Making a Splash.

So the in-laws are here. They've been here a week already, and I think they're enjoying the experience. The MOTHER-IN-LAW (MIL for short) has had her first ever plane rides, and her first ever trip outside the UK, so I imagine it's all very strange and exciting for her.

Of course, things are even more exciting when you end up doing the unexpected. The picture above gives a clue.

It all started on Friday. I decided to take them to the Marriott over in Deira for their marvellously mad 12-hour brunch. I'm regretting it now, because my self-control went right out of the window (or should I say overboard?), and I ate far too much. Me and the WIFE even tried oysters for the first time, and they were surprisingly...OK. Like salty snot, really.

The best feature of the brunch is the ability to go back for more later after a rest. We ate till about 2.30pm, till we were merrily stuffed, then headed to the creek. I thought a little ride on an Abra would a good experience for the visitors, and for us, before heading back for a second shot at the brunch buffet. So we parked in a scruffy multi-storey car park on the Deira side and walked to the Old Souk Abra Station. As soon as we got close, a little man was all over us, beckoning us to his vessel. I said we just wanted to cross the creek, but after a little bit of haggling and conferring, we decided to accept his offer of a short private cruise up and down the creek. It was a good decision. The little man sat back in his chair and steered with his foot as we sauntered lazily along the creek, taking in the changing views on each side; the Deira side with its glass-fronted towers and Architect's wet dreams, the Bur Dubai side a hotch-potch of mosques, souks and warehouses. On either side of the creek itself, wooden dhows sat along the quaysides and wharfs, unloading their goods. The sun shone, the water sparkled, a gentle breeze played across our faces, and thousands of gulls swooped and dodged around us as we chugged along. I turned to the MIL and remarked that while this was very pleasant, I wouldn't want to go in the water here. Prophetic words, or what?

Eventually we turned back and headed to the Abra station on the Bur Dubai side. We disembarked, thanked our little man, and headed straight into the hustle and bustle of a real souk. Crowds of subcontinental men swarmed through the darkened, covered alleys. Other men stood next to their stalls and shops, calling out in various languages depending on who was passing by. Westerners were greeted with the enthusiastic cries of, "Special price! Very nice! You like?"

We passed through the souk, then turned back to look at a be-jewelled, orange shoulder bag that the WIFE had spotted earlier. I couldn't resist the chance to have a good haggle, so took charge of affairs, and managed to secure nearly 20% off the original price for tbe bag, after assuring the vendor that I was not a tourist.

With our purchase secured we decided to head back towards the Abra station and back over the creek. This time we didn't take a private charter, and sat on a little boat with about 30 other people. As we set off, the Abra drivers hooted horns at each other to avoid any undue collisions. Just like on the roads, really. And all was good, until we reached the other side.

As we disembarked, or attempted to in amongst the throng, the little Abra was bobbing about and moving towards and away from the jetty. The MIL helped the BOY onto the jetty, and just as she went to step across, the boat moved, and she lost her footing. I won't forget the look of horror on her face as she plunged into the creek between the boat and the jetty, and I won't forget the panicked scream coming from the WIFE's mouth as she watched her mother (who can't swim) creating a splash. Luckily the gap wasn't really wide, and the MIL managed to hold onto each side. Me and several other men swooped down and plucked her out of the creek. I actually had hold of the GIRL before this happened, and let her hand go momentarily as I bent to help the MIL. In the back of my mind, I hoped someone else had taken the GIRL's hand. I imagined myself having to jump in the creek to rescue more people. Luckily, the SIL was right behind me and grabbed her.

The MIL was fine. The WIFE threw protective arms around her, and looked pretty scared by what had happened. The MIL turned round towards me and started laughing. She was soaked from the waist down, and had a few scrapes under her arms, but she was otherwise fine. We checked the shoulder bag she was carrying (waterproof, luckily) to make sure the passports were still there, and it wasn't till later that we realised that she had lost her glasses when she fell in. Somewhere in the creek, there is a fish wearing them.

After a fruitless wander around the shops near the creek, we ended up driving to Marks and Spencers near the Marriott, and the MIL bought herself some new clothes to put on. Good job there was a sale on. By the time this was all sorted we were ready to head back to the buffet, and a few stiff drinks were had. To her credit, the MIL found the whole episode pretty funny, and by the end of the evening we were all making cheap jokes about swimming and splashing and fish wearing glasses. The WIFE and the BOY were the ones who seemed most upset about it. The BOY thought it was his fault somehow, because it was him being helped off the boat when it happened. I think the idea of the fish with the glasses on cheered him up.

That night, after driving home from the Marriott, we were all worn out, and everyone got an early night.

Yesterday, we headed for the Madinat Jumeirah. I realise now, after doing the Creek/Souk exploring bit, that the Madinat is just the safe, Disney-fied version of Dubai. It dresses itself up as an authentic Arabian experience, with the souk-style covered alleyways, sand-coloured wind towers, and even the little waterways and Abras transporting people hither and thither. But you soon recognise that it's all fake. The souk is air-conditioned and the crowds are much smaller. The people in the crowds are different as well; well-fed, well-dressed, white-faced westerners, with money to burn, and don't they know it.

Antique shops and fashion boutiques selling expensive wares line the alleys, alongside charming stalls selling genuine trinkets made in China and other up-market tat. Starbucks and Costa coffee joints invite you in at every turn, and on the lower promenade levels, flashy, well-presented restaurants selling foods from all over the world beckon to the tourists wanting to sit out in the fine weather and experience the lifestyle. All very safe, all very clean, all very surreal. A greater contrast there could not be. I would implore anyone coming to Dubai to see both sides of the souk experience. It tells you everything you need to know.

Money, money, money

FINALLY. I got my car loan. I've been trying for about a month to get one, and yesterday the money was credited to my account. Now I can get the two cars I need. The relief! Nearly as good as coming out of Atrail Fibrillation. I have made myself ill over it all - and in hindsight I shouldn't have, but when you come up against the incompetence, intransigence and sheer bloody-minded beauracracy that I've encountered over the last month, I defy anyone to remain calm. Today, as something of a celebration, we went for brunch at Mina A'Salam, a hotel at the Madinat Jumeirah. It has had a lot of good write-ups, and it was fantastic, and I'm still stuffed 5 hours after eating. The kids were well catered for as well, and even though it was quite pricey, the free-flowing booze and really high-quality food made it all worthwhile. The ambience there is really special, and the Madinat is probably one of my favourite places in Dubai. I can't wait to take some of our guests there when they come to visit. My doctors probably won't be happy that I've had a few glasses of wine, but I've not had any for at least 3 weeks, and probably won't have any more for a good while now. A little of what you fancy, and all that.

Anyway, the bank episode is in the past now. Let's move on. Another week has zipped by in the blink of an eye. We are busy again, and it shows. The morale in the office is dipping badly again, so much so that the newest of the staff have noticed it. It doesn't help that the BOSS has been on the rampage this week. Before Christmas he delivered a fatwa on people not wearing ties, and this week he has been cracking down on early lunch leavers and anyone with the notion of having a life outside of work. A couple of his comments this week have left me bamboozled. He suggested (half-jokingly, I think) that my family were dispensable when there were important clients to be placated, and then when someone had to cancel some leave, he said he didn't have ANY sympathy, because holidays were more of a privelege than a right, especially as he has worked years with only 2 days of leave.

That's all fair and well, but for some of us, work is a means to an end. I work to live, not vice-versa. I will give my all and put my best in at the office, and have no qualms about doing a bit of work outside my allloted hours and travelling to places like Doha for a few days, but when the implication is that work comes first, second and third, with family life a poor fourth, I start to get worried. There are people in this world who like to come to work at 7am and leave at 8pm, and they make it out to be some kind of macho honour thing, but to me that's bullshit. You can only be effective for so long during a day, and 9 hours is about right. I will take a lunch break, and I will leave work at 6pm, unless there is a really urgent job that NEEDS to be done. If we feel obliged to stay long hours or are made to feel guilty for not doing so, I honestly think it makes for bad morale. But there we are, and there we go. It pays the bills, and the work is quite interesting. I've learned loads since I came here, and the CV will not suffer with the scale and type of project I'm working on now.

One thing I've started to notice at work and in general is the behaviour of some people here, in particular Western Expats. I've noticed the way some of these people talk to and behave towards people of other nationalities here, especially South-Asians or Eastern-Asians. So not to beat about the Dubya, they treat them like dirt. They shout at and berate them for the slightest lapse in standards of service, they show no gratitude or even basic manners towards them, and seem to think they are perfectly entitled to lord it over these people. They wouldn't get away with it at home, because they'd get told where to go forth and procreate, I have not a shred of doubt. The thing is, it's a double-edged sword, because the people on the receiving end just take it, say, "Yes, sir/madam," in their whiny American accent and scurry away sheepishly when they've been reprimanded by another highly-strung, self-important expat. Some of them look petrified when you talk to them, and then they look genuinely astonished when you say Please and Thank You to them, before breaking into a broad smile.

I often wonder how much these people resent us moneyed westerners, especially when we act like complete and utter twats towards them. I want to be there when one of them finally cracks, and tells some jumped-up, betroot-faced, flip-flop-wearing fool that they added their own special ingredient to their drink. I just hope it isn't me. Yes, I have witnessed poor service in the past here (the bank!), and yes, I've admitted that I get annoyed and wound up, but when I talk to people I'm doing business with I always try to remain calm and composed and respectful without raising my voice. I usually rant and rave about it to myself afterwards, because rude, arrogant behaviour and trying to humiliate some poor sod when it's probably not even his fault just breeds resentment and contempt and is unlikely to achieve any improvement in service.

It seems to be a pattern here. People change when they come here, and do stuff they wouldn't dream of doing back home. Of course, it's a different country, and a different lifestyle, and as the old saying goes - When in Rome - but people here don't do what Romans do, they act like frigging Cybermen. On acid. I've witnessed expats who don't secure their young children in car seats before driving on the third deadliest roads in the world. I've seen people who seem to think it's perfectly fine to drink drive on a regular basis, and when I say drink - I mean drink. This is despite the fact that the punishments here are more severe than back home. It's as if coming to this place makes them take leave of their senses. Is the almost-permanent sunshine melting their brain cells? Hard to say, really, but as with most things, it's probably a combination of things. As long as they can get away with it, they'll do it. And no amount of tutting and writing letters to 7 Days will change that.

But the funniest thing about it all is when I hear some expat say to me that they came here to get away from all the immigrants who don't respect the British Way Of Life, and the so-called PC brigade pandering to their every whim. So they came to a county which is 80% immigrant and bends over backwards to accomodate Westerners and their love of excess. On the other hand, they can come here and lord it over the non-white immigrants who don't earn as much money, because it makes them feel big and clever. I'd really love to see them talk to an Emirati like that.

And still - I'm happier than I've been for a long, long time. Life here is pretty good in the main. Nothing will ever be perfect, but you have to make the best of it, and I think that's what we are doing. I've spent too much time in my life sweating the small stuff.

(It's today)

Yup. They boys in charge have decided, in their wisdom, that today is the last day of Ramadan. Tomorrow is that start of Eid Al Fitr, so the fasting ends and the partying begins. Phew. They declared Ramadan early this year, so it was actually one day longer than normal, or so I believe.
So yesterday we had a day out. We went to the water park called Wild Wadi, which is right next to the Burj Al Arab and the Jumeirah Beach Hotel.



We didn't tell the kids about it until we got there. The BOY was convinced we were destined for another half-empty shopping mall. We even sneaked the swimming bags into the car while he had his attention elsewhere. As we got closer to the park he started to suspect the truth, and the relief and excitement in his voice was nice to hear.

We had a good time. There are plenty of rides and slides for young and old. Gentle ones and wild ones. The photo above shows the view from the top of the Jumeirah Sceirah (sic). I did start the arduous climb towards the top, but when I caught sight of the queue winding all the way down the tower and out onto the terrace at the bottom, I changed my mind and went for the ride that goes all the way round the park, with the rider sitting in a large rubber ring. It goes up, down, left, right, over bridges and through long, dark tunnels. They use really powerful water jets to propel you on the upward sections - which is pretty impressive when you're nearly 20 stone. The only problem with this is the jets had a habit of catching my shorts and pushing them forwards and off my backside. I'm glad that none of the slide sections were see-through, for the sake of those below me. It was pretty cool, anyway. I liked the way you could choose different routes of varying scariness on the way and have a different journey every time.

The BOY was a bit shy with some of the bigger things, but was eventually encouraged to go into the wave pool, and had to be literally dragged out of it when we left. The GIRL was her usual Jekyll and Hyde mix of giggling fun and gibbering hysteria. I don't think she should have tried the Sceirah...

As the sun started to set, we made our way out. As we neared the changing rooms, the Wadi show was gearing up. They have built this large artificial cliff-face with a little wadi at the bottom. As we were walking past, thunder crashed from the speakers at ear-splitting levels, and the kids weren't too happy about that, I can tell you. Then the water started spilling from the top of the cliff, and soon a torrent of water was rushing down the cliff and flooding the wadi. I suppose it's meant to mimic what happens in real wadis. When I told the BOY this, he asked me in a shaky voice if there were any near our house. In my best fatherly tone, I reassured him that the only real ones existed out in the desert near the mountains. This didn't really convince him to stay and watch, especially with the noise, so we quickly entered the changing rooms and got ready to leave. The WIFE and the GIRL had long gone.

Overall, a pretty good place to go, I would say, especially as a family or in big groups. I especially like the little innovation of the wristbands that get you in and out of the park, open and lock the lockers, and store credit on them which can be spent around the park so you don't have to carry money around. You get any unused money back at the end. There are some good rides, loads of catering outlets (slightly expensive, as is the norm, I suppose - but not outrageously so) and plenty of places with loungers and parasols to sit and relax if that's what you want to do. And I didn't get stuck in any tubes.

After the wildness of the wadi, we headed for a burger at Hardees (they should bring this chain to the UK - a superior burger restuarant in every way), then thought we'd go for a coffee and a shisha. We went to the Madinat, which was the closest place I thought we could find some, and after a bit of a trek around the Madinat souk, we found out that they had a Shisha terrace at the Mina A'Salam hotel, which is one of two five-star hotels at either end of the complex. So we wandered in to the plush reception, slightly bedraggled from our soggy adventures, and were lead to the terrace, without any hint of haughtiness. We ordered a strawberry shisha and some drinks and sat under a gazebo on large comfy chairs. The shisha man fixed up the big bong-like contraption and set it going, bringing it over and puffing at the end of the pipe to make sure it was lit. Then he stuck another plastic pipe in the end and handed it to us.



The WIFE was curious - I've done shisha before in Taiwan (of all places), and so she had a few little drags on it. After a couple of splutters and coughs she admitted it was quite pleasant - and it is. The smoke is thick, but cool, tasty and very smooth; nothing like a cigarette or cigar. After about five minutes I had a mild buzz, but tobacco alway does that to me. The WIFE had nearly as much as me of it, but the best bit was her comical expression when she smoked. The eyebrows went up and the eyes widened, and she turned her head quickly to one side before exhaling. The drinks were really nice as well. I had a Kiwi Cooler mocktail which was cool, refreshing and bursting with real fruit flavours. The kids were happy to wander around our gazebo, sipping their drinks and looking out over the balcony at the abras (water taxis) coming and going from the station below us. The BOY even had a try at the shisha, but we couldn't get him to suck instead of blow, so all he did was make smoke come out of the other end. I don't think the shisha man was impressed.

We finished our drinks, paid our bill and went down to the abra station. The Madinat has artificial waterways all around it, with little abras to transport guests around the complex. The boats are meant to be for hotel guests only, but they weren't to know, and I doubt we're the first to buck the system, so we jumped on one and glided smoothly past the waterfront promenades full of people dining under the Arabian skies, gentle mood lighting and ethnic music adding to the holiday atmosphere. A gentle breeze caught our faces, and, "Oh, this is the life," is the thought that probably went through all our minds right then. Or in the case of the GIRL, perhaps, "Oh, good. Dora the Explorer will be on TV when I get home".

On the first day of Ramadan

We didn't even know it had started until we got to the Ibn Battuta Mall and found all the food outlets closed. They must have spotted that moon last night. The BOY, with his usual forthright manner was asking all kinds of questions, including, "Who is the man that looks out for the moon?" and, "What happens if he falls asleep and misses it?"

So we shopped, taking in the new, unusual atmosphere. No people smoking or eating or drinking. Melodic, enchanting Arabian music lilting gently from the speakers. Westerners still dressed like they're on the beach....

Then we had lunch at home and decided to go and explore the Madinat Jumeirah, which is a huge shopping mall in the style of a traditional souk, with large hotels at either end, restuarants galore and man-made waterways all around, with Abras transporting people around the whole place. I'll leave it to the pictures below to convey the atmosphere and feel of the place, save to mention that with all the restaurants closed, it was really quiet, but in a good way.









It's another world. We also went to the public beach on the other side of the Burj Al Arab and watched 2 helicopters land on the heli-pad near the top, which was cool. The only thing about the beach was that it was quite dirty. There were cigarette ends by the million near the wall separating the beach from the road, and even a dirty nappy. I've heard that there are often men (sub-continental labourers who've never seen a western woman) who stand and stare at the acres of exposed female flesh, whilst engaging in a not-so-subtle game of pocket billairds. Things like this take the sheen of the place, but I think that's why a lot of people use the beach parks and clubs where you have to pay to get in. I think they look after them much better. Here's hoping, anyway!