Doha’s darkest day

There was a sombre mood among Dubai mums today. A sense of loss. As though the world had tipped on its axis.

Shockwaves were ricocheting through the Middle East as we learnt more about the Villaggio tragedy in the Qatari capital of Doha, in which 13 toddlers, four teachers and two brave firefighters lost their lives as a popular shopping centre was engulfed in flames.

We might not have been directly affected, but with the three degrees of separation that is expat life, nearly everyone in Dubai has connections with Doha. Most of us have searched for childcare in a country that is not our own and every Dubai mum knows exactly what it’s like to rely on malls during the hot months.

What is unimaginable is the pain that the families must be going through. When the little ones were dropped at the mall’s Gympanzee nursery, and the teachers went to work that morning, the idea that a couple of hours later the daycare centre would be ablaze – with firemen unable to access it because the staircase had collapsed – was unthinkable.

The firefighters reportedly had to break through the roof to get to the trapped children, but it was too late. They died from asphyxiation. One family, from New Zealand, lost their triplets, aged just two.

Here in Dubai, we also watched the tragedy unfolding on social media sites, hours before the news was officially reported. On Twitter, we witnessed the panic spreading among Doha mums who didn’t know if their children were safe. On Facebook, there were photos. It was indescribably awful. We prayed it was all rumours and scaremongering. It wasn’t. Nearly 12 hours after the fire broke out, the devastating news was finally released to the world’s media.

And today, as stories of a chaotic evacuation, defunct sprinklers, floor plans that didn’t have emergency exits correctly marked and inaudible fire alarms emerge, we’re asking our children’s nurseries and schools about their evacuation plans and fire drills.

Words simply aren’t enough. My thoughts are with all the families who lost loved ones in this tragedy – and with Doha’s expat mums, a small community, who are still in shock.

Surely they don’t keep cows in the desert?

And other Dubai myths debunked

At the weekend, we visited a hotel we haven’t swum at before and discovered a little Britain. Full of holidaymakers from the UK, there were accents from every part of the motherland and suntans in numerous different shades (ranging from English Rose to mahogany).

DH and the boys jumped into the pool, and I was taking a few extra minutes to get lotioned up (I don’t mess with the sun here), when a sweet lady started talking to me – ostensibly to tell me that there was a bird’s nest in our parasol, but partly because I think she fancied a chat.

She must have been in her late 50s and was on her honeymoon. After I congratulated her and enquired where her new husband was (chatting to a buxom bikinied lady at the swim-up bar!), she asked me when we’d arrived.

“Oh, we live here,” I replied, realising she’d assumed we were also on holiday. “My husband’s job brought us out here,” I said, by way of explanation, as she shifted her bikini straps around so she wouldn’t get tan lines.

“Really? You live here?”

“Well, not here, in this hotel, but in Dubai,” I continued, glancing over to check the boys were settling into the pool OK, as I had a feeling the lady – lovely as she was – didn’t know much about living in the United Arab Emirates and would have some questions.

Before we moved here, we came across a few surprised reactions from people who’d never been to the Middle East and were, most likely, fearful of the region. “Will you have to wear a veil?” “Are you allowed to drive?” “Can you drink alcohol?”, “Is it true they cut your hand off for stealing?” they’d ask.

She didn’t roll out any of these myths, but immediately honed in on the heat.

“But it’s so hot – and the driving!”

“Yes, it takes a bit of getting used to,” I assured her, smiling as her husband swam away from the big-breasted woman and gave us a cheery wave.

“And what about that sandstorm the other day? It was terrible,” she remarked, referring to a Mission Impossible-style blowy day that must have appeared to herald the start of the apocalypse, but which I couldn’t quite remember given that there are so many sandstorms here.

After 20 more minutes of chat, I’d persuaded her that we actually have a really nice life here – the kids are happy; the schools are great; I can and do work out here; I don’t speak Arabic but the kids learn it at school; and yes, I do get homesick and miss family (a lot) but we have plenty of visitors.

There are more than 10,000 cows in the UAE on farms scattered around the country. They’re kept in open, air-conditioned sheds that allow the animals to wander outside and they eat imported alfalfa. Cornflakes are added to their feed, with compost under foot rather than grass.

And, then, she got me. Square on. I was blindsided by a question that came out of left field and for which I had no answer.

“But where are all the cows?”

“There’s no shortage of milk,” she correctly stated, “But where do they keep the cows?”

With the searing temperatures and lack of grass to graze on, there are, of course, no fields of lowing cattle here, but I knew there were dairy cows somewhere (Al Ain?) I just didn’t know where, or how.

(I’ve since asked Google – see right – as the answer is really interesting).

Moving swiftly on, the only thing I was able to tell her, with any certainty, was that milk – and indeed water – is more expensive than petrol in the UAE.

As much as I was enjoying our chat, I was just about to say I should join DH and the boys in the pool when she brought up one more topic – that people probably want to ask about, but don’t dare to.

“You must all be very rich out here, what with not paying taxes and all,” she quipped, audibly tutting as she pondered the amount of money she’d paid into the British government’s coffers.

I think I snorted – for the first couple of years, we were honestly living from pay check to pay check. Politely, I replied, “No, not everyone! The cost of living in Dubai is astonishingly high. Have you been to a supermarket here? It’s about £5 a fish finger, you know!”

How about you? Do you find yourself debunking myths about the country you live in?

Silent Sunday: Flying low over The World

You might recall that for DH’s big birthday, the piece de resistance of the celebrations was a surprise seaplane ride. I didn’t bottle out and, not only that, I’d do it again in a heartbeat!

I took this photo while swooping over The World islands, the epitomy of Dubai’s boom-time ambition. Intended to be developed with tailor-made hotel complexes and luxury villas, and sold to millionaires (didn’t Angelina Jolie buy Ethiopia?), work ground to a halt during Dubai’s financial crisis. But you’ll notice that one resort, on the isle of Lebanon, is open, offering beachfront cabanas that can be rented out for the day, brunch and an exclusive membership plan for yacht owners.

On a desert island three kilometres out to sea, in an uninhabited archipelago, with no easily available source of water or electricity: that’s no mean feat! I really want to go, even if I get there by water taxi rather than by yacht. There’s even a Friday nightclub called “Stranded”, priced around AED250 for entrance and transport.

More birds-eye photos of Dubai’s most iconic landmarks coming up – I took enough photos to fill a month of Sundays!

Elderly couple’s marriage tips go viral

Yesterday, I posted a bit of a rant about getting to work. Yet despite my complaints – and even though the roadhogs who drive like they’re riding the dodgems are unlikely to change their ways – it’s not unheard of for me to actually enjoy my commute.

I get to sit quietly, after all – and I love listening to the radio, especially Catboy and Geordiebird in the mornings.

The other day, my favourite Dubai 92 DJs played a YouTube clip – about marriage – that had me chortling out loud in the car. My steely grip on the steering wheel relaxed and for a few minutes, the furrowed lines on my forehead – the result of rush-hour-induced driver’s grimace – disappeared.

I also realised that other commuters in the traffic jam into Media City were peering at me, but I didn’t care!

Since today is mine and DH’s wedding anniversary, what better day to post this video. Selma and Kenny are an elderly couple who couldn’t make it to their grandson’s wedding and so made a video instead, offering tips on how to have a long and happy marriage. They’re adorable.

And, on the occasion of our anniversary, here are a few things I didn’t know about marriage nine years ago:

- You should never go to bed on an argument…stay up and fight!

- If he lets me think I’m getting my way, I’m happy

- There’s a way of transferring earnings that’s even faster than electronic banking: Me not working

- That we’d end up in Dubai. Didn’t enter my wildest dreams

- That a successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person

Bad manners on the roads

My drive to work isn’t long – 25 minutes or so – but negotiating Dubai traffic can be an adrenalin-fuelled way to start the day.

I hate being ‘extreme tailgated’ – a rude and all-too-common gesture where a car tails you at speed with a 5cm gap, sometimes flashing its lights until you’re intimidated enough to move over. Or tries to sneak round on the hard shoulder like it’s another lane.

Since my route to work is on a two-lane speedway, I’ve had several motoring menaces ‘up my bumper’ over the past few weeks – including a wannabe stuntman today who I was still honking long after he’d disappeared over the horizon. The %@*{xy£x&z!

I mean, if I was walking along, would he come sprinting up behind me, breathe down my neck, jostle me until I fell sideways into the path of a Lycra-clad jogger, then run away at speed? No, he wouldn’t! He wouldn’t dream of it. He might think the metal box he’s sitting in means he’ll get away with it, but it’ll catch up with him, I thought to myself.

Seriously, how hard is it to park in one space? Would you sit on two chairs at a crowded venue – would you?!

My other pet peeves are ‘the weavers’, who hurtle in front of you if you leave more than a five-foot gap, ‘the wrong turners’, who reverse back down exits if they’ve left the highway too soon, and ‘the idiots’ who make right turns from the left lane.

I probably should add that bad driving encompasses all social groups in Dubai and women certainly aren’t exempt. Cup-cake-wielding mums in frilly dresses sometimes start gnashing their teeth with aggression once they’re behind the wheel of the family 4×4. I’m constantly amazed at the honking, the pushing and shoving and the inconsiderate parking that takes place on the school run.

But back to my commute: my other worry is a new speed camera on my route that I keep hearing about. Apparently, it’s causing a lot of controversy for being set at a really low speed, but I don’t know where it is – which means I’m suspicious of every lamp post or road sign I pass. And it’s not always easy to keep to such a low speed when you’re being shunted along from behind.

Glamping in the Middle East: Part 2

I realised over the past week that as expats, we may spend a lot of time in hotels – because that’s where the bars and brunches are – but to truly experience the full extent of Arabian hospitality you really need to book into one. Preferably for a few days. Maybe more.

Sure, we’ve had visitors who’ve stayed at hotels here and been ‘upgraded to an executive suite’, with an on-call butler serving champagne, dates and refreshing rolled face towels on silver platters. So I knew there was a very good reason why holidaymakers love Dubai – returning home with a renewed zest for life, an armful of gold bangles, a Persian rug, a comedy camel souvenir and their best-ever tan (persuaded?).

Behind the tent…Looks inviting, no?

But, until now, all our travel has either been to visit family back home, or – when we’re travelling with the kids – to countries within a tolerable four-hour flying time radius.

At the Banyan Tree Al Wadi resort in Ras Al Khaimah (an hour’s drive from Dubai) this weekend, I learnt that you really haven’t sampled UAE hospitality until:

● Your accommodation is even nicer than it looks on the photos and has its own private, crystal-clear pool outside

● You are transported anywhere you want to go in the resort by gulf buggy (not as lazy as it sounds – the temperature was in the mid 40s)

● A call to reception to request a buggy ride to breakfast also means maids arrive from nowhere to make the beds before you get back

“Honi, I don’t think there’s room in here for both of us!”

● The bathroom (pictured right) is bigger than your living room

● You’re greeted at your breakfast table by a falcon (the UAE’s national bird)

● Luxurious dressing gowns are laid out on the duvet during the nightly ‘turn down’ – and slippers placed by the bed

● The decorative pebbled pools are lit up by ‘fire features’ from which dancing flames arise

Of course, this is all bank-busting stuff if you pay full price, but there are deals-a-plenty to be had in the UAE (we booked one night, and got the next night free thanks to a summer offer). And the great thing about Dubai is the amount of choice available.

If you fancy staying in a vast waterscape, with exhilarating wild-water rides – two of which catapult riders through shark-filled lagoons – and you want to swim with dolphins, then book the Atlantis on the Palm. Or if you can stretch to a seven-star, super-luxe break, check in at the iconic Burj Al Arab, where there’s a private reception desk on each floor and you can arrive by helicopter.

Or, wait a while, and you may actually be able to stay in a room with an underwater ocean view. Believe it or not, architects have designed a half-submerged spaceship-shaped hotel that, if it gets built, will offer guests the chance to sleep below the surface of the sea.

“Are we going there for my birthday?” BB just enquired, totally enthralled by the concept of sleeping with the fish.

Silent Sunday: Glamping, UAE-style

I’ve discovered the most comfortable tent in the world – at the Banyan Tree Al Wadi resort in Ras Al Khaimah in the United Arab Emirates. There were even desert gazelles wondering by. But just wait till you see what else was out the back…

Quite possibly the easiest, most hassle-free camping ever

The birthday week

It’s DH’s birthday – a big one! The actual day was on Tuesday, but as it’s a nice round number it’s turned into something of a birthday extravaganza.

Last year, the day passed in a bit of a blur, because of a medical drama in our family. DH’s lovely brother, who also lives in Dubai, returned from Africa with flu-like symptoms that turned out to be malaria. He came to stay with us while he recovered, so while all this was going on – and I was busy swatting gnats just in case (despite being assured by the hospital there was no risk to the boys) – my attention wasn’t really on birthday celebrations.

This year, I promised myself I’d make up for it, so in dutiful wifely fashion, I’ve been busy organising a birthday DH won’t forget. I think I’ve just about managed to pull off a three-part celebration that’s taking up most of the week:

PART 1: (the day) Presents at silly o clock, before school and work. Then Bab Al Shams, a desert resort located in the middle of absolutely nowhere, for a late-afternoon swim and dinner. We’ve done our fair share of camel riding in the Middle East, so we lounged in the pool and watched tourists clambering on the camels, shrieking as they were pitched forwards at the start (camels use their knees to get up and down). It was quite comedic.

Bab Al Shams Desert Resort & Spa – not too far from where we live and very, very nice

PART 2: (the weekend) We’re taking the kids away, to Ras Al Khaimah, one of the seven emirates of the UAE, for more swimming and more desert. The resort, the Banyan Tree, looks amazing and we’re staying in a ‘Bedouin-style tented villa’. It’s not a tent, I did study the website photos carefully to check, and I suspect it won’t be the ‘oasis of serenity’ it’s advertised as once we arrive. I also just found out my boss is going there this weekend.

PART 3: (the piece de resistance) Using a ‘buy one, get one free’ voucher in the Entertainer, I’ve booked a ride on a seaplane. I may yet bottle out.

Of course, no birthday is complete without cake. Baking is not my forte so I ordered one from Bakemart. I wasn’t sure how it would turn out and fully expected something like exhibit A. So was very pleased with exhibit B, despite the squashedupwriting!

Exhibit A: On facebook (from Walmart in the US)

Exhibit B: Happy birthday DH!

Blowing the diet (spectacularly)

Admittedly, when the climate turns hostile and you have small children, there are times when you feel like you’re in an endless spin cycle of soft play and swimming – with a turbo-charged tumble dryer blasting hot air at you the moment you step outside.

But the truth is, there’s always something new or different to do in this part of the world – you just have to get creative and keep an open mind.

Fashionistas in hats, heels and posh frocks strut their stuff at the Dubai World Cup

Dubai is renowned for pulling out the stops, and I was reminded of this again this weekend at the Meydan racecourse – a megastructure rising out of the desert, overlooking a carpet of lush green grass on which the Dubai World Cup – the “world’s richest horse race” – is held each year. With a purse of $10 million, and a dazzling array of hats, fascinators and feathers, the focus is as much on the fashion as on the horses.

We weren’t there for the races though. We were there to eat, at the Meydan Hotel’s Friday brunch – kind of like Sunday lunch transferred to a Friday, but with a lot more excess. Think gastronomic marathon with buffet stations laden with lobster, crabs, roasted meats (even Yorkshire puddings!), sushi, salads and a smorgasboard of mouth-watering desserts. To say the tables were straining under the weight of so much food isn’t far from the truth.

Sea food – and eat it! (my kind of diet)

“You don’t have to eat it all,” DH told me, as I wondered round, my eyes larger than my stomach and my brain doing a quick calculation to figure out just how much damage I could do to the diet in one meal .

But, whilst the food was amazing, there were a few other things that stood out. On pulling up outside, the sheer scale of the place is breathtaking. The mile-long building is a veritable land-scraper and, even when racing isn’t taking place, you can almost imagine the sound of pounding hooves echoing off the grandstand.

The rooftop swimming pool above the state-of-the-art grandstand and racetrack

Guests can look on from track-side, bar-side, pool-side – or from the bathroom tub in the five-star hotel. I don’t think watching the ponies could get any plusher.

Perhaps the most memorable thing, though, was the attentiveness of the staff who work there. Valet parking is common in Dubai, but at Meydan there’s an attendant for every door of your car – even to open the boot. Kids are treated like royalty (with kids’ entertainment laid on) and the waitstaff are so quick to clear your dishes (so you can move on to your seventh course) that you practically have to put your bag on your plate if you want it to still be there when you get back to your table.

So our experience was more about eating than racing, as there wasn’t a horse in sight at the $1.25 billion racecourse.

Why? Because they’ve all gone to Europe to escape the summer heat.

Midas touch for mothers

I’ve mentioned before that Mother’s Day can get a little confusing when you’re a bi-national family living overseas – and when Sunday is the first day of the working week.

What’s more, last weekend, we managed to take this confusion to a whole new level.

The Body Analyser scales – your fat-ratio revealed, and not gold plated

On Sunday, last week, I rushed home from work, and was greeted with flowers, chocolates – and, drum-roll, a set of digital bathroom scales! (not only do they tell me my weight to the exact decimal place, they also give information that honestly should be censored, such as BMI, fat-ratio and water (wine?) content – needless to say, I never hop on after eating and sometimes don’t drink a drop of liquid for two hours beforehand).

I digress. Last Sunday, we gave chocolates to our nanny, and made a phone call to my American DH’s (surprised) mother in Lebanon. I even wished everyone a happy Mother’s Day on my blog. It was one of those ‘feel-good’ days and we just assumed we hadn’t heard much about it because we were in the UAE and the British expatriate contingent here is larger than the American.

Then, at bedtime, the penny dropped, when a friend I’d sent a greeting to told me it was next Sunday. We’d got the day totally wrong. We were a week early – how embarrassing!

So today, it’ll be a quiet Mother’s Day for us. I’m still feeling wonderfully spoilt by last weekend’s treats and can’t eat too much with *those* scales sitting upstairs. By chance, I have the day off work and BB’s school is also closed. I may see if he’ll join me at Starbucks before going to the supermarket, then I’ve promised I’ll take him swimming.

To all my American mom friends – Happy Mother’s day, again! And, to any US moms in the UAE reading this, I have a little idea for a glamourous Mother’s day gift you could suggest if you happen to walk past the Damas jewelers store at the Dubai mall.

Matching gold iPhones and BlackBerries are also available

Yes, it really is – the world’s first 24-carat gold iPad 3, launched in Dubai and so far only shown to VIPs. But you’d better be quick – there’s only 250 of them. Your DH just has to come up with a cool $5,499!