Tag Archives: expat life in Dubai

Q&A: Behind the book

Posted on by
Where did the idea for Distracted Housewife in Dubai – Diary come from? I absolutely love all the Bridget Jones books (and movies), and thought it would be fun to create an expat version (Brittany Blum) – with kids and living in a sandpit. Like Bridget, Brittany starts the year resolving to turn her life around, and spends the next twelve months struggling with her lack of job, weight, kids and failed marriage. She takes it all on with good humour, and with the support of four very different friends: Adrianne, Natasha, her first ‘ex’ and a bottle of Prosecco.   So Distracted Housewife in Dubai is not a true story then? Well, no. But it’s certainly true-to-life, and some scenes are based on my own experiences in Dubai. I’ve lived in the emirate for eleven years, and during that time I’ve gathered LOTS of quirky stories and memories of our wonderful city. I’ve written a blog for about eight years now, in an attempt to chronicle some of the hilarious, ‘only in Dubai’ moments (so much fodder!). Inevitably, some of these have made it into the book. I’m just not going to reveal which bits actually happened, and which didn’t! Are any of the characters real? No, they’re all totally made up – but, of course, over my time in Dubai I’ve met so many different characters here who might have crept into elements of my fictional characters. Brittany’s friends, Natasha and Adrianne, are mash-ups of all sorts of people that I’ve met here. I wish they were real as I’d love to have them in my life! Over the past decade, I’ve had some amazing friends here who have now left – and that’s hard. I really enjoyed having my fictional characters in my head, as they weren’t allowed to pack up and leave!
Dubai is described in vivid detail in the book – was this a challenge? Being able to describe some of Dubai’s most well-known locations and events, from the New Year’s Eve fireworks to a trip up the Burj Khalifa at sunset and afternoon tea at the Burj Al Arab, was an absolute joy. I hope that people who know and love Dubai will enjoy reading these parts of the book, and that people who have never been to Dubai will finish the book wanting to visit. I tried to weave plenty of cultural information into the narrative so I also hope that readers who know nothing about the UAE will learn something about the country, and let go of any preconceived notions.    You mention in the book that white lies on social media are quite common in Dubai. Why is this? I do think expats in Dubai are in pole position to win a Twitter or Facebook boast-off. Apparently, according to a survey, three out of five adults in the UAE have lied on social media websites to sound smarter. About the same number confessed to tampering with photos to make themselves look more attractive. I’m sure people do this all round the world (and who wouldn’t want their eyebags airbrushed, their fine lines smoothed?), but in this corner of the globe, there is a lot of pressure to stage manage your online presence. Even if someone is having a difficult time transitioning to life in the UAE, and questioning the reasons they moved here, they’ll still fill their Facebook feed with photos of blues skies, beaches and Dubai’s iconic sights, rather than admit on social media that they’re homesick.   What’s next for Brittany? I’ve mentioned in the ‘blurb’ that this is her first diary, leaving it open for a follow-up diary, if she captures readers’ imaginations as she did mine. But I’ve also got a few more ideas for other books set in Dubai. Watch this space!

Buy Distracted Housewife in Dubai from Amazon here

Read me (if you dare)

Posted on by

There is a time of the year (it used to be a night, now it’s nearly all month) when expat communities in Dubai become satellite suburbs of the good ole’ US of A.

It starts with a few Halloween decorations here and there, a bush covered in cobwebs, creepy spiders on the wall, and by October 31st morphs into a full-blown horror scene with grave stones and skeletons, strung-up ghosts and ghouls, along roads normally festooned with bougainvillea and desert roses.

Doesn't DH make the prettiest girl? (bottom left)

Doesn’t DH make the prettiest girl? (bottom left)

Last night, as the sun slipped from view behind the white picket fences of our new compound and the pumpkins began to glow orange, the children took to the streets en masse, in fancy dress. They were trailed by their parents, many of whom had made a valiant effort and donned costumes too.

If you saw a blondish mother in a floor-length, gold, Cleopatra outfit with jewels dripping from my forehead, limping along (my shoes hurt), wiping the sweat from my brow (it’s still humid to be walking around clad head-to-toe in cheap polyester material) and completely lost from my kids, then that was me.

When I finally caught up with my 8yo, who waits for this night all year and gets beyond excited about dressing up and getting a massive stash of candy, it occurred to me that I should ask him what he was saying to the people answering the constant stream of door knocks.

“Are you saying thank you?” I asked.

He gave a firm nod.

“And saying trick or treat nicely?” I enquired.

“I tell them, “Give me all your sweets or you’ll die,” he replied, totally deadpan.

“You’re what?” I gasped. “ YOU CAN’T SAY THAT!!!” I felt my heart skip a beat at the mere thought of how this was going down with all our new neighbours.

Stash of sweets: The face says it all really

Stash of sweets: The gleeful face says it all really

A little chat followed that he wasn’t a prankster-gangster, he was a grim reaper and had to be polite – or I’d confiscate all his sweets – and he nodded again before running off into the darkness with his friend-in-crime.

Then there was just the small matter of getting back to our house, in my flowing robes and heels, along a road that felt twice as long as it normally does so I could cool down. “You look like Cleopatra the morning after,” quipped DH, who’d taken his shock of white hair off a long time before and was enjoying a bevvie indoors with his mother (dressed as a 1920s’ Flapper).

All in all, it was wonderful night, full of frights and sights – not least of them DH and myself!

Life’s a beach (if you’re new!)

Posted on by

The other day at work, there was a new lad sitting next to me. He was there the day before too, but because we were so busy getting four publications to press, we hadn’t had a chance to talk.

We’d said hello over the filing trays and wished each other a nice evening, but that was it.

So the next day, when I noticed he was still there, I greeted him with a good morning (with the hot-desking that goes on, I half expected him to have vanished).

He smiled back, then asked:

“Do you live in Dubai?”

I was a little surprised. I’d just assumed he lived in Dubai too.

“Do you know where the Burj Khalifa is?” he enquired next.

“Yes, I do,” I replied – still confused, because you really can’t miss it.

I took him over to the window to show him and realised the tall, pointy tower was completely hidden in the haze.

“Well, that’s where it normally is,” I explained, peering through the dusty sky.

We went back to our desks and talked a little more. I found out he lives in Abu Dhabi and is commuting to Dubai, does something in marketing and had only arrived in the UAE on Sunday.

A few more weeks, and his desk will look more like this, unfortunately

Straight off the plane, literally.

I felt guilty I hadn’t welcomed my desk buddy earlier (although, honestly, it was like drinking from a firehose at work this week).

Plus he was cute in a boyish, amiable way!

He had an air of excitement about him. If it’s possible to be star-struck by a city, then that’s how I’d describe it. As he told me how he’d been swimming four times that week after work, and had discovered the aquamarine-sea-lapped beach, his face lit up with wonder – which does tend to happen when you’re newly arrived from a country heading into a cold, dark winter.

“Don’t you feel like you’re on holiday the whole time?” he laughed.

“No,” I smiled, thinking about the school runs; the homework. Driving to the office, on congested roads. The 14-hour days I’ve been putting in this week dropping LB at school, working and then rushing home to get the children to bed.

Because contrary to what the Daily Mail would have the rest of the world believe, living in Dubai isn’t all about champagne-swilling, wave-frolicking, sand-between-your-thighs abandon. There are tens of thousands of housewives going about the minutiae of daily life.

But, it’s ALWAYS good to be reminded, to have your memory jogged that Dubai IS a really fun, glitzy, sun-soaked place, and that, for eight months of the year at least, it’s a fantastic city to live in.

Something that stayed with me as the silver silhouette of the Burj Khalifa started to take shape as the haze cleared a little later.

Now, if someone could just pass me a cocktail please…