Tag Archives: trick or treating in Dubai

Read me (if you dare)

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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!

8 ways to confuse trick-or-treaters

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My favourite quotes from Halloweens-past have got to be:

“Could I have money instead?”

And, “I don’t like those sweets. Have you got any other ones?”

[I mean, seriously, do I look like a pick’n’mix store?]

Then this morning, my overexcited youngest son and his best mate sung a little ditty to me:

Trick-or-treat, trick-or-treat
Give me all your yummy sweets! (repeat)

I really hope they’re politer than that when they go knocking on doors tonight, seeking their annual candy windfall.

Screen Shot 2015-10-31 at 15.16.42So, in a tongue-in-cheek spirit, here are 10 ways to turn the tables on the trick-or-treaters:

– Give away something other than candy (bags of sand, empty water bottles, golf balls, packs of oatmeal).

– Get everyone who comes to the door to come in and see if they can figure out what’s wrong with your washing machine. Tell them it makes a strange banging noise and your maid’s away.

– Stick a ‘Beware of the Lion’ sign on your door.

– Install a motion sensor that turns off the porch light every time a festively dressed child approaches.

– Hand out menus to the trick-or-treaters with pencils and let them order their candy by candlelight. Give them a bill at the end. Any complaints – throw your hands in the air, shrug and say, inshallah.

– Answer the door dressed as a dentist and give out toothbrushes. Treat them to a lecture about tooth decay.

– Get about 30 people to wait in your living room. When older kids come trick-or-treating in their normal clothes, say, “Come in.” When they do, have everyone yell, “Surprise!!!” Act like it’s a surprise party.

Happy Halloween everyone!

The morning after (the night before)

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If there’s a time when our living room resembles a scene from the movie The Hangover, it’s the Friday morning after Halloween.

I came downstairs today to find sweet wrappers strewn around the lounge, several containing half-eaten, sticky candies. Discarded costumes were still in the exact spot they’d been peeled off, and the children, who’d got up far too early considering it was such a late night, were sprawled on the sofa, pale-faced with tiredness and nursing sugar hangovers. If a chicken had wandered by, and pecked at the leftover sweets, I honestly wouldn’t have been too surprised.

Closer inspection revealed that the disembodied neck from Son 1’s headless horseman outfit had rolled across the floor, coming to rest by the TV. I spotted a gloved hand from Son 2’s zombie costume nearby and there was a devil’s fork propped against the bookshelf.

“So everyone had a good night then?” I asked, looking at my bleary-eyed, 7YO Halloweenie, who was holding his head in his hands. (A cold was compounding the sugar crash).

There was a resounding yes – and, I have to say, I did feel quite pleased that our preparations (which, let’s face it, take all month) had paid off.

I love that, on Halloween, our compound descends into collective trick-or-treatery and becomes a distant satellite suburb of the US, with spooky decorations galore. Last night, our wonderful American neighbours treated us to a pre-Halloween warm-up party; then the kids trooped round the streets in costume – gathering in porches lit by the glow of jack-o-lanterns to collect sweets.

Some villas had taken a theatrical approach, with haunted-house music and torches, and there was a witch strung high above G street, flapping gently in the moonlight.

It was a balmy evening, almost a little too hot to be wearing layers of cheap polyester, and our community was out in force – on foot and for a lucky few, drive-by style, in a six-foot trailer pulled by a quad bike.

After the commotion died down, I escaped to a party up the road, leaving DH to get the children to bed, and bringing Halloween to a wickedly fun end.

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The costumes were acquired by DH on a trip to New York earlier in October

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The pumpkin was bought at the fruit n veg market (12dhs, as opposed to the fortune charged by Spinney’s) and the innards were turned into this dish – my first ever pumpkin pie! We carved a watermelon too, which glowed luminous red

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Just some more e-numbers – spider cakes for the children

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But for some, Halloween is as easy as writing a (polite) note and posting it on the door (although they probably had to hide too)

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Halloween in the desert

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Halloween is HUGE in our compound. It started on October 1 with spooky decorations on a few doorsteps, gathered pace as more households draped cobwebs over the bushes and strung up witches, and culminated last night with our community’s collective descent into trick-or-treatery.

To say the children were very excited is an understatement, and having lived in the States for five years, I can honestly say ‘we do’ Halloween* [whispers: I love this holiday! The children will gorge on bucketfuls of candy, I’ll help myself to copious amounts too – and that’s okay!]

Ready to scare: My littlest skeleton

The kids were dressed and ready by 4pm for a Halloween party next door, then, as night fell, we joined the droves of children outside and trooped from door-to-door under a full moon.

And, I have to say, as I accompanied my two skeletons on a balmy evening around streets aglow with jack-o-lanterns, I was really impressed by the wickedness some of our neighbours had dreamt up.

Not everyone takes part (and the rule is you don’t knock at villas with no porch light on), but many families who did get into the spirit had turned their doorsteps into mini Halloween dens – complete with scary sound effects and fiery torches in some cases.

A few highlights for us were:

– The household with the distressed maiden upstairs who dropped water bombs from the window – with a deathly scream

– The wobbly eyeballs (made from jelly and icing sugar) that were handed out in paper cups and made me whimper

– The dog dressed in a skull-and-crossbone outfit

– The drive-by trick-or-treaters sitting in a six-foot trailer pulled by a quad bike

– The ghoul standing in the dark who honestly looked like he could be fake, but then jumped out on me with an axe [insert horror movie screech]

– And the flying witch rigged up high above G street

* It took a couple of years in the US before I got it. Whilst still a learner, I sat at work one Halloween until 5, wondering why everyone was leaving early. Missed a trick there!

Best-dressed dad: We’d only got about 50 yards or so up our road when my friend informed me: “Just to warn you, all the kids are coming away from that house crying!” Our curiosity piqued, we nudged the kids in that direction, told them to be brave and watched (because after someone’s told you that, you can’t walk away without finding out why, can you?). Lurking in the shadows by their front door was the dad, dressed as a four-legged, long-haired monster, and as the trick-or-treaters filed up the path to line up at the door (yes, line up, there were that many out last night), he’d lurch forwards with a growl. Gotta love the crazy things people do on Halloween!