Learning About Dubai

Ejo #35 – Welcoming Our 18th Guest To Dubai (And How We Entertained Him)

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We have just clocked over four years in Dubai. Four pretty interesting years. Lots of ups, a few downs, lots of travel, and plenty of visitors. Eighteen of them actually (though really it’s just sixteen, as two of them were returning guests)! I have to admit that next to organising our own travel (which truly is one of my favourite things in the world to do – does anyone have any idea how I can make a living from it?) I really get off on devising awesome itineraries for friends’ visits to Dubai. I’m like some kind of uber concierge (if I do say so myself), tailoring expeditions and events to each person’s unique predilections. I take into account the visitor’s personality, interests and booze tolerance (very important as you’ll find out later).

Our most recent guest (#18) was Greg, a friend I’ve known for about 15 years. Recently separated from his partner, Greg was very open to new experiences which made him a really easy guest to cater for. In fact, when I asked him if there was anything in particular he wanted to do while he was here, he gave me the following requests:

1. Something with a view;
2. Something in the desert;
3. Something in water;
4. Something that David and I hadn’t done before.

Let me make this clear. A brief like this is HEAVEN to me. It’s focussed, but not too specific. Just perfect. It allows me to flick through my mental filing system of fun things to do without getting bogged down by details. And you know what? We had fun. I admit I don’t ALWAYS get it right. But I’m getting better. And I hope that coming to visit David and me in Dubai isn’t just another thing to tick off your list. I hope it becomes a memorable, stimulating and exciting memory. So, here’s what we did when Greg was here.

    DAY ONE

Greg arrived early. Like 5.20am early. Which wasn’t a huge hassle for us as David and I were both finishing night shifts. By 8am we were all in bed snoozing and resting up for our 12.30pm Champagne brunch at Yalumba. So, brunch at Yalumba is a bit of a Dubai institution. Everyone has to do it once. And for this very reason, David and I have to do it lots of times! It wouldn’t be right for friends to miss out on this experience just because we’ve already done it several times. It’s a sacrifice, but that’s just how we roll. And since we have done it more than a few times (with the battle scars to prove it) we are better equipped to handle the copious amounts of alcohol that flow at the brunch. I say “flow” but that’s like describing a tsunami as “flowing”. Yalumba staff must be the most optimistic people on the planet, because to them no glass should ever (EVER) be half empty. I have, on occasion, had a waitress top up my glass with Taittinger before I’d even had a chance to put it down after taking a sip. They’re like Champagne ninjas! As you might imagine, this makes it virtually impossible to keep track of how much you drink. Consequently, it’s very easy to get completely hammered in a very short period of time. Which is exactly what happened on this occasion.

Greg in tiara! Things just went downhill from here.

But the fun didn’t stop there. Half price drinks afterwards enticed us (and other punters) to stick around for a few hours afterwards, ensuring lots of after-brunch shenanigans. This included literally pouring with sweat, dirty dancing with complete strangers, sneaking into the roped off swimming pool area (I’m looking at you Greg), followed by being evicted from the roped off swimming pool area, tequila shots (always the first sign of real trouble), and general good times. The good times, unfortunately, stopped for Greg when we got home at about 7pm whereupon he went into his room, closed the door and didn’t venture out again til morning. He claims he wasn’t sick but there would be no shame if he was. He certainly wouldn’t be the first!

The dreaded tequila shots! Unbelievably, I think we stopped at one. Must have been our years of Yalumba practise that stopped us from having more. Phew!

You know you’re having fun when you throw your head back laughing (and have party decorations all over your person).

    DAY TWO

So, Day 2 had been planned as a relatively gentle day to factor in recovery time. We drove to some of the city’s more iconic landmarks for photo opportunities, taking in the Burj Al Arab, Atlantis Hotel and the Palm Jumeirah. And in the afternoon we went up into the most iconic landmark of all, the Burj Khalifa, for high tea (literally the highest tea in the world, situated as it is on the 123rd floor of the world’s tallest building). We declined the champagne option (with a shudder) and opted for the fruity mocktails instead. It was a lovely brunch with fancy open sandwiches (sans bread for me), quiches, mini-cakes and scones with jam and clotted cream. All set to the soothing refrain of a talented harpist. Very civilised indeed.

Our tray of goodies. Yum!

The view of Old Town from the 123rd floor of the Burj Khalifa.

The harpist and her harp. I think Greg took about four hundred photos of her. She managed to ignore him.

The high tea served as a stark contrast to that evening’s activities. Greg, aware of my interest and (admittedly limited) involvement in helping the less fortunate labourers and workers of the city had requested that we do a food handout. So that night we arranged to meet with 20 men at an Indian restaurant in Karama to buy them a hot meal and give them some food hampers (consisting of rice, oil, lentils, spices, crackers and a few other necessities). The men we were donating to survive by collecting plastic bottles and cardboard and selling them for the meagre price of AED15 per 100kg. Their lives consist of scavenging for a pittance so it felt really great to help them out in this small way. I believe Greg was overwhelmed by how emotional the experience was.

Greg handing out the food hampers.

Greg handing out the hot meals from the Indian restaurant. An Emirati man passing by decided he’d line up for a free meal too. Nice try mister!!!

After the handout we went to Ravi’s Restaurant for dinner. Ravi’s is a renowned Pakistani restaurant that I’ve been wanting to go to ever since we moved to Dubai. The restaurant itself is nothing special, reminding me of a school cafeteria. But the food blew me away. It was delicious, simple fare and cost a fraction of the price of our high tea earlier that day.

    DAY THREE

Day 3 started with an at-home massage for Greg (the poor love must have exhausted himself at high tea the day before). And it continued into another low key day. Lunch, coffee, a bit of mall trawling, and a magnificent dinner at our favourite Thai restaurant, Mango Tree. The terrace of the restaurant looks out over the Dubai Fountain so we had an incredible view of the water works during dinner.

    DAY FOUR

For Greg’s last day, I had arranged a full day trip to Dibba, an interesting town about a two hour drive from Dubai. It’s interesting not least because of its shared ownership, split three ways between the Emirate of Sharjah, the Emirate of Ras Al Khaimah, and Oman! So, even though it’s not in Oman proper, I can technically say that I have now been to Oman! And it truly is stunning.

Chillin’ on the dhow

We were booked on a five hour dhow cruise in the Gulf of Oman, stopping several times to swim, snorkel and splash in the gorgeous blue water. David, Greg and I were the only ones onboard that were brave enough to jump off the second level of the dhow into the crystal clear waters. I admit I almost didn’t do it. It was pretty scary perched out there on the railing looking down at the water several metres below. But I had David count me down and just jumped when he ran out of numbers! It was exhilirating.

Action Gregor!!!

The cruise included a really yummy BBQ lunch of tandoori chicken, roast veggies, salads and a typical Omani dish of rice and meat. After lunch, the staff put on some Arabic music and got everyone dancing. And then (oh, horror of horrors) it was time to dress everyone up in the traditional Arabic dress of abaya (for women) and khandoura (for men). Now, when it started dawning on me that this was going on I started to slowly back away from the group, retreating towards the other end of the boat. There is no longer any novelty factor in me dressing up as an Arabic woman, and I prefer not to do it. I don’t think that donning a religious outfit is the most respectful thing in the world to do. But wouldn’t you know it, when it was Greg’s turn to dress up, the captain of the boat came and found me and coerced me into trying on the abaya. I resisted, I swear. I put up a fight. But he laid a guilt trip on me, saying that Greg would be disappointed if there was no girl next to him for the photos. Sheesh Greg, the things I do for you!

Not happy Jan! Still, I look pretty good in an abaya, don’t you reckon?

After that we stopped for a spot of fishing. A few people caught some little fishies, throwing them back after taking a photo (the fishing season hadn’t officially started yet). As we started the engines to take off home again, I had an urge to throw my reel back in the water and as we took off I had a bite!! The captain stopped the boat and I reeled in a MONSTER fish! It could have fed a small Omani village for days, don’t you think??

Call Guiness!

After the arduous two hour drive home we didn’t really feel like doing too much. David and I had to get up early to go to work the next day and Greg was flying out in the afternoon, so we chilled out at home and made our famous nachos for dinner (which Greg declared the best nachos he’s ever had, thank you very much). We also messed around with cocktails, concocting one in Greg’s honour. It’s called “Greg Is Greener” and yes, it is green! The secret ingredient is melon milk! Also: tequila!! It’s tastier than it sounds, I swear!

And, thus ended Greg’s four day trip to Dubai. I hope he had as much fun as we did. We are always happy to have people come and visit us, so next time you’re planning a trip to Europe or the region just let us know and we’ll whip you up a personal itinerary for maximum fun. And you can be sure, it’ll be fully customised, just for you!

Ejo #33 – A Few Things You Didn’t Realise You Wanted To Know About Living In Dubai (IFAQ – Part III)

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Here are the answers to a few questions you guys have fielded at me.  I’m always open to trying to find the answer to any and all queries, so please, keep them coming.

 

WHAT’S THAT FUNKY HEAD THING THAT LADIES IN BURQA WEAR?

If we’re talking about the same thing here, I’ve heard it referred to as a ‘batoola’ (please don’t quote me on the spelling).  It’s a traditional Bedouin headpiece which appears to be purely decorative.  Even though it’s shiny and looks metallic, it is usually made from cloth or leather.  I’ve seen a few of these around and it tends to be worn by the more mature lady (which leads me to believe it’s the Arabic equivalent of your grandmother’s Sunday hat, i.e. something that used to be more common a few years ago but will probably die out with the newer generations).  I must confess that the first time I saw a lady wearing one of these masks in public I kind of freaked out a little bit.  I mean, look at it!  It looks like some kind of kinky S&M gear designed to humiliate the person donning it; not dissimilar to a muzzle.  Such comparisons, however, serve only to highlight that everything I look at in Dubai is seen through Western eyes.  It’s not for me to judge something which in Islamic culture is deemed an item that garners respect and reverence towards the wearer.

 

A mature Bedouin lady wearing a traditional Batoola face mask.

 

DO YOU HAVE TO LIVE IN A COMPOUND? 

Compounds are more common in places like Saudi Arabia or Iraq, where it is considered somewhat difficult to assimilate as a westerner.  Dubai is very westernised and offers accommodation in either apartments or villas (which is what they call houses over here, for some unknown reason).  There does appear to be a tendency for westerners to cluster together in certain areas but it’s completely out of choice.

 

ARE ALL EMIRATIS RICH?

A lot of Emiratis have to work for a living.  Of course there are some obscenely rich Arabs out there but they are the exception – unlike other areas in the region, Dubai has never been particularly oil-rich.  Emiratis do receive a lot of grants and concessions from the government (such as heavily subsidised water and electricity rates), but it’s not enough to live on.

 

Having said that, I’ve heard many (albeit unsubstantiated) rumours that Emiratis are eligible for sizable cash bonuses in certain circumstances.  Specifically, that if two Emiratis marry each other, they receive approximately AED200,000 (about AUD50,000) as a gift from the government.  I guess the idea is to keep the Emirati bloodline going.  But there are also whispers that Emirati families sometimes arrange a marriage in order to receive the money, with the couple divorcing after an appropriately “unsuspicious” period.  Even more controversial is the rumour that for every Emirati baby that is born, the parents receive an additional AED200,000.  And you thought the baby bonus in Australia incentivised procreation!!!

 

DOES EVERYONE HAVE A LIVE IN MAID?

No, but a surprising number of people do.  I, personally, couldn’t stand having a stranger living in my house picking up after me.  I cherish my privacy.  Not only that, I am more than happy to pick up after myself.  People that would never consider hiring a live-in maid in their home country do so here simply because the labour is so cheap.  We occasionally use the services of a cleaning agency (on average about once a month) and that is more than enough for us.  Perhaps if we had children I would be more inclined to have regular hired help around the house, but I still don’t think I’d ever go with the live-in option.  Does this have anything to do with my own experience of being a live-in nanny/maid for a year in my late twenties?  I’m not sure – that’s one for the therapist’s couch I think!

 

DO YOU, AS A WOMAN, HAVE TO COVER UP WITH AN ABAYA?

No, I don’t (though sometimes I kind of wish I could).  Women who live in Iran, Afghanistan or Saudi Arabia aren’t permitted in public without covering up their bodies, hair and face.  Dubai is really relaxed about that and there is no problem being in public in regular clothes.  But, whilst it is relatively moderate, the UAE is still an Islamic country and this should be respected by visitors.  It is deemed immodest, and thus very rude, to show your bare shoulders or knees.  For some reason though, there is never any shortage of these body parts (and sometimes even more) on display, with women frequently wearing super skimpy outfits in public.  I’ve been here so long now that it actually makes me cringe whenever I see it.  David and I flash imaginary “red cards” whenever we see bare shoulders or too much thigh being exposed in the mall.  I can’t get over how people could be so insensitive to the culture of the country in which they are guests.  Sure, I do occasionally miss being able to wear shorts and singlet tops but you know what, I just save that kind of attire for when we go on holiday.

 

Things are getting so bad here with people disregarding local sensitivities that there is talk of making conservative dress code a law.  One for which you could actually go to jail for flouting.  Now, I think that might be an over-reaction, but it gives you an idea of how offensive it is to Muslims to see people walking around in public in varying degrees of undress.

 

DOES ALL THAT SAND HAVE (NEGATIVE) EFFECTS ON LIFESTYLE?  FOR INSTANCE REDUCED LIFESPAN FOR CARS?

There really is a lot of sand here.  And with even the slightest breeze, that sand becomes airborne.  So everything gets covered with it.  There are some labourers whose only job it is to sweep sand off the road.  Talk about a Sisyphean task.

 

A common scene on the roads in Dubai. Sand, sand everywhere.

 

Sandstorms are not an uncommon occurrence and I imagine that all that blowing sand is not very good for vehicles but there aren’t any official figures on the actual impact.  And anyway, for a very small fee you can have your car regularly cleaned at home, at work or even while you shop.  Mobile car cleaning is big business over here.  There are several guys in our apartment building car park who will clean your car overnight, three times a week for about AUD25 a month.  It works out to a little over two bucks a wash and since it’s being cleaned every couple of days, the sand doesn’t really hang around long enough to cause damage.  That’s the theory anyway.  Personally,  I’ve always been a little hesitant to have my car cleaned this way as their equipment usually isn’t the best and if they do scratch my car (i.e. by rubbing the sand into the paint with a dry, dirty rag for instance), I have no recourse.  But I think I’m in the fuddy-duddy minority about that, as it doesn’t seem to bother anyone else.  To be honest though, I’m pretty close to caving on this point.  And to be completely honest, it hurts me more to see my beautiful baby always covered in sand and dust.  She deserves to be shiny and sparkly clean.  So I relent.  So far, so good.

 

DO YOU GO TO THE MOVIES OFTEN?

We did go to the movies a few times when we first got here.  Being a shift worker is great because you get time off to do things, like go to the movies, when most other people are at work.  Unfortunately, in a city like Dubai, where a lot of people don’t actually work, that advantage is negated.  And, apart from the fact that we weren’t getting the movie theatre to ourselves anymore (as we were accustomed to back home), a strange thing occurred the few times we did decide to go.  The strange thing I speak of is censorship.  Yep!  It’s alive and well in the UAE.  Too many times we’d be getting right into a story, watching as our protagonist and his lovely lady leaned in for a kiss, when BAM – we’d be snapped back into reality by a vicious cut in the celluloid, rejoining our heroes just as they were buttoning up their shirts (a fetching glow to their cheeks).  It is considered indecent to show even the most modest re-enactments of a sex scene in this culture.  And it’s just too bad if anything crucial to comprehending the rest of the movie happens during the deleted scenes.  David and I have watched entire films, at a complete loss as to what was happening.  The explanation lay on the cutting room floor!  And the censors here aren’t winning any Oscar awards for editing either.  Five or ten minutes either side of an offending scene is considered “close enough”.  We have actually paid money to watch a two hour movie that finished in a little over an hour.  And as you can imagine, no, it didn’t make any sense whatsoever!

 

In addition to that, movie etiquette here is somewhat different than we are used to.  For instance, in Australia people tend to go to the movies to, well, to watch a movie.  In the UAE they go to catch up with friends.  And I don’t mean catch up by watching the movie together.  I mean catch up by talking loudly for the duration of the entire film.  Or sometimes they go to conduct business meetings via conference on their smartphone.  Yes, they do that.  And my personal favourite: to convey scene-by-scene what is happening in the movie to some disembodied person, who for some inexplicable reason couldn’t make it to the movie themselves, but is still there in spirit and would like to know exactly what is happening on screen.  So no, we don’t go to the movies anymore.  I’d rather stick hot needles in my eye.  Hope that answers your question.

 

DO YOU ACTUALLY LIKE LIVING IN DUBAI?

You know, this is actually a tricky question for me to answer.  It’s certainly more complex than a yes/no response.  In fact, I think it deserves an entire ejo to itself.  Let me get back to you, OK?

Ejo #32 – Eyebrow Threading in Dubai (And How I Eventually Found My Eyebrow Nirvana)

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So, let’s talk grooming.  Specifically, eyebrows.  Eyebrows are a strange facial feature, aren’t they?  Do they even serve a purpose?  I mean, eyelashes keep things out of your eyes, right?  They have a function.  But eyebrows?  I don’t think they do a whole lot.  Unless, of course, you don’t have any.  In which case, you just look weird.  So perhaps their use is just decorative.  But that’s not to say they’re not important.  I know that when I have nicely shaped eyebrows, my face seems neater and better defined.  I look spiffier than when I’ve let them grow all wild and woolly.  Seriously, when I haven’t been to the beautician for a few weeks, I start to look like a crazy old cat lady.  Slightly deranged.

 

So, when did I start grooming my eyebrows?  Well, as with most things, I was a bit of a late bloomer and didn’t even think about it until I was in my late twenties.  Yes, I did look like a deranged, crazy old cat lady until I was 27.  And I didn’t even know it!  My mother and my sisters all plucked their eyebrows and I would look at them with curious disdain and insist that I enjoyed my brows being all fluffy and natural, thank you very much.  I was quite the tomboy you see, and saw plucking as a rather high maintenance process.

 

I remember the first time that I became self-conscious about my unruly eyebrows.  I was working as an au pair in the United States, for a lady called Kate, and she would tease me about how crazy they were.  And you know what, I really can’t blame her.  They were pretty crazy.  I look back at pictures of myself from those days and just shake my head.  But at the time, I was just mortified to have my fuzzy brows be the focus of (even good-natured) ridicule.  So one night, I marched into the bathroom brandishing a newly purchased pair of tweezers – and I plucked those babies.  I plucked, and I plucked with gusto!  Kate* had unwittingly created a monster!

 

When I returned to Australia a few months later, I was introduced to the art of salon waxing.  No longer would I have to strain my eyes trying to pluck out each individual hair by hair.  Instead, I could pay someone else to rip them out all at once with hot wax!  Oh joy!  I have to confess that this was the beginning of a fairly dark period in my life.  A period of anorexically thin eyebrows.  I’m not ashamed to admit it.  Everyone was doing it!  Looking back, I blame one particular friend (who shall remain nameless).  She and I seemed to have become entangled in some sort of a brow-off (literally), where we tried to outdo each other in eyebrow scarcity.  I do vaguely remember at one point, the fullest part of my brow being about three hairs thick.  This is not a good look.  I know that now.  I am thrilled (and relieved) to report that after years of such abuse my eyebrows did actually grow back nice and thick and healthy – apparently, sometimes they don’t!  Eek!

 

So, for the uninitiated, waxing involves smearing hot melted wax onto the area under your brow, waiting until it cools and hardens, and then ripping it off.   Now, we’re talking about doing this on some of the thinnest (and most sensitive) skin on your whole body.  It doesn’t really seem very bright when you put it like that, does it?  And I must admit that I have had some horrific waxing experiences.  I’m almost positive that anyone who’s been waxed has at least one war story of their own to share.

 

Sure I had some bad waxes back home in Australia, but they don’t compare to what I’ve experienced here in Dubai.  There really is no regulatory body here (that I’m aware of) to ensure that the practitioner ripping your eyebrow hairs out by the follicle is actually qualified or trained to do so.  And I’m fairly certain that the woman who literally gave me second degree burns on my eyelids did not have a PhD in Cosmetology.  Nor did the lady who, another time, actually ripped the top layer of my skin off as she tore the wax off my brows.  Sheesh, the things we do to look good (though, as you can imagine, I didn’t look so great after either of these incidents).  Nope, after these two experiences I decided that I wasn’t subjecting myself to this nonsense anymore and I resumed home-plucking.

 

Several weeks later, while I was getting a pedicure (come on, I wasn’t going to completely deprive myself of beauty treatments) I noticed a customer leaning back in her chair, with a beautician bobbing up and down over her head.  I was intrigued.  What was going on here?  I looked closer.  The beautician had a cotton thread wound around her fingers, which she’d secured in her mouth, and she was twirling it madly over the customer’s forehead.  How odd!  What was this strange procedure, I asked my pedicurist?  It is eyebrow threading, she told me.  I nodded solemnly, and stored this information away for future use.  Two weeks later I was booked in for my first threading.

 

Let me give you a bit of background information about this procedure (click here to find out more).  It’s not a new thing.  It has been used in India and the Middle East for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.  Nearly every Arabic lady you see in the mall here has her eyebrows threaded.  And I wanted to find out why.  Now, as you can imagine (or know from experience) waxing hurts.  Well, threading hurts even more (and don’t let anyone tell you it doesn’t).  But oh my lord, the pain is worth it.  Because the result is amazing.  Threading is to waxing, as Ferrari is to Toyota.  Sure, the Camry still gets you from A to B.  But let’s face it, you look SO much better getting there in the F430.

 

So, I was hooked.  I shopped around a couple of beauticians before finding a Filipina lady whose results I liked.  But then (as happens so often in our transient society) she went back home to the Philippines and I had to find someone else to keep me looking presentable.  I did a bit of research online and realised that perhaps I should go to someone who had been threading her whole life, rather than someone who had learned how to do it only after moving here for work.  Which meant going to the source.  I had to go to India (or, at the very least, find an Indian beautician)!  And so that’s what I did.  I made an appointment at Sisters Beauty Salon at the Dubai Mall, and it was there that I discovered Eyebrow Nirvana with a very lovely lady called Prameela!  I am now the happiest I’ve ever been with my eyebrows – and let’s not beat around the bush (haha), eyebrows are an important part of your look.  They really do frame your face and can be the difference between looking like an unkempt street urchin, or a fresh-faced lady of elegance.  It may have taken me 40 years to look like the latter, but it was worth the wait.

 

* I’d like to actually thank Kate for being the only person to have the courage to point out that my eyebrows were unacceptably shaggy.  Who knows what I’d look like now if it wasn’t for her!

 

UPDATE:  A few of my very knowledgeable friends have informed me that eyebrows exist to prevent sweat from dripping into your eyes.  How do you like that!  Good one, Mother Nature!