Idle as a painted ship…

…Upon a painted ocean

Please excuse me for the extended absence, I have no real excuse aside from being stuck in traffic for 2 weeks, I’m a lazy bastard or simply failed to get any inspiration. I blame all the sand in my ears, which seems to be a permanent fixture in the air out here. That coupled with the percentage humidity is enough to clog many an orifice. There have been countless times when I have looked out my window and what looks like dense fog is actually an unwelcoming cloud of sand. It’s completely unavoidable. The only way the “fog” clears is if it rained, but then be prepared for your car to look like a crowd of people have vomited all over it.

Moving on, when I returned from one of my rare Saturday jaunts yesterday, I met my neighbour for the first time (I think they have been there for 2-3 months and I think they are hard of hearing). My jaunt simply consisted of wondering around a shopping mall aimlessly, or aimlessly wondering where to aim, but actually wondering why I decided to wake up so damn early on a weekend, which results in spending more time wondering what to do with my time.

What really struck me as odd when I saw neighbour was the fact that he was washing his car. In my 3 years, I have never seen ANYONE washing their car! Its not like I drive around looking for people washing their cars whilst tallying up a survey, but you know what Brits are like? For those of you who don’t, the sun is a rare commodity in the UK, and when it decides to rear its head, the whole country has an obsession with washing their car. So, before I arrived I had these visions of Brits constantly washing their cars.

I couldn’t be more wrong; if you can pay someone 8-10 pounds (sterling) a month to wash it every other day then surely there is no need to do so yourself? Well, these people don’t actually wash the cars they simply distribute the dirt. Anyways, I had to comment on it as I was quite shocked but also thought it a good cue to meet the neighbour. I merely informed him that he was the first person I’d witnessed washing their car, he simply smiled. I then realized that this was probably a failing effort, as it could have been misconstrued as calling him a tight bastard. I then tried to regain ground by saying “nice one”.., yes, I know, as soon the words escaped my mouth I thought – Regina you twat! Again, I blame the sand in my ears! Ok, time to pull out the “considerate neighbourly neighbour” card – I asked if my music was too loud. He beamed a smile and said they never hear me. “öh good, well do let me know if it is”.

I walked away from that exchange thinking he was definitely a weirdo! NO WAY could they never hear me, they definitely have too much sand in their ears! I’ve heard stuff rattling from my bass whilst it’s thumpin a bit of Dre! My previous neighbour was knocking on my door on my second day complaining about the noise! She was also a weirdo though… she used to walk over to mine barefoot and ate with her mouth open.

Later in the day, I decided to indulge in the usual Dubai thing chicks tend to do on a weekly basis – get a manicure and pedicure. I tend not to do so too often, as on every occasion, without fail, I ALWAYS manage to bodge up the paintwork within hours after having them done. I know, I know – poor ikkle pwincess with a bodged up manicure…get over it! Well in scanty attempt to justify why its bloody annoying messing up the manicure is because I trundle around looking like I just bought new fingers, holding everything carefully, dropping everything just to avoid any contact with my nails. So it’s more to do with the fact that I walked around looking like a Jumeirah Jane (rich, kept housewife in Dubai), only to bodge them up anyways.

So', that was the most eventful part of my Saturday, well that and getting my fridge replaced as it broke 3 days ago. My milk turned to cottage cheese sooner than usual and my freezer was stinking of prawns and ice cream. Dubai is not known for its service… errrmmm, correction, they THINK they have superior service, whilst in actuality they have no concept of customer retention or customer service whatsoever. When I called the service centre, their suggestion was to take the fridge away for a few days and check it out without leaving a replacement.

“it’s 42c outside, are you seriously thinking of leaving me without a fridge for a few days?”
“yes sir, no problem, you have it back in few days” (yes they always call me SIR.. I’m quite sure my voice hasn’t broken! Btw, few days in Dubai could mean weeks!)
“would you go without a fridge for a few days?”
“no sir”
“ok, then why are you suggesting I do this, would you leave your wife and kids without a fridge for a few days?”
“ok Sir, I will see a fridge”
“I think you misunderstand, you must come with a replacement fridge, cannot live in this weather without a fridge”
“yes, no problem I will look around the buildings”

By this point he was definitely trying to brush me off… unfortunately, if you want something done in Dubai, you have to raise your voice and sound threatening.

“please DO come with a replacement, I am not asking, I am TELLING you”
“ok Sir, I will get one for 3pm”.

Job done, he arrived promptly with replacement (manglyish) fridge, suggesting I just keep this one whilst they take the other one away and pass on to someone else. No THANKS!

On his way in, fridge man commented on the money (7Dhs = 1 pound sterling) I had left outside for the waterman, saying that someone might take it. You can arrange to get water delivered outside your door – don’t ask me how much water, its just a really big barrel which I cannot lift by myself, so I think it must be something like 1000 litres. The waterman takes away the empty bottle along with the money and replaces it with a full bottle. I always leave the money out and have never had a problem with it disappearing in the past. When the fridge man left, for some instinctual reason, I went and checked the money… it had gone! Bastard! 15 minutes later Fridge man returned as he had left his receipt book behind. He asked me if I had taken my money away, to which I responded

“No” simply shrugging my shoulders.
He grinningly said, “See I told you someone would take it”
“Yes, well don’t spend it all at once” and shut the door.

Oh, what an eventful day!

Space invasion

I’ve briefly touched on etiquette, but I really think we need to rip off that band-aid and rummage deeper as I am sure that majority of the residents of Dubai left their manners at the immigration desk when they entered the country.

Being brought up in the UK we are known for queuing, or rather the ability to queue in an orderly fashion for hours (even days) on end and not tolerate queue jumpers in the slightest. Brits queue for days to get tickets to Wimbledon to be the first person in the Next or Harrods sale. I’ve even seen people queue over night for cheap theatre tickets and we will probably even queue to see the sun shine!

When you come to Dubai, queuing is seemingly an act of alienism and boy can it get frustrating if you are accustomed to queuing! There have been a countless number of times when I have been queuing only to find some people around are completely oblivious to the queue, walking straight to the front. It mainly seems to stem from Asian subcontinent origin and some locals. What makes it rather extraordinary is their reaction when you point out the queue to them, and also cannot understand why it’s always me in the queue that does this? Does no one else know the concept of queuing and just happen to be standing there? Depending on how long I’ve been queuing and of course the time of the month definitely comes into play; my reactions have been as follows;

I’m not standing here cos i'm bored!
The back of the queue is behind me
I’m calling the police (this is obviously in tongue in cheek desperation, but reactions are comical!)

Whilst we are on the subject of manners, the number of times you hear someone hawking (clearing throat and sinus area) followed by spitting is despicable. It’s incredibly common to see people at traffic lights open up their car doors, hawk up and spit out. You also get the forward planners who have been hawking whilst driving (cab drivers) really managing to gather a mouthful and seem to almost vomit at traffic lights.

Never before Dubai had I heard someone open a phone conversation or any conversation with "tell me”. I’d noticed this within my first week here. Its incredibly abrupt and I guess just makes you cut to the chase, no pleasantries required? A little ironic in a city where everything tends to happen at snails pace.

Staying on the subject of phone conversations, you know when you're trying to get hold of some but they're not around, the person on the phone will say things like;

"Away from desk"
"Stepped out"
"Tied up" (I’ve sometimes responded with…ooo sounds like fun - very mature!)

Well here’, I’ve heard;

"Not on his seat" (ok, is he behind his seat?)
"Not on his table" (under his table?)
"Out of station " (ok..in space perhaps?)
"No" (fine!)

Another performance defying all manners or even human sense but also quite interesting, is the number of guys who grab their groin in public. It really is intriguing watching them just hanging on for dear life, in the street, in supermarkets, in lifts and even just holding on whilst walking in a shopping mall. Is it like a security blanket? I mean honestly, can you imagine if us gals walked around with both hands cupping our boobies? (guys stop dribbling!) Come on sort it out ok, its unnecessary!

Back to queuing, you also get the complete retards who do queue up, but think standing right up next to you, even touching you and completely invading your personal space will help the queue move faster. I’ve found the best way to overcome this situation is simple humiliation...the number of times I’ve shouted out "look if you touch my arse one more time, I’m going to call the police ", it works most of the time, if it doesn't it's because they don't understand. And why is it that these space invaders have the most appalling smell? It really seems to go hand in hand, space invaders = bad personal hygiene?

Hmm?

It’s a small world after all

When I lived in London, someone once told me that every 7th person you meet would know someone you know which I tended to agree with. I’m not sure if this formula is a universally applicable law, but it certainly isn’t the case in Dubai. In Dubai its definitely every other person you meet will know someone you know! It’s also quite remarkably scary how some people you meet in Dubai know people you knew from back home, or for instance lived on a street next to you.

Here’s an example; I was invited to a friend’s house for an Iftar (breaking fast ritual during Ramadaan) along with 9 other people. I was early, actually I was half an hour late, but Dubai time keeping tends to mean you arrive around 1 hour after the suggested time, but just don’t arrive any earlier than 30 minutes before the suggested time, as the host will be surprised. You will also look like a lemon without a life who has been waiting all day for this dinner party.

Anyway, there was only one other person there when I arrived and he had shifted to Dubai a few days ago. Host was in the kitchen preparing, so I chatted with new guy. We exchanged the typical Dubai questions asked when you first meet someone; how long you been here, what do you do (as opposed to how do you do..btw, do people still say that?),where were you before etc.. Chatting away, we managed to ascertain that he lived next door to my cousin in Pakistan, which was an incredibly bizarre coincidence! In my mind, I then started editing out what I would tell him about me and definitely wait till I reach home before lighting up a cigarette. Reason being, my Father would probably catch wind of my little habit resulting in him cutting off my head and shitting down it. I know I know, I am a grown woman and shouldn’t matter what my parents think but trust me, I firmly believe my father has the ability to kill someone simply by constantly nagging them.

So with this in mind, you really do need to be careful what you say and to whom. This could quite possibly act as fuel to the shallowness and pretence of the city. Maybe no one wants to reveal his or her true selves for fear of being caught or judged? It certainly is a pigeonhole city, which I guess is human nature helping us to adapt to new environments. This could trace back to when we were kids and learning our colours as it helps us broadly classify things? Hmm, just trying to make some sense of the way people act out here..

Dubai is so small, you can’t even go to the supermarket without bumping into someone you know when you probably look like a dogs backside due to a heavyweight night before. The supermarkets frequented by westerners (particularly the one near my place!) have the tendency to look like a peacocks parade or Crufts. For those of you unacquainted, Crufts is an annual dog show held in the UK where owners proudly show off their well-groomed dogs. Now we all know these dogs don’t wake up looking like this and neither do the shoppers picking up their milk and bread.

When you walk in the supermarket everyone seems to check each other out whilst swanning around with bog roll and toilet cleaner in their trolleys. A friend of mine and I were discussing how we sometimes feel the need to curl our eyelashes before we go to the supermarket. Now you could say, well that’s your problem if you feel the need to have to curl your eyelashes to visit the supermarket. But when you are surrounded by people who have obviously spent a lot of time and effort on their appearance you cant help but feel that your jogging pants, favorite comfy ugly sandals and bed hair is quite going to get you in and out of there without a few disapproving stares. Chance would have it, you are bound to bump into a client or work colleague as well who is used to seeing you suited and booted.

A further example of how small this world is was while I was at work. I was chatting to someone in a PR agency about a client, we talked about the project and then went onto the usual; how long, where, when etc.. Well it transpired, when I was working in the UK 2 years prior, my company had arranged an “agency girls night out” to watch Bridget Jones Diary in Leicester Sq. 30 girls in total and she was one of them. That was the first time we had met and second being in Dubai 2 some odd years later… Altogether now, it’s a small world after all!

Club foot

Am I reaching the twilight of my clubbing days I solemnly ask myself? I'm beginning to find the whole thing a perpetual bore and becoming more of an endurance test rather than a source of enjoyment. Perhaps I’m clinging on for dear life to the remainder of my youth? Or perhaps it's the crowd of wannabe celebrities who flock at such gatherings which makes me want to go home, curl up in my bean bag and fire up my dodgy DVD's (dodgy = fakes and not porn!).

I hasten to add, I have however adopted a liking to house music. Ever so strange for this to happen at my ripe ol' age when I should really be winding down, throwing in my dancin shoes in exchange for house slippers. Instead, I’ve found that I become a woman possessed when I enter a club, completely overcome by the need to jig around. This is followed by taking the supreme piss out of anyone who take themselves remotely seriously, and by them I mean those fellas who wear the white John Travolta suits with black shirts topped with sunglasses. Or even better, have you seen the guys who strut with the leather biker jackets in 40 degree heat? Hmm where have you been hiding? The girlies simply dress like prostitutes, poptarts or teenagers. By this, I mean the majority of course ;-)

With all the wonderful people watching pointing and laughing to be had I also manage to perform an Irish Jig, Morris Dancing, Prima Ballerina moves, Robotics and Running Man all fused together. But that's the beauty of house music. Unlike R'n'B, there are no real rules as to how one should dance, however that doesnt explain the odd looks I get... hmm moving on.

A self confessed R’n’B junkie is what I am, so I’ve frequented the R’n’B nights around town (wearing the t-shirts as I write). I do recall my first reaction though, "ohmegosh, I didn't realise there were so many Afro Caribbean people in Dubai (forgive me if that's the incorrect term, my PCness has evaporated!)...They’re so gangsta", or so they'd like you to think. You soon realise seeing past their "OG" (original gangsta) style, that they are simply hoodlums from Satwa (a more humble part of Dubai). You really have to see it to believe it, as it will have you choking on your shawarma. They honest to goodness seem to believe they’ve just walked off the set of a P.Diddy or Usher video. And the girls apparently believe they are Beyonce or J-lo generously accessorised with diva attitude...steady on luv..sort out the VPL before you smirk at my trainers! So get to steppin or something equally and forcefully threatening!

Once a Lebanese J-lo type creature woman wearing lip liner which was actually painted on by those vehicles used to paint a football field, cleavage where you could park a motorbike, and sprayed on clothes all in white, with...wait for it...VPL! (Cue searchlights and sirens, we’ve found an offender!) I was minding my own little business in the ladies, patiently waiting in queue when she straggles in, looks me up n down, then laughs at me...(oh damn, flash back of being at school!) See, now I thought my smurf outfit was quite fitting given that the little chirrups made some sort of comeback?! No no, I jest! The only item of clothing which looked remotely smurfish, were my blue and white trainers. When I go out to boogie, comfort over stilettos wins every time.

All of a sudden I found I no longer needed to go. I made my way out, but before leaving I gave into the temptation of passing a compliment, "you know you really shouldn't use your grandkid's crayons to apply as make up" and sauntered along (snigger)!

...Told you I had regressed!