Hello Holland

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I know you might think, ‘Didn’t she just get back from somewhere?’ when reading this post, and you’d be right. But sometimes you have to do crazy things to, well, make life that bit more interesting. Like fly for 13 hours to basically have dinner with your husband.

I think most pilot’s wives would agree that being married to a man who continually packs his suitcase and jets off to the other side of the world with a kiss and a wave isn’t always easy. There’s the absences, the jetlag, the readjustment period when he gets back and the jealousy (yes, that’s me. It can be challenging being gracious when he’s headed to Hong Kong and the furthest I’ll get is the supermarket with two fractious kids in tow).

But his job does come with an enormous perk that I try to make use of, because I absolutely love travelling (well maybe not the actual travel-with-kids bit, but the getting there and seeing new places). The perk – and don’t go off me – is the ability, if the stars align, to go to work with him.

This week, several things including babysitters in town, time off from my office-job and space on the airplane (both ways!), amazingly, came together and so Monday morning saw me rising early to catch his flight to Amsterdam sans kiddos.

“Now don’t go crazy on the packing,” he told me, the night before. “It’s only 24 hours, remember.”

And packing (without having to think about the children) was indeed a breeze, as was skipping off to the airport without my usual checklist of things the kids will need to keep them entertained, fed and subdued on a long flight.

After seven blissful hours on board, we arrived in Amsterdam and immediately set out on a whistlestop tour, taking in the canals, bikes and houseboats. “Let’s go,” I urged, determined to see as much as possible. “I think we’ve got three hours of daylight left!” The next morning, we had another couple of hours before it was game-over and time to get back on the plane.

I love flying with my DH at the controls. We met when we were 15 – we lived through the Top Gun years together, when aviation was a twinkle in his eye; we listened to Pink Floyd’s Learning to Fly endlessly. Our married life started with him working as a flight instructor, teaching kamikaze pilots how to restart a stalled engine – in the air. Then, after a year of gruelling interviews during the post-9.11 airline slump and finally getting the break he deserved, came the miniscule salary paid to first officers on regional jets in the US.

It’s been one helluva (in a good way) journey, and to say I’m proud of him for making it to the helm of the A380 superjumbo is an understatement.

“Did you enjoy Amsterdam?” he asked after our trip, as I wearily got out of bed to return to work after arriving back past midnight.

“What did you think of my landing?”

I loved it DH – and I loved our long-distance Valentine’s treat.

Amsterdam: Bikes, canals, croissants and Van Gogh, in 24 hours

Amsterdam: Bikes, canals, croissants and Van Gogh, in 24 hours

Travel post: Temples and tea leaves

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Shaped like a teardrop in the Indian Ocean, Sri Lanka is a spell-binding island jewel offering wild beauty, elephants and white-sand beaches

Snake charmer: Mind the cobra

Snake charmer: Mind the cobra

The sun was shining as the snake charmer showed my boys the contents of his wicker baskets. He picked up a snake – it was harmless, he said – and handed it to Son2. I could tell what my little one was thinking (“I can touch it!”), but I didn’t predict what would happen next. Son2 suddenly stepped backwards, tripped and landed on the (surprised) cobra’s basket.

If this moment jangled my nerves, the rest of my memories from our trip to Sri Lanka are stunning snapshots of a fascinating, laid-back country. From the fiery cuisine, heavily influenced by neighbouring India, to the tropical forests and 140+ species of frogs, the South East Asian island is an enthralling mix of history, culture and picture-perfect vistas.

We based ourselves in Colombo, a colourful city on the Indian Ocean, with streets choked with traffic, bustling markets, an excellent museum and colonial-style buildings, and, from there, took two day-trips to explore the lush countryside. On both days, we hired a driver, who navigated Sri Lanka’s mostly single-lane roads, narrowly missing the stray dogs that ran out in front of us. It takes a long time to get anywhere (unless you’re on one of the country’s new highways), but the payoff is worth it.

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Golden sand: Nirvana for beach lovers like me

On day one, we headed south, along the busy coastal road, and discovered why Sri Lanka – which emerged from a 25-year civil war in 2009 – has been so successful at reinventing itself as a tourist destination. The beaches are, indeed, beautiful, and you don’t have to look far to find a sublime stretch of golden sand, lapped by waves and wafted by swaying palm trees.

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Fishermen: Gathering to haul in their catch

With an itinerary to stick to, we watched a group of local fishermen haul in a giant net pulsating with their catch, then travelled on to one of the turtle hatcheries, where the children were allowed to gently handle two-day-old turtles.

Our next stop was the Madu Ganga river, a shallow wetland area with mangrove islets and a complex ecosystem (blue jellyfish, bats and baby crocodiles were among the wildlife the boys came face-to-face with).

Our river safari took in several islands, one the home to two small temples, and another named Cinnamon Island. From a distance, these islands look like overgrown bushes rising out of the river water, but close up, they’re intriguing patches of dense vegetation. We hushed the boys while admiring the Buddhist and Hindu shrines, and at Cinnamon Island were offered a fish pedicure as we clamboured off the boat. I declined the opportunity to have my dead skin nibbled off by the over-enthusiastic fish, but DH indulged, lasting all of five seconds before shaking his feet free.

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Wetlands: Sri Lanka’s vegetation is so dense you can almost feel its impatience to grow

We were then guided a short way uphill to a mud hut, where a man showed us how cinnamon is made from what appeared to be a simple, wooden stick. The fragrant spice is a cure-all, according to the notice on the wall, and the smell of the oil I purchased will always remind me of Sri Lanka.

The last stop that day was the southern city of Galle, a well-known seaport from ancient times with a huge fort (a World Heritage Site with walls so solid they saved the historic old town from 2004’s devastating tsunami). A wedding was taking place within the fort and we stood for a few moments watching the smartly dressed guests and a cow-drawn wagon, filled with coconuts and decked out with pink-and-white wedding bunting.

Day two saw us heading inland to Sri Lanka’s jungly interior towards Kandy, sampling pineapple and nuts bought from road-side sellers along the way. High in the hills, the city of ancient kings is surrounded by banana and tea plantations, but, alas, Kandy wasn’t to be our final destination: we got as far as the famous elephant orphanage of Pinnewala, and with two young children to consider, the magnificent elephants stopped us in our tracks.

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Elephant orphanage: The herd stomps down to the water to bathe and drink

Feeding time attracts crowds of tourists, but the boys will never forget giving a baby elephant a bottle of milk. We then walked down to the river and watched in awe as a large herd ambled right by us to take a bath. The children got the chance to wash an elephant’s grey, wrinkly hide, and later, at another nearby stop, we all climbed aboard for a ride. The elephants’ strength as we sat atop our jungle taxi, clinging onto each other, was astonishing, and shortly after dismounting, the boys were back in the water again, scrubbing their new friend clean.

We ended the day as I’d begun it – with tea, at a tea factory where we learnt how the tea leaves are processed. Next time, we’ll make it to Kandy to visit the Temple of the Tooth, one of Buddhism’s holiest shrines, but for now, our happy children meant one important thing: a happy holiday.

Jungle taxi: We didn’t have time to do the quintessential activities like whale-watching off the coast or leopard-spotting in a national park, but I'll never forget this elephant ride

Jungle taxi: We didn’t have time to do the quintessential activities like whale-watching off the coast or leopard-spotting in a national park, but I’ll never forget this elephant ride and her mighty power

Baby elephant: I can't resist including this photo - too darn cute

Baby elephant: I can’t resist including this photo – too darn cute

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

Holiday planning when you’re an airline family

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Me to DH: “So what do you think? I know the kids have school, but we could just do a long weekend, couldn’t we?”

DH gives it some thought. With two schools that follow completely different calendars and a husband who usually ends up working over Eid, Christmas, Easter, national holidays, etc, our vacation days only ever match during a blue moon.

Me: “Let’s just check the system. Maybe there’ll be space to Sri Lanka.”

To my delight, there is – the chances of making it to Colombo and back on standby in four days’ time are good!

Our attention turns to accommodation (and telling the schools). We find out it must be peak season as all the beach hotels in Negombo are booked. “Don’t worry, we’ll find somewhere,” says DH, sensing my unease (I’m the kind of person who can’t sleep until a booking is confirmed).

A day later, DH finds a hotel, nearby – and by nearby, I mean, in the Maldives.

DH: “The good news is the flights to the Maldives are open. The bad news is the hotel isn’t available for all the nights we need. So, we could take the 3am flight which has seats …”

3am! My mind does a cartwheel, and bellyflops. The thought of dragging the children out of bed, through airports and on a night flight, followed by one and half days on the beach to recover, doesn’t bode well and I wimp out.

Me: “I think we should stick with Sri Lanka. You know, show them something completely different. Culture, elephants, snakes. Temples, definitely temples.”

DH: “You sure? The Maldives are paradise. And there’s a kids’ club.”

How tempting does that island look? Maldives, I'll be back!

How tempting does that tropical island look? Maldives, I’ll be back!

Finally, with two days to go, we make a booking in a hotel in Colombo! Work keeps me busy, and the packing gets done late at night. It’s not all that far from Dubai (and the flight is at a good time).

Except that flight suddenly fills up with fare-paying passengers who’ve come out of the woodwork.

“There’s another flight with space, but it’s not direct,” says DH, the day before leaving. “It’ll take seven hours. Via the Maldives.”

And, I’ll tell you this, if anything is going to make you second-guess your decision, it’s descending over the best beaches in the world – and peering out the airplane window at the whiter-than-white sand, the lush greenery and the luminous cyan-blue water surrounding the Indian Ocean islands.

Then touching down to land, watching at least three-quarters of the passengers disembark, and saying to DH as we awaited the next leg of our journey:

“It looks A.M.A.Z.I.N.G! Can I change my mind? Can we get off here?”

“No,” he confirmed, with a wry smile. “We’ll be on our way in an hour. You wanted temples, remember?”

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.

You might also like: A cold call from the world-wide web

The ninja lunge (and food allergies)

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Over the school holidays, a great friend and I took a trip to Al Barsha park to exercise the children. It’s a park I’m fond of, with bicycles for hire, a (manmade) lake with a track round it and ample play areas.

It was sunny, warm and, without the routine of the school day to contend with, there was a relaxed atmosphere among the mums, who’d spread blankets on the grass, brought picnics and were exchanging details about their plans for the holiday.

“We’re staying in Dubai, how about you?” “Lapland, just for five days – we’ve booked a glass igloo!” The conversations were peppered with the names of far-flung places, visiting relatives and venues serving turkey.

mom with eyes in back of her headI can’t remember exactly what B and I were talking about as we watched our children play, but, all of a sudden, she leapt up, ninja-style, and ran to her two-year-old son – reaching him just in time, before the snack a nanny had offered him touched his lips.

“I’m sorry,” she said, politely – but urgently – to the lady in question. “He’s got food allergies and can’t eat the things other kids eat.” The moment passed, little K got back to digging in the sand, and the nanny he’d wandered over to turned her attention back to feeding her tribe.

But the episode, which all happened so fast, has stayed with me. Not least because, now that my children are a bit older, I don’t have to watch them quite so closely. I can sit in the park, chat, even read a book (it’s so much better). My friend, on the other hand, needs eyes in the back of her head to keep her severely allergic tot out of harm’s way. That kind of vigilance is a full-time job.

B put a post on Facebook yesterday and I’m sure she won’t mind if I copy it here, as it sums up perfectly some of the frustrations that the growing number of parents of allergic children go through, and how people (including celebrities) can help.

“It really bothers me when a celebrity comments on something important that they know nothing about. For instance, writing about having food allergies and being able to add these foods in and out of their diets.

I understand unless you are affected by food allergies, you may not know the difference between a food intolerance and a food allergy. However, if you are influential, you should learn the difference before you affect the way so many view food allergies and their potential consequences.

My child has severe food allergies. Ingesting a peanut, milk, or eggs could kill him. Not just upset his stomach. KILL HIM. The first time we had to inject him with an Epi-Pen, within minutes of coming in contact with the allergen, he had quarter-sized hives all over his little body, then his voice changed and we knew his throat was closing shut. He hadn’t even turned 2 yet.

It was the scariest experience of my life.

I think about his food allergies constantly. And although it’s become second nature to read every label, worry about cross-contamination, and make sure he always has safe food to eat, it still can be a daily struggle.

My child is never more than 5 feet away from an Epi-pen. We are never able to go to a restaurant here and order food off the menu for him. They either don’t have anything safe or they really don’t understand how serious the consequences could be if they made a mistake, or cross-contaminate his food. I don’t want sympathy. My child is just like every other child; he is happy and full of life. His food allergies don’t define who he is. I need everyone to know that a food allergy is not a food intolerance.

Would you know what to do if you stumbled upon a child who was going into anaphylactic shock? I hope that even if you’re annoyed with my long rant, you will take the time to read how to use an Epi-pen because it could save someone’s life.

It could save my child’s life.

So please, Mr. Celebrity, before you go off complaining about how your “food allergies” are upsetting your stomach, please learn what the hell you’re talking about.”

How to use an Epi-pen: Click here

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.