I’m sitting here eating a piece of desperation cheesecake, so named because desperation is the emotion its purchase was borne out of. We’re talking about the kind of tired desperation that stems from trekking the entire length of Dubai carrying your life in a bag; the kind that leads you to try opening the front door with your metro card; the very kind that results in you needing to buy the over-priced piece of cheesecake necessary to relieve this unpleasant emotion.
I’m only slightly perturbed that desperation is the emotion that marks the end of my third week in Dubai. As a quietly confident and eternally optimistic being I have no doubt that the feeling will pass. Active job hunting is really quite tiring, hence the cheesecake, but one could hardly say that the last three weeks have been dull. In fact, they have been something of a social whirl wind. Your correspondent has been spotted at the races, the polo, a VIP lunch at Art Dubai, not to mention the book launch brunch.
For the first ten days I was at the mercy of the Mothership, obliged to do her bidding at every turn. Thus, I spent many hours trailing round Ikea and the like, desperately (there’s that word again) trying to look engaged as we discussed the finer points of bedroom furniture. On the upside there were plenty of pit stops for food. It was a bit like my childhood memories of trips to the garden centre: enduring tedious hours of wandering with the promise of an ice cream at the end.
With the Mothership safely dispatched, I turned my attentions to the serious business of finding a job, setting up office in coffee shops sporting WiFi. I’m now on my third coffee shop, having picked up a series of unwanted yet persistent admirers along the way – apparently this is one of the hazards of studiously minding your own business in a public place. Happily, my efforts have resulted in at least one interview, so progress has been made.
In my additional capacity as housekeeper I’ve been mostly responsible for managing the move to a new apartment, soothing the Fathership as we’ve encountered teething troubles and liaising with the well-meaning but somewhat quirky maintenance team to get our troubles fixed.
On moving-in day the Mothership and I arrived in the new apartment to find it an inch deep in water. We beat a hasty retreat. With the aqueous issue resolved, it was the turn of the removals crew. They were glorious to watch: within two hours they had delivered, unpacked and installed all the furniture, swiftly removing all traces of packing material as they went. It was like a military operation – with smiles – and the only casualty of the whole affair was a light bulb, broken by me. One of them even nipped off for prayer half way through.
Dubai is rather different from life in the Indian Ocean but it has its own idiosyncrasies and the promise of plenty more material to fuel your correspondent’s amusement with local life. I anticipate a long and happy relationship.
So until next time dear readers,
TTFN xxx
I’m only slightly perturbed that desperation is the emotion that marks the end of my third week in Dubai. As a quietly confident and eternally optimistic being I have no doubt that the feeling will pass. Active job hunting is really quite tiring, hence the cheesecake, but one could hardly say that the last three weeks have been dull. In fact, they have been something of a social whirl wind. Your correspondent has been spotted at the races, the polo, a VIP lunch at Art Dubai, not to mention the book launch brunch.
For the first ten days I was at the mercy of the Mothership, obliged to do her bidding at every turn. Thus, I spent many hours trailing round Ikea and the like, desperately (there’s that word again) trying to look engaged as we discussed the finer points of bedroom furniture. On the upside there were plenty of pit stops for food. It was a bit like my childhood memories of trips to the garden centre: enduring tedious hours of wandering with the promise of an ice cream at the end.
With the Mothership safely dispatched, I turned my attentions to the serious business of finding a job, setting up office in coffee shops sporting WiFi. I’m now on my third coffee shop, having picked up a series of unwanted yet persistent admirers along the way – apparently this is one of the hazards of studiously minding your own business in a public place. Happily, my efforts have resulted in at least one interview, so progress has been made.
In my additional capacity as housekeeper I’ve been mostly responsible for managing the move to a new apartment, soothing the Fathership as we’ve encountered teething troubles and liaising with the well-meaning but somewhat quirky maintenance team to get our troubles fixed.
On moving-in day the Mothership and I arrived in the new apartment to find it an inch deep in water. We beat a hasty retreat. With the aqueous issue resolved, it was the turn of the removals crew. They were glorious to watch: within two hours they had delivered, unpacked and installed all the furniture, swiftly removing all traces of packing material as they went. It was like a military operation – with smiles – and the only casualty of the whole affair was a light bulb, broken by me. One of them even nipped off for prayer half way through.
Dubai is rather different from life in the Indian Ocean but it has its own idiosyncrasies and the promise of plenty more material to fuel your correspondent’s amusement with local life. I anticipate a long and happy relationship.
So until next time dear readers,
TTFN xxx
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