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...

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.

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...

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.

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. 

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. 

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.