Category Archives: Dubai

Show us the colour of your money

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We’re in the living room after dinner, and I’m helping Son1 with his school project on our community, whilst keeping half an eye on Facebook at the same time.

I notice that someone’s posted something onto the Facebook page for Son 2’s class, about a school trip tomorrow.

“Huh?” I think. It’s the first I’ve heard of it.

“Did you know you’re going on a trip in the morning?” I ask Son2. He gives me a blank look.

So I read the message aloud.

“The class is visiting a mosque tomorrow, and they’re still looking for volunteers. Volunteers should cover legs and arms, and I assume women have to cover their hair as well. Please send in 5 AED with your child so they can buy a piece of fruit afterwards.”

The pat on the back I gave myself for knowing all about Son1’s sports day the next day – including what events they’re participating in and when (egg and spoon; dress up in UAE costume and run around a post and back, etc) – was clearly premature.

“Glad I saw that,” I say, to no-one in particular.

“So, I’ll put 5 AED in your bag,” I tell Son2.

“5 AED or a hundred?” he asks, his face a picture of devout innocence.

Ever feel like they’re just after our money? Gah!

The colour of DH's money: we keep all his foreign notes in a 'bus bank'. He's always trying to pass them off on me!

The colour of DH’s money: we keep all his foreign notes in a piggy bank. He’s always trying to pass them off on me

Dubai Tour cycle race – meh

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So apparently there’s some kind of bike ride around Dubai that’s lasting four days, taking in all the major sights and busiest districts of the city.

I’m sure it’ll be a great race for all those long-legged, pointy-headed, professional cyclists who’ve gathered in the UAE to take part in the Dubai Tour. And for those who spectate, the experience of seeing the world’s top riders flash by at 55-60kph – even if it’s all over in a few seconds – will be memorable.

Not to mention the photos that are bound to circulate of the peloton streaking past the Burj, making its way up the Palm and heading out beyond the sand dunes towards the Haja Mountains (beat that, Tour de France!). I’m craning my neck out the bedroom window to try to get a glimpse, as I write.

Inspired to get on your bike? Try this wonderful cycle track located on the Al Qudra Road (Past Arabian Ranches).

Inspired to get on your bike? Try this cycle track located on the Al Qudra Road (past Arabian Ranches).

Residents are being urged to bear with the inconveniences posed by this inaugural race – and by inconveniences, I don’t just mean the wide-scale rolling road closures; I mean the 35+, last-minute school shutdowns announced yesterday.

A shutdown too many for most mums, who’ve already endured cancelled school days due to rain and the Expo win. (What next? A truck carrying bananas and choc chips will collide with a truck carrying ice cream, and schools will be closed because it’s Sundae, predicts my friend K).

Some schools have remained open, including ours, but that doesn’t mean you can actually get there to pick up your child – so plenty of kids have been kept home to avoid a potential New Year’s Eve Palmageddon scenario.

My DH, who happily is on school-run duty today, just set out, two hours early to get 10 minutes down the road. He then has an elaborate plan to feed the kids cheeseburgers to kill time, before hopefully making it back up here when the roads re-open at 3.30pm (that’s if the race is on time).

“Will you be ok?” I asked, feeling horribly guilty about the three-and-a-half-hour school run he had ahead of him. “I think there’s an escape route over the desert, via that bumpy road – then if you just go 20km in the wrong direction, make a U-turn, you might get there.”

“Well, I’ve made it through the Suez Canal. I’ve flown over the Himalayas, crossed the Pacific. I think I’ll be ok,” he replied with an unphased smile, safe in the knowledge it’s probably all going to be a sandstorm in a teacup.

I do hope the race is a success, I really do – but next year, could it possibly not be sponsored by Dubai’s parents?

Pic via Dubai Insider

Water packed (check), snacks (check), entertainment (check), travel potty (check). Pic via Dubai Insider

The Wii fit addiction

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Just after the new year, I started on a new fitness regime. Bored to tears with the gym (I can’t be the only person who sets out hoping it’s burnt down?), I decided the way ahead was to use Wii Fit Plus on our new Wii machine at home, combined with some cycle rides outside.

If you don’t know what the Wii fit is, it’s basically a video game from Nintendo. And it’s really quite ingenious – the perfect balance of barely moving while standing in front of the TV (you can even watch TV if you do the Free Step).

You can do some really exciting exercises on it, like leaning from side to side, and sticking your leg out; then you can add a challenge like rolling a ball into the hole, or catching hula hoops while gyrating your hips in circles.

That's mii on the Wii!

That’s mii on the Wii!

That’s not all: you can also get the whole family involved with, say, a snowball fight, skateboarding, or taking a swing from the driving range. There’s really no better way to bring your children in from the garden and back in front of the TV.

It’s all based on the white, not-very-high step that you stand on and off, called the balance board. For the longest time, video consoles concentrated on being fun and entertaining. Nintendo changed all that by putting pressure sensors inside the board to control what you see on the screen.

And THAT is why the damn thing has got me hooked.

Not only can I weigh myself every time I turn the board on (and see a progress graph), but it’s also worked out, via some initial balance tests, what my Wii fit age is (don’t ask!) – and I’m determined to bring both these figures down.

Plus, succeeding at the low-intensity exercises gives you harder versions of them and accumulates time in the Fitpiggy – Wii Fit’s piggy bank which unlocks new mini-games the more you play.

I should also add that it’s very rude, yelping ouch in a pip-squeak voice when I stand on the board, and putting weight on the slender Mii character I selected to represent me – but it, somehow, all conspires to make me come back for more.

Except that pleasing sense of progress and achievement is eluding me.

I’ve gained TWO pounds.

App-ortunistic Son 2

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I realise that in posting this, it’s going to sound like my children spend their whole time playing on electronic gadgets. I do force them to do other stuff too, like outings, homework and eating.

But, let’s face it, the iPad does have its uses, especially during those times when you need to get things done, like make dinner or drive.

Son 1 even takes his to school now, as part of their bring-your-own-device (BYOD) scheme. “We do research on it, Mum!” he claims. “I only use Safari.”

Just recently, Son 2’s use of the iPad has started causing me some concern, though. He’s begun collecting apps – anything from Lego apps to airplane simulators. He, somehow, knows how to find these apps (he’s only 5!), and can get as far as the password prompt.

He then cajoles me into putting the password in (he’s only allowed the free apps), and Bob’s your uncle, it starts downloading. Except he’s become very app-happy, and can’t stop at just one or two. He’s bugging me continually about new apps, to the point that it’s driving me crazy.

“Let’s go for a bike ride,” I suggest. “Your iPad will run out of memory. It might IMPLODE if you put too many apps on it.”

How the iCloud works beats me

Dodgy photos, apps and games get rained down thousands of miles away by that clever little iCloud (beats me how it works)

Their screen time is limited, but you’d be amazed how many apps he’s got his hands on. My screen-ager intuitively knows that the iPad isn’t a toy; it’s a toy chest of apps and games, and his little fingers literally fly round the screen, leaving smeary fingerprints as they go.

Then came the email from my mum. Son 2 has her old iPad and the password is hers. “Is someone trying to reset the password?” she asked. “It’s just that I keep getting messages saying someone’s attempting to reset it.”

That someone = Son 2.

And that’s not all. It appears the cloud has been busy too.

“And the thing is,” she continued, “overnight, all the apps appear on my iPad too.”

You can imagine how over the moon Son 2 is – that his grandmother in the UK must surely be playing with his Lego Batman app over her cornflakes.

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Boney M takes Dubai by storm

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“So you want to go back in time? Back to a time of no responsibilities. No bills. No kids!”

The words rang out across the clear, moonlit night. Retro images of Doc Martens and grungy fashion flashed brightly on the big screens and you could almost hear the audience of 30- and 40-somethings collectively reply: “Yes, yes, take us back!”

“If you came looking for THIS, we truly apologise,” the voiceover continued.

A picture of Justin Bieber appeared on the screen and as the crowd, children of the 70s, 80s and 90s, roared with laughter, his face was crossed out with a big X. Cue more cheering and a cartoon skit, showing the troubled teen singer brawling with Peter from Family Guy.

Nothing personal Justin (our eight-year-olds still adore you), but this was our night to enjoy 90s vintage dance-pop, performed at Dubai’s second MiXTAPE Rewind concert by the likes of N-Trance, Vengaboys, Snap!, Dr Alban and the famed 70s band Boney M (bring it on!).

cassette-tape-and-pencilThe huge screen at Emirates Golf Club then flashed up a picture of a cassette, conjuring up memories of teenage mix tapes, middle-school crushes and recording the Top 40 off Radio 1 in your bedroom. And the scene was set for an amazing night of feel-good dance beats, topped off with wigs, punk mohawks and neon dresses among the enthralled audience.

Snap! romped their way through 90s hits such as Rhythm is a Dancer and The Power, then Dr Alban (remember him? The Nigerian-born dentist) proved that his 1992 dance floor anthem It’s My Life could still rock a city. So much so that he played it twice.

Boney M: The original line up. DH missed out!

Boney M: The original line up. A travesty that DH missed out!

N-Trance kept the crowd moving with an energetic performance and while I’d loved every single performer so far, it was the next band that had really piqued my interest.

Yes, Boney M. Except DH had barely heard of them.

To me, they symbolise classic tracks such as Daddy Cool, Brown Girl in the Ring and Rivers of Babylon (don’t even get me started on the Christmas hits). But it turns out they weren’t big in the US at all. DH’s music memories are Boneyless.

I wasn’t disappointed – led by the sole surviving band member Maizie Williams, who still has an amazing voice at the age of 62, the reconfigured group performed all my favourite super duper hits. I even caught DH swaying in time to their ode to the Russian mystic and best piece of disco cheese ever: Ra Ra Rasputin!

Boney M was a hard act to follow, but Vengaboys did so in pure Eurotrash style, proving that snappy, bubblegum pop songs sound brilliant when the retro vibe kicks in.

After racing their way through hits such as We’re Going to Ibiza and Boom Boom Boom Boom, the glitzily dressed Dutch group launched into a song that reminded me I wasn’t actually at a 90s disco, or in my teenage bedroom, but was standing outdoors without a coat in January 2014 in a Middle East city.

Sex on the Beach

Ibiza would probably be a better bet.

Silent Sunday: Cleaning windows

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There’s definitely something about taking the Christmas decorations down that makes decluttering seem like a good idea. At my office tower, too, there’s been a bout of spring cleaning. They finally got round to washing the windows – no mean feat when you work on the 24th floor.

You need a head for heights for this job

You need a head for heights for this job

The big chill

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It’s all relative, I know, but it really is quite chilly in the desert right now. And for the few weeks each year that this happens (Winter light, as I call it), it’s as though my children think we’re living in Alaska.

“I’m cold,” is the first whine of the day, followed by a big song and dance over putting their clothes on and exposing their bare skin to the bracing air (15 degrees this morning, and that is, erm, centigrade). “Still cold,” pipes up Son 2 on the school run, despite the heater – or “heat machine” as he calls it –  being turned on in the car.

“You have no idea what cold is,” I try to explain to them (where we lived before, in Minneapolis in the Midwest of America, it’s been -45 with the windchill recently and the schools had to close for a few days).

In anticipation of the dramatic change in weather, Dubai Confidential compiled a survival guide

In anticipation of the dramatic change in weather, Dubai Confidential compiled a survival guide

I’ve tried to tell them that if we still lived there, they wouldn’t be able to leave the house without bundling up in layers of clothing, and donning fur-lined boots and bobble hats. They’d have to pick their way over ice, there would be snow-ploughs clearing the snowdrifts, and frostbite warnings.

“Honestly, it’s not that cold,” I repeat, as we put jumpers on and head out the house, unencumbered by coats and other weighty items (my sweater dating back to about 2006 as, since moving to the UAE, I’ve entered a winter fashion time warp due to only buying summer clothes).

Our Filipino nanny, too, seems to think it’s biting cold and has taken to swaddling herself in a hoody, scarf and socks round the house. I’m thinking I’d better buy her a hot-water bottle quick, or the snuggle blanket with sleeves on sale in New Look.

And spare a thought for the camels in leg warmers (joke).

I do wonder if living in a desert climate for the past five years might have thinned our blood, although to be fair, the fact that our homes have no heating, are draughty and have floors made from marble does mean you feel it when the temperature plunges from the 35 degrees or so that we’re used to.

So, there you have it: a few years of desert living and you’ll find your family becoming quite reptilian, minus the dry, scaly skin. Not only that, but you’ll also take great delight in sipping steaming hot chocolate and wearing tights (even if, by midday, it’s on the warm-side again).

Silent Sunday: Censorship

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While not as draconian as in countries like China or Iran, censorship of certain materials is carried out in the UAE. Try opening the websites for the men’s titles FHM or Maxim here, and you’ll find they’re blocked, even though the magazines themselves are available in the UAE (with some parts of photographs blacked out).

I was reminded of the UAE’s censorship policy this weekend when we went to see the film The Wolf of Wall Street at the cinema.

In total, 45 minutes of content was deemed unsuitable and cut from Martin Scorsese’s film. In places, it didn’t even make sense.

In total, 45 minutes of content was deemed unsuitable and cut from Martin Scorsese’s film. In places, it didn’t even make sense!

Post-holiday blues

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You’d think a six-day mini-holiday to the UK shouldn’t take six days to recover from, but somehow this whole week has been all about getting back into the swing of things.

The time difference and arriving back in Dubai on the milk flight at 5am meant the boys then slept until past midday, setting me up for a particularly trying problem in small children: INSOMNIA. The Scrooge of Christmas travel.

Because it’s not like you can just tell them to count sheep, is it?

No, no, that would be far too easy. Instead, for several nights, between the hours of 9 pm and 1 am, the boys pummelled me with all kinds of strange symptoms, from “I’m scared, stay Mummy, please!” to “I’m going to vomit!” (Son 1), singing for two hours straight (Son 2), hunger pangs and even sleep walking (Son 1).

Trying to count sheep with Son 2 just turned into bonus stimulation time

Trying to count sheep with Son 2 just turned into bonus stimulation time

Son 1 would have re-set much quicker if it wasn’t for the fact that Son 2 was adamant his insomnia should be shared.

“Are you AWAKE?” he’d bellow at his brother, nearly raising the roof of his bunk-bed (and I couldn’t separate them because they’re really dependent on each other and hate to sleep alone).

“WAKE UP!”

Then Son 2 got his hands on the duck clock in their room and set the alarm off: “QUACK, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK QUACK!”

I’m surprised you didn’t hear the racket going on in their bedroom.

DH was safely ensconsed on the other side of the world (in Australia and New Zealand) for the first two days of their nocturnal shenanigans. Happily, he returned on the third day, only to fall fast asleep at 8.30 pm with jet lag of the polar-opposite kind.

Oh the glamour of our jet-setting ways!

The holidays by numbers

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I was one lucky expat this holiday and got to go home for a whirlwind trip – six days (three of them travelling) overflowing with family, food and surprises. I could wax lyrical about that home-for-the-holidays feeling, the novelty of winter and the precious time spent with loved ones, but I don’t quite know where to start. So, instead, here’s my numerical recap (SUBTITLED: Travel with kids never did run smooth) …

Distance travelled: 8,650 miles (in 2 planes, 2 trains, 1 tube train, 2 cars and 2 taxis)

Family members visited: 24, including DH’s 95-year-old Grannie

Visas forgotten (due to being in old passport): 1, causing immigration officials to shake their heads and tell us we couldn’t travel (in the end, they took pity on me)

Visas reunited with: 1, thanks to two special people: C who searched our house to find it; and DH who discovered that overnight FedEx delivery doesn’t apply when there’s bad weather in the UK

Skipped heartbeats: 3, when the concierge at the hotel the visa had been delivered to by a fellow pilot mistakenly presented me with a box of jewellery instead of an envelope

Waterlogged UK, but wonderful nevertheless

Waterlogged UK, but wonderful nevertheless

Passports lost: 4 (Yes, seriously. I think I was cursed)

Passports found after 45-min panic: 4. They’d dropped into a black hole in my suitcase

Children lost: 1, before the pantomime at Birmingham’s Hippodrome, triggering a full-scale search for Son 2 via walkie-talkies. (I know, I know, we’d only been out of Dubai for five minutes)

Children found: 1, in a deserted area of the theatre, clutching the booster seat they give kids like it was a life raft

Christmas dinners eaten: 3

Floods (or water ponds as they’re called in Dubai): Too many to count

Fish rescued: 2, found in a puddle, as floodwater receded from my parents’ garden; they were returned to the fishpond they’d escaped from

Minutes stayed up past midnight on NYE: 7

Speed of gusting wind as plane sat motionless on taxiway: 40mph

Memories made: Priceless

HAPPY NEW YEAR! (and thank you for reading Circles in the Sand in 2013) x