A little over 16 years ago, David and I were swimming in the Mediterranean Sea off the coast of Ancient Korinth, Greece.  We’d swum out a fair distance and were in deep waters.  It was a little bit scary, a little bit exciting.  And as we bobbed around in the warm water, we debated the finer points of a decision we’d been mulling over for the previous six weeks while gallivanting around Spain, Italy, France and Greece.  Are we doing this?  Are we actually moving to Dubai?  David had been offered a three year contract at Dubai International Airport, and I’d been promised a job at (the yet to open) Al Maktoum International.  We’d already weighed the pros and cons of taking the plunge before setting off on our epic European adventure, so as we treaded water in the glittering blue sea that afternoon, all that was left was to decide. 

Obviously we bit the bullet and made the move, and I’m glad we did.  But my life in Dubai has been a dichotomy, the city simultaneously giving and taking so much from me.  Shift work has wreaked serious havoc on my physical health.  And living in such a harsh and indifferent city has really fucked with my head over the years, exacerbating my social anxiety and intensifying the feeling of isolation and disconnection from my family and friends.  On the plus side, I’ve made some pretty good coin (tax free, thank you very much), bought an apartment in Amsterdam and a cottage on the Greek island of Kefalonia.  We’ve travelled the world like jet-setting globetrotters with PhDs in cross-continental exploration. Oh, and it’s also allowed me the singular luxury of retiring at the tender age of 53.  So, you know, swings and roundabouts. 

But all good (and bad) things must come to an end, and after nearly two years of letting the idea roll around in our brains like a very persistent marble, David and I recently decided to take the plunge, bid farewell to ATC and embark on a brand new life adventure.  Coz after a combined 60 years of air traffic control (36 for David and 24 for me), we’re tired (so very tired), and more than ready to turn the page and start anew.  So, four months ago we pulled the trigger and submitted our emails of resignation to our employer.  Our final transmissions as air traffic controllers were broadcast on 24^th July 2024 and we’ve spent the last few weeks lounging around our apartment waiting for someone to please buy it so that we can get the hell outta here!!!

So, the question on everybody’s tongue seems to be “What are you going to do?”  And the answer is nothing!  Everything!  Whatever the hell we want!!!  I want to write more.  I want to read all the books, and listen to all the podcasts.  I want to make short films as mementos of our far-flung travels.  I want to sort the thousands of songs in my playlists, and organise the thousands of photos in my computer.  I want to take classes, and learn.  About economics, art history, Bitcoin, Hamas.  All of it!  I want to volunteer and get into activism and advocacy, I want to be a voice for the voiceless.  I want to get up every morning and watch the sun rise.  I want to regulate my fucked up circadian rhythm.  Be in nature, get strong, and stretch my horizons even more.  I want to travel around Europe by train, by car, by boat, by bike and by foot!  Trust me, I will not run out of things to do.  And David?  I’m not sure what he’s going to do with his time, but I know he’ll figure it out.  He’s got 36 years of air traffic control to shake off first, and that’s no small thing. 

I once made a list of all the things I liked about Dubai in an ejo, and it consisted of only one item: leaving Dubai.  I famously copped a bit of flack about that from one of my readers, Flo, who rightly pointed out that my negativity was kinda shitty.  It was a watershed moment for me, one which forced me to introspect and turn inwards.  And ultimately it was a moment that changed my life.  I started a practise of sharing daily gratitudes with my friend Melinda, I killed my “Things I Hate About Dubai” series and I promised myself I’d find a way to make peace with the city I’d chosen as my home.  Though I still don’t love it and probably never will, I have developed a sense of acceptance for Dubai after nearly 16 years of living here.  And while there are still plenty of things I hate about this city, there are also lots of things about it that I am grateful for, a few things that I love and lots of people that I’ll miss.   

ZIMMY
Zimmy, you are absolutely, hands down, the number one person I’ll miss the most when we leave this place.  It’s difficult to capture in words just how much you mean to me, both as a therapist and a friend.  I’ve often said that your therapy saved my life (and I mean that quite literally).  We met over 14 years ago, when I was at my lowest point, desperate and in despair. You reached your hand down into the darkness and offered me a lifeline that helped me regain my footing and slowly rebuild my life.  Your extraordinary legacy was giving me the tools to face any challenge with courage, confidence and grace, all on my own.  Even so, it is as my friend that you have made the most impact in my life.  You love me for who I am, and this unwavering acceptance is a gift I will always treasure. 

MARISSA
Marissa, I remember the first time you came to our apartment.  It was between 2-6pm on Sunday, 4^th April 2021.  And by the time you were done, our house was absolutely sparkling.  You might be tiny, but you have a big heart (and a ridiculous work ethic) and I could see that you were special on that very first day.  Before we met you we went through a rotating cast of cleaners, but no-one ever came close to you.  No-one ever cared as much, or took as much pride in their work as you do.  You are simply amazing and I am in awe of you.  You’re a serious person, thoughtful and responsible, which are great things to have in a cleaner.  And you are kind and generous and have a beautiful smile, which are great things to have in a friend. 

It’s always a bit tricky navigating an employer/employee relationship and I’ve never wanted to push that boundary.  However, I’ve always felt so ridiculously grateful for the fantastic job you do cleaning our home, that I always tried to make it clear that if you ever needed anything in return, you could count on us.  So it meant a lot to me that I could lend you an ear when you needed to vent about the drama with your family in the Philippines.  And I was humbled that you asked us for help when your brother died and you needed to get back home.  I was so happy that I could support you during the court case you filed against your former agency, and I was thrilled to be able to celebrate with you when you finally got your independent work visa and were a free agent.  Marissa, you’re a good person in a city full of crappy people.  I wish nothing but the best for you, and I sincerely hope that we stay in touch.

SHAWNA
Hey hot stuff, some people might be surprised to learn that I’ve been having a passionate love affair with a very sexy chick for the last four years.  Your name is Jean, but a lot of guys call you Shawna (if you know, you know).  You, my stunning Jaguar F-Type R-Dynamic, with your three-litre V6 engine and a breathtaking 380 horses under the hood – you are a masterpiece. You corner like you’re on rails and you’ve pulled me out of more sticky situations than I can count (even if you are the one who got me into them in the first place).  These last four years have been one hell of a ride.

I only paid you off a couple of months ago, and now, the thought of letting you go?  It hurts Shawna, it hurts.  Every time I’ve settled into your leather bucket racing seat, you’ve given me such a rush, and a sense of joy that few other things in life can match.  People say that cars depreciate the moment they’re driven off the lot, but you, Shawna, have only gained value in my eyes.  Every fast drive we’ve taken together, every moment of pure exhilaration, has been worth every penny I spent on you.  And as far as mid-life crises go, I wouldn’t trade one single second of ours.  Thanks for all the thrills, spills and speeding tickets, Shawna.  No other car will ever come close. 

FIVE GUYS TEAM
OK, so it might seem weird that after living here for sixteen years, some of my favourite people are a group of anonymous fry cooks from a burger chain, but the team at our local Five Guys won my heart, one bite at a time! 

Eating regular meals as a shift worker is really difficult (especially when you’re trying to stick to a meat-only diet), so David and I found a quick and easy alternative for when we didn’t feel like cooking lunch and/or dinner to take to work.  Cheeseburgers (hold everything but the meat) from our local Five Guys burger joint.  These kids make the tastiest burgers, and they’re so consistently good.  Like damnnn!  Maybe I’m becoming pathetically grateful in my old age, or maybe it’s just that most things seem to be pretty shit these days; so when I’m nourished by food that other people regularly make for me, I actually feel love in my heart for them.  LOVE, I tell you!  So I started writing them little thank you notes on my order, hoping that they were well, wishing them a great day, a couple hallelujahs every now and again for how tasty their burgers are – that kind of thing.  After a while, I started getting notes back, handwritten on the brown paper delivery bag.  Which totally makes my day, every time.  Jay, Joanna and the rest of the team at Five Guys at Nakheel Mall, thank you so much for being such a delicious highlight of the last couple of years.  I’ll miss your mouthwatering burgers, and I’ll miss you.

COLLEAGUES
When you work so closely with people, doing shifts around the clock in a very confined space, you develop a uniquely close bond with them (after all, that’s how David and I met – nudge nudge, wink wink).  This doesn’t often translate to a friendship outside of the tower, but sometimes it does.  Doug (yes, Dangerous Doug) was my first tower husband (and don’t worry, David had his own tower wife to keep him company at his work).  Doug and I talked about everything.  We also argued a lot.  In fact, we almost got divorced when he filed a patently absurd safety report against me during a particularly rough patch. But we made up again when the case was dismissed by the Safety Department (as being patently absurd).  He obviously just needed to get it out of his system, and I forgave him for that.  Because that’s what work spouses do.  Doug and I were partners for a decade, and I feel lucky that our friendship was strong enough to withstand his adamant support for Donald Trump, and his relocation to Canada after he retired in 2019. 

Since around 2012, Doug and I were also part of a group of work colleagues that used to get together for illegal poker nights (shhh, don’t tell anyone).  There was also Kevin (a Maltese air traffic controller), Rickard (a Swedish air traffic controller), Leewin (a UAE-born Indian air traffic assistant, turned corporate administrator) and of course David.  Let me tell you, trying to schedule a poker night with six people that are working opposing shifts is nigh on impossible, so we didn’t play as often as we would have liked.  But when we did, oh boy, did we have some fun! Over the years, our numbers dwindled as Rickard moved back to Stockholm, and then Doug retired to Canada.  Now that David and I are also leaving Dubai, there’s almost no chance we’ll ever be able to gather the whole crew together again and that does make me feel quite sad.  But the poker gods smiled upon us in June of this year and the six of us got together at our place for one last drunken hurrah of The Desert Aces!  Trust me when I say, we made it count! 

Over the last few years I also developed a wonderful working relationship with my team, Khalid, Mark and Brad.  Around the clock we talked endlessly, laughed heartily, and complained about work even more heartily.  But above all, we had each other’s backs.  We genuinely cared for each other, like a weird little family.  We checked in on each other when someone was sick, shared tips on what to expect in simulator exams, and even negotiated who got to use the sleep room on those gruelling morning shifts.  We shared food, brewed endless cups of tea and coffee, and always covered for one another.  When someone needed an urgent toilet break in the middle of the night (it was me, I’m the one who needed an urgent toilet break in the middle of the night), one of the guys would always run up from his sleep break, without hesitation, no questions asked, and no fuss about it.  You can’t put a price on that kind of solidarity.

And when you sit next to the same people for eight hours a day, every day, you learn a lot about each other.  Not just the names of pets and family members, but what their wives had for breakfast, what issues their kids are having at school and why they have a doctor’s appointment later that day (hint: sometimes it’s a vasectomy).  You learn about each other’s phobias, prejudices and fears. Dreams, morals and life experiences.  You hear about each other’s childhoods, witness personal milestones and share in the ups, downs and details of their daily life.  These shared moments build a deep and unique bond, creating a sense of family beyond mere colleagues.  In a rare rostering miracle, all three of my guys were in the tower for my last transmission, making the moment even more meaningful.  I’m not going to lie, I became emotional.  There were tears, and hugs and goodbyes.  And then I left.  I walked down the spiral staircase for the very last time, and I went home.  They were like brothers to me. 

SHORELINE GYM
Our apartment has a gym, but it’s a ten minute walk away, across a busy road and in another building.  So, being the lazy sods that we are, we never used it.  I mean, it’s a ten minute walk away!  Across a busy road!!  In another building!!!  But that all changed in November 2023 when David and I decided to get strong, goddamn it.  In the past I was always obsessed with losing weight so I stuck to cardio.  This time I’m obsessed with gaining strength, so it’s the first time I’ve ever done weights.  And from the moment I walk in the door and start my 30 minute full-body workout, alternating between arm and leg machines, I’m absolutely fucking loving it!  I can feel myself getting fitter and stronger, and more physically powerful and resilient and it makes me feel like Xena Warrior Princess.  And what’s not to love about that. 

AL ITTIHAD PARK
Our apartment overlooks Al Ittihad Park, a beautifully landscaped oasis that features over 60 varieties of native trees and plants, as well as a 3.2km walking track that winds through the lush greenery.  People jog, cycle, walk their dogs and do wanky personal training sessions at the many fitness stations dotted around the track.  There are lawns and children’s play areas and nearby cafés and shops.  It’s really quite delightful.  Considering the harsh Dubai environment, Al Ittihad Park is a beautiful escape from the city. 

Since retiring, David and I have developed a lovely ritual of walking a portion of the track after we finish at the gym, and then stopping at the dog park to sit on a bench, talk about stuff and, if we’re lucky, meet some furry friends (yes, we’re the dogless weirdos loitering in the dog park!).  We’ve met Masha and Muffin, Harvey and Ginger and Winston and George.  And my favourite dog, Terry, and his new brother Koda.  The first five years in Dubai we lived in a 24 hour construction zone.  I am talking non-stop drilling and jackhammering and excavation and bulldozing and pile-driving.  Al Ittihad Park is such a refreshing antidote to that.  It’s a place I cherish, where I can unwind and enjoy a little bit of nature right in my backyard. 

SHOP & SHIP
Like so many others, I made the transition to full blown online shopping addict during covid lockdown.  I’m talking multiple deliveries per day.  And thanks to the bizarro-world postal system in Dubai where things don’t get delivered to your house address, but to a post office box (which most online retailers won’t deliver to), I had to find a way to get my hands on my merchandise.  Enter Aramex’s Shop & Ship, a clever way to spend a shitload more money on online shopping from around the world.  Just have your order delivered to one of their many courier addresses in over 30 different countries, and then a lovely man on an Aramex motorbike magically delivers it to your front door!  Convenient as fuck!  I regularly get stuff flown in from New York, Paris, London, Sydney, Frankfurt and Ontario, and yes I do have a problem.  Now that I’m no longer earning any money, I know I should just go cold turkey.  Or maybe, just hear me out, I could investigate, you know, hypothetically, if it’s possible to change my delivery address from Dubai to Amsterdam, and just promise to try really, really, really, really hard to not shop as much. 

TIPS & TOES GIRLS
I’m not really a girly girl.  I don’t wear makeup very often, I don’t get my hair coloured or blown out, and I don’t really do high heels.  But bitches, ever since I moved to Dubai, you better believe I get my nails done.  I’m lucky to live about a three minute walk away from a really nice salon where I have, over the years, assembled a crack team of beauticians to pamper me every few weeks.  Susan does my pedicure, and Girlie does my mani.  And while those two are working on my nails, my darling Desi melts away the knots in my neck and shoulders with her small, but deceptively powerful hands.  It’s indulgent, I know (don’t hate me coz you ain’t me).

Even though it’s super nice, I don’t think I’ll miss the indulgence all that much.  But I am going to miss my girls.  They all light up and run over to give me hugs when I walk into the salon.  We chat, and I try to make them laugh.  I recline in my seat and give myself over to them so they can look after me, so full of care and kindness.  There is an intimacy involved when someone touches your body to nurture and attend to you.  When Girlie tenderly holds my hand to paint my fingernails, when Susan gently exfoliates the bottom of my feet, when Desi massages oil into my shoulders, there is affection and tenderness and warmth in those touches.  There is real human connection.  And that’s what I’m going to miss. 

#806
Our two bedroom apartment on Palm Jumeirah is absolutely amazing.  And yes, I’m house-proud as fuck!  In 2016, we bought our peaceful hideaway from the relentless grind and chaos of Dubai, and over the years we have completely gutted and renovated the kitchen, and all four bathrooms (yes, I said four bathrooms).  We have meticulously shaped and transformed our place into a beautiful, light-filled sanctuary adorned with art and flourishing plants and books and freshly cut flowers and music.  We turned it into our own little world, a delightful microcosm, from the Greek mikros (little) and cosmos (world).  If we could somehow transport our entire apartment intact to anywhere but Dubai, we would do it in a heartbeat, because it truly feels like home.  Sadly though, constrained by physics and reality, we must leave it behind, along with most of our beautiful furniture.  I will miss this place, but as we embrace our new beginnings, I’m already looking forward to infusing our new homes with the same warmth and charm that made this one so special.  

MY PLANTS
Plants, plants, plants!!  I love my plants.  They bring joy and fulfilment into my life, and they fill the house with oxygen and beauty.  And sure, sometimes they give me a little bit of grief but all children do that, don’t they?  One of my only regrets about moving from Dubai is that we’re going to have to leave our beloved green kiddos behind.  From the baby of the family, Aziz (three and a half) to our oldest teenager Shane (15), each has their own unique personality, preferences, sensitivities and, of course, their own name.  The thought of abandoning them breaks my heart, but I do hope to find good, stable homes for each and every one of them with the foliage featurette I’ve made, showcasing all their good looks and undeniable charm – because even plants deserve their moment in the spotlight!!