Alarm Bells

I was awoken two days ago by some particularly annoying beeping. In my half-sleep stupor I managed to clear my bedside table of all the important breakable stuff whilst trying to reach for the iphone. I blindly flicked where the snooze button was supposed to be several times but the infernal noise continued. I squinted and looked for the blooming button, and in my daze it probably took me a full 30 seconds (and 30 beeps more) to realise that it was 5:30am - too early even for my bird-like alarm.

I decided I was too sleepy to bother and forgot about it all.

When I left on the school run nearly two hours later I found that the vacant lot opposite had overnight been filled with 6 different yellow construction vehicles, and 100 men dressed in blue overalls, and two wildly gesticulating men dressed in dishdasha (or is it dishdashae in the plural? Dishdashes? Whatever - the long white dresses for very manly arabic men).

Two days later, the lot looks like this

Now you might wonder what I am harping on about, so I would like to draw your attention to the photo below, which you have probably seen in your inbox attached to an email that talked about the wonders of Dubai. (Dubai is the master of all spam, and I think everybody in the world got this email, even if they didn't have a computer). This photo was taken in 1990. The road running through the middle is Sheikh Zayed Rd - the main arterial (the skyscrapers on the left are the apartments we first lived in when we arrived. No joke).

 

Below is a picture that I took from the top of the Burj Khalifa in May. It is looking in the opposite direction, but you may be able to see a dirt-coloured smudge at the back that is the Trade Centre Apartments, which have not last a single grubby part of their charm.

Now do you feel my concern?

We arrived in April 2008, and the Global Financial Crisis hit in October. My very clever husband didn't see that one coming! I had just made all these amazing aussie friends through the school, and when I got back from Christmas break, 80% of them had gone. And we also gritted our teeth for 12 months waiting for Hambone to get a tap on the shoulder. But fortunately he is still cleverer than most, and has weathered this economic shamal.

I must admit, I envy the people who came here 10 years ago. For one thing, they really got to see the city grow. And can you imagine the excitement when your architect husband comes home and says: "holy cahunas, there is some crazy guy out there that wants me to build a skyscraper that twists in the wind". Or when you decide to move house and live on your own private island? Both the hope and greed would have been immeasurable. And what handbags you would have!!!

But when the rest of the world went into recession, Dubai simply STOPPED. It seemed that all the money flying around was actually borrowed, and if the projects couldn't sell, then the profits couldn't come. All the expats who had been supplimenting their income with property flipping suddenly found themselves holding the hot potato - and it burnt every bank account they had. They had never really intended to live in the property, or even rent it - they just wanted to watch its value increase by 100% over six months then flog it to the next greedy sod. Most of them didn't even have the money for the next downpayment, so they defaulted, and the developers were left with incredibly expensive property that wasn't even close to built. And nobody could afford it - even them.

So we said goodbye to Palm Deira, Dubai Waterfront became a tenth of the size of Hong Kong instead of twice the size, and The Lagoons didn't even break ground. Night work stopped. Labourers went on extended leave. In fact, by January 2009, it was rare to see a moving crane anywhere in the city. Everybody lost their jobs. Debtees were being thrown in prison willy nilly, and there was rumours of over 1000 cars left at the airport by expats who had simply cut their losses and skedaddled. The feeling was pretty black, and the first words when catching up with a friend would be 

"You still here?"

"For the moment. You still working?"... and you would wait for your friend to tell you they had 3 months to find a new job. Which you knew they never would.

But back to my particular sandpit. It is not the only vacant lot in Dubai that has been getting some attention recently. We returned from our summer holidays to find that there are 200 new 3-story dwellings completed on Al Wasl Road. It appears part of the Meraas "Jumeirah Gardens" development is actually going ahead. The Dubai Pearl is back on the drawing board, and there are four very hefty looking cranes on a big block on the beach road in Jumeirah. Dubai appears gradually to be coming out of its two-year hibernation.

I don't think we will ever get back to the stage where there seems to be a competition to design a building that looks the most like a kitchen implement, but there are jobs out there again. I am meeting newcomers (thank goodness, because I didn't have any friends left), and the traffic is slowly moving back to the insane level....

...And as I type I look out at my sandpit, and hope that this is just being flattened for a party. Because those massive spotlights mean something is going to be happening in the dark, and the alarm is going to be the least of my waking-up concerns.

i fly - at least I would if I didn't get helmet hair

Last weekend was Lion's birthday party. My first baby is now 7, and (probably due to incessant pizza eating) is now so heavy I cannot lift him. He is also as tall as my armpits - although that is no great challenge, because I think I only miss out on being classed as a dwarf by about 5cm.

Now, back in Australia, when your child had a birthday, you simply invited 15 of their friends around, and let them all loose in the back yard, and fill them with nutritious snacks like Cheetos, Fanta and fairy bread (for all those non-aussies, white bread with butter and hundreds and thousands, which are so much better than ordinary rainbow sprinkles). They would get so pumped full of sugar and tartrazine that they would think it had been the best day ever, even though the only entertainment was a round of "Pass-the-parcel" and Dad getting drunk in the corner and farting out loud by accident.

But in Dubai, it is impossible to celebrate one's child's birthday without shelling out at least 3000 dhirims and coming up with the only thing that has not already been done. Last year we had a "Metro party", whereby we took Lion and 7 other 6 year olds on the newly opened Dubai Metro, and then after-partied at Magic Planet and TGI Fridays. This year I vowed that 1. I would not have a party that moved venues, and 2. that I would ensure that the location had doors that could be guarded easily by Dad (Hambone), who tends to stare off into space when situations become overwhelming (that and get drunk and fart).

So I completely stuffed up and did exactly what my son wanted (again) and we booked at iFly Dubai - the indoor skydiving experience. At least it was original. But unfortunately there is no party room, so we had to go to Gourmet Burger Kitchen after for munchies, and again I had to take the risk of losing grommits en-route.

Two of the kids freaked out and decided they couldn't do it, but we actually had nine 6-year olds participate, and it was pretty amazing to watch. Especially considering the instructor was pretty damn hot.

Lion was first to go, and they didn't have the wind set right so he shot alarmingly upwards. Luckily I was concentrating on the instructor and didn't really notice until he had to jump up and retrieve him - otherwise I may have done something very skittish and embarrassing like smash my way through and call the party off. When he came back down, he was giving a very blatent "thumbs down" signal, which was suppose to mean "LET ME OUT!!" but the instructor and machine operator ignored that, deciding that he was going to have fun regardless. And they did exactly the same for all the others, who also gave it the thumbs down at least once each on their two flights (except for one, who is known to be completely crackers anyway).

After the excitement, all the kids forgot that they had been scared stiff, and officially declared the experience to be AWESOME, and we headed off for party goodies. I think I managed to get all the kids through the mall and to the correct restaurant (which was great for a kids birthday by the way), and at least there were no extra parents at the end of the day, so I think I am still safe. They then used their little adrenaline-pumped bodies to pop every single balloon in less than 2 minutes, and then ran around terrorising other patrons for the rest of the hour. We sat and drank coffee (pretending it was alcohol) and ignored them, as is pretty much the custom here.

Birthday cake was the planet Neptune surrounded by the night sky, albeit wonky, as I had to make it myself because I am a hopeless and forgot about semi-important things like cake and didn't order a pretty one from the shop. Lion declared it looked good but tasted yuck. Thanks.

We went out that night, but I can't remember what happened after I drank 3 glasses of champagne in 10 minutes. Apparently I had a good time.....

Solitude

Today I had breakfast at Dean and Deluca's at Souk al Bahar, which is near the Burj Khalifa and the Dubai Mall. You know those things that are the biggest of their kind in the world? Funny, I often miss the civilised nature of Australia, but there, they boast "The Big Pineapple" and "The giant prawn" and other inane tributes to food and agriculture - who really comes across as the swankiest...?

Anyway, as I was sitting there on my lonesome, I was enjoying the changes that have come to my life since the blessed arrival of Mary. I quite enjoy solitude, and I honestly can't remember getting any of it back in my old life, unless you count while I was sleeping, but I was always accompanied by the orchestrations of my husband's sinuses. Not entirely peaceful....

Mary is our maid, and she joined us shortly after arrival. (Man, we truly hit the jackpot with her!) When I first hit the shores, I started searching for a maid, but Dubai was still going through its insanity - the spending, the big business, the chartered flights to Ibiza, the property flipping etc. - and maids were being snapped up all over the place. I got gazumped twice, and then I got interviewed by another maid (and obviously came up wanting). By the time I met Mary, I basically just asked her when she could start. So the fact that she was the best maid in Dubai was pure coincidence.

Within two weeks, my youngest son had disappeared for all except the really fun stuff - feeding, changing nappies, tidying up toys, unceasing walks around the block all became a thing of the past. I actually had to work to get him back, and explain to Mary that I didn't actually mind doing those things (which was not entirely true - the feeding of Goldilocks has remained my most dreaded of tasks, as he is now three and a half, and has only just graduated from soup and custard to all different kinds of junk food).

But the greatest change involved the freedom. I started to have coffee with the girls (I use that term very loosely) once or twice a week, and I found I actually had time for a haircut. Before long I was getting fat, and had to ditch the bickies and lattes for pilates - but that was fine too - because with a sense of freedom comes an open mind, and I simply told my exercise-hating brain that it was going to be fun. And if that didn't work, then I had 3 clinics within walking distance of our villa that could suck and clip and flatten and plump every square inch of my body.

Well I finished my coffee, and then had breakfast, deciding that the bacon and eggs could be worked off during a double-lap of the Dubai Mall (3 km in high heels thankyou very much). And then regretted ordering bacon, because it was beef bacon and tasted and had the texture of a dried up old steak stuffed in a dried up old boot. At least they are getting better at making coffee over here - but they still have a long way to go.

By the way - best coffee in Dubai is at Brunetti at the Dubai Mall. Interestingly, it is a Melbourne cafe...

Exported

I am going to reminisce. I really should have started this blog 2 and a half years ago, but I ....well, I have dozens of reasons, none of which are particularly interesting, so I won't bore you.

My family (which consisted of Hambone - clever husband who got the job in Dubai, Lion - 4 and a half year old boy with attitude and great regrets at leaving behind best friend, and Goldilocks - mad and skinny one-year old with sleep problems) arrived on April 17 2008, and started our desert adventure.

To be honest, I can remember little about our feelings at the time, but I do know that we had certain expectations of this move.
1. We were going to live somewhere exotic
2. It was going to be very, very, very, very hot most of the year
3. I was going to get a maid

We went straight from the airport to our temporary home, the Trade Centre Apartments. You know those email-circulated pictures you see of the Dubai architectural progression (before it ran out of funds and stopped), and the comparison the the flat 1990 dustbowl? There was one building on the skyline then, and that is where we moved in. Needless to say, I was a little disappointed. I had heard that rents were expensive, but my husband was now earning stacks of money, and his firm had put us in a building that looked like council flats on the outside, and had pub carpet and teak furniture on the inside straight out of some ridiculous time warp that should have been obliterated before it began.

I should have known right from the start that Dubai was not going to be nearly as shiny and slick as the Emirates Airlines promos made it look. Everywhere I looked I found that once you scratch the high-tech exterior, the paint peels off to reveal a rusty clapped out inner. But I am grateful for the jolt it has given my sheltered little soul. It gave my exotic new world the light and shade I needed to make me grow. I am here, and for the moment at least, here to stay....