Dubai

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

Amsterdam, Learning About Dubai, , , , , View all 8 comments

 

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!!!

 

Ejo #45 – Iftar Meal Handout

Food, Islam, Learning About Dubai, Photographs, Ramadan, Roshni In Dubai, , , , , , View all 5 comments

 

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote an ejo asking for people who were interested to contribute some money towards buying some of the less fortunate residents of Dubai a nice, hot, tasty meal to break the Ramadan fast. As well as David and me, FIFTEEN others stepped up and sent me money. Every single cent of that money went towards the food. Here’s how it all went down:

 

It was somewhat fitting that the day of the Iftar dinner handout was particularly hot and humid. After all, should I really expect to feel comfortable whilst handing out food to impoverished people on the street? I don’t think so. Unfortunately for me, I was also feeling a little bit under the weather from a pretty bad head cold. And to top it off, I’d only had two hours sleep the night before. We arrived home from a trip to Switzerland at 1.30am and I had to wake up at 3.45am to get to work. I can hear you: Trip to Switzerland?? And you want us to feel SORRY for you?? I guess not, but c’mon, two hours sleep is still only two hours sleep. Anyway, to sum it up, I was feeling pretty crappy and I would much rather have been at home in bed sipping on chamomile tea than driving around the back streets of Satwa trying to find a parking spot to set up the handout. But I had made a commitment, and nothing was going to stop me from honouring it.

 

The amazing Green Palace Restaurant that packages the meals for handouts at a SUPER reasonable price. Thank you so much to the guys that help out with organising the food!!

The amazing Green Palace Restaurant that packages the meals for handouts at a SUPER reasonable price. Thank you so much to the guys that help out with organising the food!!

 

416 meals at 12dhs each comes to 4992dhs. Thank you to each and every person who gave money towards this cause.

416 meals at 12dhs each comes to 4992dhs. Thank you to each and every person who gave money towards this cause.

 

When Roshni finally found a place to park and set up, men were already beginning to form an orderly line. Thanks to the wonderful and generous people who parted with their hard-earned cash to share a meal with someone in need, we had 416 packages to give away. And we had 416 men with hungry bellies and grateful eyes lining up, ready to receive their gifts. Each package contained dates (traditionally eaten to break the Ramadan fast), a hot chicken biryani and samosas, a tub of yoghurt, fruit juice, a crisp apple and a small dessert.

 

Getting in line. Throughout the handout some cheeky men tried to cut in line but we sent them right to the back! The whole thing ran like a very well oiled machine!

Getting in line. Throughout the handout some cheeky men tried to cut in line but we sent them right to the back! The whole thing ran like a very well oiled machine!

 

I started handing out the meals to the men, the sun beating down on all of us. Before long my jeans were sticking to my legs, sweat ran down my back and trickled down my face. But I didn’t care. I was just so happy to be doing what I was doing at that very moment. And the men were hot too, some of them soaked with perspiration. For me it was a temporary discomfort, for them it was probably something that they have to live with all day, every single day. I kept handing out packages. I tried to look each man in the eye as I handed him the bag containing his food. Not all of them looked back at me. Some just wanted to grab the meal and go. And that’s OK. I absolutely understand that. The ones that did make eye contact though, the ones that looked me in the eye and said “thank you” and allowed me to say “you’re welcome”, the ones that connected with me, brought me such an intense shot of sheer joy that I felt like I was going to burst with happiness. I was grinning from ear to ear.

 

Trying to balance all the boxes in the car with Mridul's help.

Trying to balance all the boxes in the car with Mridul’s help.

 

If you look closely you can see that the guy in the foreground has two different shoes on. He probably just found them on the street. That's the level of destitution of some of these men. And it's heartbreaking. Particularly in this supposedly RICH city.

If you look closely you can see that the guy in the foreground has two different shoes on. He probably just found them on the street. That’s the level of destitution of some of these men. And it’s heartbreaking. Particularly in this supposedly RICH city.

 

Look at that beautiful, happy face.

Look at that beautiful, happy face.

 

Sweaty, but happy!

Sweaty, but happy!

 

More happy customers.

More happy customers.

 

Smiles all round. The good feelings were palpable!

Smiles all round. The good feelings were palpable!

 

Bon appetite!

Bon appetite!

 

Some of you might be aware (maybe because I keep going on about it????) that I’m not really loving living in Dubai right now. I don’t feel like I’m at home here. I haven’t found my “people” so I don’t feel like I belong. And this puts me in a perpetual state of lassitude. If I’m not sad, I’m feeling disconnected, switched off and isolated. Naturally, this is not a very nice way to live and I am hoping it’s just a temporary phase. But until it’s over, I’ve found that (short of actually getting on an aeroplane and getting the hell out of the country) not much alleviates this melancholia. But you know what does make things better? Getting involved in this kind of charity work, alongside one of the most generous, giving, empathetic, compassionate and hard working people I know – Roshni Raimalwala. I drove home from the handout absolutely floating on air. In fact, I was so emotional, so overwhelmed with how good I felt about what we’d done, that I actually had a little cry in the car on the way home. But it was a good cry. Tears of joy.

 

To give money to charity is wonderful. But to actually hand a person something that they need is something else altogether. To touch that person’s hand, and see the gratitude in their eyes and be able to elicit a smile from them is a mountain of a reward. It’s the pinnacle. It’s Everest! I wish that all of you who gave money for this handout could experience the same amazing feeling. I hope that by writing about it, it puts you there in my shoes for just a moment so that you can feel it for yourselves. Because you deserve to feel this good. You haven’t just handed over money, you’ve dipped into your humanity. You’ve reached out and changed someone’s life, even if just a tiny little bit.

 

So thank you. From me, from Roshni, Mrinal and Mridul, and from the 416 people that we helped to feed on the last day of Ramadan 2013.

 

Ejo #44 – Ramadan: It’s A Time For Giving

Emirati Info, Islam, Learning About Dubai, Ramadan, Roshni In Dubai, , , , , View all 6 comments

And so this is Ramadan. The time of year that our Muslim friends abstain from eating, drinking, chewing gum, smoking, having sex, dancing, singing and having bad thoughts during daylight hours. Wow man, it all sounds rather difficult. If you don’t think so, perhaps give it a go. Say, starting tomorrow. For a month!!!! Yeah, I thought so.

 

The reasons for fasting are numerous. It’s supposed to give you a greater understanding and appreciation of what less fortunate people experience every day of their lives. People for whom hunger and thirst are a constant struggle. So it fosters compassion. It is also a time for gratitude, for the blessings that have been bestowed upon you. Ramadan is all about showing restraint and self-control. Not just in fasting, but also in the way that you think about, and treat, other people. It’s a time to show good manners, compassion, patience and engage in a feeling of community. Ultimately though, Ramadan is meant to remove the distraction of the trappings of everyday life (sustenance, food, entertainment) in order to allow the faster to focus on communing with God. Ramadan is when a Muslim’s devotion to their faith is at its most concentrated and pure.

 

It is a really special time in a Muslim’s year, and even though it is something that must be very difficult to do, I have never heard a Muslim complain about having to fast. Everybody seems to do it with great grace.

 

An aspect of Ramadan that I’d like to talk about a little more is goodwill and charity. The prophet Mohammed (Peace Be Upon Him) once said, “A man’s wealth is never diminished by charity.” One of the five pillars of Islam is Zakat, the requirement to donate 2.5% of whatever you have earned that year to aid those in need. Zakat can be done at any time of the year, however it seems that most people tend to give during Ramadan. And I’d like to join in.

 

Let me tell you something. Living here is hard for me, for a number of reasons. One of those reasons is the major disparity between the “haves” and the “have-nots”. The divide is enormous. I think because we’ve lived in a veritable construction site for the last four and a half years, constantly exposed to the daily grind of labourers, it’s something that we can’t simply ignore. A lot of other people can. It’s not in their face, so they don’t worry about it. I do worry about it. I’ve written often in the past about how the plight of these guys cuts me to the bone. I’ve written about how I’ve tried, in my own very tiny way, to humanise them. To hand them a bottle of juice or some fruit once in a while. To wave hello and goodbye. To smile. It hasn’t been enough, but it’s something. Unfortunately, with the way the construction is constantly changing the landscape around our apartment building, we are no longer in constant contact with any particular labourers, so we are no longer able to develop any kind of bond or friendship or acquaintance. It’s more difficult to make a connection when you don’t see someone every day. Which is why it’s all the more important for me to try to do something special to help ease their lives, even briefly. Even if it’s just for one meal.

 

My friend Roshni, who used to work with Karama Kanteen is my biggest inspiration. She has devoted her life in Dubai to helping those that need it the most. The men that even the government has shamefully turned their backs on. Whenever I have some spare money, I call Roshni and we organise a hand out. She tells me what food and drinks to buy, and she uses her contacts at the labour camps to rally the men together.

 

Some of you might remember my Christmas Ejo of 2011, where I organised a collection from friends all around the world. Well, I think that Ramadan 2013 is a fantastic time to do it all over again. A lot of these unfortunate men are Muslim, and they must fast during the hottest time of year. And let me tell you, it has been HOT!

 

This is the hottest I've ever seen my car register. Let's just say it was a VERY uncomfortable day - and I was outside for a total of about ten minutes.

This is the hottest I’ve ever seen my car register. Let’s just say it was a VERY uncomfortable day – and I was outside for a total of about ten minutes.

 

Try to imagine not eating or (even worse) not drinking water for 15 hours a day. Now imagine doing that while you have to work outside in these temperatures. And then, when the time came to break your fast with the Iftar meal (the all-important reward for sacrifices made during the day), all you could afford was a cup of rice and some water. It’s this that I want you to imagine, when I ask you to dig deep and find your compassion, empathy and generosity. My friend Roshni and I will organise a handout to give these guys something to look forward to for one Iftar. A nice cooked meal, some nutritious fruit, laban (yoghurt drink) or juice to wash it down with and maybe even a tasty sweet for dessert.

 

Last time 14 of us got together and raised 4500dhs and fed close to 450 men. I can’t begin to tell you how amazing it is to be a part of something like this, and I’m sure those of you who donated last time can attest to that. Let’s see if we can get even more people to donate this time. I am not asking for huge donations. If you can spare five bucks, that’s enough to feed someone. If you can spare more, fantastic! As before, every single cent goes towards the men – there are no “hidden costs” to this campaign, everything is done by volunteers. If you are interested, then please email me and we can organise a way for you to transfer the money. I know I have left it late, but please let me know in the next week or so if you would like to donate. And we can collectively bring a little bit of Iftar joy to a group of deserving men.