Today came across a real life Carol Beer character (Computer says no from Little Britain), actually it was a guy so let's call him Rajiv.
conversation in mobile phone shop today
me: "Hi.......I do not have roaming on my phone, I went to Oman & I had no signal"
Rajiv:"You need to pay a deposit of £350 to use the roaming service"
me:" Actually you have my credit card details, I have filled in a mandate so you can charge my card if I do not pay"
Rajiv: "We require a deposit"
me:"That's pathetic why do you get my credit card details if you still want a deposit. I want to make a formal complaint about this, who do I need to contact?"
Rajiv:"Contact the government"
me:"Bollocks"
In Dubai it's not a case of the "computer saying no" but rather the "government saying no". The telecoms industry is a duopoly of Government backed organisations and skype is officially banned.
When I was a little lad back in the 1970’s I have fond memories of watching World of Sport presented by Dickie Davies, and especially the wrestling feature with commentator Kent Walton. Those were the simple days with three channels on your television, linoleum flooring, no computers, no mobiles, no internet, no game consoles, but we had wrestling and in my household this was the father & son bonding time. Apart from the news, the “Nai Zindagi Naya Jeevan” Asian programme on the BBC and wrestling my father watched very little TV but he had a great fondness for this sport.
The wrestling would generate powerful emotions in my father, and it was an experience to witness this transformation. He would start slamming the settee, with his fist performing the 3 count. Start shouting at the fighter, as if he was the corner-man, jump up and down, become animated, excited, agitated, every possible emotion would crop up on a Saturday afternoon as he was so passionate and obsessed with the game of wrestling. These qualities have of course been passed down to me but in my case the trigger is a completely different sport, namely cricket.
So there I was in Deira discovering the real Dubai, not the fake malls and sky high tower blocks which are sprawled all over the country but the place where the people who built this fascinating city live and play.
On a makeshift sports playing field next to the Hyatt Regency Deira and close to the corniche I came across hundreds of Pakistani men forming a circle and watching the main event on a Friday afternoon. The freestyle wrestling competition, where the master of ceremony openly challenges the fine young men from the audience to enter the ring and take on the champion. This is sport from the golden ages, how the game was played before the mass commercialisation and sport became a business.
The MC with his Jinnah cap, red dyed beard and a thick stick performed his very own Punjabi version of Michael Buffers “let’s get ready to rumble” and with a sole dhol player encircling the ring with his rhythmic beats it was showtime.
Watching the wrestlers I imagined how this scene would have been replicated across the village in Pakistan, and this is where my father would have developed an interest in the sport. This was a magic moment for me on a personal level, a sense of reconnection and pride.
Now it's time I hit the gym and started training, in case there is ever a veterans tournament in the 200 pound class.
With three days of holidays declared for Eid, I thought it was about time that I started to explore the United Arab Emirates and what better way than to take a road trip on the famously named route 66. Yes Dubai has the E66 which links Dubai to Al Ain, the oasis city bordering with Oman.
Being new to Dubai I tried to use the services of a fixer, someone with local experience and contacts. My landlord a Syrian chap who has been in Dubai for over 10 years seemed the best choice so I tasked him to find me a rental car, ideally a Honda…clearly touching on my sentiments as I was missing my Accord from the UK.
He confidently told me “no problem, my friend I find you a vey good Honda 2011 model at a good price”. So on Monday straight after work I head down to the car rental company to pick up the motor and there was a surprise waiting for me. The Honda was actually a Hyundai, starts with the same letter but it’s not the same car. I mean the Honda is a respectable car for the middle aged boring driver like me, but not the Hyundai that’s strictly for nerdy librarians and clearly not made for the miserable old gits which fit my criteria.
What a disappointment, my fixer either got confused and or he was taking me for a ride. Probably the latter, but I’d been fasting for a month and it’s not good to jump to conclusions, so let’s put it down to human error. With the holiday period in full swing I decided to take the Hyundai in case I ended up with no car.
So this morning I set out on the route E66, travelling from Dubai in a south easterly direction to Al Ain a distance of 130km. Now driving a Hyundai was going to be one dull experience so I decided to spice it up, taking a leaf out Top Gear I decided to do my own version of a “star in a reasonably priced car”. Now after undertaking some thorough research I learnt of the Jebel Hafeet Mountain Road, this runs for 7.3 miles up the mountain of Jebel Hafeet rising 21,000 feet and with 21 corners this would surely be the ultimate test for the Hyundai.
This fine piece of mountain road is said by some to be the finest driving road in the world, even Bollywood had been in action with the film RACE starring Anil Kapoor, Saif Ali Khan being shot on this location. So singing along to Atif Aslam’s “Pehli Nazar Mein” a soundtrack from the movie Race I headed out to Al Ain on the E66.
The human mind is so powerful, the sense of imagination can literally transform a modest Hyundai into finest supercars in the world. The pictures of Saif Ali Khan, Katrina Kaif and Anil Kapoor in fast cars were buzzing in my head and I was clearly out of it. But not for long, as soon as I arrived at the foothills of Jebel Hafeet a mountain range which towers a mighty 1,240 metres and started the ascent the 1.6 litre engine was screaming with the equivalent of mechanical pain. Despite running in second gear the torque was completely lacking and the engine and gearbox were enduring a torturous ride (at this point the driver started praying).
You have to be in a Nissan GTR with 500 horses under the bonnet, or any other supercar to enjoy the driving experience on this most magnificent road. With the Hyundai any thoughts of impressing Katrina Kaif quickly disappeared as I was worried about blowing the engine, clutch, and the gearbox.
Fortunate clearly favoured the brave, and I managed to nurse the car all the way to the top of the Jebel Hafeet Mountain Road. Stepping out and admiring the scenery, I noticed something was not right. I like trekking, and what I enjoy is the peace and harmony at the top. But here the sounds of engines revving up the road spoilt the enjoyment, so I decided to park the car and venture on foot to the ultimate peak.
Now despite having a very impressive trekking cv (Pen Y Fan, Snowdon, Scaffel Pike, Ben Nevis etc) I was venturing in a foreign country without my mentors and trekking buddies drill sergeant MSG & bush tracker FR. This was going to be one tough mission in sweltering desert heat with no equipment, no water, no walking boots actually nothing apart from my mobile phone.
But in front of me were some Pathans walking in flip flops without a worry in the world hiking their way to the top. These guys would never get lost in Tora Bora, they were naturals at walking on mountains so I just had to follow them. And so I did, when they pulled away from me I would listen out for the Rahim Shah Pashtun tracks blaring from their mobile phone and would pick the track up again. Gradually turn by turn, step by step I was at the top and what a magnificent sight it was.
Dubai is a modern city, go back to 1966 before oil was discovered and there were only nomads in the desert and some pearl fishermen on the coast. In fact the emirate did not even have their own currency, but instead relied on the Gulf Rupee which was actually issued by the Government of India.
The expansion of the Emirate, and the construction boom which is unparalleled in modern human history led to a truly futuristic city with an amazing skyline. But the financial crisis has left its mark with many partially completed projected obscuring the landscape.
Close to where I live in Business Bay I can see many towers of all shapes and sizes in the process of completion or even abandonment. Some of the designs are fascinating, others are completely weird. Surely the architects must have been on drugs to come up with some of these buildings.
I’d love to see the expression on the face of Prince Charles if some of these towers graced the London skyline, given his withering hatred of modern architecture. Actually having seen some of the wild and wacky building designs in Dubai I’m becoming a little sympathetic to the Prince.
Buildings in photo
Prism tower $70m project & looks like a prism with a helipad on top.
Iris Bay – oval shaped construction, looks like a crescent moon
One business bay – wedge shaped with increasing floor area as the building rises
On the Dubai Metro there are signs every where warning of fines if you break the rules;
Smoking – 200 Dhiram fine
Chewing gum – 200 Dhiram fine
Eating & Drinking – 200 Dhiram fine
Damaging property 10,000 Dhiram fine
But one rule they missed off is farting on the train, last week I was aboard a crowded train heading home when some dirty monkey let rip a stinker deadly sulphur fart. The foul smell of vile eggs and rotting cabbage lingered in the air for several minutes. With the passengers squeezed like sardines there was little room to escape from this most foul gas, so now I’ve decided to arm myself with a bottle of eau de toilette and my finger will be on the trigger next time I’m on a crowded train.
Today I decided to visit my cousins in Abu Dhabi as I had not seen them for a many weeks. The excitement of a trip to the neighbouring emirate and seeing “me brethren” engulfled me as I got up early to have a shower, sprayed the finest eau de toilette that I have in my collection and donned the best “Junaid Jamshed designer” shalwar kameez.It was Friday, it was me day off, I was going to see me brethren and I wanted to look jolly dapper. I was oozing with “shtyle”, and the designer goatee was the icing on the cake.
I took a taxi to Al Ghubaiba Bus Station to catch the coach service to Abu Dhabi, after purchasing my ticket for AED 20 I was shocked to see the queue for boarding the coach.There were around 300, yes THREE HUNDRED single men or “bachelors” as they are categorised in UAE were forming an orderly line which snaked its way through the vast open space of the bus station. There was no shelter, only the intense heat of the summer sun beaming down and cooking everyone. Within minutes of standing in this dangerous heat and high levels of humidity my bodies own internal cooling system kicked in and sweat was literally pouring to cool me down.
As I waited around 30 minutes until finally boarding the coach, I noticed that the rule in the UAE is that men queue in the sun but ladies & couples are fast-tracked straight to the coach. No waiting, no sun shine beating on your back, it’s like having a “Monopoly” pass GO card.
At that point in time, a moment of creativity hit me…..well I’d like to put it down to inspiration rather than early symptoms of heat stroke. What if I had a life size doll possibly a mannequin dressed in an abaya would this allow me to join the ladies & family queue and save myself from being roasted in the 40 plus summer heat? This would even allow me to bypass the bachelor on the beach rule, and if the mannequin could float in the sea I would no longer need a swimming aid!
I accompanied a friend in Dubai to the UAE/Oman border post at Hatta on a visa run, a lot of Brits do this so that they can extend their stay by a further 30 days without the need for a visa.
When we arrived on the Omani side and entered the border post it was 11.30 in the evening and the place was empty. My friend needed to complete a form for the entry stamp but had no writing instrument, he politely asked the official behind the glass screen if he could borrow a pen. A simple request one would think, but in this part of the world nothing is simple. The reply was a stubborn “NO!” followed by some jibber jabber mutterings in Arabic.
At the same time I muttered my own jibber jabber in the form of “F**k you d***head”, but I was wise to make it inaudible as I knew what was in store for me if the official heard my colourful comments.
So there we were waiting on the Omani side with no pen but in the presence of a rude official, clearly we had no alternative but to sit down play the waiting game. Some traveller was bound to turn up with a biro, but for the next 15 minutes there was none…..No soul to rescue us.
By this time the official had a change of heart, he muttered some more jibber jabber and handed over a biro. He had proved his point whatever it was, and we managed to complete the form and return back to UAE.
When I was back in the office I asked a colleague “why are the Arabs so arrogant?”, and gave the example of the Oman border crossing. His reply was “the Arabs are not arrogant, you are the wrong colour my friend”.
Could I be sitting on a nest egg with my blog?, Imagine Hollywood, Bollywood, Lollywood, or even Nollywood knocking on my door asking for the exclusive rights to all my blogging tales.
Will my exposé’s on Dubai (a lot which have not yet been published) arouse the interests of literary agents? Probably not, but it would be an interesting read for sure.
Last week a desperate worker leapt to his death from the top of the worlds tallest building, he jumped after his employers refused his holiday request.
Just read the online copy of my local newspaper from England and the top stories are;
1. Second arrest over Maidenhead double shooting
2. Man seriously assaulted by gang of teens
3. Police close road after murder arrest
4. Man attacked by knife-wielding gang
5. Slough man jailed for his part in savage murder
6. Teenagers robbed at knifepoint
The good thing about Dubai is the low crime rate, there are no shootings or stabbings unless you end up in Bur Dubai police cell or are on the Mossad hit list.....a relatively safe place.
Starring Foggy (Asif), Norman Clegg (Shakir), & Compo (Shafmeister)
Three middle aged men from England residing in UAE who have never really grown up, face the trials and tribulations of their fellow citizens of the Dubai Metropolis. They attempt to stay forever young by reminiscing about the days of their youth and attempting feats not common to the average middle aged man.
Swapping the quaint village of Holmfirth in West Yorkshire for the bustling city of Dubai, we even have our very own Sid’s café…officially known as the world famous Al Hara Disco Chai café.
Cleggy: “Fancy eur brew lad?”
Foggy: “Ayup…..Onny t' finest discoa chai for uz lad, fra t' world famous Al Hara café”
Compo: “Wha' eur lush cuppeur”
.....(tune in for next episode, when the lads go cruising along the Sheikh Zayed Road in a Toyota Camry singing along to Malkit Singh's "gur nalon ishq mitha".....)
Tried to avoid the cricket after Pakistan’s loss in the semi final, but in Dubai you can’t get away from it.
I went to a restaurant and the final was being televised on the various flat screen televisions which at any other time would be playing Bollywood soundtracks. Caught a taxi and the driver was listening to the commentary, went to some stores in Meena Bazaar and the shop assistants were not interested in serving me but instead were glued to radio sets listening to the updates.
I sensed an opportunity, let’s play the “Chuck De India” card and as India are on course to win I will walk away with a hefty discount. Everyone’s a winner!
No luck, the best I managed was a 10AED discount on a 3,400AED price tag, 0.3% off. What a joke ! so I walked out of the store without buying anything, and then all the way home I had to endure the wild celebrations of the Indian fans. Felt like I was in Mumbai and not Dubai.
Last time I went to see India play cricket on the big screen at Lamcy Shopping Mall in Dubai they lost to a team in green….South Africa, an excellent bowling spell and an efficient run chase was sufficient to beat them. To be amongst 500 Indian fans and experience the deadly silence of seeing their team lose was a joy.
In order to calm my superstitious nerves I will be returning to the same mall tomorrow, to face the same 500+ Indian fans, and support the team in green….this time Pakistan.
Looking forward to chanting the familiar banter “you’re not singing any more”
" Fareed, I thought that I was in trouble; the whole world is in trouble! When I climbed the hill and looked around, I saw this fire in each and every home."
In Dubai there are no hills, but plenty of tall buildings. Today I came across a South Asian migrant worker who was in the local grocery store and thinking twice about spending the meagrely sum of 50 pence (3 AED). In the end he walked out empty handed, I bought the item in question and gave it to him. I then discovered that he was the sole bread earner and was supporting his family in Bangladesh. He had just learnt that his father was critically ill. Suddenly my crap day did not seem so crap.
Every morning after I’ve showered I perform my bodybuilding pose in the bathroom mirror and ask the question ;
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who’s the fattest of them all?
And the reply from my hip hop urban groovy mirror is
“you de phattest daddy for sure!”
Now in case you are not so fluent with the urban street talk, the definition of PHATT is “cooler than cool”, not to be mistaken with the homophone “fat” which implies that you’re a tub of lard.
So I’ve been feeling really good, my mirrors been telling me that I’m a lean mean eating machine and I’ve continued to fuel it to the brim with all the calories I can get my hands on. Fast food, hot food, cold food, spicy food, exotic food from all corners of the world.
Food, food, glorious food !
Now you know where this is ending, the mirror has been cheating me and my camera who never lies finally revealed the truth in all its multi million pixel high definition glory. I’m carrying a spare tyre, and it’s inflating fast.
However I’m not the only one, actually around 70 percent of UAE residents are classed as overweight or obese. That’s a shocking fact and I’m changing my diet and increasing my exercise to get rid of the excess baggage.
Burj Khalifa - the tallest man made structure in the world, standing at a mighty 828m, and extends to over 160 stories. It is an impressive and iconic building which graces the Dubai skyline like its very own Northern Star. Wherever you are in the capital you can look up and navigate yourself across the bustling city, by this magnificent landmark.
There is an observation deck on the 124th floor, and the Otis SKYWAY double deck elevator will transport visitors at an amazing 10 metres per second which is very close to 40mph….so my advice don’t hit a child whilst riding the elevator !
The journey to the top is an ear popping experience and lasts just over 1 minute, and then you’re free to enjoy the views of Dubai (smog permitting).
The tallest tower in the world was built by a truly international team comprising American architects, Korean building contractors and not forgetting the south Asian migrant workers.
As you come to realise in this part of the world the chain gangs of little brown men, do not receive any acknowledgement for their efforts and sacrifices in constructing Dubai’s magnificent buildings. In fact they don’t even receive a fair wage, 12 hours in the sun, 6 days a week and for all your efforts you’ll be lucky to receive $4 per day.
Not happy? Then how do you fancy being deported?
This is modern day slavery, I know America was built on the back of the slave trade but I thought mankind had progressed ….but clearly this is not so.
I may be homesick, I may have had a shit day in the office, but every morning when I wake up to the sound of Bill Withers and “Lovely Day”, I feel good. Looking out of the window I can see the sun is shining and I can sense it’s gonna be a lovely day.
As I get ready and head to work reality hits home and it begins to feel like groundhog day.
Sheikh Zayed Road, with Burj Al Arab & Dubai Marina in the back ground
Dubai seems to be the area with the highest density of Bugatti Veyron’s in the world. I just arrived back at my apartment block and saw one performing a three point turn in the car park, an Emirati had come to pick up his girlfriend who lives in the tower.
The car is truly amazing as is the price at $1.6m, that’s around £1m Great British pounds, and for that you get over 1180 horses under the bonnet and a top speed of over 250mph.
Impressive car, impressive money, impressive way to transport a lady on a date. But do you know what the most impressive thing I learnt today after seeing a Bugatti Veyron for the first time?
I called out the security guard and told him about the amazing Bugatti Veyron, how this motor was like Concorde a truly fantastic piece of engineering. But the Bangladeshi guard was unmoved. He showed no emotion at the car unlike me, I probed away and discovered that he has not been paid since the start of this year. This is the guy who works 12 hours per night, every day of the week, guarding the property whilst the tenants enjoy a restful sleep. And for his efforts he’s been denied
his rewards, this is the ugly side of Dubai.
I then understand fully why he was not at all impressed by the Veyron, and realised that you can only enjoy the wealth and materialism in Dubai if you walk around with blinkers on.
Has the world gone mad, or am I just a cynical old git?
Today I read about the adopt a labourer campaign in Dubai, according to the people behind the scheme “simply by speaking on the phone to a labourer, for five minutes just once or twice a week, you could change their life”
http://www.adoptalaborer.com/
Excuse me, but by paying them a decent wage you can definitely change their lives for the better. It’s not rocket science and you don’t have to be Einstein to figure this out.
Can you imagine the phone conversation?
Me in an air conditioned coffee shop, sipping a latte and tucking into some snacks…the poor worker has just returned to the labour camp after enduring 12 hours of manual work in the hot sunshine and eating a substandard meal of rice and lentils.
It’s crazy, just give them a fair wage, and not some soppy initiatives.
Workers cleaning the glass panes of the Emaar Towers, these are located at the entry point to the Burj Al Khalifa development. The towers are 42 and 34 stories high and will mostly house offices.
I remember being 40 feet up in the trees at Go Ape, and my legs were turning to Jelly. These "spidermen" are armed with a rope, bucket and a squeege and daily fight the nasty villian sandman.
Photo of a cleaner in Dubai, he is covered up to protect from the harsh conditions including sun & sand.
Captain's Log, Stardate 050311.5. We have entered a spectacular multi layered social stratification class system in the United Arab Emirates, during our most critical mission of research into the human species. Our eminent guest, Dr Khan, will attempt to outline the sociological order between the federation and the multi ethnic race of workers.
Thank you captain Kirk, UAE is host to nearly 200 nationalities. With a population of 5 million just under 20% are native Emiratis the rest are expatriates. India tops the table with 1.75 million nationals residing in UAE, then the 1.0 million Pakistani’s, followed by 0.6 million Bangladeshi’s, Other Asians including Phillipines, Iran & Sri Lanka at 1.0 million.
The quality of life in Dubai is all dependent on where you sit on the food chain, this is influenced by your ethnicity & tribe. So typically you will not find native Emirati’s working in the private sector. The colour of your passport is also a very important factor on the status and compensation that you can expect in UAE.
If you’re an unskilled Bangladeshi or Pakistani then your net worth is not a lot, you can labour all day on a building site or clean the streets and receive the equivalent of £140 per month. However if you’re a holder of a Western passport and a professional then Dubai is a nice place to live, tax free earnings, sunshine every day, and you’ll never need to do the cleaning, washing, ironing, pushing the baby buggy etc….just leave it to the domestic help & be a lazy slob.
Half-life is the period of time it takes for a substance undergoing decay to decrease by half, well it’s been 6 hours since I had the Methi Chicken and the odours are actually getting stronger rather than weaker.
Clearly the sweat and perspiration induced by riveting, edge of seat action from the Arsenal – Barcelona game clearly did not help matters, and spraying half a bottle of Lynx only offered a somewhat temporarily relief.
I was so intrigued into the strong smell of Methi that I undertook some research. Basically Methi has a compound known as 3-hydroxy-4,5-dimethylfuran-2(5H)-one (aka sotolon) which gives it a distinctive flavour.The human body doesn't metabolise sotolon at all, so it passes through the body unchanged - this makes sweat, urine and the breath smell like ,,,,,yes you’ve guessed it Methi !
Talking about genetically modified foods, why can’t some clever boffin make Methi smell like some expensive cologne.
Went out with some friends for a meal at a Pakistani restaurant close to the Burjuman shopping centre, afterwards we decided to head towards the world famous Disco Chai Corner (Disco Tea) and experience the finest masala tea that Dubai can offer.
We came across a very small shop located on a street corner, a complete change from the coffee/tea shops which you find in all the malls. No fancy furniture or décor in this joint, only the finest Chinese made plastic seats and stools in various different colours and sizes neatly arranged on the pavement.
This was café culture desi style, you could quite easily be in the backstreets of Karachi, Dhaka or Mumbai. The furnishings may be simple but the place definitely had a soul, the constant stream of customers including drive by’s confirmed the popularity of the tea house.
The disco tea was very nice, it was full of aromatic spices and herbs which made a pleasant change from the standard tea bags that I was accustomed to. I was told that the actual ingredients of the disco tea was a secret known only to the café owner and had been passed down from generation to generation.
Legend has it that if you knock back two cups of Disco tea you start to suffer from Saturday night fever, and will have a strong urge to strut your stuff on the dance floor. With this health warning in mind and my weakness to the sound of Disco I decided to be cautious and only have one cup.
When I returned back to my place I decided to google “disco tea”, and see if I could discover which herbs and spices they use to prepare this fine drink.
UHH OHH, SHOCK HORROR !!!
Disco tea dance is high energy disco dance performed by gays, listening to tracks from the 70’s & 80’s.
Looking back now it’s beginning to make sense, the place was full of marvellously Moustachioed Men who were smiling and nodding their heads a lot ! Right I think I’ll stick to my PG Tips.
Most of the taxi drivers that I’ve come across in Dubai are from Pakistan, with a large proportion coming from the North West frontier province. I always make an effort to engage with the driver, it helps to pass the journey and also is a factor in if they deserve a tip or not.
I feel like one of the dragons from dragons den, stroking my beard whilst listening to the drivers perspective on the weather, politics, or sports. Thinking if they deserve a tip, or is it the case that “I’m out” and they only get the exact fare.
Experienced sandstorms today in Dubai, strong gusty winds just descended on the city from nowhere bringing carnage and mayhem. As I was walking back to my apartment the visibility at 1pm was below 100m.
The gale force winds made walking a challenge and the fine sand particles were blowing everywhere. My face was sandblasted, it really feels worn out and rugged now. The youthful looks are weathering away with the extreme and rugged climate of the desert.
My laundry also got hit, with my clothes all strewn across the floor covered in dust and dirt as the clothes drying racks took a tumble. Fortunately the ultra strong pegs managed to keep my boxer shorts from flying off. Can you imagine that? The Basant kite flying festival in Dubai but with chaddis !
The ultra fine sand and dust even managed to work its way into my wallet, now that’s a first…
Dubai is a paradoxical place, the tallest building, the biggest shopping malls, definitely the blingiest capital of the world. Yet despite all the wealth, the flash cars, the glitz and the glamour you see real extremes in every day life.
In the last fortnight I’ve come across three cases of people coming up to me and asking for money, they all appear to be in a desperate situation. Their fraught faces and despondent eyes express a very distressing image, I offer them whatever help I can, and in the process appreciate how fortunate I am.
In a materialistic society where we are constantly striving for more, more & even more it’s worth remembering and helping those who not so privileged.
Went for a shish tawook at a Lebanese restaurant in Dubai and it was a culinary delight, absolutely succulent and tasty.
One hour later I’m sitting in the metro train and suddenly stomach cramps start, I can sense a bomb ticking off in my gut. HELP GET ME OUT OF HERE !!!
Three more stops to go, and I’m adopting the brace position ready for an emergency landing. The journey now goes into slow motion, every second feels like a minute, every minute like an hour. This is so painful, I’m in agony now, the Beirut Bomb is about to go off, getting back to my apartment is mission impossible.
I’m at my physical limits, but mentally the hero inside me manages to focus and gets me home just in time………….
My hair was growing out of control, unless I applied the super mega strong hair gel to hold it down it was defying gravity and beginning to look like a very bad afro. So decided that it’s time to head down town to Bur Dubai and get a hair cut from a traditional desi barbers shop.
Walking down Musalla Street I counted over a dozen barbers shops within a distance of 100 yards, this was clearly going to be a case of playing Russian Roulette with my hair & the barbers shop.I decided to go for the pragmatic approach and choose the busiest shop, this surely must be the best? I mean it’s like asking the audience on who wants to be a millionaire.
Once I was in the shop and firmly seated in the big leather seat it transpired to me that the people in the store were not actually customers but partaking in a community meeting. Overhead the tv blared out bollywood videos and the politics of the world were being discussed in this little shop.
However what really shocked me was the chap seated to my right, he was a Sri Lankan gentleman with a very dark complexion. Jet Black is probably a shade too light for him, and he was happily sitting back with a face mask on. I enquired as to the nature of the mask, was this to clear out his blackheads? not that anyone would notice them. The barber replied no, it was skin lightening cream.
Looking up at the shelves it all made sense, the multicoloured jars of creams, lotions & potions gave it an appearance of a candy shop. This was a modern day barbers shop catering for the personal grooming needs of the metrosexual man living in Dubai. That's all fine and good, but the colour lightening is damn crazy, I mean it doesn't matter If you're black or white. just be yourself……..having said that next weekend I think I’ll work on my tan.
Every morning I look out of my apartment window and see the beautiful Arabian gulf shores, so decided it's about time I visited Jumeirah beach. I packed my digital camera and took a taxi to Jumeirah beach park, it's a fantastic park surrounded with gardens, play areas, bbq areas, picnic tables and a lovely sandy beach.
With my chappals in my hand, trousers rolled up, I was casually strolling across the white sandy beach heading towards the calm waters of the Arabian gulf when I heard a loud whistle go off. Looking back I noticed that the life guard was calling me back.
What ever could be the matter, I thought to myself...I mean my camera was safely stored away as no beach photography is permitted. I was doing nothing wrong, just minding my own business. what possibly could he want ?
Well to my suprise I learnt that bachelors (UAE terminology for men on their own) and not permitted on the beach unless they are wearing swimming trunks, and then they have to be in the sea. So either I needed to fly my family over or buy a pair of swimming trunks. I played the Borat part again..."I am-a Brit, I'm-a new in town, I like-a you" and it worked. I was allowed to paddle in the sea and was told that I could come back at 07:00 any morning to take photos on the beach too.
