Category Archives: Dubai

Work-to-rule Santa

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At the Wafi mall this morning there was a long line of harassed-looking parents, their kids orbiting round a Christmas tree two houses high with baubles the size of small planets.

A festive extravaganza, even if the queue management left much to be desired

Barely concealing the fact they wished they could have spent the morning sleeping in and reading the paper rather than queuing for Santa, the parents were doing their best to keep their overexcited offspring under control as the queue inched forwards.

People must have been waiting at least an hour – if not more – I’m guessing, but were remaining resolute – the promise of seeing Dubai’s most authentic-looking Santa, in that his beard is said to be genuine, followed by a free cup of tea and entrance to the play area proving to be a crowd puller.

Santa’s top-security grotto was heavily guarded by toy soldiers and you couldn’t even peep at the man in red – we tried but just found ourselves face-to-face with animatronics.

Then, at about quarter to one, a Filipino lady appeared and walked over to the queue. She stopped half way up the line and, ignoring the expectant little faces and restlessness among the ranks, announced with no apology:

“Santa’s taking a break at one.”

“For 30 minutes,” she continued, totally deadpan.

I’m not sure that the families in the second-half of the queue were even told of this fact, although I’m sure the news travelled fast.

We didn’t hang around to see the mutiny I presume ensued.

Honestly, you’d think, wouldn’t you, that since he only works for one month a year, Santa might be able to plough on through?

Jet-setting grandparents

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As I mentioned earlier this week, BB’s class is nearing the end of a Unit of Enquiry (the lingo in the international curriculum) into how things have changed over time.

We’ve all worked quite hard on this, completing a questionnaire asking things like, ‘Did you have a television back in your day? Or a washing machine?’, working on a poster as homework and going along with the premise that our kids think we’re really quite old.

With a shared love of train sets, BB and his Grandad can hang out for hours

They’ve even had grandparents into the school to meet the class and talk about life in the past.

This led BB to come home asking me why his grandparents don’t live with us.

Imagining one big happy household crammed full to the rafters with his Nanny and Grandad from England and his Jiddo and Tata from Lebanon, he thought this would be a marvellous set up for everyone.

“Well, dear, we do try to see them as much as possible,” I replied “and we’re really very lucky that you have such jet-setting grandparents.”

“Ummm,” he sighed, a little dejectedly, clearly not persuaded that this was enough. And then dropped a clanger, said in a way only cheeky but affectionate little boys can get away with:

“If Grandad lived with us, I could count the hairs on his head.”

A note on competitive parents

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Homework for kindergarten kids is a new concept to me, but I hear that it really kicks off from next term and can be a nightly battle.

To prepare BB’s class of five and six year olds for this, they had their first proper assignment this weekend – the kids had to research an object, such as a toy, television or car, and produce a poster at home, showing what the object looked like in the past and what it looks like today.

And the most worrisome bit: ‘Your child will then present the poster to the whole class as part of their summative assessment,’ the teacher told us.

And, believe me, this made me nervous. Not just about the presenting part, or actually making the poster, but because you wouldn’t believe how competitive expat parents in Dubai can be.

“I know, let’s visit the museum this weekend to do some fact-finding,” I imagined the other mums saying. “And work on some mock-ups first. Even better, why don’t we fly to London to browse the British Museum.” “Yes, and once we’ve finished the conceptuals, we can do a historical key in PowerPoint,” their DHs, getting into the swing of it, probably reply. “That’ll really knock the socks off the teacher.”

BB and I finally got down to it on Saturday afternoon, his attention captured momentarily because I stole an idea from the recent National Day celebrations – a classic car parade! It kept him focused for, ooh, all of 30 minutes, before he legged it to the play area.

Two hours later, I’d finished the poster, cleaned up the mess and hidden it so BB’s little brother wouldn’t scribble all over it – just in time to start thinking about dinner.

I think I’m going to be busy next term, when homework really gets going.

Colouring, cutting, sticking - I was in my element!

20 signs you live in the Middle East

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I’ve been short on time this week due to work, plus Tom Cruise is in town for the Dubai premiere of his new movie, Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol, and someone had to show him around (LOL)!

That's actually Tom scaling the Burj Khalifa, half a mile high

Dubai provided a backdrop for the action flick, with Cruise performing a series of heart-stopping stunts clinging to the world’s tallest building.

Since my invite to the red-carpet premiere must have got lost, I’ve been hoping I might bump into him (I had a bit of a crush on Tommo when I was 15, you see – back in the days of Top Gun, when my husband – who stole my heart at Sixth Form College – wanted to fly for the US Air Force and I dreamt I’d be DH-to-be’s wingwoman in a Kelly McGillis-esque fashion).

Anyway, I digress. This post isn’t original – it’s doing the rounds on Facebook and so I apologise if you’ve already seen it. Or wrote it.

It made me chuckle and I hope you enjoy it too.

You know you’ve been living in the Gulf for too long when…

• You’re not surprised to see a goat in the passenger seat

• When phrases like ‘potato peeler’, ‘dish washer’ and ‘fly killer’ are no longer household items but are actually job titles

• You need a sweater when it cools down to 80 degrees Fahrenheit

Dubai: A city of contrasts (not my behind unfortunately)

• You expect everyone (over 4 years old) to own a mobile phone

• Your idea of housework is leaving a list for the maid

• You believe speed limits are only advisory and expect all police to drive BMWs or Mercedes

• You believe the definition of a nanosecond is the time interval between the time the light turns green and the guy behind you blasts his horn

• You can’t buy anything without asking for a discount

A friend, just to the left of Tom, who DID get to meet him - AND he's following her on Twitter!

• You expect all stores to stay open till midnight

• You make left turns from the far right lane

• You send friends a map instead of your address

• You think it’s perfectly normal to have a picnic in the middle of a roundabout at 11pm

• You know exactly how much alcohol allowance you have left for the month

• You never say Saturday instead of Friday or Sunday instead of Saturday

• You accept that there is no point in asking why you are not allowed to do something

• You expect queues to be 1 person deep and 40 people wide

• You realise that the black and white stripes on the road are not a zebra crossing, just bait to get tourists into the firing line

• You carry 12 passport-size photos around with you just in case

• You overtake a police car at 130 km/h. And don’t worry about it

• When a problem with your car’s air-conditioning or horn is more serious to you than a problem with the brakes

Loves kids but couldn’t eat a whole one

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We’ve had a tsunami of visitors over the past few weeks – and the great thing about having friends and family to stay is you get to do some of the touristy things in Dubai, which usually come third or fourth fiddle to the mundane everyday stuff.

And, of course, when home comes to visit, it’s the most wonderful chance to spend time with loved ones – in the sun, on the beach, at the pool and out at dinner. Until the time comes for them to leave, and you’re left sobbing on the sofa that it went so fast.

As well as my in-laws and my parents, my BF came to Dubai. I’ve blogged about her before as her life is more interesting than the grittiest soap opera.

She might not think so but, to me, hearing about her dating adventures is like a dose of reality TV starring my favourite character – and anything can happen!

Take her visit to Dubai’s Gold Souk to do some handbag shopping.

“We have Louis Vuitton, Prada, Mulberry, we give you good price,” called out a handsome fella with dark eyes and a chiseled jaw as she got out the taxi. BF couldn’t resist and followed him down a dark alley, up another one, through the winding streets until they reached a doorway.

There he led BF up some stairs to a thick bolted door, on which he knocked twice and then waited.

When the door opened, she was led into a room wall-to-wall full of copy bags. She bought four Mulberries and went to leave – but not before the handbag seller thrust his phone number into her hand, saying if she wanted to meet up he’d come running.

Then, in the taxi on the way home, she found herself deep in conversation with the driver about all sorts of ‘taboo’ subjects, from religion to marriage.

But her most promising ‘holiday romance’ was the good-humoured man she met on the airplane on the way home, who kept her entertained the whole flight and has since texted BF to see if they could meet up. BF has always harboured a desire to join the mile-high club, but promises me she passed up the opportunity, fearing the consequences on the Royal Brunei aircraft would be too great to bear.

Aside from providing a steady stream of hilarious stories, the thing that struck me about BF’s visit was just how much fun you can have with kids when you’re not the one responsible for feeding them, keeping them alive, dragging them to bed and clipping their toenails.

BF doesn’t have children of her own and admits that the older she gets, the less appealing she finds the idea – but she’s the most amazing Godmother and auntie to at least nine kids.

My boys and BF ran round like lunatics, squirting water at each other on the beach, and making each other laugh hysterically. She didn’t mind when BB puckered his lips as though to plant a kiss on her cheek and blew a huge raspberry – or when he held onto her in the swimming pool calling out ‘Giddy Up’ like she was his personal pack horse.

BF took it all in such good spirit – even when BB cheekily pulled her tankini bottoms down as she was getting out of the pool.

We all had such fun in the sun – and I miss BF (who blogs at lujat71) terribly now.

There is, of course, the possibility that BF, who spends her working life protecting children, will become a parent in the future – if she chooses to – perhaps not through conventional means. But for now – to use BF’s words, it’s a case of loves kids but couldn’t eat a whole one!

Happy 40th birthday UAE!

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Today was National Day, the 2 December anniversary of the creation of the UAE – and a big birthday, too, as this year the UAE turned 40.

I can sympathise as mine is just round the corner, although compared to a soon-to-be 40 mum wondering whether I should be having a mid-life crisis, a 40-year-old nation sounds like a spring chicken.

This is actually someone's house! The photo is from last year, but we saw a quite a few villas just like this today while driving down Jumeirah Beach Road

BB came home from school this week waving a flag, the Emiratis decorated their cars and put lights up, and the Thursday before National Day was declared a public holiday for the Islamic New Year, making it a long weekend.

The parades, including a Ferrari and classic car parade, the fireworks, the shows, the Dubai Fountain dancing to the UAE National Anthem, the flags on cars, hot-air balloons and the Sheikh reading poetry on the radio combined to create an electrifying buzz.

Both boys enjoyed celebrations at school and nursery earlier in the week. The Arabic department at BB’s school requested that the kids wear national dress on Tuesday, leaving us mums scratching our heads over where to buy an abaya or dishdash small enough, but this was quickly followed by an email saying national colours would do.

LB’s nursery put on a lovely morning of activities that I went to with high expectations as they’d advertised among other things mosque-decorating and a dhow (traditional sailing vessel) to climb on board – they really pushed the boat out (excuse the pun!) and I wasn’t disappointed.

National Day is never entirely smooth, however – a number of young drivers always go a little crazy and indulge in stunt driving, such as driving on two wheels, which led to the impoundment of 440 cars during last year’s celebrations.

This year, the prize for the best-dressed vehicle went to an Emirati business woman who spent 162,000dhs on decorating her car with 150,000 individual Swarovski crystals – here she is showing her bling BMW to the media.

But my favourite National Day story is still my boss’ tale from last year, because it sums up perfectly the kind of exotic pets the wealthy Emiratis can afford to own. He took his kids down to Beach Rd for a ‘cultural experience’ and, amid all the spray foam and silly string, they spotted a funny-looking dog in the back of a car. Closer inspection revealed it wasn’t a dog – but a lion (not fully grown, but even so!).

Concrete jungle: A Dubai moment

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Over the past year, the car park at our local supermarket has got busier and busier – so that now we have a situation where huge SUVs lie in wait for shoppers and stalk you as you’re pushing your trolley back to your car.

If you are lucky enough to find a space that’s not a 10-minute walk from the store, it’s likely that manoeuvring into it will involve squeezing between a badly parked Land Cruiser and a concrete pillar.

A pet peeve in Dubai: Cramped, British-style parking for enormous American cars


Given that grocery shopping at this particular store entails handing over 200 dhs for some milk, bread and a sausage, the whole experience can be rather frustrating from start to finish.

To make things a little less stressful, I always go to my secret parking spot downstairs – OK, it’s not exactly secret, but I do find that fewer shoppers make the right-angle turn to go down the narrow ramp into the bowels of the car park.

Today, though, I wish I’d stayed upstairs. To cut a long story short, there was a car in the way of the self-important type, I ended up going in a different direction to usual and was looking for the exit rather than what was right in front of me (do these sound like excuses?)

There was the most awful crunching noise – the sound of concrete and metal being welded together – so loud and splintering I saw the faces of two shoppers visibly wince.

When we first arrived in Dubai, before the debt crisis, there was so much development going on it felt like we were living in one big construction site, with a quarter of the world's cranes rumoured to be located in the emirate

“W-t-f was that,” poured out of my mouth as I leapt out of the car – and our nice car too, a Dubai purchase that we splurged DH’s bonus on earlier this year (and being of the sporty variety, very low to the ground – this is relevant, you’ll see why).

The car was stuck, its back wheels spinning – stuck on a divider I should have driven round rather than over. In my defence, it was one of those ‘Dubai moments’ – where else would you find a concrete island in the middle of the road with no distinguishing features (no poles, no stripes, just exactly the same shade of grey as the ground)?

Only the other day I was laughing as a friend told me how she’d walked out of a spa treatment and straight into unset concrete – completely ruining her shoes as well as her relaxed mood.

The two witnesses – who at first shot me a look that said, “Dumb expat blonde in an Infiniti, she should know better” – ended up taking pity on me and helped push the car off – and away I went, trying to retain my dignity behind the tinted windows, but thinking “Oh god, what have I done to the chassis and will I fall out the bottom of the car on Emirates Rd on my way home?”

I’m reliably informed that the planet Mercury is in retrograde at the moment and apparently things always go awry during these periods – I’m not usually superstitious but can't help wondering if this is why I accidentally cut up our bank card this week and stranded the car on a concrete island. Things return to normal, astrologically speaking, on 14 December – or am I just making excuses again?

World’s fastest rollercoaster

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When you’re given protective goggles to stop your eyeballs popping out, you know the ride you’re about to go on won’t be all about the view.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask DH, who – used to being in control of fast-moving metal in his job as a pilot – looks more nervous than I expected.

“Too late now,” he replies, as they lower the lap bar and the bright red Formula Rossa rollercoaster at Abu Dhabi’s Ferrari World is prepared for launch.

It pulls out of the station to whoops and cheers from other riders, then we hear the launch mechanism (similar to those used to propell jets from aircraft carriers) connect to the carriage.

Suddenly, our world explodes into an insane blur of speed. The ride accelerates from standstill to a gut-squashing 150mph in just 4.9 seconds. It honestly feels like we’re being shot out of a canon.

Designed to simulate driving a Formula One car, it’s the fastest thrill ride in the world and the primal screams of its passengers ring out in the warm Arabian sunshine.

My innards feel like they’re being rearranged and my eyebrows nearly fly off when the G-force hits 4.8.

“Oh-my-God,” I scream as the car hurtles up a 170ft slope so fast I’m sure it’s going to take off like a rocket, then it plunges down at such break-neck speed I fear my stomach will pop out my mouth.

A minute-and-a-half later it’s all over, the brain-shuddering high-speed twists, turns and chicanes completed. Climbing out isn’t easy as my fingers need prizing from the restraint bar and my legs have turned to jelly.

“Would you do it again?” I ask DH, my throat dry with all the adrenalin and hair sticking out at right angles.

“No, we’ve done it now,” he says, quite sure of his answer. ‘No need to do it again.”

I really recommend it, though – if I survived, you will too!

More info at: Ferrari World Abu Dhabi

Don’t let mummy at the scissors!

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Yesterday I had a blonde moment, a knackered mummy minute – call it what you like, I’m still kicking myself.

I could reel off a list of excuses – the fact that we have two sets of visitors at the moment, it’s BB’s sixth birthday today and it’s Thanksgiving tomorrow.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING to all my dear friends in America from all of us here in Dubai!

So I’m thinking about a long list of things, including a birthday train cake, presents, a tea party, a booking for a turkey dinner for 8, pumpkin pie, plus lunches, dinners and activities for our guests and, ahem, Michael Bolton tickets (no, no, no – not for us, but as an early Christmas bonus for our nanny Catherine the Great, who really wants to see him live in Dubai tomorrow!)

It feels like my mind’s on overdrive and I’m running round like a headless turkey.

When my parents arrived the other day, my Mum brought with her a new bank card for my British HSBC account, which I only use when I’m in England.

“Make sure to cut up the old one,” she told me yesterday.

And so I went upstairs, thinking to myself, “I must cut up the card” – and a good job I did too, slicing it into at least 10 pieces.

Later on, I was at the cashpoint in Arabian Ranches searching for my Dubai bank card, coincidentally also HSBC – the lady behind me staring into her gold-clasped Louis Vuitton purse and silently tutting about being late for yogilates.

Strangely, the card was missing.

The penny didn’t drop until just before bedtime, when I asked DH if he had our card (yes, after three years we STILL share the bank card!) and I suddenly realised where it was – in small jagged pieces at the bottom of the bin – my useless old British one safely tucked in my purse.

What a wally – like I really needed another item on the to-do list this week. And how embarrassing that while my parents are here and at 39 years old, I might have to ask them teenager-style to lend me some dosh!

PICTURE CREDIT: Danz family.com

Things that get you in trouble in Dubai (yes, sex on the beach you all know!)

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I bumped into a neighbour at the swimming pool today. I don’t know her well, but she seems really nice, hence I’ve got her earmarked as friend potential (you have to stay on the look-out in expat society, as people tend to leave).

I knew she’d recently been on holiday, so I flagged her down and cheerily called out, “How was your trip?”

“A disaster,” she replied, the look on her face saying it all.

She’d arrived at Dubai airport – her husband already in situ having taken an earlier flight – to discover she shared her passport number with a criminal and wasn’t allowed to leave the UAE.

The officials agreed she clearly wasn’t the criminal (who was a man anyway and committed the crime before she’d even moved to the UAE), but there was nothing they could do and paperwork needed to be completed.

And, in typical Dubai fashion, the red tape is dragging on and has involved several trips to the court to sort it out. I felt so sorry for her – she stayed in boiling-hot Dubai the entire summer with her three kids and her husband working in Iraq during the week. This was to be their first get-away in months.

Of course, my neighbour had done nothing wrong at all, but as expats living in a Muslim country we have to be really careful to respect local customs and laws.

Mall etiquette: If you're two by two, holding hands is frowned on if you're not married


Things that can land you in trouble in Dubai include:

• Public displays of affection – kissing and hugging is considered an offence against public decency
• Sex outside marriage – even expats must be married to live together
• Dancing in public – allowed at home and in licensed clubs, but classed as indecent and provocative in public
• Drinking at home without an alcohol licence
• Bringing certain things into the country, including some prescription medicines, anti-Islamic material and pork pies
• Photographing locals, especially women, without permission
• Flipping another driver off on the roads
• Showing your underwear in public

There’s zero tolerance when it comes to drink driving – if you are found with even the smallest trace of alcohol in your bloodstream you will be jailed. And you’ll have heard about the expats who defaulted on loans they took out to finance the good times and had to flee the country – leaving their cars to collect sand at the airport – or face prison.

Britons are apparently more likely to be arrested in the UAE than anywhere else in the world!


A British friend of a friend of mine did find herself locked up in an underground cell at the notorious Bur Dubai police station. She’d accompanied a man she’d just met back to his apartment and called the police after his jealous ex-girlfriend arrived and tried to attack her with a knife. Both girls were arrested and forced to share a cell for a month, becoming great pals by the end (you might have read about it in the Daily Mail!).

As for my neighbour, her husband returned to Dubai and they spent the week at the Atlantis hotel on the Palm, not telling anyone so the kids weren’t upset they were staying down the road – and looking out over his company headquarters while having a drink in the evening.

I hope the bureaucracy is out the way soon and they get another holiday, because as much as I love this place, you do need fairly regular breaks too.

And if you’re planning on visiting Dubai anytime soon, just be careful not to give anyone the bird, even if they’ve just committed a jaw-droppingly bad offence on the road, and remember, the beach is for sunbathing, not sex. Dubai is great, but Ibiza it aint.

PHOTO CREDITS: ExPIAtriatewife; Dubai Information Site