Category Archives: Dubai

Throwback Thursday: The Expat Olympics

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Circles staggers over the final hurdle to win gold in the hail-a-taxi-in-rush-hour relay!

Circles staggers over the final hurdle to win gold in the hail-a-taxi-in-rush-hour relay!

If you think about it, it’s a funny ole thing that expats spend such a big chunk of the year away from their adopted home, living out of a suitcase. While most people take two-week holidays, for expats six to eight weeks is often necessary in order to see all your family and friends who you don’t see the rest of the year.

As we all know, it’s not always plain sailing …

With the Rio Olympics about to start, I thought I’d repost my list of some of the events that expats the world over would be in great shape for this summer:

Speed

  • Catch every flight, with time to spare
  • Pole-position passport-queuing
  • The find-your-holiday-home-before-dark Road Race
  • The 32-hour-day Time Trial
  • Sprint to the toilets before the inevitable

Endurance

  • The up-before-dawn jet-lagged 6YO (how long til you lose it?)
  • The bath-book-bed triathlon in new surroundings
  • The time-zone jump (how many days to adjust? Bonus points for family members under 10)
  • The Eventing marathon (plan and execute four to six weeks of events and get-togethers without leaving anyone out)
  • The 1,500km cross-country steeplechase (how many relatives can you visit?)
  • Sofa surfing (who needs a good night’s sleep anyway?)

Gymnastics

  • Stay vertical at the Bar during reunions with friends
  • The Parallel park on tiny roads
  • The Roll-your-clothes test (does this mean you can fit more in your suitcase?)
  • Pommelling-it-shut after repacking
  • The Beam-me-up-Scotty moment (when it all gets too much)
  • The Dismount (when DH extricates himself from the travelling circus and goes back to work – no blubbing)

Skills

  • The daily Dress-Arghh competition (find something uncreased to wear in your capsule wardrobe)
  • Ride public transport in rush hour with children and suitcases
  • The don’t-stick-your-oar-in family regatta (aka, don’t rock the boat if it’s best left unsaid)
  • The triple shift childcare derby (one mum, two whining kids, DH gone)
  • Synchronised schedules (find a good moment to Skype your absent DH)
  • The overtired tantrum throw (how many until you have one yourself?)

On watching our little tadpoles in the school swim gala

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All the parents from Son2’s year were invited yesterday to watch the swim demo.

There are some remarkable swimmers among school children in Dubai – given that they swim so regularly, both at school and for fun, it wouldn’t surprise me if the next Michael Phelps came from the emirate. These seven-year-olds make it look easy, slicing through the water like fish, their arms thrashing away as though controlled by a metronome. The smooth strokes of the kids in swim squad are a pleasure to watch.

But (and this might just be me), after dropping Son2 off, my heart did sink a little at not being able to go straight home and get on with all the things I need to do before the long summer holiday kicks in. (I’ll bet I’m not the only knackered mum who feels like the holiday is hurtling towards us like a freight train.)

Is that you, Son2? Hard to tell.

Is that you, Son2? Hard to tell.

The demo started at 8.10am, which meant that between drop off and taking our positions round the edge of the pool, there were a few spare minutes to grab a quick Costa and move the car to a proper parking place. Of course, this all took longer than I’d expected, and so when I got to the sparkling pool, it was standing room only.

The turquoise water was clear, the kids excited. It was hot, but in the shade it was bearable. There were benches set out, and a clever cooling device – a sort-of sprinkler-fan – whipped the air with puffs of cool mist that caught the light from time to time. Birds wheeled and chirped overhead.

I stood next to my friend T, who’d already been for a jog round the school perimeter. “Really?” I exclaimed, still tasting the buttery croissant I’d scoffed at Costa.

Across the water, sixty children sat cross-legged – all wearing blue-and-white swimming uniform and swim caps. And herein lay my problem. It was almost impossible to work out which one was my son. Even when they stood up in small groups, and dived in, the combination of dazzling sunshine and regulation plastic caps made it difficult to distinguish between them. Once in the pool, the churning water, arm thrashing and splashing hardly helped.

My goggles fit perfectly, said no child everAn hour of watching endless races in which my son may or may not have been participating went by. Circles of perspiration had begun to form on the parents’ clothes. I pitied the men in suits. By now, the temperature must have hit the mid-90s.

But kudos to us – the parents’ enthusiasm didn’t wane. There was cheering and noise. The ‘swim mums (and dads)’ were easy to spot. “Go!” “Kick harder!” I wasn’t joking when I said there’s Olympic potential. I’m quite sure some of the mums were multi-tasking – watching their little ’un swim like a silver fish jumping upstream while also keeping one eye on their smartphone seeking out prospective endorsement deals*.

As enjoyable as it was, I was quite relieved to slink off home before we all melted, having escaped the rumoured ‘parents’ race’.

Later, I found myself in trouble, though. “Mum!” cried Son2 at pick-up time. He had his indignant voice on. “You weren’t watching. You didn’t see me win! Mum! WHY WEREN’T YOU WATCHING?”

* As an aside, did you know that Phelps’ 6ft 7in arm span is greater than his height; his lung capacity is double the average man’s; and his size 14 feet are more like flippers?

Why must our lush gardens be destroyed?

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Soon to be returned to sand as no-one wants to pay for watering after we leave

Soon to be returned to sand as no-one wants to pay for watering after we leave

A sense of calmness usually descends on me when I stand in my garden. There’s something very peaceful about the scent of frangipani and jasmine all around, the birds chirping away in the trees, and the glorious sight of red, pink and orange bougainvillea climbing frothily up the wall. I love my garden – it was planted seven years ago, and transformed what was a fairly sizeable but barren sand lot when we arrived into a green oasis.

The grass was planted in evenly spaced clumps which, over the next few months, spread to form a lawn. Son2’s baby hair was growing at the same time, and I remember wondering which would fill in first: his fine, downy hair or the blades of grass. The irrigated carpet of green won.

Now, when I stand outside, I feel rather sad: we’re required to rip our lovely gardens out before we move. Every tree and plant, no matter the size, must be removed in order to leave our once beautiful gardens as sandpits again. The reason is money: no-one wants to pay for the watering if there’s a gap before the next tenants move in.

Starting over again in a new sandpit

Starting over again in a new sandpit

Appalled by this treatment of nature, those of us who are being relocated to Meydan South have come together to try to negotiate something very special.

We can bring small plants to our new compound, but as per the rules, we are not permitted to plant large or deep-rooted trees. Many of us are leaving gardens behind in which well-established trees are flourishing. Species include Palm trees, Flamboyants and Almond trees, to name just a few. Between us, these trees have accumulated hundreds of years of growth.

Save our trees!

Save our trees!

Many of us hope to donate our big trees to the common areas of Meydan South, and believe this well-supported, community initiative will bring a number of benefits to the new compound. Firstly, it will transform the brand new but arid development into a green neighbourhood, in line with the Sheikh’s promise to preserve the environment and create a green city.

Secondly, green areas help to keep the temperature a little cooler, and, thirdly, in a country where asthma rates are high, there are health benefits to be gained from minimising areas of open sand. Transplanting our trees will help to improve the air quality while also ensuring the compound looks attractive and verdant with vegetation.

Wish us luck as we attempt to persuade the powers that be to transport and replant our trees!

I have everything crossed.

Dubai set to go Orlando-tastic!

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IMG Worlds Of Adventure MARVEL Zone ZB resized

It’s hoped the park will help Dubai achieve its aim of rivalling Orlando, Florida

For a while now, I’ve been aware of some goings-on down the road: the construction of a massive building with mosaic walls; an escaped dinosaur on the loose; signs that the race to open a whole raft of theme parks in the emirate is about to be won.

And we all know Dubai doesn’t do things by half.

This August will see the opening of Dubai’s $1bn IMG Worlds of Adventure, followed by – two months later – an even bigger offering in the form of three linked theme parks (the Hollywood-inspired theme park Motiongate, Dubai Bollywood Parks and Legoland).

Move over Ferrari World (and Global Village!).

It’s all part of the Dubai government’s aim to increase tourist numbers to 20 million visitors a year by the end of the decade, up from 13.2 million in 2015. At a press conference today, featuring life-size comic characters, IMG said it expected to attract 4.5 million people in the first year of opening alone.

So what can we expect? Here’s a sneak peak at just a few of the attractions at IMG, which, when it opens on 15 August, will be the largest indoor theme park in the world – roughly the size of 28 football fields.

MARVEL ZONE

Screen Shot 2016-04-24 at 22.03.43

Marvel and Cartoon Network-themed rides are the main pull

• Avengers Battle of Ultron: Join Iron Man, Thor, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Captain America and the Hulk as they take to the skies in the Quinjet to battle the evil villain Ultron.

• Hulk Epsilon Base 3D: Hold the motion sickness. Enjoy being virtually propelled through a battle scene in which Hulk takes on his deadliest foe, The Leader.

• Spider-Man Doc Ock’s Revenge: Save New York from the sinister Doctor Octopus on this 400-metre spinning coaster.

• Thor Thunder Spin: Free skin-firming on this one. You’ll be pinned to your seat on this dizzying top-spin experience as Thor attempts to rescue adventurous riders from the clutches of Loki, God of Mischief.

LOST VALLEY – DINOSAUR ADVENTURE ZONE

Screen Shot 2016-04-24 at 22.32.11

Hand-carved dinosaurs: Take a spin with the friendlier inhabitants of the Lost Valley

• The Velociraptor: Hit 100 kilometres an hour in 2.5 seconds on this thrilling 1.1 km rollercoaster, taking riders from the deep dark prehistoric jungles of the Lost Valley out into the Dubai desert and back.

• Forbidden Territory: Go on safari and spot 70 prehistoric, life-sized animatronic dinosaurs.

• Predator: Calling all adrenaline junkies. The sharpest drop track in the region, with a heart-stopping ‘beyond-vertical’ plummet to Earth.

• Dino Carousel: The first dinosaur-themed carousel in the world.

CARTOON NETWORK ZONE

• The Powerpuff Girls – Mojo Jojo’s Robot Rampage: Save the world before bedtime.

• Adventure Time – The Ride of OOO with Finn & Jake: Soar across the sky with Finn and Jake through retail and themed F&B outlets in the magical land of Ooo.

• The Amazing Ride of Gumball: Visit the town of Elmore where Gumball and Darwin’s school science project has gone out of control.

There’s loads more – an adventure fortress, LazyTown Playground and live stage show, street entertainers – too many things to list here. Tickets go on sale online tomorrow at www.IMGworlds.com, costing AED 300 for adults and AED 250 for children.

IMG Worlds Of Adventure Exterior Full park image

Open all year: The park is set inside a temperature-controlled environment

House-hunting in Dubai (not for the faint hearted)

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So, we’re trekking round Dubai looking at homes – not because we want to (see previous post), but because we’re being evicted and thought we’d better check out all the options. Secretly, I absolutely love noseying around other people’s villas and I’m not averse to a bit of property porn – so off we go. Google Maps at the ready.

Town Square

Town Square on Al Qudra – some imagination required for this one

First stop – Al Furjan. I’ve heard good things, and Son1’s school isn’t too far away. We pass lines of giant electricity pylons whose wires stretch for as far as the eye can see in each direction, and I spot the enormous, curvaceous satellite dish that must surely pick up some interesting TV shows (always reminds me of the James Bond movie, Golden Eye). We’re close – but that doesn’t mean anything in Dubai. After several attempts, we find the entrance.

My husband winds down the car window and politely asks if we can see the show villa.

The security guard shakes his head. “No,” he says, deadpan.

“We’re Emirates,” we say, trying again. You think they’d make this easy, right?

Sunlight streams through the window and I squint at the guard through narrowed eyes. He smiles back. A smile that comes out like a newborn foal – its legs buckle straight away. “You need to contact the company to get key,” he says, and no matter how much we argue our case (“the company sent us here”), he won’t relent. He lets us in, however, to drive around.

I like what I see and spot a man I decide to ask a question of. Unfortunately he’s up a ladder. He’s standing on the uppermost rung doing something to the carport roof, and all I can see are the bottoms of his legs above white trainers. I wait. Once he’s safely down, I ask one or two questions, which he helpfully answers and then we’re on our way.

To Jumeriah. By now, we’re getting hungry and the car’s running low on gas. Just a quick stop, says my husband – it’s such a fabulous location close to the beach, and it’s a jewel of day, as bright and shiny as a new-minted dirham. I’d love to live this close to the sea, I think. But the reality is our schools are nowhere near, and we find ourselves lost and struggling with the dual numbering system on the villas.

Jumeriah numbers

Hmmm … helpful. We’re lost

My husband isn’t one to give up easily, and so we do see one villa – which we disagree on due to me not wanting to spend all day on the school run.

Onwards we go, and to cut a long story short, I’ll fast forward straight to our viewing at Mudon, where – if we won the lottery – we could possibly buy a villa or townhome. We’re immediately seduced by a sign to the 5-bed showhome. “Let’s just look,” I say, hopefully, and we drive deeper into Mudon, following more signs laid out like breadcrumbs. Arriving, I climb out the car, and stare at my dream home. I walk round with my eyes on stalks. It’s incredible, exhilarating. I’m almost breathless with excitement. It’s property porn. And it’s totally beyond our reach.

Sigh.

“Well, let’s look at the smaller ones,” I suggest.

We walk into an office and a woman greets us.

“Could we have some information please?” I ask.

“What sort of information?” she says. A puzzled look flickers across her face. Then she looks blank.

District 11

Meydan South: Where we’ll likely end up, even if the well-known book series/movie reference is a little disconcerting! (“District 11: A large district in the south… The punishment system is much harsher in this district” – The Hunger Games)

“Erm, about your villas?”

She’s still looking confused.

“What you have available, prices,” I suggest, trying to help her out. I begin to wonder if they are actually trying to sell villas here. Maybe it’s all a big ruse for displaced expats.

“Sorry,” she says, shaking her head. She points to a number. “You need to call.”

“Could you tell us about the facilities?” asks DH after we’ve looked round the townhome she said we could see.

The quizzical look returns. She doesn’t have a clue, and we leave wondering what on earth her actual job was. Dubai can be a funny old place, you know.

secret of change

The eviction email

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After months of rumours that wouldn’t go away, my husband’s company hit several hundred staff members with an eviction notice on Thursday. It’s always a Thursday, the last day of the week here. And it’s always a shock when it comes.

Screen Shot 2016-04-10 at 18.24.30

Clouds: I’ll miss this room!

I cried! Yes, hands up, I’m happy to admit it – I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Angry tears streamed down my face. I love our house. Over the past seven years, the frustrated interior designer in me has painted each room in a rainbow of bright colours. The family room ceiling is a skyscape, with white fluffy clouds and airplanes, and on the garden wall I painted a fairytale castle. It amused the kids for all of five minutes, but I think we’ve all blossomed from the love that’s been put into this house and garden.

I knew where we were headed (for those in the know, Meydan South, and for readers wondering, a massive, identikit housing development in the desert, where the company wants to accommodate all crew). I closed my eyes for a moment and saw several images: the huge highways I’d have to drive on, for miles each day, to get my kids to their respective, now further-away schools. Twelve tarmacked lanes of traffic and stress, with idiot drivers who care not a bit about a mum on a school run with small children dragged out of bed far too early, her knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel and teeth clenched.

I also imagined endless construction, the hammering of machines and the high-pitched whine of drills as the developers work on road access to the community and build the compound’s facilities (community centre, shop, pool, etc). Amenities like these won’t be ready until this time 2017. Yes, they open these places in Dubai before these things are built. I thought about all this, and held my head in my hands. How could they do this to us?

Coronation Street

Three days on from the eviction email and I’m in a much more positive frame of mind. It’s a free house, with bills paid, and inside it’s lovely. While a sandpit now, residents will, in time, get a small garden growing which will green up (heartbreaking, though, that our current spacious gardens will be ripped up).

No-one is being forced – families can take the money and find their own accommodation if they wish, either to buy or rent. Meydan South will eventually have great facilities, and as for the driving, well there’s the option to change schools. There are safe pathways for the kids to explore, on foot or bike; there will literally be hundreds of children living in the community, who can all call on each other and go off to play, like in 1950s England. Or, dare I say it, Butlins holiday camp.

See you at Meydan South!

Postscript: Perhaps the best news for Mums is that a friend has found a great pub/watering hole just ten minutes away, with good food and prices (Qube Bar at Meydan – which might just make the move totally worthwhile!)

Emirates first-class: My shower phobia (at 40,000ft)

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“Have you flown in this cabin before?” The flight attendant smiled and handed me a glass of bubbly.

“No, I haven’t,” I said. “First time.”

“Well, let me give you a tour,” she replied, flashing another megawatt smile. I suddenly wished I had more make-up on, and imagined her applying her curvy, crimson pout, mushing her lips together to press the lipstick in, and blotting the excess with a tissue. The result – a sharply angled Cupid’s bow and bold pop of Emirates red that matched her shoes and the details on her creaseless uniform.

She leaned towards me and began her tour of the armchair of a seat, pointing out the panel of buttons, vanity table, sliding privacy door and personal mini-bar.

I nodded enthusiastically at everything, gripping the thin stem of the champagne glass a little too tightly in case it was all a dream. The details, the fresh flowers, leather chair that reclined to a bed and acres of walnut trim, almost felt unreal.

“And would you like to take a shower before landing?” she asked. “You know we have a spa on board.”

Ever wondered how celebs get off planes looking as fresh as a daisy? Here's how …

Ever wondered how celebs get off planes looking as fresh as a daisy? Here’s how …

I’d taken a peek inside after climbing the stairs to the A380’s top deck with my roller-luggage banging against my leg. My eyes had widened as I took in the enormous teak-and-marble shower suite, bigger than your average bathroom with two dedicated attendants, shiny taps and no shortage of rolled, fluffy, white towels and bottles of sweet-smelling lotions. The scent of Bvlgari perfume hung in the air. I knew I wouldn’t be taking a shower, though – however inviting the clever back-lighting and full-size window on the world were.

“That’s okay,” I said, a hint of regret in my voice.

She raised a thin, finely arched eyebrow.

I decided not to explain, thinking my fear of hitting turbulence – or, worse, an emergency – while wet and naked in the shower might sound silly.

“Well, just let me know if you need anything. It’s dine on-demand,” she said, passing over a menu and bestowing on me a final red-lippy beam that didn’t quite stretch to her eyes but lit up her young, dewy-skinned face in a flourish.

Left to my own devices, I wanted to giggle uncontrollably that I was sitting in first-class, after ten years of hollow-eyed travelling with young children in economy. I drained my champagne, feeling the bubbles hitting my bloodstream in an effervescent rush, took my shoes off, and got comfy, which wasn’t difficult in the expansive seat. After take-off, I was offered pyjamas to change into. Pyjamas! Flying really didn’t get any better than this.

I decided to try to see who else was in the cabin. My husband has told me of all kinds of celebs who have been on his plane in first – some of whose names/films/music he even remembers (he doesn’t get to meet them). I peered out of my cabin, but it was impossible to see who my companions were – Emirates first-class is all about privacy, peace and quiet. You’d be forgiven for thinking you were on a private jet. Determined not to waste a moment of this precious seven-hour flight by sleeping, I slid my door shut and watched movies on the huge, flat-screen TV.

Knowing exactly how lucky I was to experience first (and feeling rather out of place!), I was a model passenger. I didn’t bother the flight attendants once. If truth be told, I hadn’t quite ‘got’ the dine-on demand thing. I was expecting meals to be brought round on a trolley and didn’t think to ask for food. The staff leave you alone; responding to passengers’ whims via call buttons; privacy, as I mentioned, being king.

With about 35 minutes to go, I opened my door, and a flight attendant asked with surprise, “Did you want anything?”

“No, thank you,” I lied.

“You sure? Tea, coffee, a croissant?” (I’d missed the caviar!)

My stomach betrayed me with a growl so loud I thought she might have heard over the sound of the engines. A passenger – the only one I’d seen all flight – got up to change out of his pyjamas, and my hunger got the better of me.

“Oh, okay! A croissant please.”

(“That’s all you had?” my husband asked, incredulously, afterwards!)

Of course, we started descending all too soon, and, of course, I wanted to do that Jennifer Aniston thing and ask the pilot (DH) to ‘fly this thing around for a bit longer’.

Black Pajeros come in threes

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When you’ve been in Dubai for a while, there comes a time when you realise your ageing car doesn’t cut it anymore. This moment came for us (well, DH at least) when our 4by4 started leaking brake fluid on Sheikh Zayed Road.

This came after our housemaid slammed her foot onto the accelerator rather than the brake, and crashed it into a tree – but more about that later.

I should add, as an aside, that if you do break down here, someone nearly always helps. It’s the Arabic culture to do so, perhaps because it’s a country where, as soon as you leave the major urban centres, you enter a middle-of-nowhere landscape where in summer it seems incredible that anything could survive. Staring through the car window at endless sand, littered with dunes, scrubby shrubs and giant electricity pylons whose wires stretch for as far as the eye can see in each direction, you might wonder how humans have thrived in the desert for the last 2,000 years or so.

Another day, another school runNow, our ailing car probably wouldn’t be considered especially old in most other countries, but in the UAE we drive hundreds of kilometres a week (and that’s just carting the kids to school and their various activities). Add to that the sand, heat and – in some cases – aggressive driving, and it’s easy to see why wear and tear is so rapid here.

Motorists in the Emirates keep a car for, on average, about 5.2 years, less than half the 11.5-year average for vehicles in the US, but much longer than drivers in Saudi Arabia who keep their cars for 3.8 years before selling them, according to The National.

Anyway, seduced by the easy financing options on offer in the UAE, we’re now the proud owners of a brand-new Pajero – as black as a moonless night (the only colour left) with dark tinted windows to screen out the sunlight. It was an exciting moment when it rolled up outside, all shiny and clean with plastic covers on the seats and that new-car smell.

DH had to leave on a trip straight away, so I was the first to take it for a spin – well, to transport the kids to baseball anyway. And I realised there’s nothing quite like gingerly driving a new car to make you feel like you’re negotiating Dubai traffic for the first time. White Van Man, Mr No Rules, The Flasher, Mr Road Hog and The Slow Poke were all out to get me (press here for more detailed descriptions of the characters on Dubai’s roads), and it was with some relief that I arrived at our destination without incident.

Only to find that the car we were so thrilled with is, quite literally, everywhere.

Black Pajeros are like buses

Fascinating glimpse of a Dubai school in the 1970s

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Jess under construction
Son2’s school is turning 40, which in Dubai time is quite ancient! Anyone who lives here will know this age is impressive and deserves to be marked, especially as four decades ago the school was just a small huddle of buildings in the middle of the desert, with staff and pupils trekking across the sand to the nearest shop during break-time.

Intrigued by all things ‘old’ in the UAE, I helped out at the most wonderful exhibition commemorating JESS’s big birthday this morning, and learnt so much I’ve been inspired to put together a blog post on what school life was like in the desert all those years ago.

Doesn't it look a little bit like they're playing on the moon?

Doesn’t it look a little bit like they’re playing on the moon?

The facility was planned when Dubai English Speaking School, the first British curriculum school in the emirate, could no longer cope with the rapid increase in the expatriate population.

JESS quote 2The school’s story began in a small flat in Deira, before its relocation to a villa in Jumeirah, which was generously gifted by his Royal Highness Sheikh Rashid bin Saeed al-Maktoum, Ruler of Dubai. The school moved to its present Jumeirah site in 1977, where it consisted of one villa, 75 pupils, six staff and three portacabins. The size of the classes depended on the size of the bedrooms.

Desert surrounded the school for miles; there were no villas in sight, and the buildings which now line Sheikh Zayed Road had not yet been constructed. Safa Park didn’t exist. The only thing that could be seen in the distance was the newly completed Metropolitan Hotel.

The track leading to the school from Al Wasl Road was just a dirt road and on foggy days it was easy to drift off course. Flooding was a problem and after heavy rain the entrance area would be completely under water.

These days there are 169 private schools open in Dubai. JESS was the second British curriculum school in the emirate.

JESS Jumeirah in the deserted desert. These days there are 169 private schools in Dubai.

“In those early days, one had to be very flexible and unflappable and able to take things in one’s stride,” says JESS’s original headmistress Rita Biro. “When we first occupied the site, the electrical connection had not been completed and the power was produced by a massive generator. My first daily task was to make my way across the sand to this great beast and use all my strength to throw the switch and I still have the muscles to prove it!”

Children joined JESS when they reached 4.08 months

Children joined JESS when they reached 4.08 months

Paul Austin, currently director of PE at JESS Ranches, arrived in a very barren Dubai in 1976. “All I remember being able to see was the desert and the Trade Centre. Sheikh Zayed Road was the Abu Dhabi Road and there were still camels walking around everywhere.”

He started at JESS in 1977, just before his sixth birthday. There were no sports facilities at the time, and he remembers doing a football club on the sand outside the school, the area now used for parking. He recalls just one fixture during his five terms at JESS, against the only other international school at the time. “I was the goal keeper, and although I’m told I played well, we lost 0-10.”

1975-1976

1975-1976

Academically, he remembers trying to make himself invisible during maths class. “In fact, my maths was so bad that when asked what my tables were like during an interview for Prep School, I confidently replied that we had desks at JESS so I wasn’t sure.” Like many of the children at JESS at the time, he went on to boarding school.

Since its humble beginnings, JESS has stood strong through two regional wars (with contingency plans for evacuation via Fujairah in the Gulf War) and the global economic crisis of the 00s.

A second branch opened in Arabian Ranches in 2005. Memories of this new development include travelling to the under-construction Ranches site and wondering why they were driving out to the middle of nowhere; having to use the toilets in the shopping centre; no playgrounds to start with; repeated closures due to water pipes bursting; and Costa Coffee deliveries.

Some things never change!

The exhibition is an incredible illustration of the JESS journey through time. Some things never change, though, and I wanted to highlight several snippets that made me smile:

Springtime in Jumeirah: The British Consul-General in Dubai judges the Best Hat competition

Springtime in Jumeirah: The British Consul-General in Dubai judges the Best Hat competition

Shoes & driving: I’m not sure what year, but during the early days, one of the mums, wearing very high platform-soled shoes and driving a 4×4, pulled in to park, not knowing where her feet began and ended. She accelerated instead of breaking and ploughed into a breeze-block wall, demolishing it.

Demand for places: Waiting lists have been a problem right from the start. When the school reached several hundred students, the headmistress had to call a stop to expansion, citing the difficulty of teaching amid rubble and construction noise.

Parent involvement: This tradition began from the get-go, with parents in Dubai more actively involved in school than in Britain. Parents ran sports clubs during their lunch breaks before returning to work at 4pm; mothers came in with younger children to assist with activities; and it was through an action group that the swimming pool was funded.

Spring in the sunshine: The annual spring fair is a long-running institution, including, back in the day, a decorated Hat Parade with Easter Egg prizes; a display by the Dubai and Sharjah Morris Dancers; an attempt to break the non-stop skipping world record; traditional stalls selling home-made cakes, marmalade, etc; a tombola, lucky dip and Guess Your Weight (!). More British than Britain!

Here’s to the next 40 years!

2016 Year of Reading: Books on the beach

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Exciting times for bookworms in the UAE as the government tackles the Arab reading crisis

Hot on the heels of those clever Smart Palms I blogged about last year (offering free wi-fi and charging points), there’s a new initiative coming to Dubai’s beaches which book lovers are going to love.

R&R: Try some reading & relaxation on the beach

R&R: Try some
reading & relaxation on the beach

The first set of library kiosks are being installed at Kite Beach in Umm Suqueim and Al Mamzar Beach, so sun-seekers can borrow books to read while relaxing. On leaving the beach, you return your book, or you can take a stroll along the sand and hand it back in at any of the other seaside library units.

What a great idea! It’s all part of the 2016 Year of Reading in the UAE – a subject close to my heart as I attempt (and often fail!) to instill a love of reading in my own boys. Each night, after tackling Son2’s Oxford Reading Tree books, I bring out the Kindle and present it to Son1 with a wry smile. I then set the stop watch on my phone: 15 minutes, “That’s ALL! … Right, Go…” I pick books I really think he’ll like, but still he’s reluctant, putting on a scowly face and stopping the moment the alarm rings.

The annual average reading rate for an Arab child is six minutes

Anyway… I will persevere. But it seems my problem is part of a wider, regional trend that’s referred to as “the reading crisis in the Arab world”. My sons are your typical expat kids, but among their Arab compatriots, reading levels are even lower.

The average reading time for an Arab child is six minutes a year, compared with 12,000 minutes for children in the West. To put this in perspective, for every six minutes spent reading by an Arab child, a child of similar age in the West will have been reading for 200 hours.

Coming soon in Arabic

Coming soon in Arabic

Last night, at a talk I attended about the future of publishing in the UAE, I heard why this crisis is so severe. Not only is there a lack of diversity in Arabic children’s books, but several studies of UAE readers have found that a national culture of reading for pleasure is still in its early stages. Reading is generally viewed as a duty, with many UAE youth finding it difficult or boring. “The bigger focus in this region has been on oral story telling and poetry,” said Isobel Abulhoul, director of the Emirates Airline Festival of Literature.

Several moves are afoot in the UAE to remedy the situation – such as the introduction of mobile libraries, Sharjah’s library-for-every-home scheme (delivering one million books to families in the emirate); and the Arab Reading Challenge, with AED11m ($3m) in cash prizes. (As someone who’s paid my own kids to read in the past, I can’t comment!).

Julie Till, head of business development at Oxford University Press, also pointed out that the much-loved Oxford Reading Tree books are set to be introduced in Arabic with original content. “We’re looking at things like paper quality, fonts – how to make children want to read the books,” said Julie. “It’s a great step, and I believe we’re at a tipping point in Arabic publishing.”

Changing the mindset of a whole society won’t happen overnight, warns Isobel, but she’s optimistic, and thankful that all the years she’s spent talking about the importance of literacy, reading and writing have been validated with such enthusiasm. “The government has taken a huge leap,” she says, “with the 2016 year of reading and initiatives at the highest levels to ensure the future generation is literate.”

So, watch out kiddos – your 15 minutes-a-night isn’t about to stop any time soon! And readers, look out for the solar-powered library kiosks the next time you’re on Kite or Al Mamzar beaches. There’s going to be titles in English and Arabic, as well as a selection of children’s books, offering bookworms “a cheerful read”. While you’ve got the sand between your toes and the waves crashing in your ears, just be careful not to get the pages covered in suntan lotion and ice cream!