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Greetings from stiflingly hot Dubai!
Oeeeff, the weather here makes me veeeeeeeery s---------l------------ow. Here's a brief round up of the last couple of days.
So I arrived at midnight on Friday night and it was still 30 degrees. Quite chilly for the Arabs apparently buaaahaaa. Apart from the five totally pissed-up 60-something Swedish women sitting in front of me, swigging copious amounts of Bailies and Corvousier (on KLM, yes, I was shocked!) and giggling like schoolgirls, the flight was totally uneventful. I almost wished the wing would fall off, or the engine fail or something, just for a bit of excitement.
When we finally got out of the airport - a mass of sleeping Indians, robe clad officials, chauffeurs, ladies' greeting areas and duty free shops - the wall of intense heat that hit me almost choked me. The area outside was chocked full of people waiting and there was traffic everywhere. We got on the bus, which was air-conditioned to "arctic" setting and shivered all the way to our hotel, which is not very far from the airport but since Dubai is one giant construction site, it takes FOREVER to get anywhere because all the roads are full of giant holes.
I think our hotel is made out of nothing but marble and glass and a bit of carpet dabbed here and there. My room is facing the hotel's giant atrium, which is apparently the largest glass dome in the Middle East.
Yikes. I hope the architect wasn't dyslexic. It's pretty impressive I have to say, and the atrium practically has an entire tropical forrest growing inside it.
I am on the 2nd floor and there is a stream and fountain tinkling outside my window. At least I guess it's tinkling. I can't hear anything through the super double glazed bulletproof, bombproof, sunproof, soundproof, immoralityproof glass. There is a prayer mat in my closet and a sticker on my desk pointing me in the direction of Makkah and telling me I can dial '0' for a copy of the Holy Qoran.
So saturday was spent familiarising myself with the labrynth that is that is our hotel, finishing off some last minute meeting stuff and an hour on the roof by the pool, which was like taking a hot bath, only most baths don't have planes flying 20 meters above them. Or several other people in them. Unless you're into that sort of thing... Ah I do enjoy the smell of kerosine whilst sipping a mint and lime juice.
It was ROASTING up there. When I arrived the attendant asked me if I wanted to sit in the sun or the shade. "Look at me!" I shrieked, pulling up my sensible non-arab offending long sleeved top and blinding him with my milk-bottle white flesh. "If I sit in the sun I.WILL.ROAST.ALIVE." He shuffled away and I took my place with all the other un-roasted piggies on the shaded side of the pool and glowered at the bronzed and roasting piggies on the OTHER SIDE. Someone sitting near me asked if I thought it was hot. When I said I did, he laughed and said "This not hot! You come in August. It's 50 degrees. THAT is hot." I meekly sipped my drink and nodded and made a mental note never to come here in August.
We had lunch in one of the hotel's restaurants. It was a buffet with all sorts of yummy food from all over the world. I was happily wandering around, my plate piled high with all sorts of Arabic delights, going on my merry way back to my seat. And then I spotted THE CHEESE. Oh. My. GOD. There was a whole WHEEL of parmesan, so heavy I could not have even lifted it.
I didn't have to lift it though, because someone had handily left a big spoon in the middle of it so you could just scrape out as much as you wanted. Oh how I scraped! There was also some cheese that looked like a ball of string. That tasted a bit like rubber though and it took me ages to work out a clever system of how to cut it and get some on my plate (yeah, ok ok, the elaborate system actually involved me just yanking a handful of it and dumping on my plate...)
Because I am cooped up in serious air conditioning all day, I forget that I am actually in a hot counry. It's completely the opposite of Amsterdam: you put your clothes on to come inside, and take them off when you go outside. Outside during the day is like being in a sauna; hot and dry. At night, it seems to get a bit humid but the temperature is pretty constant morning and night. Also, there's no real dusk here either. All of sudden it's a bit less light, and then WHOOMPH, darkness. No sunsets in the city though, as there's too much smog. The air is dusty, and thick with the smell of petrol. It's 25 cents a liter here. I could fill up Alfie-the-scooter for a Euro! Most people drive giant white pick up trucks. There are also lots of limos and hummers too.
There are building sites everywhere and Dubai is on a serious mission where building is concerned.
Unfortunately, the building work is done by Indians and Pakistanis, for little more than slave labour. Around the bus stop (for no Arab would ever take a bus) and phone booths there are signs saying "bed space for bachelor", "bed space for Indian", "bed space for man - must be muslim". I read that the workers sleep 20 to a room. I wonder how many people think about who built that giant marble walk-in shower as they wash their hair in the morning.
On Saturday night, we went to another hotel for a dinner. They have a real buffet culture here and we went for an all you can eat buffet. I have never seen such a huge amount of food in.my.life. Then we went to a bar for a beers, and to marvel at the Arab men in their robes smoking and drinking along with the rest of us. On Sunday our meeting began and I got up at the crack of dawn. I still haven't recovered from this shock to the system. My body is still on Amsterdam time (3 hours behind) so going to bed really late here does not feel really late. It only hits me when I wake up and feel like someone shoved a few bricks down my ear canal while I was sleeping and they are knocking around in my skull where my brain should be.
So, after a non-alcohol social on Sunday night, where I had this totally Chenobyl looking fruity minty drink (which was nice until I got to the green part by the way),
Fergal, Alix and I took a taxi over to the Madinat Jumeirah, which is near that obscene 7 star hotel which apparently, you have to book an appointment to even go in to look around in the lobby and has a dress code. Hmmm. I think if I was paying 500 Euros a night for a room, I'd walk around in my bloody jogging bottoms and woolly socks and challenge someone to stop me. We thought it was a traditional souk or something but when we arrived, we found that it was a sort of brand new shopping centery-souk thing attached to a monstrosity of a hotel called Al Qasr. As soon as we walked in, Alix said "Oh I am sorry, I did not know it was a shopping centre." Closely followed by Fergal who said "Cool they have an Early Learning Centre. Early Learning Centre is fcking excellent." Um. Ok.
The place was full of nik-nak shops - the kind of stuff you think absolutely must buy, like now because all your life you've wanted to own a tiger skin rug/giant arabic chest of drawers/camel leg umbrella stand etc, until you get it home and realise that that 4 foot high bronze statue of a five headed horse or giant jug like the one below that you paid 200 euros in excess luggage for doesn't really fit in with the decor in your tiny Amsterdam apartment.
I also saw the funniest mannequin I've ever seen in my life in a suit shop -a man with the head of dog.
Oh how I wanted to take it home and stick it in the hallway by my front door. Imagine, the spectre of dog-man looming over you as you try to find the keys to the front door.
Anyway, the place was full of exceedingly rich Russians and English people, all freshly roasted and painted up for the evening and dragging around miserable kids with red faces. We three looked like we'd been sleeping under a palm tree for a few days compared to how scrubbed and polished these people were. No matter, we thought, because we were here to visit "Kouba", the Arab version of Cuba, a bar that the Rough Guide told me was one of the most unforgettable and spectacular veranda bars in Dubai. You'll find it hard to leave, the Rough Guide told me. Yet again, Mr or Mrs Rough Guide, you let me down. Not only was it quite forgettable, but I wanted to leave right away.
So, we asked someone in a random restaurant the way, and he told us "oh! Go outside and get a taxi, or, you can take the little boat there but you have to be a hotel guest or have reservations in one of the restaurants to get on the boat or they will charge you 50 for the ride." I was all for testing my skills at blagging my way on to a boat until we realised that the souk thing we were in was actually attached to the damn hotel that the bar was in. Bad feeling number one. This bar was in a hotel. Then we saw the little boats which were some sort of electric thing that ferried the piggies staying at the Al Qasr across the fake lagoon to the souk thing and back. Think vegas. We walked there and of course, it took 3 minutes or something, and we managed to battle our way past the security guard with a bit of name dropping. Then I saw a sign saying "Sinbad's Kid's Club this way". Bad feeling number two.
Anyway to cut a long story, as well as a bloody long journey though countless winding marble corridors, we finally came to Kouba, had a very expensive cocktail (I had a ginger beer mojito which was very nice), took some pictures, cringed at the god awful flamenco dancing and singing going on at another bar across the way, and left. The best thing about Kouba was this picture of a burka-ed lady on the toilet doors. Magic.
We trotted off to find some food. I saw a place that looked ok and was about to open the door when I saw that it had a dress code. Erm not thanks. So we found what we thought was a low key lebanese place, which turned out to be ver expensive. "Do you want to sit outside," the girl asked me. "Bit hot innit?" I replied. "Oh we have air conditioning out there." Jaw on da floor! Ok. This I have never seen or even heard of but it was true. There were airconditioning units cranked up to the max cooling the outside air.
Everyone points the finger at the yanks for global warming... I don't think they are entirely to blame. And, it only worked enough to stop you sweating enough to drip into your food. RANDOM PHOTO ALERT: Here's a bonus shot of me and my notebook.
As usual I ordered way too much cheese (mmmmm grilled haloumi, mmm creamy cheese and mint ooh I'm going to have nightmares tonight) and Alix ordered lamb's testicles. Yes, I am not joking.
Those french people really will eat anything! We wanted some lebanese wine, but at 100 Euro for the cheapest bottle, we declined and I had a mint tea which I would not have had if I realised that it was going to cost me NINE F-ING EUROS. I tell you, selling tea must have the most ridiculously high profit margins. I am going to start Susie's tea emporium when I get back to amsterdam, charge people one euro for a top notch cup of tea and make millions. And! I didn't even get a tea bag! just a tiny pot of hot water and a few leaves of mint. The food tasted absolutely great, although I wish I'd done a Fergal and said "Ah feck it" and paid the 18 Euros for a glass of wine.
