Learning About Dubai

Ejo #97 – I Am Not A Runner

I am not a runner.  I do not gracefully traverse this earth.  Rather, I lope across it like a teenage elephant.  I am not even built to be a runner, in case you hadn’t noticed.  I am not exactly in possession of a lithe form, designed to cut through the air like a blade.  Rather my big bones and big boobs keep me in pretty close proximity to the ground at all times – no prancing around the running track for me (again, it tends to be more of a loping action).  I am not a runner, and yet, I run.  What the hell is that all about?

Despite not being a runner, I’ve tried to run my whole life.  A couple of times I even got pretty good at it, running 5km comfortably, without stopping.  This might not sound like much to you, but that’s my personal best, right there.  I’m not even going to talk to you about “times”, because who gives a shit how long it takes me to run it.  I’m just flabbergasted and amazed whenever I’m able to do it at all.  Because, don’t forget, I am not a runner.  A few years ago, I tried to rise above my station and started training towards 10km.  I injured myself on the third day and didn’t run for months afterwards.  I now happily accept that 5km is my limit.  And I’m OK with that.

Until recently, I hadn’t run in a very long time.  Last year was not a good year for my body.  I suffered intermittent lower back pain, piriformis syndrome (butt cheek pain) and totally fucked up hip flexors.  My entire pelvic area was a mess.  And on top of that, in January 2017, I had a bit of a skiing mishap and tore a couple of ligaments in my left knee pretty darn good.  It took six months for me just to be able to walk any distance without limping.   Running was completely out of the question.  And by the time all my hard work and physio started paying off, and my knee was in good enough shape to run, it was the middle of summer and the idea of running in 47°C sort of made me want to vomit.  And then, when the weather started cooling down, I was so goddamn unfit from the lack of exercise all year that the idea of running made me want to vomit even more.  I was so unfit, that walking just 100 metres left me short of breath.  I was a disgrace.

So when we got back from our trip to Australia in early December last year, I made the decision to start exercising again.  We are lucky enough to have a 2.7km running track out the back of our apartment building and I was planning on just starting off with some gentle walking.  You know, just ease on into it.  But then I saw an advertisement for the 2018 Dubai Marathon and noticed that they also had a 4km Fun Run event.  I signed up before I even had time to think about it.  And certainly before I had time to change my mind.  The next day, I started running.  It was 5th December 2017.

Ostensibly I had 52 days to train up from zero to four kilometres.  In reality I had a very busy work roster, a four day trip to Bangkok and a sixteen day trip to Japan to work around.  In the two months between signing up and actually running the race, I was only able to do eleven days of an eight week interval training programme.  Not a very auspicious lead up.  But still, I was determined.  And two days before the race I actually ran my first 3km without stopping.  Yay!  I was good to go!

So, on Friday, 26th January 2018 I took part in the Standard Chartered 2018 Dubai Marathon.  I ran the 4km Fun Run, stopping only twice.  Once to ask a distressed looking kid by the side of the road if he was OK (he was fine, just freaking out about losing his headphones), and then again with about a kilometre to go, in order to stretch my lower back for about 15 seconds.  I didn’t want to stop, but I figured that stopping to stretch and being able to finish without an injury would be better than powering through and fucking up my back even more.  I do not need to be an overachiever.  😉

Here are some photos of the day.

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A quiet spot to calm my pre-race nerves.

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Heading towards the starting line.

 

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I was…. so excited when the race buzzer went off.  What better song to play.  The rest of the race was brought to you courtesy of the album “Rising” by the 70s metal band Rainbow.

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Um…. OK.  I hope she didn’t beat me.

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Alrighty, then!

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The face of a non-runner who has just finished a 4km run in 27°C heat.

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Yep, I’ll take one of those please.

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Man, this baby went down a real treat.  Soooooo good.

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Can you tell I’m feeling pretty proud of myself?  🙂

 

Ejo #96 – My Dubai

Even though I still don’t (and probably never will) call Dubai home, David and I have actually lived here for a really, really, really long time. And when you live somewhere for that long, whether you like it or not, you kinda get to know the place.  We’ve been around over the years, but because of the constant, massive construction, everything changes from one day to the next, which makes it lack stability.  So the city always feels in flux, foreign, and weird to me. To tell you the truth, I’m still not 100% sure which exit to take off the freeway to get to the organic grocery store we’ve been going to for the last seven years. It’s madness. But still, there are some parts of town we do know really well, mostly because we’ve lived in them.

We started off in temporary housing in Garhoud, in a very small studio apartment, provided by the company we work for, while we looked for our own place. Even though Garhoud is not really an area that expats tend to live in long term, we actually really enjoyed the four weeks we spent there. It was a really fun and interesting way to be introduced to this crazy city, and in fact, I kind of miss it. Because the streets were real. They would come alive in the evenings, and not with loud, obnoxious, sunburnt British tourists downing pints (though there is a raucous pub called The Irish Village just across the street from where we were staying), but with the Indians, Bangladeshis and Pakistanis that make up the majority of the population of Dubai. The community that they knit together, in this small part of town, had a really special feeling to it, comingling the amazing smells of regional street food, the cacophony of sounds (including the call to prayer) at all hours of the day and night, the hustle and the bustle of working-class daily life. It was gritty and maybe a little bit grotty, but it was real in a way that “new” Dubai never will be.

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Our temporary digs in Garhoud.

 

 

 

What is this new Dubai, I speak of? Well, I’m talking about the mushrooming clusters of skyrise apartments built in the last decade or so. Old Dubai refers to the original Dubai neighbourhoods of Satwa, Deira, Bur Dubai and Karama (also known as Dolce & Karama because of the roaring trade in knock-offs that goes on there). These were the commercial hubs that flourished when the UAE was formed in 1971 (excellent year, I might add), but which have recently started feeling a bit worn around the edges. So yeah, in this case, “old” means about 46 years. Which isn’t really that old (I mean, really!!!), but it’s definitely older than new Dubai.

When we first got here, in the gold rush days of 2008, Downtown Dubai was where it was at. Or rather, where it was going to be. It was essentially still an engineering blueprint, and the first apartment we signed a lease on was on the 32nd floor of a brand new, solitary tower called 8 Boulevard Walk right across the street from the Burj Khalifa and walking distance to the Dubai Mall. As far as I know, they never did build a 6 Boulevard Walk, or a 10 Boulevard Walk, or in fact any other number Boulevard Walk. Which is kinda weird, but you get used that kind of thing around here. It was a nice enough building and we stayed there for five whole years, enjoying the hell out of the view which really was extremely remarkable. Downtown Dubai, however, was a 24/7 construction zone when we moved in and it stayed that way the entire time we lived there. It’s definitely more developed now, but it’s still several years away from completion. When we moved on to the next place, it was weird not hearing the constant sounds of jackhammers and cement trucks backing up at 3am in the morning.

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The view from our living room.  The not quite yet completed Burj Khalifa, circa 2009.

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8 Boulevard Walk – weird, residential tower in the middle of nowhere, with a fucking amazing view of the world’s tallest building.

 

 

After five years in Downtown, including a couple of years of quarreling with our landlord over rent, we were ready to try something new and took over a friend’s lease on a 4th floor apartment in Dubai Marina. There’s just something special about living on the water, and after five years of cranes and sand and dust, it was fantastic having a great view of a beautiful body of water from our home. In the cooler months we would go for walks along the promenade and we were within walking distance of the beach, a mall, several five star hotels, restaurants and bars. It was also down the street from an amazing döner kebab place, which (in hindsight) probably wasn’t such a great thing. It was a lovely apartment, but again we had a problem with a greedy landlord and decided enough was enough. It was time to start looking for our own place.

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Dubai Marina Promenade

 

I’m going to leave out all the crap that we had to wade through in order to buy our own apartment, and focus on how awesome it is to now finally have our own place and be our own asshole landlords! Actually, we’re not that bad. We get things fixed pretty quickly, we always answer the phone and we don’t hassle each other about the rent. We’ve actually settled into a really nice part of town. You might have heard of it? It’s called the Palm Jumeirah. Whaaaaat? I know, right? Who would have thought? Not me. But here we are, in a lovely F-type Shoreline apartment with access to a gym and a private beach, yo!! Livin’ large!

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So, our apartment is on the trunk of the Palm, at the top of the picture.  

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This lovely 2.7km walking track is literally at our doorstep.  I can’t tell you how nice it is to hear the sounds of birds chirping and children playing instead of dump trucks and jackhammers.

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Our beach.  Yep, it’s ours.  

 

I honestly don’t have any idea how much longer we will stay in this city, but I’m pretty sure the next time we move, it’ll be internationally. Our apartment is my oasis in a city that causes me turmoil. It is my haven, my refuge, my safe place. And I love it. It helps me tolerate…. stuff. Life. Perhaps I’m a little too attached to it, because honestly I don’t often venture far. I do my grocery shopping and I go to work at Al Maktoum International Airport, which is fine.

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My office.  Not too shabby.  

 

Every once in a blue moon I’ll check out a new restaurant or café that I hear about on the grapevine. Very recently I saw an ad on Instagram for a new café called Amongst Few at Palm Strip Mall in Jumeirah. This small group of shops along Beach Road has particular sentimental value to me because it was where we used to go to connect with people back home after we first arrived here, before we got internet hooked up at our place. It’s no longer there, but back in 2008 one of the shops used to be an internet café. I can’t even remember the name of it, but the place is etched in my memory. After all, it’s where I typed up my very first ejo a week after we got here – and now I’m going to cry.

So anyway, when I heard about Amongst Few, I wanted to check it out. As you know, I’ve not been very impressed with the quality of coffee in Dubai, or with the café scene in general. It’s actually been a couple of years since we’ve ventured out in search of coffee. But lately, I’ve been inspired to treat Dubai like I treat the places we visit when we travel. Do some research, and look at it through new, fresh eyes. So, we have been out and about the last couple of months looking for good coffee. Sadly, nothing has inspired a return visit – until Amongst Few. Can you believe it?? I’m not going to get my hopes up, but we have been there three times and we’ve had consistently good coffee every time. That, to me, is a fucking miracle. The meals are a bit hit and miss, but the hits are pretty damn good. I highly recommend the fish and chips. The fish is extremely fresh, and the batter super light and crispy, almost like tempura. The chips? Triple cooked, baby!!! Yum!

So, just as we used to do all those years ago, we make the trek to Jumeirah (though these days the trek is 26km, as opposed to just 10km) in the hope that the wonderful people of Amongst Few continue to make good coffee. Is it too much to ask??? I hope not.

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Amongst Few.  The internet cafe used to be just to the right of this place.  

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A view of Jumeirah Mosque across the street.

 

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The menu.

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Matcha latte and flat white.

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Smashed avo on toast with poached eggs, roast tomatoes and feta cheese.  

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Fish n’ chips.  The batter is super light and crispy – almost like tempura.  Even the coleslaw was tasty. 

The name of this ejo was inspired by a popular hashtag on Instagram (23.5 million posts makes #mydubai popular, right?). I do sometimes hijack this hashtag when I post pictures because… hey, who can say how a person “owns” a place.  This ejo, I suppose, is as close to describing what “my Dubai” means to me as we’re going to get.  I’ll never love this place, but over the years we have inexorably tangled into each other.  And as long as I can get good coffee, I can live with it.

Ejo #79 – Perspective: A Dubai Ramadan Story

Earlier this month my Spotify music account was hacked.  The offending asshole* changed the primary email and password of my account, locking me out of it (how rude!).  The team at Spotify were awesome and managed to give me back control of my music but the bastard had deleted all my playlists.  Now, it’s one thing to steal someone’s music.  But to delete my playlists was just a dirty thing to do and I was furious.  Especially because one of those playlists included more than seven hours of music for a very special party we’re having in Melbourne when we visit in September.  Shit just got personal.  And I was all set to write an entire ejo devoted to cussing this guy out, and giving him what for.

So, what happened?  Well, perspective, I guess.  As you know, it’s that Ramadan time of year. A time when Muslims around the world show their devotion to god by fasting – refraining from eating food and drinking water during daylight hours.  Doing this must be difficult at the best of times – but when you add abject poverty, housing that is unfit to live in, zero social standing and a lack of even the most basic of human rights to the mix, it becomes downright intolerable.

So, I had the choice of fretting over some random dick depriving me of my music for 24 hours, or I could get off my ass and organise an Iftar handout for a few men.  I chose the latter.  For the uninitiated, Iftar is the meal that breaks the daily Ramadan fast when the sun goes down.  It’s a big deal in Dubai, with every restaurant in the city offering huge buffet feasts for the privileged amongst us.  A recent article in a local newspaper highlighted the incalculable waste produced by these buffets.  The amount of food that gets thrown away is simply mindboggling.  Especially when you think about the masses of less fortunate, unseen people, hidden away in the industrial desert areas of the city.  The men who work exhausting hours, struggling to scrape together the equivalent of AUD290 a month (working six days a week, fourteen hours a day), most of which they send back home to their families.

I posted my intentions on Facebook and within a couple of days we had raised enough money to feed 470 men.  Four hundred and seventy men!!!!!!  I want to thank each and every person who donated money for this worthy cause.  Unfortunately, none of you could join us for the fun part of actually giving out the meals, so I thought that on this occasion I would put a face to your donations in the hope that it personalises your contribution.  Check out the photos below to find out who you bought a meal for.

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The guys at Two Seasons Restaurant who prepared the 470 meals with love and care – and even helped us load the boxes into the cars.

 

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Michelle H., your empathy directly impacted on this guy.

 

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Nicole C., thanks to your generosity, this guy had a nice Iftar meal to break his fast.  He was just one of many that you helped. 

 

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Mari S., this guy ate a delicious dinner because of your thoughtful donation.

 

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Simon K., this man was so grateful for the meal he received from you.

 

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Beth, Tim, Charley and Xavier – this is one of the guys you made very happy on Tuesday.

 

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Craig A., this dude said a heartfelt thank you to David – but it was meant for you. 

 

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Pieta S., this man’s smile and gratitude are thanks to you.

 

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Adrian R., this man got to eat well on Tuesday because of your contribution.

 

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Sam A., your compassion meant that this man had a tasty hot meal for Iftar.

 

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Melinda N., this guy was very shy when taking his meal, but also so very grateful – to you.

 

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Zimmy K., this man’s smile is one of so many – thanks to your incredibly generous donation.

 

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Guy S., you totally made this guy’s day!

 

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Matthew T., this man doesn’t know you but he directly experienced your kindness.

 

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Nancy L., this young man was surprised at the offer of free food, and so thankful for the meal you bought for him.

 

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Cindy C., your substantial donation made this man (and many others) very happy.

 

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Nic M., your deep generosity meant that this man didn’t have to worry about where his dinner was coming from on Tuesday.

 

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Svet M., we moved some money around and made sure that your donation was given to this man – and several others during the handout.

 

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Vicki D., the look on this man’s face is so heartwarming.  He is smiling because of you.

 

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Sam H., your substantial contribution gave joy to many men. This is one of them.

 

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Karien M., you are the reason this man is smiling.

 

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Yani, for me this guy says it all. He just couldn’t stop smiling while waiting in line for his meal – and then his smile got even bigger when David handed it to him. Your helping hand is the reason for his happiness.

For those of you who would like to contribute to our next handout, I’ve got a rippa idea!  I’m super keen to organise an ice-cream truck handout. Yes, of course it’s wonderful (truly wonderful) to do a food handout but how amazing would it be to gift ice-creams!!!  Think back to when you were a kid and you heard the ice-cream truck melody floating down the street on a hot summer evening, announcing the imminent arrival of  THE ICE-CREAM MAN!!!!  Don’t we all share the unadulterated joy associated with that?  Wouldn’t that be an incredible thing to give these men, whose lives are so bereft of the simple pleasures we take for granted.  So, I’m planning on doing this in a couple of months – around October.  I won’t announce it anywhere else except Facebook so if you are interested and aren’t my Facebook friend (boohoo for you) shoot me an email/message through the comments section of this post.

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Seriously, I love this guy!!!!

 

* OK, I can’t help myself.  The email address of the pond-scum who hacked my Spotify account is joesalisbury_13@outlook.com.  Feel free to bombard this mofo with spam, random subscriptions and stern emails about respecting other people’s privacy.