Category Archives: Dubai

Middle East meets Miami

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It’s warming up in the desert (highs of 39°c / 102°F on Thursday and it’s only March!).

While this was (hopefully) just a blip, a reality of living in the United Arab Emirates is while other parts of the world are celebrating the arrival of spring daffodils (like these) and life bursting forth, in a few short months we’ll witness life being scorched.

But the good news is the rising temps mean it’s beach season – and I’ve been here long enough now to know we need to make the most of Dubai’s beautiful seaside in Spring, before it gets too hot to go to the beach in July and August (lobster is not a good look, but is what you get if you brave the burning-hot sand and soup-like ocean during the hottest part of the year).

This weekend, I discovered a beach we’d never been to before – and decided I loved it so much, I’d like to move there.

Lapped by the aquamarine waters of the Arabian Gulf, Sunset Mall beach is flanked by gorgeous Miami-style condos, with views of Dubai Offshore Sailing Club boats as well as ducking-and-diving kite surfers.

If you tire of this driveable and surprisingly shrubby beach, you can walk to the adjacent glass-walled Sunset Mall to browse the newly opened high-end fashion boutiques inside.

Beach and shopping: now there’s something for everyone!

With fish, kite surfers and sail boats, there's lots of entertainment on Sunset Mall beach

What I ‘should’ eat Wednesday

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“We’ve got work to do,” said the doctor, peering at me from behind her spectacles.

I’d only gone to the clinic to renew a prescription. But having been ‘invited’ back for a double-appointment visit, the doctor – who previously seemed quite chummy, especially when we discovered we’d frequented the same sweaty, student-filled nightclubs at Southampton Uni – suddenly turned all serious.

“Your risk of having a heart attack in the next decade is three times that of the average person,” she told me, after tapping my blood test results into the morbidity analysis app on her computer. “Three times!” I replied. ‘Wow, that’s S.O.O.N,” I thought to myself – images of the boys making their own packed lunches and reading their own bedtime stories flashing through my mind.

I was quite distressed to find out how much 40-60g of carbs really is! I've had to rethink every single meal.

Needless to say, her words scared me enough to seek help with my blood-sugar levels from a Scottish dietitian, whose boyish charm and looks were a motivating enough reason to follow his where-the-hell-are-the-carbs diet plan.

All this transpired because I had diabetes in pregnancy twice, bad enough to warrant spending months injecting insulin into my pregnant tummy. They tell you afterwards you’re at risk of developing diabetes in later life and should have a blood test every year, which I hadn’t done since LB was born.

It was on my mind, however, as my sugar levels have always behaved strangely – leading to a habit I can only describe as ‘prophylactic eating’, in an attempt to stop them crashing. Weight-wise, I’ve put on the ‘Dubai stone’ (expat weight gain is so common in Dubai it’s even got a name) and would, of course, love to shed the extra pounds – which can stop ‘pre-diabetes’, the label I now possess, from turning into full-blown diabetes.

The dietitian looked at my diet. ‘Carb-icide’ he pronounced. Then recommended I eat like a cavewoman. Berries, nuts, seeds, avocados, salmon, green veg and salad are in. Processed foods, bread, pasta, rice, even bananas are out. For added motivation, he showed me a photo of a bikini model and then emailed me a meal plan, practically devoid of carbs.

Pasta, I miss you!

Aside from spending every waking moment either shopping for food, preparing food or thinking about it, the diet is actually great – and working well (having someone tell me what to eat and when is quite handy really – plus I’m less hungry!).

But, oh, how I miss carbs. The limit at the moment is 40-60g a day – practically nothing, as I discovered when eating a supermarket wrap. I looked at the ingredients and was dismayed to see it contained 68g of carbs. A WRAP! It rapidly became an ‘unwrap’ as I ate just the filling.

So, here it is – the meal plan for Wednesday – what I ‘should’ be eating today, in all its cavewoman glory:

Breakfast, 7am
25g oats made with water, add 100ml semi-skimmed milk and 50g strawberries

Lunch, 1pm
Turkey breasts with green salad (50g cucumber, 100g lettuce, 50g green peppers, two celery sticks, 100g radishes, 2-3 whole spring onions and a half avocado)

Dinner, 7pm
A very small lean steak (optional- substitute with white fish or white meat), and 100g green beans

Snacks (Thank goodness, but don’t get too excited)
100g strawberries (10am)
50g walnuts (4pm)

Drinks, 9pm
Wine (subsitute with gin). Ok, I added this myself. It should say 6-8 glasses of water a day (boo!)

The student-led conference

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Back in my day, parent-teacher conferences involved mums and dads trooping into the classroom at allotted times to talk to the teacher, with the student otherwise occupied elsewhere.

Knowing full well you were being discussed, you had little choice but to wait nervously – your ears ablaze – until your parents returned and you could gauge the expression on their faces as they walked through the door.

How times change.

Today we went to my six-year-old’s school for his student-led conference – which I presume are becoming popular the world over.

The information reminded forgetful parents to express pride in their children's progress and provided sample questions!

We’d been prepped by the school beforehand with a letter telling us what to do. It would be a ‘non-teaching day’ (which, and I did have to think about this, was a fancy way of saying ‘a day off for the kids’) with 30-minute slots for each child/parent combo.

The idea was for your child to take you through his or her work in the classroom. In case this whole concept was beyond us, we were advised to be supportive, be positive, be curious and to listen to our children.

A slight, okay glaring, error on my part meant our son was the only child not in school uniform when we rolled up for our turn (DH and I both looked at each other as if to say, “do you not read the emails?”), but I think I made up for it by asking BB lots of questions. Whilst lavishing praise, my journalism training meant I practically quizzed him and what I’d heard about these conferences was right: the kids jump at the chance to show off their work.

One of the books was a diary and, on further inspection, I realised his teacher must know everything about what we do as a family. Our trip to an airport museum in Sharjah, outings on the monorail, parties and visitors – it was all there, coloured in and with scrawly handwriting in places. Thank goodness there weren’t any pictures of mummy sitting on the sofa, glued to the iPad (phew).

As we went through his ‘portfolio’, the teacher was obviously listening from behind her desk, but wasn’t participating – BB did most of the talking and thoroughly enjoyed it.

At the end, as we were leaving, I nudged DH to remind him he’d wanted to ask the teacher about something on BB’s report card. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ll wait till next time.”

Kids – when it comes to student-led conferences, you’re onto a winner!

Where I went Wednesday

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I’ve been loving Mrs Dubai’s Wednesday slots – so far, ‘What I wore Wednesday’ and ‘What I ate Wednesday’.

I’m not even going to attempt a ‘What I wore’ meme because if you saw my outfit right now – navy jeans, a black t-shirt (with sequins but quite a few missing), pink strappy heels and a light grey Jimmy Choo bag that DH picked up in the knock-off markets of China – you’d be able to tell a mile off that I’m no fashionista. (Isn’t there something about not wearing navy and black together? Please tell me if I’m committing a heinous fashion crime!)

Since I’ve been running around today, I thought that for my own WIWW post I’d do ‘Where I went Wednesday’ as I’m always interested in what other people get up to, so here goes:

Yes, that's bling on the back of this pimped-out Hummer, stopped next to us at lights today

10am: Town Centre Jumeirah mall. Appointment with a Scottish nutritionist. This is a blog post in itself, so suffice to say: I’m seeing him because my blood sugar levels are all over the place (pre-diabetes apparently, following gestational diabetes twice). He told me last week my diet was ‘CARB-ICIDE’ and gave me a low-carb, cavewoman-style eating plan that’s actually working. 1kg weight loss so far and fewer cravings!

11.30am: Ace Hardware, Festival Centre to buy paint. I’m finally getting round to decorating the spare room and chose a couple of tones of green, with Canyon Dust for the ‘accent’ wall (you’d think, wouldn’t you, that being surrounded by desert would mean I wouldn’t want a sandy colour indoors, but it matched perfectly!) The plan is to create a lush-looking jungle room.

12.30pm: I should have been in Ikea, but DH had had enough.

1pm: Mirdiff City Centre. Quick stop for a low-GI Sumo Salad.

2-5pm: At home. With the kids, while on and off the computer trying to sort out school application admin.

5-6pm: The kitchen. DH took the kids out to get the car washed, while I cooked chicken in lemon-and-herb sauce, with roasted aubergine. I’m not the best cook so don’t be fooled into thinking this sounds delicious. It was ok.

7-8pm: Upstairs. Herding the boys through the bedtime routine and overseeing BB’s Arabic homework (gobsmacked when he actually wrote his name in Arabic – neater than he writes in English).

9pm: Costa Coffee. Stepped out to celebrate finally being paid for work I did 7 months ago, money I never thought I’d see. Hooray!

Quite a busy day in all. Tomorrow this mall rat is staying home.

Show me the way to go home

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Whenever anyone needs directing to our villa here in Dubai, I grab a pen and a piece of paper and start drawing a detailed map with arrows, landmarks and my phone number for when they get lost.

Addresses in Dubai are really basic. There are no street addresses, no zip/post codes or area codes – and no postal service. Our mail goes to a PO box at DH’s company headquarters, so no junk mail through the door at least, but lengthy delays in receiving post if DH isn’t able to check it for a while (just got the Christmas cards, thanks!)

As for finding places, addresses such as “Past the mosque, first right then turn left after the cat sitting on the wall” are commonplace.

If you’re having something delivered, stores often provide a space on the form for you to draw a map to your home to avoid confusion.

Directing people to our villa has another set of problems, however.

In a previous post, I touched on how a massive roundabout by our compound disappeared overnight – probably while drivers were on it – meaning everyone coming home the next day got totally lost.

Getting home has never been the same since. We now have to join a 6-lane highway in the wrong direction, make a u-turn, get on the highway again, do ANOTHER u-turn, then join the highway one last time – passing our compound a total of three times.

Confused? So is everyone who’s ever visited us.

And, because our road is literally at a right angle off a mega-highway, you have to pull onto the motorway hard shoulder – keeping one eye out the whole time that you don’t get rear-ended by a poo truck – then turn right after a brown sign and traverse some rubble before getting onto our road..

Try explaining that to a kamikaze taxi driver who’s never been here before. It’s the ride of your life, I tell you.

Of course, adding 10km onto our route home really annoys everyone so we cheat. For those who know Dubai, we can go through Global Village, but the best thing to do if you’re in a 4by4 – and there are no police around – is to go off road. Here’s what it looks like … (just don’t try this in a car!)

Hold on, put your foot down, head for the bridge and don't stop in the soft sand...

Once you're out from under the bridge and onto harder sand, you don't have to worry about getting stuck, but the tilt makes me feel sea sick

Silent Sunday

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This tree may not bear fruit, but you can be sure its signal will give your BlackBerry or Apple iPhone a boost…

Good luck finding dates on this tree!

I’ve obviously been going round Dubai with my eyes closed though, because when I posted this photo on Twitter yesterday, I learnt that this telecoms-tower-disguised-as-a-palm-tree is not the first by any means. We saw this on Saturday while on a day trip to the emirate of Umm Al Quwain, but apparently they can be seen all over the Palm and around The Meadows in Dubai. The Meadows is an upscale real-estate development, which – like other communities such as The Greens, The Lakes and The Springs – was named with a ‘desert oasis’ theme in mind.

When the cat’s away…

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It’s another dusty, windy Saturday afternoon and I’m drinking tea at a formica table while the boys burn off energy at an indoor play area.

There’s noise, bad music, lurid plastic, flashing lights, crying children and constant interruptions, but this is my downtime – two hours of respite from being the sole parent in charge today.

I’m sure all mums will know what I mean when I say single-handed parenting can sometimes be like doing a marathon in Manolo Blahniks, backwards and with no-one to tag.

OK, so on DH's list I left off the work bit, the jet lag and travel fatigue, but you get the picture. Jealous? NOoo

From the early morning wake-up calls to tantrums at bedtime, from oldest son’s non-stop, brain-bending questions to youngest son’s refusal to eat anything but chocolate, it always feels like a HUGE responsibility being the only adult on duty at the weekend.

[Said in a hushed voice]: They don’t leave me alone, not even to go to the toilet! And don’t get me started about the fighting.

So when I waved DH off this morning, to the bierhauses and beautiful architecture of Munich, it was with a hint of jealousy on my part, even though I’d actually hate to have to leave home the whole time (and, if the truth be told, I wouldn’t swap roles with him in a million years – nor did I actually see him off as he left even earlier than the kids got up).

But I missed his help when, in the car today while trying to concentrate on traffic, BB started shouting, “MUM, L.O.O.K!! LB’s got his willy out!” – upstaged only by an incident at the supermarket 10 minutes later which saw the Little Boy FLASHING shoppers while my back was turned getting cash from the ATM.

“Enjoy every moment,” well-meaning, nostalgic parents always advise. “It goes by so fast.” And I do try to savour it – just not *this* moment. Or the moment last Saturday when I discovered they’d etched a 1.5 metre-long scratch on the TV cabinet and filled the CD player up with soil.

Angels in standard-issue devil's horns: Nice try BB, but I don't think this will stop your brother from bugging you!

I’ve actually got off pretty lightly today – on previous occasions when DH has been gone, far worse has happened. I came home from work a few weeks ago to be told, by our nanny, that she’d lost BB that afternoon and found him up on the roof, hollering to our neighbours.

We do have lots of fun, too, when it’s just the kids and me, but it does seem that while the cat’s away, the mice will play up, especially on weekends.

When DH gets back from trips, he scoops up the boys, his eyes shining with joy. “They’re such angels,” he’ll say, turning to me.

I’ve learnt to smile sweetly and respond – in a measured way – “Yes dear. Little angels.”

“Both of them.” Before retreating for what I consider to be a well-earned break.

This has been doing the rounds on Facebook recently - love it!

Silent Saturday

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Bloggers will know this should be ‘Silent Sunday’, but as Sunday is the first day of the working week in the United Arab Emirates, I’m posting one of my favourite photos a day early. I think the recent sandstorms in Dubai may have left sand on my brain – probably blew in through my ears – because I’m sticking with a desert theme. The Arabian Desert, from which the city of Dubai grew, is truly beautiful – some of it punctuated with shrubs and the odd tree, and some of it absolutely pristine.

The Big Boy and me, on top of a sand dune – you can just see the Hajar Mountains (Arabic for stone mountains), which mark the Dubai-Oman border, in the background.

Turning the desert green

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“Have you been inside?” It was the question on all my neighbours’ lips last week.

“Yes, twice today,” I heard mums reply. “There’s even a pork section,” – met with an intake of breath, a smile and a wide-eyed “Really?”

We were excited, you see, because we’ve waited three years for a grocery store to open in our compound here in Dubai.

Not only does it mean we don’t have to do a 10km loop anymore just to get milk, it also puts our community firmly on the map – quite something when you consider that in 2009, there was very little here.

Located outside the city in the desert, our newly built villas had sand lots for gardens when we moved in. The front- and backyards were, to the boys’ delight, literally giant sandpits.

The houses are painted a lemon colour – and with rolling desert for as far as the eye could see beyond our compound, the first impression was of acres of yellow, set against the brilliant blue of the cloudless sky.


For a long time, the only way in was via a bumpy, pot-holed track that 4by4s could just about handle without falling apart, but meant cars had to pick their way along, dodging craters, at a snail’s pace.

The roads around the compound were still under construction and I remember well the traffic layout changing overnight – a whole roundabout (a huge one!) vanished and everyone driving home the next day got completely and utterly lost.

Our compound wasn’t (and still isn’t) connected to a sewerage system or a mains water supply – poo trucks take sewage away and water trucks deliver desalinated water to a storage tank.

While everyone loved their brand-new villas, it did feel rather far and sparse, and calling a taxi in those days was like directing someone who doesn’t speak English, and is really only pretending they understand you, to a needle in a haystack.

The vast expanse of undeveloped desert where the boys play - perfect really!


From humble beginnings, our compound has slowly been added to – the swimming pool finally finished (once they worked out how to fill it with no mains water supply), a playarea, gym and dry cleaners opened, as well as a spa offering manis/pedis, massages and hair appointments. The shop took three years because of an electricity supply problem.

Planning is not always Dubai’s strong point.

How does your garden grow? Waiting for the newly planted clumps of grass to merge. In case you're wondering, an irrigation system automatically waters the whole garden twice a day (and yes, we did leave a sizeable sandpit for the boys round the back)!

““Get those villas up as fast as possible, fill ‘em with expats and we’ll worry about the utilities later,” must have been the developer’s mantra.

Today, our compound is even looking green as most people have landscaped their gardens, either planting clusters of grass that slowly merged to form a lawn, or rolling out instant-gratification ‘carpet grass’.

When our own grass was planted, in clumps, LB’s hair was just sprouting too and the race was on to see if our lawn or his locks would grow first.

The boys’ disappointment that I longed for grass and flowerbeds was quickly forgotten when they discovered the enormous patch of undeveloped desert just outside our compound, which we often zoom across in the SUV for fun. Perfect for kite-flying, excavating and quad-biking, there’s even a ravine with steep sides that the kids (and DH) slide down, nicknamed the Cliffs of Despair.

So that’s the story of our house built on sand. With the pioneering early days now passed, it feels like this corner of the desert has been well and truly conquered – and with the help of an awful lot of water, the desert has even been turned green.

Our lazy (but sweet) expat cat

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We have a cat – a rather rotund black-and-white female moggy who predates both our kids and has never really gotten over the arrival of two rambunctious boys into our formerly quiet household.

Love decorating, love patterns (DH not so much), and look - Chandelle is practically camouflaged ...

Despite being unbelievably lazy, she’s a well-travelled cat. We acquired her as a kitten from an animal rescue charity when DH and I were newly-weds, living in Florida. My husband named her Chandelle, which I know makes her sound like a voluptuous porn star but is, in fact, an aviation manoeuvre (don’t ask me what!).

She went on a three-day road trip from Florida to Minnesota when we moved to Minneapolis, then flew half-way round the world – via a pet hotel in Amsterdam – when we relocated to the Middle East.

Quite a long way for a cat, no? Well, she’s made up for it since by staying put – on our bed. She hardly moves, except for when she’s chased by one of our boys. So content is Chandelle to spend her days lolling on our bedsheets that I actually designed the bedroom to match her. She blends quite well with the black-and-white print of the throw, don’t you think?

For somewhere that gets really very hot in the summer, Dubai is home to loads of pets. You’d be surprised how many people own cats and dogs here – as well as more exotic animals such as lions and tigers (seriously!).

Being Dubai, pampered pets are well catered for, with pooch pedicures, organic shampoos and conditioners, Fursace doggy bags and designer dog gowns just some of the luxuries available at high-end pêt-à-porter boutiques. For £2,000, you can even indulge your pet with a Swarovski crystal-encrusted wooden bed, complete with velvet sheets on which you can have your dog’s name engraved.

Expats are content with feline and canine friends – although we had quite a shock when an escaped giant iguana appeared at our patio door, so big our housemaid was convinced it was a crocodile and started taking photos. But, in Emirati circles, larger exotic animals have always found willing buyers. Lately, illegal African cheetahs have become popular pets among those rich enough to afford one.

I mentioned before that my boss at work peered into a car on National Day at what they thought was a funny-looking dog, but turned out to be an adolescent lion. Well, it’s happened again and here’s the proof. This picture of a tiger hanging out of a car window was taken in the Marina Promenade area and caused a frenzy on social media sites this week … Lovable? Hmm, I’m not sure.