual abuse victim to agree to support Sarah's Law, which they did without any pressure from me, I might add, because they were prime NOTW readership.

While on work experience, I was sent to get a copy of the birth certificate of a lady featured in a story from a council office, something I would get used to doing later in my career.  I can't even remember who the lady was but even though it's public information that members of the public are perfectly entitled to, the staff there told me there was a two-day wait for it, something which did not impress the then news editor.

"We can't have it now, we'll have to wait until tomorrow," I quavered down the phone at him.  "We're the world's biggest newspaper, we can do anything we want," he said and told me to go and carry on hassling them until they handed it over.  Unfortunately, the "we can do anything we want," attitude, seems to have permeated through to a few members of staff whose actions have been detrimental to the hundreds of others who've never been near a phone hack. 

I've never worked full-time for the Screws but it's been a presence on the fringes for me throughout my career.  I know that it appears at the moment that some staff were, in fact, out of control, but for anyone working in journalism, it's only bad news when any newspaper rolls off the presses for the last time.

Trout pout

I'm feeling a mixture of disappointment at being away from the UK and out of the loop while all the News of the World fuss is going on and relief at not being there plugging away doing shifts at some tabloid or other while the tide of public opinion turns against the whole bally lot of us making the job harder than ever when trying to convince whichever person that you're interviewing that day to tell all.

It's a strange life, that of a jobbing tabloid hack. Although I was never a paid up staffer I did enough shifts to get a pretty good idea of the brutal pressure it sometimes involves. While thinking about what I would be doing if I were still in the UK, I realised it's actually a pretty strange life I lead here sometimes.  Quite a bit of it is taken up with trying to convince people to pay me for the work I've been doing and them telling me that, for some reason or other, it will take four days for someone to issue and sign a cheque that should have been handed over a week ago. 

This strange life, though, sometimes leads me to be in department stores in Dubai Mall at 11am on a week day.  Not buying anything, natch, my budget still doesn't run to that, but being self-employed, if I decide it's time to not work, it's time to not work.  This gets balanced out by the fact that I sometimes spend my weekends working when I've got quite a bit on, particularly when him indoors is at work.  It also means that when sister of Sand Witch breezed through on a one day visit en route from Singapore to London, I was able to down tools because my main deadline is still weeks away (I love the sound of them as they go whooshing by) and we spent a bit of time pounding the world's biggest shopping mall.  It's rather good to have visitors because it does make you realise afresh that even though it's flippin' sweltering hot here at the moment, it is a bizarre, unique and interesting place we live in.

It's not very, bizarre, this, but it got me thinking when I spotted this mannequin while in Galeries Lafayette.

Galeries Lafayette, for the uninitiated, is probably the nearest Dubai has to Selfridge's without actually being Selfridge's.  What made me snap a pic of her is her trout pout.  She resembles, does she not, a cast member of The Only Way is Essex?  That and the ironed straight hair designed to resemble dodgy looking extension and four metres of eye makeup suggest that's the look that they're going for.

I'm no expert on TOWIE, as I believe you kids call it, as it wasn't shown in Dubai when I first came here and we haven't had a telly since April.  But, in those shameful moments when I sneak on to Mail Online, I keep myself abreast of the apparent all encompassing nature of this show.

BAFTA-winning no less.  And now, the mannequins thousands of miles away from Essex are starting to look like the cast members.  It's said that mannequins reflect the women of the time, ie fatter or thinner depending on the fashion.  God help us if the TOWIE women are representative of us in the early teenies, or whatever this decade is going to be called.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

"I had that Sheikh Mo in my shop the other day..."

Well gor blimey guvenor but who should pop into me old man's shop this afternoon but HH Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, Vice President and Prime Minister of the UAE and Ruler of Dubai.

He was on some kind of visit to the airport and he poked his head into the Sand Warlock's shop.  Apparently he didn't seem hugely impressed by its contents but, you know, there are reasons for that that we need not trouble ourselves with.

Actually him. Not me thinking I had seen his car when it was in fact the car of someone who just had rather a lot of money.  You don't see that every day.  Gor blimey strike a light.  *turns off forelock tugging mockney mode*.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

The fog

It's all gone a bit dusty in the air again in the UAE. I think it's been worse than I first came here.  Maybe the heat makes it worse.  According to the ever reliable Khaleej Times, sand and dust blowing in from Iraq is responsible for the current haze. 
Here is a picture taken yesterday just around the corner from the flat showing the reduced visibility:

Makes the Burj Khalifa look even more like an alien structure that's forced its way out from the centre of the earth.

It's confusing for the senses because being a Brit, I associate fog and mist with cold. It's a bit odd driving through it in an air conditioned car to then get out into the sweltering heat. It's effectively a cloud cover which means the temperature has dropped a bit but it's still fairly toasty warm. 

In other news, there's a story doing the rounds, presumably provided by WAM, the Government news agency, telling parents not to lock their children in their cars in 40degree heat while they nip to the shops. The story crops up because a large proportion of emergency calls in summer are from people saying: "Erm, I've just seen a child locked in a car and it's like 40degrees. Er, they're probably going to die, hlas." Apparently no kiddiwinks have suffered any ill effects yet but obviously the authorities are worried enough about it to issue a warning. 

I got used to writing up releases from the RSPCA saying "don't leave your dog in a hot car" when I worked for British newspapers.  It's a bit of a worry that people have to be told it's a bad idea to leave their children unattended in a hot metal box during an Emirati summer. 

Friday, July 1, 2011

O false apothecary

Growing up with the good ole NHS, however you feel about it, means that when you move to a foreign country there's a period of adjustment to a new healthcare system.  Luckily for me and the Sand Warlock we're insured through his work but that in itself can take some getting used to. 

Visiting the doctor usually means you pay about 100dirhams for the appointment and everything else is covered by the insurance.  Dental treatment is a different matter as you pay up front and then recoup 80 per cent of the cost but only basic treatments are recoverable.   Anything cosmetic or preventative you have to stump up for yourself from what I can tell.

The result of this is there's a limit on how much you can claim for on your health insurance so for things that you wouldn't normally think twice about visiting the doctor for in the UK, you tend to go to the pharmacy first.  After all, they sell antibiotics over the counter in the UAE so it's possible you can bypass the quack altogether.  However, the pharmacies are probably the most stressful places to visit.

Generally speaking, chemists have a limited range of what's available in the UK plus some strange foreign stuff.  The real difference is teams of sales assistants stalk the floors and in the quieter ones, they ask what the problem is and try to convince you to buy the most expensive product, presumably because they're on some sort of commission.

I don't know about you, but when I visit the chemist, it's usually because I have something a bit odd going on.  In the heat that can typically mean some kind of infection, a strange skin or hair issue, things that I would much rather not discuss with a sales assistant who speaks limited English because I don't enjoy shouting things like: "Yes, it's really flaky, yes flaky, F - L - A - K -Y!" to all and sundry.  The way around it is to smile politely as they point you towards the most expensive thing in the shop (example, £40 for sun cream) then say: "Have you got anything else?" and they'll show you where the rest of the range that you don't need to remortgage the house to buy.  This is normally fine but when I went into a quiet pharmacy yesterday I had to say: "I'm fine, I don't need any help," to four different sales assistants and then finally stormed out in a huff when I was approached by a fifth. 

Oh, how I wished for a giant Boots or Superdrug with rows and rows of products of every description for me to browse in peace.  Luckily there is a medium-sized Boots in Dubai Mall which did the job.  I hate to say it but a little slice of home is what you need when you're under the weather.        

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Taipei Sand Witch

I've been on a bit of a jolly trip to Taiwan covering a healthcare trade show in which various manufacturers tried to convince me of the merits of their prosthetic legs, facial-muscle controlled wheelchairs, pill boxes and such like. It was an interesting experience not just because I found out about how wireless technology is being applied to healthcare but also because Taiwan isn't somewhere I would have thought about visiting had I not gone there for work. Having gone there, I would like to go back one day and go outside the city to visit the Sun Moon Lake and check out the beaches.

It's a melting pot mixture of indigenous people, Chinese and Japanese.  I had a little bit of time for sightseeing in the evenings. I steered clear of the art galleries and museums and instead went down to the night markets which are packed with stalls selling incredibly cheap snacks such as fish dumplings, fried chicken, chicken feet, Chinese stews with rice, shellfish, water melon juice, tea and tons of other stuff.

The Taiwanese people are incredibly friendly and kind.  My map reading skills are not legendary and I found myself in an interesting situation when I hadn't learnt the Chinese words for the name of my hotel and had forgotten to bring the piece of paper with it in Chinese characters that one of the trade show press officers had carefully written out for me.  The idea being that I could show it to taxi drivers.  The Metro signs are in English as well as Chinese so I managed to get within half an hour's walk of my hotel but unfortunately the street sign system is laid out in a way that's confusing to a European.  Luckily, as I was standing on the corner of various streets clutching my Rough Guide and looking bewildered, people stopped and helped me find the way. 

It may have been due to the fact that they wanted a favourable write up for their trade show, but I had to just express the slightest interest in something, ie some Taiwanese wine to take home for the Sand Warlock to try, and it would turn up gift wrapped.   


He carried a water melon

Other things I learned about Taiwan include:

1. Taxi drivers and professional drivers love instrumental versions of soft rock and easy listening.
2.  No one has told the Taiwanese that things like God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman and The Little Drummer Boy are generally played in the run up to Christmas rather than in June.
3.  If you order "field chicken" you will be eating frog.
4.  Taiwanese people voluntarily eat pies filled with minced pig eyes.
5.  When Taiwanese people refer to China, they will point upwards and say "PRC".
6.  Taiwanese people, in common with Chinese people, will choose an English name if they are going to be in regular contact with English speakers.  I met one software engineer who told me his name was Mr Lu because he didn't have an English name and he thought I wouldn't be able to say his first name.
7.  Taiwanese manufacturers are very worried about being undercut by cheap Chinese products.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Wouldn't it be Terryble if he had been arrested for inappropriate PDA

Oh, how I don't miss the days when it was my job to at least give the pretence of caring about the sexual habits of that revolting squit, John Terry, and his desperado of a cuckold wife, Toni.

The Sand Warlock came in the other day and told me me that he had seen in the local press that the loathsome pair were holidaying in Abu Dhabi and I rather grumpily told him that I didn't care because I wasn't a tabloid staffer or agency journalist and I was glad that I didn't have to care any more.  Then, rumblings appeared in the local papers that people were less than impressed with Toni's revolting arse flossing swimming costume and their hideously staged display of affection which said to anyone with half a brain cell:  "We know that John's football career is finite so we're indulging in a crappy publicity stunt for a quick payday, even though we're wadded, we can't have enough money, you know, and we think you lot are stupid enough to believe that even though John is widely acknowledged to have the sexual appetite of an adolescent terrier on Viagra, we are in fact dead happily married, like, yeah, and John deserves a reputation as a dedicated family man and a highly paid career as a tedious git of a pundit, no really, he does, so this is our attempt to convince you that that's what he should have."

Anyway.  The point where it occurred to me for a milisecond that the Terrys might actually get in trouble for their antics was when I became interested.  I had a brief chat with a fellow hack still toiling at the coal face back home who said that it's not really a story for UK papers as the complaints about Terrys were confined to Twitter rather than to the police or authorities.  But, as my hack friend said: "Of course, it would break my heart if John Terry ended up rotting in a hellhole Abu Dhabi jail."

Unfortunately for us nasty newspaper types, the Terrys carried out their entirely unconvincing hormone fest in the "privacy" (with the exception of invited pap photographers) of their hotel beach and pool so their public display of affection (PDA) was not illegal, nor indeed was that strange mankini donned by the ever faithful Toni.  For it is indeed true that thongs are none too kindly looked upon by the authorities here, what with it being technically (that word again) a conservative, Islamic country.

The Sand Warlock, brother of Sand Witch and I were at Aquaventure, the ginormous water park at the Atlantis Hotel on the bonkers Palm Jumeirah at the weekend, and I happened to notice a sign saying: "No thongs", by which they mean the pants part of bikinis/mankinis, before any of you Australians start going on about flipflops.  "Phew," I thought, "luckily I didn't wear my Brazilian style glittery thong today or I might have been in trouble." Swimming costumes and bikinis are OK as long as you confine them to the beaches and the pools and don't wonder the streets in them like a Brit on holiday in Magaluf.  But thongs are a no no.  I'm kind of in agreement with them to be honest as the problem with things like thongs is that I'm sure they're theoretically fine on lissome, young ladies and very, very carefully waxed young men, but there's always someone who really shouldn't who decides they're the way forward. Who knows? Maybe it's nothing to to do with the conservative society and they've banned them on grounds of good taste.

Of course, there's always a way around any ban.  The lissome young ladies at Aquaventure have a delightful habit of rolling up their pants and tucking them into their arse cracks.  I know tan lines are unattractive, but is it really worth giving yourself a permanent wedgy to avoid them?  Apparently the answer to that question for some is a resounding "yes".

Generally speaking, people abide by the rules in the UAE, ie, they don't snog in public or dress too outrageously. And people tend not to be seen in public falling down drunk as that, too, can lead to criminal charges.  The Terrys' behaviour quite neatly sums up the fact that you can get away with a lot of things in the UAE providing you a) don't do it in "public" or b) are very rich.  In my largely uneducated opinion, if they had had their collars felt for their behaviour, it would potentially put a lot of other rich idiots off holidaying in the UAE and be bad for the economy.  That's why they're free to behave as they choose, conservative, Islamic society or not.