Al Ain has no cranes. It's on a plain. And it doesn't rain.

It must rain a bit, actually, because it's very green. Trees and grass everywhere. But then it could be down to the irrigation. I don't really know how these oasis locations work, if I'm honest.

After leaving the nocturnal driller to his curtain poles, we headed out of town. It was time to get out of the place again, and we had juggled the idea of Fujairah on the East coast, or Al Ain, which is down on the Oman border in the Emirate of Abu Dhabi. Both were a fair drive away, but the maps seemed to show an easier route to Al Ain, so we headed there. There was an Air Show on at Al Ain as well. I wish we'd gone to Fujairah now.

The drive was pleasant enough. The long, straight roads are easy enough to drive on, even if they provide little in the way of stimulus. A game of Eye Spy only lasts 5 rounds if you're lucky. Sun. Sky. Road. Trees. Sand. Er, that's your lot. We noticed that the signs and petrol station names changed as we entered the next Emirate. All of them were the same name, in fact, and every single one was an exact replica of the one before. I started to wonder if we were going round in circles.

Before long, the harsh, red sand of the desert became more and more punctuated by lush, green vegetation. We aren't talking palm trees and turfed grass, either. Verdant pastures passed by in a green blur, and trees of all kinds cropped up in clumps here and there. It's quite a thing to see after being in the dusty, landscaped confines of Dubai for so long.

We arrived at Al Ain's outskirts and were greeted by the sight of a giant Arabic coffee pot in the middle of a roundabout.

We started following the signs for the Airport, which is the kind of place they usually host Air shows, I figured. After several miles of outer suburbs and no sign of an airport or even an aeroplane, we decided to head into the town centre and get something to eat. We passed more trees and greenery as we drove through pleasent suburbs, and noticed that there wasn't one skyscraper on the horizon, with no building higher than 3 or 4 storeys, and not one tower crane to be seen. After finding that the town's eponymous Mall was basically shut (and getting lost in the car park thanks to misleading signs), we found another Mall in an area called Al Jimi, and had lunch in the food court. With our light lunch in our stomachs, we had a wander and a window shop. Marvellous. We came all the way to Al Ain for a change of scenery, and ended up in a bloody Mall.

I decided to end this abject silliness and we headed out again to see if we could find the airport. We did, and were greeted by the sight of thousands of cars parked in every conceivable location on the approach to and around the airport, and about 3 aeroplanes parked on the airport apron. A short drive around the airport roads lead us into a long queue for the main parking area, which was full. As we waited, we watched a yellow bi-plane performing a startling array of aerial stunts, swooping, rolling and diving towards earth. I wondered if the pilot was sending SMS messages whilst flying, then remembered why I didn't have much time for Air shows. I had lived in Germany near a US base where there had been an awful disaster after a mid-air collision at an Air show in the late 1980s. If we hadn't been away on holiday at the time, we may well have been there when it happened, and ever since then, I just haven't felt comfortable watching planes doing tricks. It's bad enough when they fly in a straight line, thank you very much. The Red Arrows fill me with dread.

As it was, the whole spectacle looked decidedly underwhelming, and with it getting on in the day, and with parking options looking limited, we decided to head back to Dubai. On the way back, as we left Al Ain's green plains behind, I spotted a sign for the East Coast, and realised it would have been the better option. Yes, Al Ain is different to Dubai, but ultimately it was a bit bland, and didn't seem to offer much to the family. You live and learn, I suppose.

The kids were good. They spent a long time in the car without causing too much of a scene, so we went to a Wild West-themed family-friendly (i.e. full of screaming brats) restaurant for tea when we got back as a treat (and I fancied some pork ribs as well). They enjoyed it, even if the ribs weren't very good.

Now we are focused on next weekend, and the imminent arrival of the MOTHER and SISTER-IN-LAW. The WIFE and kids are really excited, and so am I. Seeing some familiar faces after so long will be good.

All is quiet.

On New Year's Day, or so the song goes.

New Year in Dubai was different. We treated the kids to a trip to Ski Dubai at the Mall of the Emirates on New Year's Eve. Well, it was as much a treat for us, actually. The chance to see real snow and feel cold was too enticing for us after being in a permanent summer - at best autumn - since August.

So we paid our money, bought gloves and hats, then went to the clothing counters to be issued with snow boots, socks, trousers and jackets to wear in the snow park. We went quite early and it wasn't too busy, and before long we were all kitted out like Eskimos. We ventured through the entry gate to the snow park, then through the first set of sliding doors, which act like an airlock, then through the next set of sliding doors and a blast of arctic air hit us full in the face, making us shiver. "It's bloody freezing!" was the only thing I could say at this point, stating the bleeding obvious, as always.

And the fun began. We charged around the snow park with its ice mazes, igloos, sledging hills and toboggan runs. We spotted crowds of people watching us from behind the glass in the main mall, like people watching animals in the zoo. I fought the urge to pee my name in the snow We climed up to a small wooden tower and looked up at the incredible sight of people skiing down an enormous 400m long, 60m high slope that dog-legged and disappeared into the distance.

I went down the tobaggan run without gloves on and managed to scrape my left hand on the hard ice on the wall of the run. I think I left at least half an inch of skin there. Then I had a shot on the rubber ring run and ended up with two blocks of ice for hands after having to shove them in snow at the bottom of the run to prevent myself sliding through a queue of waiting people. It was at that point when I remembered that snow is nice in small doses. It was nice to be able to leave the cold behind whenever we wanted.

The kids enjoyed it all though, which was the main aim. After we left and got changed back into "normal" clothes, we headed to the Alpine-themed St. Moritz café, situated just next to the exit and had lunch. As we sat there next to a roaring fire (on a TV screen embedded into a fireplace), eating hearty food and drinking hot drinks, we looked through the windows back into the snow park, and it all felt slightly surreal. The mind boggles when you think about how much energy they must use to keep the place cooled to freezing point and even lower when the whole thing closes at night and the snow blowers come on. It sums up what Dubai is about: Surreal excess.

New Year's Eve night was a quiet affair in the main. We let the BOY stay up till midnight, and we played Junior Monopoly about half a dozen times. At 11pm a party started in a house to the back of ours, and loud Middle-Eastern-influenced dance music filled the night air with its enchanting, hypnotic rhythm. The time came - midnight passed - and it was eerily quiet for just a moment, and I suddenly pined for the sound of Big Ben's chimes to tell us it was here. But there was nothing except a bit of cheering from the party at the back and the sound of distant fireworks at the Burj Al Arab. I bet they looked good.

So we had a mini Auld Lang Syne session, hugged and kissed, put the tired BOY to bed and started sending text messages and e-mails and message-board messages to friends and family back in the UK. And then we went to bed, and the music from the back didn't really keep us awake. I think it stopped at about 2am or something.

On New Year's Day we decided to have a big roast chicken dinner with stuffing and Yorkshire puddings and gravy and all that other stuff that we would have at home. But before that we went to Safa park for a little stroll and some fresh air. I wasn't sure what to expect, and was surprised by the size and scale of the place. There are little gardens, statues, water features and play-parks scattered all over. There is a central area with a boating lake and a fairground and barbeque areas. At first I was impressed. The green spaces were large and pleasant and mostly clean. Then we came across the artificial river that runs from the boating lake to a small pond and waterfall and I noticed that the water there was chock-full of plastic carrier bags and other trash. A couple of pissed-off looking ducks sat forlonly in the murky, stagnant water nearby. I wondered how it could have got so bad, and why it hadn't been cleaned up, but I soon got my answer.

We eventually came to a sand-covered play-park and settled down on a wooden bench while the kids had a play. As I sat there, my attention was caught by a child who came up to the edge of the park, holding a packet of mini-Pringles. I watched in disbelief as the child took the crisps in one hand and dropped the packet with the other, without the slightest compunction, before wandering off. The child's mother, who was sat on the grasss behind her, didn't bat an eyelid. Not surprisingly, she was surrounded by half-empty carrier bags. I turned and shook my head and watched another child in the play-park drop an empty drink carton on the sand as he climbed a ladder. I looked round some more and saw pieces of litter everywhere. In the middle of the play-ground there was a bin, so I stood up, picked up the discarded Pringles packet and made a point of placing it in the bin. People around me watched me impassively, unimpressed by my actions.

Cultural differences aside, I find myself wondering about the mentality of some people. They just don't seem to care a jot about litter. Doesn't the sight of rubbish all over the place sadden them? Do they think that someone else will just come along and sweep it up? The rubbish in the pond was a real shocker for me. I'd always thought that we had a bad attitude to litter in the UK, and that other places were invariably cleaner. It might be true of some parts of continental Europe, but it seems that it's actually even worse here. I've been in plenty of parks back home, but I've never seen a sight like I saw in that pond. A bit of litter, yes, but this was really, really bad, and the whole blasé attitude to the dropping of rubbish on the floor amazed me as well.

Different places have different value and different attitudes, and I understand that this is the case, but sometimes I find myself being surprised by how utterly alien some people's values are to me. How do you reconcile this? Do you just let them get on with it, or do you say something? Is it our right to impose our value system on others, or is it their right to live as they see fit, and how they have lived all their lives, without our interference? When does the line get crossed? When others get hurt or offended? We all know that some people are more easily offended than others, and that different things offend different people, and that right and wrong are not black and white. Oh, it's a moral minefield. And I'm rabbling. And preaching. Again. I should have written a letter to 7 Days.

Anyway, after the park we went on a boat ride on the lake, and hired a little replica ferry for the four of us, which I took charge of, naturally. I didn't think it was going to take my bulk as it pitched and wobbled precariously as I boarded it, but we managed to stay afloat and spent a dizzying 20 minutes going round in circles, chasing seagulls and avoiding the locals who sped round in circular hovercraft-style vessels. They drive boats like they drive cars, is all I will say.

On the way out of the park, I remembered hearing Chris Evans talking about the pleasures of walking barefoot on grass on Radio 2 some time ago, so I took my shoes and socks off, before strolling across the cool, lush grass. It was marvellous. I was just glad that they don't allow dogs in the park. The BOY challenged me to a race, and I found myself sprinting across the grass after him, and actually catching him. This was a new experience for me, because I haven't ran that fast for a long, long time. I haven't been able to keep up with the BOY for a while, but on New Year's Day, I was running, maybe not like the wind, more like a stiff breeze, and it felt good. The weight loss and exercise HAS made a difference. It's a shame my leg won't tolerate much real running, because I could get myself fit in no time at all. Ah well, maybe when I get my bionic leg, eh?

Oh, yeah. The roast chicken dinner was fabulous.

Christmas is coming...

The camel's getting worried. Probably because some wag will put a Santa hat on him. How terribly festive.

In this mad place, the clashes of cultures still have the power to amaze, amuse and completely bamboozle. I took a walk through the shopping mall they call Wafi City the other day, a kind of loosely Egyptian-styled, sand-coloured monolith with stained-glass pyramids perched on top. Inside, high-fashion and high-tech shops mingle with high-fat fast food franchise outlets.

God, I miss the Subway foot-long meatball...

But the mall has now become a Christmas wonderland. Slap-bang in the middle of the central plaza, under one of the pyramids, is a giant Christmas tree, adorned with shiny baubles and twinkling lights. Around the bottom of the tree there are some white hoardings, with the words ELVES AT WORK painted on in various places. It seems that there will be a Grotto at the bottom of the tree, and they're going to have a big light-switching-on ceremony on Thursday. Dotted around other parts of the mall are other Christmas displays, such as small cottages with snow-covered rooves and pairs of red-trousered, black-booted legs sticking out of the chimney.

t is a strange feeling seeing all this. Firstly, it's 30 degrees centigrade and sunny outside. Secondly, this is a Muslim country. I've been in non-Christian countries around Christmas before, and knew that there would probably be a few trees here and there, and shops selling Christmassy stuff for the large Western expat population, but I never thought I'd see a mall in the Middle East trying to outdo the Metro Centre for sheer festive overload. It's confusing, really, because even here I get told that Christmas is being banned in the UK because of PC do-gooders, etc., but we are looking at a 40-foot-high symbol of a Christian festival, and the dish-dashed men and their abbaya-wearing wives don't bat an eyelid. You have to wonder what the Sun or the Mail would make of some Ramadan decorations being put up in the Trafford Centre. Probably best not to think about it, to be honest.

Then I think...does this show Christmas up for what it really is today? It isn't much of a religious festival nowadays. All the paraphenalia in the malls and in the shops are based around trees, lights, baubles, snowy scenes, stockings, candy canes, toys, presents, and consumerism gone mad. In that respect, it fits Dubai like a glove. More chances to spend, spend, spend. You can buy nativity scenes in the shops if you so wish, but there doesn't seem to be much of a market for them. I think it's fair to say that this is the case in the UK as well. The religious aspect of Christmas is a side-show to most people, and maybe that's why it's so easily accepted and assimilated around the world now, because it can be celebrated without mentioning Jesus at all.

It's only 4 weeks away now. It doesn't feel right. We went to the beach at the Jumeirah Beach Park on Saturday, and enjoyed the warm sunshine, yellow sand (although it was sadly full of fag-ends and other rubbish) and clear Gulf waters. We have promised the kids a visit to Ski Dubai before or around Christmas, and we'll have a snowball fight and do some sledging, then have some fondue and mulled wine in the alpine-styled restaurant afterwards. On Christmas Day itself we might have dinner in a hotel or at a golf club. We will miss our extended family, but with the visits from them due to start in February, it won't be too bad. Whatever happens, our first Christmas in a warm country will be an adventure.

That reminds me, we need to go and buy a tree...I see they have them in IKEA. AARRGGHH!!!!

EID MUBARAK

As they say in these parts.

It means Happy Eid, and I think everyone is happy that Ramadan is over. The locals are happy because they can stop the fasting, the early mornings and the late nights, and the rest of us are happy because we can get a coffee or a sandwich while we're out and about during the day. Oh, we are such shallow, desperate beings.

It's been a strange experience, and very educational. Without wanting to sound trite, I think a lot of people could learn from being in a place like this during Ramadan. In most cases (not all, it has to be said), concessions and allowances are made, mutal respect is shown, and we all muddle through. Of course, people still find things to bicker about, and it's a shame that the bickering seems to be getting quite nasty back in the UK. The whole veil issue is highlighting the divisions and the intolerance that can bubble away beneath the surface of any multi-cultural society. Point-scoring and oneupmanship is rife, on ALL sides. Sometimes I think there's no hope for us, because try as we might, a lot of us just can't accept differences or see things from other people's perspectives. But at other times I see great kindness and togetherness, and think that we aren't so bad after all. I know..I'm going off on one again. I try to keep this kind of thing out of this blog, but it's part of my life here, however much I try to avoid it.

Today we had a little drive out, and after remarking on the quietness of the roads, we noticed that there were sub-continental chaps dressed up to the nines all over the place. They seemed to be at every major junction of every major road, even when we were out in the middle of nowhere on the Emirates Road, and almost every single one of them were in their Sunday best (or is it Friday best here?). We wondered who they were and what they were doing out there. Were they the labourers finally getting some time off and heading out for the day? If so, how did they get to these places in the relative wilderness? For what purpose? And where were they going now? As we passed the huge Chinese discount mall called Dragon Mart (which was closed at the time), we saw a group of several dozen of these smartly-dressed men standing around near the entrance. There were no women or children there, or none that I saw.

So we headed to a little theme park inside the Creekside Park just over the Garhoud Bridge on the south side of the creek. This was closed as well, and again there was a small group of these men milling around. We finally landed at the Wafi City mall, which was open, and had a spot of lunch and a little play in the amusement area. There weren't any of these smartly-dressed sub-con men in here. I've heard that they don't let them in the malls. Elitist? Racist? Who knows? Who decides? There were plenty of Emiratis there, also dressed in their best finery. The mens' dish-dashes were whiter and brighter than ever, and almost all of them were in a chipper mood - two smiling young men played chess at one of the now-open coffee shops, laughing and joking to themselves all the while, some younger men ran amok in the amusement areas, and large groups of women in their bejewelled, black robes and designer sunglasses browsed in the high-end fashion joints of the mall.

We headed home after the mall - the roads weren't much busier - and decided to go for a swim at the Springs 8 pool. It was largely deserted when we arrived, but a few more people joined us later. We had a good splash around in the warm afternoon sunshine, until the flies started emerging in large numbers with sunset approaching, and then headed home for tea.

Now I'm nicely tired again, and I've somehow managed to write a long entry again. Maybe not the most interesting or exciting one, but I hope it conveys something of the first day of Eid. Back to work tomorrow, but only 3 days till the weekend comes round again.

On the last day of Ramadan....?

Which is....when, exactly?

It's a bit of a guessing game, it seems. The country is getting all geared up for Eid Al Fitr and the long weekend, but the lack of announcements in the press (no 7 Days newspaper today) means we are in limbo. We don't know if Ramadan is over or not, especially as they allegedly started it early. I told the WIFE that she should run down to Spinneys at the Town Centre to see if Starbucks was open - that would tell us for sure. She told me to Bog Off.

We went to another shopping mall yesterday - the Burjuman Centre in Bur Dubai. It was dead - and I mean dead. More than half the shops were closed, along with all the food outlets and the kiddies play areas. The shops that were open were mostly empty, with bored-looking assistants sitting at their counters. Is this what happens at the end of Ramadan? My lack of knowledge on these matters is frustrating, but it seems that it's the way of the world round here. Holidays are based on the movements and sightings of the moon, so they can be announced with very little notice at all. I've been told several tales of people going to work and finding out they shouldn't have bothered.

Anyway....we're going to Wild Wadi today, which is a water park. Should be fun, as long as I don't end up getting stuck in one of the slide tubes like Homer Simpson once did. I've rung ahead and they told me that the Ramadan restrictions aren't enforced in the park, and all the concession areas are open for business, which makes sense really. You couldn't expect people to visit an outdoor amusement park without access to at least drinks.

Will report back later.

Birthdays, Boredom, Baldness, Blobbiness

I'm officially having my first bad week here in Dubai. I'm getting a cold. I turned 36 just over a week ago, and then I found out that I have put about a stone on in the 2 months that I've been here. Woe, woe and thrice WOE! I suppose that's what happens when you eat stuff like chocolate birthday cakes.

D'oh!

So, yeah. Ramadan's still going on and on. The working days are shorter (well, supposedly - we work till 4.00pm with no lunch break, but I'm often there till 4.30 or 5.00pm - these boss people ain't stupid). The Malls are bizarre. No cigarette smoke. No bustle of cafés and restaurants, just vacant tables and seats, as if you are there in the middle of the night, or as if you're in a zombie flick. Heck, some people here drive like zombies - drooling on their phones as they zoom past you at 180kph to get home for Iftar (the breaking of the fast). I digress...the malls. We went to the Mall of the Emirates on Friday to look for shoes for the BOY. Turned out he didn't need new ones just yet. That was a bonus. Then we went looking for nourishment, which is a difficult task, as you can imagine. We walked past Ski Dubai to the Kempinski Hotel end of the Mall... (BTW, Ski Dubai looks like this:)

...and the mall-level restaurants were all closed, despite Time Out Dubai saying that at least one of them would be open for brunch. Useless gets. I should have realised their info wasn't reliable after their factually questionable review of Foccacia at the Hyatt Regency. Anyway, I remembered that there was this place called Sezzam in the Kempinski, and we found it down on the ground level after another white-knuckle ride with 2 kids and a push-chair down the escalator. It was hidden behind black curtains running the length of the lobby, keeping the gobbling hoardes out of sight, away from those who are fasting. Seems fair, I suppose. I wouldn't like to watch people eat if I wasn't allowed to eat for 14 hours.

The food was pretty good, after all that. The grilled bratwurst wasn't really that good, it wasn't a real bratwurst - far too soft, and lacking flavour, but the lamb chops (more like a half-rack) were heavenly, as was the cheesy mash and the grilled veg. The WIFE had Tandoori chicken, which tasted really nice and fresh and not at all dry (although she said there was too much coriander), and the BOY and the GIRL ate their pizza and nuggets with little complaint. The GIRL's fresh fruit salad also impressed. Blimey, this is turning into a restaurant review. As I'm doing it, I would also say that the service is a bit patchy, but friendly. I will definitely return.

So Saturday came, and we ended up in a bloody shopping mall again. This time it was Ibn Battuta (did he have a massive hooter?), which is actually a very unusual mall, because it has separate themed areas. I took the family for a little wander in there to see the different zones and the things you just don't expect to see in malls, like full-size replicas of Chinese junks and elephants with enormous tusks. We did the weekly shop in Géant, which we seem to have settled upon as the best place. Carréfour in MOE is just too manic, Spinneys is too small, but Géant seems to have it sorted, except they don't have a pork section, so we always end up going to Spinneys or Choithrams for the bacon and ham, etc. I mean shopping for food is always a soul-destroying experience, in my view. Up and down with the trolley and 2 whingeing kids... so you have to make it interesting by throwing surprise items into the trolley - usually nice-tasting, fattening items, it must be said.

Food, food, food. Ah yes. The solution to and cause of all my problems. (c) Homer Simpson, talking about beer. I can't live without it, but I'm living too much through it. I am in that horrible cycle of eating, feeling fat, not sleeping, feeling shite, eating to feel better, feeling fat, and so on.... I need to snap out of it before I break the 20 stone barrier. SNAP OUT OF IT, MAN!
And what did I do? I was looking at exercise bikes, but ended up buying a PS2 because me and the BOY need our PES fix! The WIFE is now resigned to watching us replaying Boro v Sevilla over and over again to avenge the UEFA cup final humiliation. And then she has to listen to the BOY cry and me shout because we got Tekken 4 free with the console, and we're both terrible losers.

Boro! They're depressing me as well! Bloody hell! Losing to Sheffield frigging United (with all due respect). AAAGGGGGHHH!

I think it's cabin fever, actually. I just want this damn weather to cool down enough for us to get outside for a decent length of time!

Whinge over. Thank Allah!

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!

The Day Of The Camel

I finally saw my first live camels today on the way to work. I emerged from a bank of fog near the Nad Al Sheba racetrack and, having to slow down for the aftermath of yet another car crash, I caught sight of about 20 of these magnificent beasts trotting along the racetrack to my right, heading for their morning training.

I wasn't the only one to spot a camel or two. The WIFE went for a little drive today. She's getting brave now, and decided to venture outside of the relative safety of the Emirates Hills development, and head to the Ibn Battuta Shopping Mall, which is named after a famous Arabian traveller. The mall is themed around the various places he visited, with a Chinese court and an Indian court and so on. It is quite an interesting mall, as malls go, and has some educational displays to look at, and a full-size replica of a Chinese junk. It's also a lot quieter than the Mall of the Emirates.

Anyway, I digress. The WIFE managed to miss her turning from the Sheik Zayed Road, which I will attest to being an easy thing to do, and she ended up driving in the general direction of Abu Dhabi with a rising sense of panic. She phoned me from a petrol station, jabbering on about being in the middle of the desert and having nearly collided with a group of camels (what's the collective noun, I wonder?) and with a few calming words ("Calm down, you silly moo" didn't initially work, to be fair), she got the message that she had to turn off ASAP and head back for Dubai. She managed to do that, get to the mall, and get home in one piece. As I told her, it's all part of the experience of this place. The roads and signs are confusing and misleading and you can end up more lost than a group of sickeningly photogenic people who have crashed on a tropical island in no time at all. You can usually see the place you want to get to from the main road, but actually getting to it can be a real challenge unless you know the precise place names to look for and which and slip-road to take.

I got lost every day for my first week, which was infuriating, but ironically this helped me in the long run, because I got to know the names of places quite quickly and am now fairly comfortable with getting around, although it is still possible to take the wrong turning and end up in some dusty industrial estate.

Later today, there was some bad news about a friend I made early on during my time here. This chap had taken me under his wing, invited me for a beer, and had shown me some of the more "interesting" places in Dubai. He had also been good enough to rent the spare room in his lovely Villa in Jumeirah to me for a couple of weeks so I could get out of the crappy London Crown Hotel Apartments. Anyway, I hadn't heard from him, apart from one short e-mail, since I had moved into my Villa a couple of weeks ago, and so today at lunch I sent a text message to a mate of his asking if he was alright. The ominous message, "Call me" came back. Oh, bugger. The worst of worst things went through my mind, and when I rang up I found out that he had been dune-bashing in his Jeep last weekend and had managed to somersault the bloody thing over a dune and had broken his neck in 5 places. It had been touch-and-go as to whether he would be paralysed or not, but it seems he has been quite lucky and has just(!) broken the verterbrae in his neck, without damaging the spinal cord.

Apparently he is now resting up at home in a neck brace. Get well soon, mate!