Learning About Dubai

Ejo #50 – Things I Hate About Dubai #3 – THE COFFEE

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Dubai is the king of chains! King of brands. Restaurants, clothing stores, hotels. And of course, coffeehouses. Starbucks, Costa, Cosi, Caribou, Second Cup, Gloria Jean’s, Segafredo, Tim Horton’s and more abound. Blah blah blah. The city appears to have a deep and abiding aversion to anything small and unique – preferring instead to fortify itself with (supposedly proven) café after cookie-cutter café, oozing lack of personality and same-sameness.

Now, I know it might sound a bit snobby to turn my nose up at these coffee brands. In fact, I don’t care how it sounds. Am I a coffee snob? Yep! I’m Melburnian. If you don’t know what the connection is, you might as well stop reading here. Where I come from, coffee isn’t just a shot of caffeine but an actual artform. And if you think I’m talking about cute little pictures of elephants or butterflies in your foam, again please stop reading here. What I’m talking about is the barista, a person properly trained in the craft of making coffee, actually taking pride in every single cup they produce. In my opinion, if you serve me the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had in my life one day and then a crappy cup the next, you make bad coffee. Simple as that. Quality is not just about perfection, it is about consistency. And I feel that the reason coffee in Dubai is so dreadful is that people aren’t being trained to make it. But that’s a whole other ejo.

In over five years, only two places have come close to fulfilling my need for a great milky coffee. One was Brunetti’s – yep, the Melbourne joint. They didn’t make awesome coffee, but it was generally consistent. And in a city where that’s rare, it counted. Alas, Brunetti’s has recently closed. The other place that served really good coffee for a little while was a café called Raw that imports and roasts their own beans. Unfortunately, the operative word in the previous sentence is “served”. Their consistency was a joke. And so I stopped going.

Something that really bugs me about coffee in Dubai is that regardless of whether you order a latte, cappuccino or flat white, you get the same damn coffee (albeit in a different sized or coloured cup to differentiate between the styles). This infuriates me. The nuances of the different types of milky coffee are numerous, but unfortunately the guy behind the machine at Costa hasn’t been taught that. He hasn’t been shown that when you froth milk the correct way you end up with three layers in the milk jug. The hot milk at the bottom, the micro-foam (which for me defines a latte) in the middle, and the stiff peaky froth at the top (the stuff that should get spooned onto the top third of a cappuccino). Invariably the contents of the jug simply get poured into a cup and served to you as whatever it was that you ordered. And it seems that the majority of coffee punters in Dubai don’t know the difference between a latte and a cappuccino either, because they keep paying for coffee, milk and a thin, mealy layer of foam on top. And paying top dollar for it. An average cappuccino in Dubai costs between 17-24dhs, approximately five to eight Aussie dollars. That’s bad enough, but when you have to pay that for a crap cup of coffee, it’s enough to make your blood boil.

So, as you can see, my experiences with coffee here haven’t been the best. Which is why when I saw a magazine cover a couple of months ago with a picture of a bearded man wearing a butcher’s apron and the words, “This man knows good coffee,” my heart leapt a little bit. Oh joy! I flicked through to the article and was quite excited to read about a great new café that was soon to be opening in the Al Quoz neighbourhood of Dubai. For those of you who don’t live here, Al Quoz is a rather industrial area of town, mostly known for car dealerships, factories and (of late) art galleries. In fact, it’s the perfect place for a start-up. My excitement levels were cautiously rising. Could it be that after five years of crappy caffeine, at last someone who “knows good coffee” would be making his way into the city (and straight into my heart)??

When I went home I hopped online and did as much research as I could about this upcoming café (this might show how sadly scarce good coffee is in my everyday life). It all looked very promising. Interviews with (Aussie) Tom Arnel and (Spaniard) Sergio Lopez, gave assurance that they were here to provide a quality product, expressing a desire to work against Dubai’s proclivity towards “mass-produced” and “franchised”. Music to my ears.

A week or so after they opened, I dragged David along to sample a cup of their joe. Sadly, my first impression of the place was that, despite the promises to be “different” it was a very typical Dubai restaurant opening. A huge, cavernous space outfitted with industrial design. If Tom and Sergio were going for the antithesis of the Dubai café, if they were going for an antidote to the “Dubai-ness” which they stated they were overwhelmingly “frustrated with”, at least where the interior is concerned, they failed miserably. The inside of Tom&Serg is, for me, the definition of Dubai. Strike one.

We ordered two cappuccinos and sat down at a bench by the window. While we waited we read their policy on serving coffee at <65ºC. I admire the intention. Burned milk is one of my absolute worst pet peeves when ordering coffee and I have been known to return to a café and insist they make me another cup at a lower temperature. Now, I’ve already said I’m a coffee snob and I’ll reinforce that here with the suggestion that the best coffee is actually served at a temperature closer to 70ºC. It’s hot, but not hot enough that the milk has burned, and not so hot that you’ll burn your tongue. You can drink it without waiting, but if you do wait a few moments you won’t be drinking tepid coffee (blech). Years and years of drinking amazing coffees in cafés in Melbourne as well as being the honorary tower barista when I worked at Melbourne airport have taught me that temperature is paramount. A lot of experimentation and a great deal of love have gone into my research. I don’t mind a coffee at 65ºC, but I most definitely prefer it a bit hotter.

Anyway, back to Tom&Serg. One cup was brought over and served to us, which we thought was a bit strange. I told the server that we had ordered two cups and he shrugged. And then, check this, he left. I was a little bemused, thinking the second cup must be on the way. Alas, this was not to be. There was no second cup. Strike two. And I can’t begin to tell you how much this pissed me off. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that everyone makes mistakes. But when you go around aggrandising yourself as being the opposite of what is wrong with Dubai, then you’d better make sure that you are great, in all respects. And for the guy to just shrug his shoulders and not even bother ordering us a second cup really got on my nerves. It typifies what inspired this “Things I Hate About Dubai” series in the first place. Our first experience with Tom&Serg was a bust. We walked out disappointed.

Being fair-minded people, we decided we’d give them another chance about a week later. We walked in and decided to order one latte and one cappuccino, so that we could compare the two. I declined the offer of chocolate on my cappuccino. That’s another of my pet peeves (yes, I do have a lot). Cappuccino is not a mocha. There should be no chocolate anywhere NEAR it. I don’t care if it’s Valrhona or chocolate that’s been grated between the legs of virgins (I’m sure such a thing exists somewhere in the world – just not on my cappuccino please). Anyway, I was saddened (but in no way surprised) when my cappuccino came out liberally sprinkled with offending chocolate. Strike three. I gently reminded my server that I had requested no chocolate and I swear to god, she looked like she was about to shrug and walk away. I think it was the wild, wide-eyed look which started to flower across my face that stopped her in her tracks and she hesitantly asked me if I wanted another coffee. I nodded slowly, my shackles smoothing down. Strike four (the strikes were coming thick and fast now).

So, while we waited, David and I shared his latte and when my cappuccino arrived, we shared that. I would be hard pressed to tell you the difference between the two cups. They were both milky coffee with a thin, mealy layer of foam on top. Ugh!!!!!! Strike five. When we’d finished the server came back and asked me how I liked the coffee. I shrugged (oh yes, the grasshopper becomes the master) and said I didn’t really like it that much. She knowingly nodded and said, “Ah, you thought it wasn’t warm enough” as though I was an idiot. Hackles well and truly raised, I didn’t bother to tell her that it just wasn’t a very good coffee. Strike six and we were out the door never to return.

It’s a shame that Tom&Serg didn’t live up to my (increasingly desperate) expectations of a great coffee joint. I have a feeling they’ll be fine though. Last time we were in Al Quoz we walked past and the place was jam-packed, full of hipster guys and gals sucking down their lukewarm coffees. Sure Tom&Serg will be fine. But what about me???

Ejo #48 – Dubai Expo 2020: Let’s All Celebrate Together

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Two nights ago I was sitting on the toilet when I heard an explosion! (Ahem… from outside, thank you very much!)

 

“What the hell’s that?” I shouted out to David.

 

“Fireworks!” he shouted back.

 

Fireworks spewing from the Burj Khalifa. Pretty!

Fireworks spewing from the Burj Khalifa. Pretty!

 

I hurriedly finished my business and rushed out to see the Burj Khalifa aflame with pyrotechnics. “Oh,” I said. “I guess this means we won.”

 

Two years ago, the city of Dubai made their bid to host the 2020 World Expo, a global fair lasting up to six months, where countries from all over the world showcase themselves in national pavilions. Two nights ago, it was announced that they were successful.

 

Yesterday, work was abuzz with the news, and I was keen to find out people’s thoughts on the announcement.

 

Gotta love the enthusiasm! My colleague Pauline dressing in the national colours!

Gotta love the enthusiasm! My colleague Pauline dressing in the national colours!

 

The overwhelming response was positive, coupled as it was with the upcoming National Day celebrations. When probed about why they were happy that Dubai had won the right to host Expo 2020, here’s what a few of them had to say.

 

“It’ll show Dubai as a true international city and how diverse it is. It’ll open the city up for other international events, like the Olympics.”

 

“Al Maktoum International airport will expand. Increased development will lead to more job opportunities opening up. It will lead to a good life.”

 

“There will be more development, more jobs. It’ll be good for the city.”

 

“People will have the chance to learn more about Arabic culture and tradition.”

 

It sounds good. There certainly will be a great deal of development, with an estimated $8.4 billion dollars to be injected into infrastructure such as new roads, hotels, Metro expansion and the 438 hectare site of the Expo itself. It is expected to create close to 80,000 new jobs – mostly in travel and tourism sectors.

 

An artist's impression of the impressive Expo 2020 site.

An artist’s impression of the impressive Expo 2020 site.

 

Interestingly, of all the people I asked, only one had ever been to an Expo before. Originally from New Zealand, Kim T. attended the 1988 World Expo in Brisbane (which I vaguely remember, as a high school student, coinciding with Australia’s Bicentennial celebration). She said she’d absolutely loved it, and when I asked her to elaborate, here’s what she said:

 

“It was spectacular, with exhibits from around the world, commemorative events throughout the city – not just at the Expo site – marking it as a very proud and special time for all of Australia. We only had two days in Brisbane but could easily have spent more than a week to experience all that there was. I expect that Dubai will spend the next six years promoting and trumpeting this event and I’m sure the occasion will be even more special with the resources the government has committed to it, ensuring another spectacular showcase.”

 

Expo 2020

Expo 2020

 

I have no doubt that Expo 2020 will be an incredible extravaganza. Even a card-carrying Dubai-basher like me can admit to feeling a little bit of pride and admiration. But (as always) wanting to keep things in perspective I wondered if it was all good, or if there might be a downside to the Expo being held in Dubai. I certainly had a few concerns, and wondered if others did too. So I asked people to tell me how they thought it might negatively impact the city and its residents. The consensus?

 

“Everything will become very expensive.”

 

“People are afraid of what it’s going to do with property prices in the next few years.”

 

“Rent will go up.”

 

“Everything is going to get crazy expensive. The cost of living will explode, affecting everyone. Rent, fuel, food, everything.”

 

So, the prevailing view is that Expo 2020 will drive prices up making it even more expensive to live in Dubai than it already is. Kim T., who has lived here for seventeen years, expounded:

 

“On the down side, six years is a long time for residents, particularly expats who must grapple with the very real possibility that rents will increase, as Dubai has a legacy of greedy landlords who overcharge and under-deliver. The country will risk losing people that have helped to build this city up to a position where they could confidently bid for such an event.”

 

Indeed. Let’s talk about that for a second. Certainly the city has developed as a result of the expertise, skill and hard work of a great number of expats, without which it may very well still be a sandy outpost. I’d like to also bring a little bit of appreciative attention to the hundreds of thousands of people without whom, over the years, Dubai literally could never have been built. The workers and labourers. The men who constructed the skyscrapers and laid the roads and built the Metro. The men who, year after year, labour away endlessly in order to create the impressive, sparkling city which dazzled the Bureau International des Expositions, convincing them that, YES!, we are the best city to host Expo 2020. Can we please, in all the excitement, not forget about them??

 

Don’t worry, this ejo isn’t about the lack of minimum wage, or the dreadful living conditions the workers endure. This time I’m not going to rail about the injustice of the system – I’ve written about that plenty in the past, and if you want to find out more about that, please feel free to peruse previous posts. This time, I simply want to tip my hat to the men that laid the foundations of this great city. I want to applaud them for their priceless contribution towards our reaching for the sky. I wish to salute them for the greatness of their accomplishments. Simply, I just want to say “thanks”.

 

The morning after I started writing this ejo, I received an email from my lovely friend, Roshni. As some of you know, Roshni is a tireless advocate for the underprivileged workers here. She has organised food hand outs every single Friday for the last three years, and much, much more. Here’s her email:

 

“Congratulations! We have won Expo 2020.

 

But in the midst of our celebration, let us pause a moment to think about the men who built Dubai. No doubt the brain and foresight was someone else’s, but who has toiled through the hot summer days and the cold wintry months, far away from his family, so that Dubai can be noticed by the world?????

 

So with the intention of wanting to do something special for these men, I write this mail to you. I leave it to each individual, what they wish to give. Please make a little gift packet. It could contain anything from non-perishable food items, toiletries, shirts, trousers, linen, shoes, blankets, cardigans, wallets, watch, whatever you wish. The only request is to make sure that the clothes, shoes, etc. are new. Let’s not give them used stuff for once.

 

We can make it a Christmas/Expo 2020 gift combo. We go for our usual hand outs on Fridays and will carry your gift packs also to distribute. And if you wish to join us, you are most welcome! Let’s not celebrate alone. Let’s welcome our fellow men to join in. Let’s make them feel special too!”

 

The Burj Khalifa spotlit in the colours of the Dubai 2020 bid for the Expo.

The Burj Khalifa spotlit in the colours of the Dubai 2020 bid for the Expo.

 

So, for Xmas this year, I will be putting together gift bags for some of the labourers. If you would like to contribute some money towards this, that would be fantastic. Please let me know. And if you live in Dubai and don’t feel like taking part, that’s OK. How about you spend 2dhs and buy a labourer a fruit juice. Sure, rent might spike up over the next few years, but it’s still a cheap and meaningful way to show gratitude for the workers’ invaluable part in us winning Expo 2020. I can guarantee it’ll mean the world to him to know that someone’s noticed.

 

Ejo #47 – Things I Hate About Dubai #2 – HAIRDRESSERS

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I’m going to cut (haha) right to the chase. I’ve been to five different hair salons in Dubai, ranging from top-end, super expensive “designer” hairdressers to little, back-street joints where the “hairdresser” also waxes legs, threads eyebrows and gives shoulder massages (hopefully not all at once, but I wouldn’t be surprised)! Regardless of the ambience of the place, regardless of how much the haircut costs and regardless of whether the gown they slip on my shoulders is made of silk or more closely resembles a plastic rubbish bag, all five of these salons do have one thing in common. They have, at one time or another, completely butchered my hair.

 

Now, I’m sure I can hear some of you rolling your eyes* and saying, “Really? This is what you’re complaining about? A bad haircut?!”. To you, I say two things. First of all, phooey!! And secondly, I’d like to tell you a story about two little girls. When my middle sister, Mari, and I were younger we had a particular Uncle (whom I shall name X) whose clumsy attempts to make us feel special and unique probably did more harm than good. He would say to my sister, “Mari, you are so beautiful, such a pretty girl. You should be a model.” And to me he’d say, “Chrysoula, you are so smart, so intelligent. You should be a doctor or a lawyer.” So, is it any wonder that Mari grew up feeling dumb, and I grew up feeling ugly! Thanks Uncle X, thanks a lot.

 

Anyway, neither of us lived up to his lofty expectations. But you know the great thing about being pigeon holed? It’s figuring out that you don’t have to conform to anybody’s ridiculous ideas of who you are and what you’re capable of. Taking a long break after high school, Mari eventually went on to complete a Degree (with Honours) in Sociology. Now she academises me under the table. (See how smart I am? I make up words because it’s fun!)

 

And no, unfortunately, I didn’t blossom from an ugly duckling into a beautiful swan. I’ll never be Cinderella in anyone’s book. And that’s OK. I’ve come to terms with that. You know why? Because I’ve got great fucking hair!!! And that makes up for a lot! It’s bouncy and thick and has a little wave in it. And can I quote you a statistic here, for effect? Studies** show that 91% of Australians believe that hair is key to a person’s sex appeal and attractiveness. Ninety one per cent!!! That’s like…. practically everyone!!!!

 

So, pardon me when I get a little emotional, a little overwrought, a little hysterical at a bad haircut. But c’mon people, it’s all I have to work with! There’s no buffer here, no room for error. And when your whole sense of physical self-esteem is wrapped up in whether or not you are having a good hair day, then a couple of bad hair YEARS can be a blow to the ego.

 

I have never made the claim that my hair is EASY to cut. In fact, the same characteristics that make it great hair (thick, bouncy, wavy) actually make it really problematic hair. I’m the first to admit it and I always warn new hairdressers of the high difficulty factor. They usually dismiss my cautions with a confident wave of the scissors, probably thinking that THEY will be the one to tame my wild locks, as they start slashing and hacking. And then, when they fail (miserably) I’m the one who has to pay for it, and even worse I’m the one who has to live with it. I have a feeling that a lot of people are going to defend the Salon Inks, the Ted Morgans, the Toni & Guy’s of DXB. Maybe they’ve had good haircuts at these places. But the fact remains that I have not, and if my hair is too difficult for someone to cut well, then as far as I’m concerned that someone is not a good hairdresser. Ergo, in my personal experience there are no good hairdressers in Dubai.

 

I’m not ashamed to name some names here either. After all, they weren’t ashamed to sabotage my head, so I don’t feel any compulsion to protect them in return! A lot of people throw the name Salon Ink around as the best salon in the city. I remember asking Narelle at Salon Ink to trim my shoulder length hair and, even more vividly, I remember her giving me a lopsided bob, with kinky layers sticking out around my ears!! Not exactly what I requested and it took me nearly a year to grow out. I recall showing Elaine at Ted Morgan a photo of a blunt fringe (à la Krysten Ritter) and walking out with a feathered Farrah Fawcett do which also took about 12 months to grow.

 

But the ultimate crappy haircut is the one that still hurts the most. I wasn’t joking when I said I measure my bad hair in years. I am still growing out a chop executed in April 2011 by a man called Shadi Nassif at Caritas salon. I walked out of the salon literally looking like a giant mushroom head. And that, ladies and gentleman, was the nadir (and the finale) of my hair grooming experiences in Dubai. After some serious crying, a lot of cursing and even a little bit of melodramatic wailing, I vowed to never EVER get my hair cut in Dubai again. And, despite the inconvenience, I’ve stuck to that vow. And will continue to do so! It does make hair maintenance a bit difficult, but I’m prepared to live with that.

 

I am lucky enough to have found a wonderful hairdresser in Amsterdam who seems to understand my obstinate mane. Raúl at LysandroCicilia is not only a delightful young man who loves what he does, he’s also extremely bloody good at it. He’s my Hair Whisperer and I simply adore him. I wish I could say that my life was so awesome, so filled with rainbows and unicorns, that I could afford to fly to Amsterdam every time I needed a haircut. But, unfortunately, this is not the case. Through necessity, I have become very comfortable with split ends and annual haircuts. It’s not ideal, but I’m a stubborn cow, and like I said, I am never getting my hair cut in Dubai again. The end!

 

* And yes, I can hear you rolling your eyes. It’s a curse.
** Yeah, yeah, OK, it was a Pantene study. But it still counts!!!