Category Archives: Dubai

Silent Sunday: So what do you DO all day?

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Ask any stay-at-home mother this question at your peril! My experience of SAHM-hood was a challenge, and certainly jam-packed with chores, errands, running the household and, the part that makes it all worthwhile, spreading the love around.

So I really laughed when my friend K, a fellow pilot’s wife, showed us her five-year-old’s adorable drawings, depicting what she thinks her mom and dad do all day.

So I really laughed when my friend K, a fellow pilot’s wife, showed us her five-year-old’s adorable drawings, depicting what she thinks her mom and dad do all day.

In the 5 minutes between school runs, grocery shopping, food prep, organising maintenance, yelling at the bank, parents’ meetings maybe!

In the 5 minutes between school runs, grocery shopping, food prep, organising maintenance, yelling at the bank and parents’ meetings, maybe!

Run-ins with UAE police

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I was filling DH in this morning on everything that had happened while he was away – a catch up that takes place regularly in our household as we mesh our lives together again after his trips.

“And there was some excitement at the gym,” I suddenly recalled (it’s a fact of life that while he’s traversing the earth, the furthest I often get is to school and the gym).

“It was vandalised,” I said, probably putting a bit too much emphasis on the word, because the damage was very minor.

“It looked like a tiger had been working out,” I added for good effect.

“What do you mean?” he enquired. “There were dead goats left lying around?” (not quite as far-fetched as it sounds, as down the road from our first villa in Dubai there was a house where goats were kept).

“No,” I replied. “Someone broke in during the night and ripped the material on the work-out benches. The police came and everything.

“And took FINGERPRINTS, ” I finished with a flurry.

It was a good story, because this sort of thing doesn’t happen very often in Dubai (punishments are harsh). And it’s not every day you find yourself bouncing up and down on the step machine with an Emirati policeman prowling around.

But, later that day – still on a police theme – I read a brilliant post from a blog I follow based in Abu Dhabi, the capital of the UAE. The blogger writes The Reluctant Emigrant, inspired by recession in Ireland and emigration to the Middle East, and had just experienced a run-in with a UAE squad car – something I try very hard to avoid out here.

I hope she doesn’t mind me recounting her story.

In her words, she was ‘driving at the speed of a 10-year-old people carrier in need of a service’, when she was surprised to see the flashing lights of a police car in her rear view mirror. He tailed her, pulled in right behind her and engaged even more flashing lights to get her to stop.

Abu Dhabi residents face fines for having dusty cars

Abu Dhabi residents face fines for having dusty cars

“During the 24 steps it took him to get to my driver’s mirror, the world slipped into slow motion,” she writes. “I pictured myself being cuffed while face-down on the bonnet for some minor road offence. The children taken into care and the car confiscated, all because I didn’t use my indicators on the roundabout or some similar mistake.”

The young Emirati officer tapped his stylus on his electronic notepad and told her: “Madam, in order to maintain the aesthetic appearance of the city, I will have to issue you a warning to go home and wash, otherwise there will be a fine.

“Under UAE law, it is a crime to have your car this dirty,” he continued. “Please wash immediately. Also, I will warn you it is illegal to wash using water outside your home, so you must visit service station.”

Seriously, you can’t make this stuff up!

RIP Hanny-Wanny

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The hamster is no more. I can’t even begin to tell you what happened. Let’s just say, I’ve vowed that, other than our cat, we won’t have any more pets until after the summer.

Summer 2018.

Our astounding failure at rodent petcare aside, I’ve been answering some tricky questions about hamster heaven.

“Is it on a cloud?” (yes, very high up); “What do they do up there?” (they’ve got wheels, tunnels, exercise balls and all sorts); “How do they get there?” (erm, fly); “Can you see them go up?” (no, it’s too fast).

Hamster heaven: The fun never ends

Hamster heaven: The fun never ends

And the question that had me stumped: “Which was the first hamster to go to hamster heaven?”

Then there’s the difficult, thorny issue my older son is really angry about: “Why did the vet kill Hanny-Wanny?”, followed by a dramatic outburst of tears.

He was surprisingly attached to his hamster, despite the brevity of it all (two weeks!), and even my DH wouldn’t sign the euthanasia paperwork, leaving that one on my conscience.

But it was the kindest thing after the unspeakable, and the vet (who was gorgeous!) was very understanding.

“It’s a good idea to replace the hamster,” he mentioned helpfully as we said goodbye to dear Hanny-Wanny, “for zee emotions.”

“And, for boys of this age group,” he said, glancing at BB and LB standing silently and solemnly by the examining table, “I suggest a guinea pig. They’re a lot more robust.”

Silent Sunday: The waiting room

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When we moved to the UAE, I realised our days of sitting in NHS doctor’s surgeries reading tatty magazines and looking at the pot plant on the windowsill were over (and believe me, I have mixed feelings about this).

This is one of the places we go to for healthcare. The 60,000-square-foot state-of-the-art centre is located in a shopping mall. You go to Fashion Parking and can valet park if you like. This is the airport terminal-style waiting room where you can people watch on stylish seating, before being led off to one of the 50 consultation suites. In all honestly, I still haven’t quite got used to seeing the doctor at the mall.

Here’s one of the places we go to for healthcare. The 60,000-square-foot state-of-the-art centre is located in a shopping mall. You go to Fashion Parking and can valet park if you like. This is the airport terminal-style waiting room where you can people watch on stylish seating, before being led off to one of the 50 consultation suites. In all honesty, a fan of the NHS, I still haven’t got used to seeing the doctor at the mall (and having a laparoscopy or MRI while you could be shopping for shoes, I’m just not sure!)

Not a sponsored post, but more info at Mediclinic Dubai Mall.

Earthquake: Part II

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The earth moved again yesterday, causing more evacuations and panic than last week’s shake and sparking a flurry of media reporting on how tremor-proof Dubai’s high-rise buildings are.

There were initial reports that the world’s tallest building, the Burj Khalifa – nearly 1km (828m) high – had been evacuated, but this actually wasn’t true. However, across the city, lines of workers filed down stairs and poured out of buildings to mill around outside, jamming the phone networks as they called family and gazed up at their office towers.

I say ‘filed’ down – but in many cases it wasn’t exactly a leisurely stroll downstairs. “There’s nothing like a bit of an earthquake to make you run down 19 floors,” wrote a friend on Facebook. “Scary as hell!” Another friend and work colleague texted to say she’d legged it from our 20th floor office (I would have done too, wouldn’t you?).

While authorities urged everyone to remain calm, a BBM message half an hour later started a rumour that another aftershock was coming, leading to a number of buildings to be re-evacuated

While authorities urged everyone to remain calm, a BBM message half an hour later started a rumour that another aftershock was coming, causing a number of buildings to be re-evacuated. Images via Emirates 24/7

But before telling you my earthquake story, I want to point out I’m well aware we’re fortunate. The UAE isn’t a high-risk earthquake zone; we merely feel the tremors and aftershocks that stem from major earthquakes in Iran.

Yesterday’s, which measured a powerful 7.8 on the Richter scale, hit border regions between Iran and Pakistan; while some say it was the strongest quake to hit the region in 35 years (on par with the earthquake that killed an estimated 68,000 people in Sichuan province, China, in 2008), the number of casualties keeps changing, from at least 40 last night to ‘several’ today, if Iranian TV is to be believed.

The truth is they probably don’t know, because rescue teams were still on their way to the remote regions that were affected, but it’s thought the depth of the quake (50 miles down) may have saved many lives.

In the UAE, by the time the tremors reached us, they were small (between 4 and 5 on the scale), but still shook buildings across the emirate. Tower blocks swayed, books fell off shelves and cars wobbled.

“While stopped at a red light, we felt our car shaking,” a friend said. “My husband and I both looked back to see if our daughter was kicking the seat, then we decided it must be windy.”

“My husband thought someone was outside the SUV messing with him because it was rocking so much,” another friend added.

So did I feel anything this time?

Nope, not even a judder. And I was down in Media City, which judging by the number of evacuations that took place was something of a mini-epicentre. I was doing a half-day at work and had just left my desk, literally five minutes before. I rode the elevator down 20 floors, grabbed a tea in the Bakemart and that’s when it must have happened – as I sat sipping my drink under the eaves of our tower block.

How I managed to not feel a thing, I have no idea.

The first I knew of the earthquake: workers being evacuated from our building

The first I knew of the earthquake: office workers being evacuated from our building in Media City

On finding out your kids know nothing about pet care – a.k.a. parent FAIL

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“NOOO, don’t drop her,” I yelled, steam coming out my ears. “Put her back in her cage THIS MINUTE!”

The boys had been mysteriously quiet upstairs for over an hour, and I thought I’d better check on them. Turns out I was right to be concerned. They were on the top bunk, about to let their new hamster kamikaze over the edge onto the rug below.

(The equivalent of jumping off a 20-storey building, I’d imagine).

O.M.G!

For some reason, I’d thought it would be in-bred in my children to be kind to animals. Surely? I mean, I can’t even kill an ant without feeling guilty – that must have rubbed off?

Last week, when the hamster arrived, the boys’ excitement knew no bounds. Here’s a photo. BB likes using my phone to take ‘jail bird’ pictures of her behind bars.

They’d already been through stages of wanting a mouse, then a rat (spare me, please!), so fulfilling their rodent-owning desires by adopting a hamster seemed a great idea in comparison

They’d already been through stages of wanting a mouse, then a rat (spare me, please!), so fulfilling their rodent-owning desires by adopting a hamster seemed a great idea

Before you tell me to start saving now for the years of psychotherapy BB’s probably in for, I should add that this was a much-wanted pet.

And, as members of the rodent family go, she’s really very cute, snuffling her way around and propping herself up onto her back legs to sniff the air.

For the first four or five days, the children treated her like royalty, carrying her cage downstairs every day and setting it in the middle of the living area as a centerpiece. They renamed her Hanny-Wanny and made her a selection of toys to swat out of pieces of cardboard and string.

The only time they suddenly weren’t interested in her (and disappeared, in fact) was when it was time to clean out her cage (“We don’t have gloves, mummy!”)

But, then, I realised they might be getting a bit carried away. A never-ending procession of friends were invited over for a meet-and-greet, and they started doing more than just putting her in her exercise ball.

What I’m trying to say is they didn’t flick through a book on Keeping Pets to find some hamster-friendly ideas. They looked on YouTube, where they found video clips of hamster mazes made out of Lego. And then copied what they saw.

DH and I put a stop to the hamster maze game, and thought everything was under control. Until we caught them red-handed on the top bunk, the fun gone way too far, about to send her on a cordless-bungee jump.

We were furious, believe me. I attempted to teach them about empathy, while DH raged: “She’s NOT a cheap Chinese toy. You HAVE to look after her. If anything happens to her, you won’t get another one.”

BB started crying, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks, his lips quivering – at least showing some remorse – and begged us to believe he’d look after her better. “I promise,” he whimpered. “I’m the hamster’s daddy, we won’t do it again.” [his eyes welling up once more]

Then, to our dismay (revealing he thought she would be replaced), whispered: “But won’t she lay an egg soon?”

Quite honestly, I wasn’t expecting any of that. I’m now doing all I can to make sure this hamster isn’t the brightest two weeks of my children’s life.

Silent Sunday: The Dubai driving school

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There’s something wrong with this picture. Can you spot what it is? The clue is it’s one of those ‘Only in Dubai’ moments. I’ll post the answer in a comment tomorrow.

Dubai driving school car

Catching the bad boys in style

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Being the mother of two small boys, I know all about boys and their toys, and the competitiveness that sometimes prevails.

I’m beginning to think that Dubai’s big boys are no different. This is a picture of a vehicle used by the Civil Defence to get to fires quickly. Somewhere inside, there’s hydraulic equipment, firefighting gear and first aid supplies.

The customised Corvette beats traffic to get to fires

The customised Corvette beats traffic to get to fires

Then, today, photos went viral of Dubai Police’s new supercar – a 1.5m AED (£300,000) Lamborghini Aventador, which the police say will help them patrol the emirate’s highways.

New toy: Lamborghini launched the car being added to theDubai Police fleet this year to celebrate its 50th anniversary

New toy: Launched by Lamborghini this year to celebrate its 50th anniversary, the car has been painted in Dubai Police green-and-white colours and is being added to their fleet

The police will at least get a head start (it does 0-60mph in 3 seconds flat), but I’m not quite sure how they’ll make arrests, given that there’s no backseat.

Still, if you did get carried off in it (don’t start getting ideas now, petrol heads!), you could at least feel you were getting a ride in David Hasselhoff’s Knight Rider.

And I’m just imagining the arguments that’ll go on at the police station. “It’s my turn to drive the Lamborghini today!” “No, it’s MY turn!”

"OK boys - 20 minutes each"

“OK boys – 20 minutes each”

“Move over Mum!”

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“Just wait till they’re 15 and think all their friends know better than you,” my mother-in-law once said, locking eyes with me.

Or maybe it was 11, or 9, I can’t quite remember.

Whichever age it was, she was right – the signs are all there.

My oldest son’s just got home from school, and within milli-seconds of him bursting through the front door – the school bus still pulling away with a growl – he always asks: “Mummy, can M come over? And J too? We arranged it on the bus.”

It’s one of the kiddie-perks of living in a compound – his friends are literally on the doorstep, or over the wall. The furthest away is N block. “All you have to do is call J’s mummy to say it’s okay!” he’ll say, bringing me my phone, then vanishing out the door to call for M.

From my 7yo, I’m guessing this is normal behaviour, but I’m beginning to wonder if my 4yo isn’t 4 going on 11.

He has another week of holiday and, with his brother already back at school, we’re scratching around for things to do. The past three days have seen some apocalyptic weather in Dubai. Sandstorms have swept through the region, bringing lightning, rain and howling winds. If Tom Cruise had appeared in a swirl of dust to battle the storm with perfectly groomed hair, I wouldn’t have been surprised. It was wild.

"I have ways, LB, to make you have fun!"

“I have ways, LB, to make you have fun!”

But, today, it was absolutely gorgeous. The storms had cleared the air, and the rain had washed all the sand away. The temperature was a perfect 26 degrees, and I was determined we should make the most of the freshly laundered weather (with summer coming, such days are numbered).

“Let’s go to the beach LB,” I called out, while running round the house grabbing towels, sun-tan lotion, buckets, spades, etc.

He looked up at me, and with a quizzical expression enquired: “Who are we meeting?”

“No-one LB, it’s just you and me.” (thinking how nice, some one-on-one time).

I might as well have told him we were meeting the child catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang – he shook his head and lost interest straight away.

“Okay, LB, you can play with the iPad in the car, but NOT on the beach,” I bribed said. “Deal.”

He reluctantly came, after I promised we wouldn’t be too long. We jumped the rolling waves, I swung him round in the frothy swell until my arms nearly dislocated, and pushed him on a swing for at least 15 mins to finish my arm muscles off. I swear we had fun (and I did get to work on my tan too).

On the way home, I asked chirpily: “LB, that was good, wasn’t it?”

No answer – then, “Erm, yes,” in a small voice.

“Can D come over?”

I get the hint, I do.