Following on from my Fifty Shades of Yellow post the other week, here’s the sequel! This is what the sky looks like when a shamal (sandstorm) is being whipped up. Pretty amazing, no? And the best way to ensure a sandstorm appears out of nowhere? Have the car washed. Or leave a window open and go out.
Once again, I have my friend Elin Boyd to thank for the photography
“Ag-ain, again!” LB’s eyes were cast skywards, taking in the granite clouds above. The heavens had just opened for the umpteenth time and raindrops were rolling down the window pane. “It’s raining again!”
Pitter-patter. Splish-splosh. Quite honestly, I think I’ve seen more rain in the UK over the past five days than the UAE has seen in a thousand years. There’s been floods of biblical proportions, a month’s worth of rain in 24 hours and a lifeboat rescue, inland.
All because the jet stream has apparently moved south, meaning the British summer is taking place somewhere over the mid-Atlantic.
I must say, I’m rather enjoying it. I know, I know. I haven’t had to put up with endless showers for the past two months, and in the morning we’re leaving for the States, where the weather is freakishly hot. But, aside from the length of time it takes to get out of the house (wellies, raincoats, brollies, waders, lifebelt..I’m so out of practice), it’s really refreshing to see the wet stuff again.
Not only are the kids in puddle-jumping heaven, but LB also saw his first-ever rainbow yesterday – a double-arched one too. For me, the wayward weather is a chance to sit on my favourite sofa in the conservatory, listen to the sound of the rain pounding on the roof and admire the lush view outside, in all its greenness.
Splat!
It’s warming up in the desert (highs of 39°c / 102°F on Thursday and it’s only March!).
While this was (hopefully) just a blip, a reality of living in the United Arab Emirates is while other parts of the world are celebrating the arrival of spring daffodils (like these) and life bursting forth, in a few short months we’ll witness life being scorched.
But the good news is the rising temps mean it’s beach season – and I’ve been here long enough now to know we need to make the most of Dubai’s beautiful seaside in Spring, before it gets too hot to go to the beach in July and August (lobster is not a good look, but is what you get if you brave the burning-hot sand and soup-like ocean during the hottest part of the year).
This weekend, I discovered a beach we’d never been to before – and decided I loved it so much, I’d like to move there.
Lapped by the aquamarine waters of the Arabian Gulf, Sunset Mall beach is flanked by gorgeous Miami-style condos, with views of Dubai Offshore Sailing Club boats as well as ducking-and-diving kite surfers.
If you tire of this driveable and surprisingly shrubby beach, you can walk to the adjacent glass-walled Sunset Mall to browse the newly opened high-end fashion boutiques inside.
Beach and shopping: now there’s something for everyone!
With fish, kite surfers and sail boats, there's lots of entertainment on Sunset Mall beach
For months now, we’ve been teased.
Women have threatened to dance at wine o clock – wearing fascinators and feathers, their shoulders squared and a far-into-the-distance stare fixed on their botoxed faces.
Scientific puppetmasters have talked about (and possibly carried out) cloud seeding, in which steel lampshade-like ionisers create artificial clouds in the desert sky.
Then, last night, it finally happened: it rained.
And I slept through the whole thing, even the thunder and lightening that I’m told occurred.
It was nothing like a few years ago, when Dubai had hail stones so bad that all the cars were left with an ‘eggshell’ finish and we thought it was the end of the world.
But when we got up this morning, there was a strange darkness creeping round the curtains – Twitter was buzzing with rain tweets from Dubai-ians and the ground was actually wet.
The kids pressed their noses against the window and I joined them, peering out at the marvellous colours: the rain washes all the sand away and so instead of the tans and beiges we’ve been seeing recently, the trees and plants looked green. It’s like seeing your garden in technicolour and appreciating that it’s a lush oasis in the desert, not just a dusty yard.
Even the birds looked like they were dancing!
The world may watch us, rather bemused by our excitement, but when you live in a region where there’s only on average 13cm of rain a year, it’s the equivalent of a white Christmas every time it rains.
Ironically, DH was just off to Toronto and talking about sunscreen. They put it on in the cockpit as they fly over the North Pole apparently. I offered him one of my five or six bottles of sun tan lotion, before waving him off to the airport – and seeing the boys off to school.
Then I sat down with a cup of tea, my eyes glancing skywards at the grey clouds gathered above, and enjoyed an atmospheric, almost romantic (!) couple of hours on the laptop – the ground, by now, completely dry again and not a spot of rain in sight.
Oh well, there’s always next year.
There’s nothing quite like a howling sandstorm outside and the sound of your kids howling and fighting inside to bring you back to reality with a bump.
When you're surrounded by sand, being engulfed by a shamal (sandstorm) is inevitable from time to time
Blowing sand gets into your ears, in your eyes and up your nostrils. Your scalp feels gritty and your skin is exfoliated by nature’s loofah.
Everything outside is covered with a coating of dust, making the garden look like a scene from the nuclear-war movie Threads and sand even gets indoors, through gaps under doors and air conditioning ducts. Heaven forbid you accidentally leave a window open, and you come home to find the whole room’s been landscaped.
Dubai this weekend: A Mission Impossible 4-style sandstorm - stay safe peeps
When it’s all over, the blue skies return, as though nothing ever happened, and then the big clean up can begin.
Yes, sometimes it does feel like we’re living in a giant dust ball.
Talking of inclement weather, the boys were playing on an inflatable slide at a park the other day and this safety notice made me laugh. Kids take note!
In Dubai right now, the conversation on everyone’s (blue-tinged) lips is the same: the cold windy weather that’s whipping up dust storms galore.
It’s all relative, of course (in the UK, 17 degrees might be considered a chilly summer’s day), but the cool temperatures that are currently hitting our normally balmy city are having a far-reaching effect.
Spotted around the UAE today:
– Mums in winter clothes bought in 1992 (and a man wearing a shawl at the supermarket)
– Security men kitted out with ear muffs
– Nannies (the brave ones) sporting hoodies and hopping from foot to foot at the playarea while watching fleeced-up kids
– School guards swaddled in layers and resembling Arctic explorers
– Tourists fiddling with the air-conditioning units in their hotel rooms to see if they double up as heaters
– Those same visitors then heading to Starbucks for a hot chocolate, rueing the week they chose for a winter-sun holiday
– Cricketers, here for the England vs Pakistan Test match, wondering if they’re playing in, um, England
– Cats sniffing the air outside, turning their noses up and heading straight back indoors
– Business men grappling with their appendages – steady on – their ties, I mean, flapping in the wind at right angles
– Camels wearing leg warmers (joke!)
Given that Dubai plays host to more nationalities than the Olympics, there are two camps among residents: the ‘C’mon get over it! Just man-up…this is not cold” brigade and the “Brrrrr, it’s absolutely freezing’ camp.
You might think we’re all wimps but, believe it or not, the temperature in the UAE’s mountainous regions was set to dip to an almost freezing 1°C today, according to the forecast – and, even more surprisingly, did you know it can even snow in the desert?
Almost three years ago to the day, on the night of January 24-25th 2009, twenty centimetres of snow covered the peak of Mount Jebel Jais in Ras al-Khaimah, one of the UAE’s emirates.
Dubai, meanwhile, is abuzz with ‘will-it, won’t-it’ actually rain? There’s been a few drops already – more like a dog shaking off water than a downpour – but the consensus is it’s going to rain on Monday, meaning the highways will be aglow with hazard lights and cars stopped on the side of the road not knowing what to do.
Puddle-loving kids will be in their element, my own included. Some real puddles to jump in are such a novelty after months of running through the garden sprinklers pretending it’s raining (for the sweetest account of how exciting rain is for kids here, pop over to Mrs Dubai – you’ll love it, I promise, especially if you have little-uns).
As for which cold-weather camp I fall in – well, I’m absolutely loving the climate change, but, yes, I’m feeling it. Dubai’s hot weather thins your blood, you know.
PHOTO CREDIT: Emirates 24/7 News
It seems I’ve been prowling the Internet looking at photos of autumn leaves.
On trees, on the ground, piled up – it really doesn’t matter what position, any kind of leaf porn is marvellous! Though photos from America are obviously the best, like these lovely shots taken by a blogger in the Midwest.
I know, I know, fallen leaves mean endless raking and bagging up, not to mention signalling that winter’s on the way. But when you’re a desert dweller, and surrounded by sand and palm trees, you miss the changing of the seasons.
That said, the weather is perfect right now and to make the most of where we live I’ve instigated a weekly trip to the beach, whether the kids want to or not – rather like the compulsory visits to National Trust gardens I remember my own parents insisting on!
Sunset over the Arabian Gulf this weekend
And while I’m talking about the weather, let me tell you about the rare treat we enjoyed last week – rain! The first in at least eight months.
You wouldn’t believe how excited we get. Anticipation mounts a few hours before, with all eyes cast skywards to see if it’s true.
Windows and doors are flung open to let the fresh air in – such a nice change from air conditioning – and when the downpour (or should I say dribble) starts, you feel like doing a rain dance outside.
Every single Tweet and Facebook update from a UAE friend will mention the rain and if you’re in the car, it takes a minute or two to remember how to work the windscreen wipers.
It’s amazing how rain clears the air, too. Seeing the enormous, billowing Burj al Arab (pictured above) from as far away as Arabian Ranches was quite a shock (had someone moved it, I wondered?) and just goes to show what a dust ball we live in the rest of the time.
But, rain in the Middle East has a downside if you’re out and about – the drivers don’t slow down and aquaplane along the roads, with car crashes all over the emirate. The drainage is also completely useless, meaning parts of Dubai, including our compound, actually flood if the rain is prolonged.
If the heavens open twice, puddle-loving kids can’t believe their luck, though may act confused. “Mummy, why is it raining again?” my friend’s four-year-old asked – boy, are our kids in for a shock if we move back to England.
Flooding in 2009: Who would have thought? It literally brings Dubai to a standstill
While folks back home are enjoying seeing the trees turning from green to pale orange and then, in the States, all the way through to crimson red, here in the desert we’re getting rather excited about our own change of season.
It’s not in the least bit colourful, the palm trees don’t shed their leaves, there’s no apple picking or hayrides (all things I really miss), and pumpkins cost an arm and a leg. But the climate does go from boiling hot to hot – and you’d be surprised how ‘hot’ can feel really quite pleasant after the searing summer temperatures.
Invigorated by being able to exercise outdoors again, Energetic Mum can be found jogging round the Ranches before the school run
Despite it still being in the low 90s, energetic mums with size 8 figures – who somehow rarely sweat – can really go into overdrive. “Hey kids, it’s Saturday! After boot camp on the beach, let’s go for a bike ride, then head to Al Ain zoo, and maybe finish up with a pony trek at the Polo Club,” I imagine them telling their astonished offspring. “C’mon kids, race you to the door! Whaddya waiting for.”
I may not be the proud owner of a pair of sequin-embellished hot pants myself, but I am trying to get more active and have been out on my bike at dusk when it’s cooler – inspired by my mother, who this week was tweeting about starting aqua-zumba classes.
But, better still, today BB had a beach party, which was lovely, even if it did involve prancing around in a swimsuit in front of the class mums (with one shaved leg because LB’s clinginess while I was trying to get ready meant things went a little off-course).
And because LB practically glued himself to me after his brother dumped him in favour of his classmates, I spent the whole afternoon carrying him while jumping waves – turning my upper body to jelly and giving me the perfect excuse to drink pain-relieving wine tonight rather than doing my evening exercise.
“Happy sigh”
Fall was my favourite season in the US, but we’re at least safe in the knowledge here that there’s no snow round the corner (can you imagine Dubai drivers skidding along in the snow?)
PICTURE CREDIT (above): Clipart Guide
It was mid-morning when the school sent text messages to all the mums.
I say mums, but ours actually came to DH, as the teachers still seem to think he’s a better bet.
The first words, “The Civil Defence has advised…” were carefully chosen to make sure we sat up and took notice.
“…that students should go home due to the possibility of fumes coming from a fire in the industrial area.”
Of course, this unscheduled evacuation sparked a flurry of text messages and phone calls among the mums – to spread the word that any afternoon plans were toast.
“Have you heard?”
“The kids are coming home!”
“I was planning on an 11am Ashtanga yoga class, followed by a gellish manicure and a triple berry smoothie at the Lime Tree Cafe,” I imagined inconvenienced mums saying. “And the nanny insists on resting in the afternoon, I might actually have to take the kids to Magic Planet.”
My work plans thwarted yet again, we headed out when BB got home – and were plunged straight into our second excitement of the day.
While driving along, the 4WD was suddenly engulfed in a billowing sand storm. One minute the sky was clear and blue, the next minute a yellowish mist had descended, the wind was gusting and there was sand swirling everywhere. Visibility quickly reduced to about an arm’s length.
Apart from the high temperatures, we don’t get much in the way of extreme weather here so everyone in the car with the exception of me was loving it.
I was having visions of being swallowed up by the desert, while innocently on our way to watch Horrid Henry. I could see the headline in my mind, ‘Expats vanish in Barsha triangle’
Either that, or we’d get into an accident on the road, which you could hardly see through the thick, fog-like dust.
Thankfully, DH was at the wheel, and noticing that I was clutching my seat, he smiled and said kindly, “Don’t worry, the visibility is at least 50 metres – still legal for landing an airplane.”
Which is precisely why he’s in the right job, while I – my eyes nearly closed by this point – could never do it in a million years.
The sandstorm rolling in
Sand flying about everywhere (and if you happen to be outside, sand gets in your eyes, mouth, ears, hair and up your nose)
With visibility so poor, driving becomes hazardous