Jordanian adventures continued

And so we woke up at the crack of dawn, arranged a tour to Petra and were on our way. The drive was absolutely incredible- the sandstone mountains were so beautiful and so many shop signs for me to take pictures of (I love to do so) in the little villages we drove through. So for those of you who don't know, Petra is one of the new seven wonders of the world and is an old city believed to have been constructed in 100BCE and better still they shot Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom there.


Other than for the throngs of tourists and gypsy type men who harass you to buy things in their stores with Indiana Jones signs out front (not sure if Warner Brothers gave sign-off again), you wouldn't know it was there. In fact it was a secret to the western world until the 1800's. It's like any old ancient town- it has a mall, a few donkeys and a Count Dracula opthamologist.

We didn't quite know what to expect. We knew the famous building 'The Treasury' (above) was there, but didn't realise how enormous the actual place was and to even get there it would take a fair walk on rocky, uneven dusty soil. So we set off with our sensible walking shoes- haviana thongs, and walked downhill for about an hour or so stopping off to look at what history had to offer. Amazing obelisks, tombs, an amphitheatre and of course a tourist shop on every ancient corner. After walking for about 2 and a half hours, we realised we had to head back to meet our driver and then it dawned upon us- we had to walk back UP that hill. There was silence, we were focused and went full speed ahead to punch through the pain barrier. It was hot, I was parched because I refused to drink the bottle of water I had just bought because I saw a little gypsy girl rummaging through the bins collecting empty bottles. In the meantime, my insides were still processing the excess salt intake from the day before and I beginning to worry if the Dead Sea water was used in the ancient times for the embalming process. Parched to say the least. Men on horses came close saying "lady lady, you want horse?". Eventually we just ignored them and so one man sang us a little rhyming ditty "Why, why? Why you no answer? Why? Maybe you die?"- Geez! thanks for that- it kind of felt like that in a way - although I must admit I was tempted to take a ride on his horse which was teaming with the Arabian Nights theme. It had a head piece and everything. When we finally got to the home stretch we were puffing and panting, covered in dust and just generally exhausted. As those that saw us enter the world of Petra 3 hours before on their exit, we looked upon the other bright-eyed tourists and chuckled to ourselves thinking 'you've got a good walk ahead of you- hope you've got some good walking shoes on'. Some didn't, but I guess sometimes fashion comes first. Hysteria set in.

As it was a pretty expensive ordeal to even get to Petra we decided not to get a tour guide. Instead, we did the walk ourselves slowing down every so often when we saw an English speaking tour group. The night before, at sun downers, we met a Canadian couple who initiated some general chit-chat and then from nowhere started on the proud grandparent spiel. I never found the segue. But anyway, lucky we did because just as we were noticing the matching beige outfits we heard a bellowing American sounding "Hiiii. Y'all wan come on the tour with us?". We happily accepted until we realised they were happy to partake in every tourist ploy, so we dropped behind. This is them being king and queen in a mock tribal ceremony. Kind of reminded me of something my mum would rope my dad into doing. They were enjoying themselves in an OAP sort of way, but good on them.

As this area was filled with old tombs and caves, Bedouin tribes used to live here and were only kicked out by the authorities in 1985. They built them a community on a hill overlooking the city of Petra, and they now run the tourist business in the city streets. I was fascinated to meet a kiwi lady that came to Petra in the 70's on a backpacking trip and ended up marrying a Bedouin and lived in one of these caves. She has now written a book which I am now reading - I knew it would make 'big mamma' happy.

You couldn't even turn your head without someone trying to sell you something or lead you somewhere. As you know I love a good shop sign, so here are just a few of my favorites in the ancient city. Isn't that Count Dracula again? Perhaps a case of moonlighting?

On our way back to the Dead Sea, we stopped off at a souvenir shop which was aptly named 'The Holy Gifts Land'. The Jordanian man showed us all the 'Dead Sea' beauty products we could buy- and I never knew you could do so much with mud and a bit of salt. It kind of reminded me of the merchandising in the movie Spaceballs. "Spaceballs the Breakfast Cereal, Spaceballs the colouring book, Spaceballs the Flame thrower...". After the man had finished his sales pitch, he asked if we had any questions, indeed I had one. Who was the tall man in the photo behind all the products? It was the tallest man in the Guinness Book of Records next to their shortest staff member. The staff followed us around the store, and everything I picked up, including the Christmas decorations with a Made in China sticker on it, was "made in Jordan". The delicate hand-made glasses were also "dishwasher-safe"- someone wanted to make a sale. I'm my mother's daughter, so I made a sale, a small one, but a sale. Like a thank you gift, they brought out the shortest staff member who wanted a photo with me, perhaps to put next to the picture with the world's tallest man. Bless him. He was about a centimetre taller than me, and I think it was his proudest day.

The next day we made our way to the airport where we were greeted again by the synthetic suit, perhaps hoping for the tip he never got from us in exchange for all the flattery. On the plane I sat next to a cute little Jordanian boy who was on his way to Texas to do a semester for his medicine degree. If I didn't know any better, I'd be pretty sure that he went by the name of "Borat Sagadiev". He had tight Borat curls and a light brown suit jacket. He looked out the window and nudged me saying 'very nice', asked for pictures of himself in his plane seat and tried to show me a video on his mobile of the open heart surgery he had sat in on with his professor. I wouldn't have a bar of it as I had just peeled back the foil on my lamb kofta meatballs. To quickly change the subject of conversation, my friend and I reflected upon our trip over our aeroplane food and a vodka. Oblivious to those around us, in more of an excitable teenager sort of way than being totally obnoxious, we just got to the part about the "ball sack" chin when the air steward tuned in and took a double take just to check if his ears had deceived him. I thought it was more like selective hearing than tuning in at the wrong time. As an Aussie, he enjoyed it all the same and we asked him if he also tuned into the part of our conversation when we were wondering if there was an more chocolate on the plane. With the MSG plane food, the vodka, a bit of embarrassment and the image of the ball sack chin, hysteria set in again.

We had an awesome trip. Everyone should put Jordan on their 'things to do' list.

Dead Sea walking...

So before I knew it I was being picked up at 5:20am by my new lady of leisure friend's other half to catch our early morning flight-with verses of Michael Jackson (RIP)'s 'Carry me to the River Jordan' circling in my head. How I have so much energy and can be so chatty even at 5:20am, I don't know. What I did know was that there were promises of a pork breakfast and a glass of champagne at terminal 3 which is perhaps what put a little spring into my 'hop, skip and a jump'- even at 5:20am.

After 10 minutes of non-stop chat, critiquing the interiors of the new RS6 and admiring the red seat belts that matched the stitching on the dash and the red calipers (is that The Giant talking?), I had a little quiet time until the signs of swine were in sight. The Giant would have, and I quote the great woman with a perm and a gum nut baby earring- "creamed his jeans" at the car as there was a trim of carbon fibre on the dash (he is carbon fibre junkie), and also because I was silent for once... He loves it though-never a dull moment.


We had to meet my friend's HR manager at the airport at 6am because he had to cancel her visa. I didn't quite realise what this meant, but there is literally a desk at the airport that says "Visa Cancellation", where you sign a few papers and they stamp your passport with a big red 'CANCELLED' before you hop on your flight out of the country.

And so off we went, liquids in snap-lock bags, mini travel scrabble and the drive to make this pork breakfast dream a reality. Although the customs man wasn't very impressed we were going to Jordan, I'm sure he worked for Egypt tourism, we were both looking forward to floating in the Dead Sea and indulging in nature's finest mud scrubs that people pay hundreds for in Spas around the world.

When we arrived in Amman airport, we were greeted by a tall, dark and handsome man in a synthetic suit, who must have done a 3 year degree in 'cheesy pick-up lines' at the University of Amman, along with his other friends we would soon meet on our travels. One of my favourite lines include: "Where you come from? (after already asking me 3 times in his intro chit-chat) Must be the heavens because you an angel". And my other favorite "Ah! this I have never seen before!" to which my friend quickly responded-"What? a tall person and a short person?" "Yes, but I like the one in the middle" and before we gave him a chance to ask if he could be "the one in the middle"- we carried on full speed ahead. The airport was about 45 minutes from our hotel on the Dead Sea so we had a whole 45 minutes of structured cheesy conversation from the aforementioned synthetic suit type who had a chin beard in the shape of a goat's undercarriage.

And so we arrived at the hotel, greeted by a fresh guava juice on the other end of the metal detector. Something I'd never seen before in the lobby of a five star hotel. Dressed in our cossies and armed with our cameras and a 'Take 5' magazine, we made our way down to the pool. The view was incredible. I'll let the photos do the talking. I imagined how excited my mum would be sitting on a beach chair looking out over Jerusalem, although I'm sure being on the "other" side of the Dead Sea wouldn't be enough- I'm sure she'd try her best to run on water to the other side. I bought her a cross that says Jerusalem, and she is happy.

So here we were taking in the Jordanian rays, all was calm, all was bright, then I realised I left my board shorts behind. Before being picked up at 5:20am, I quickly tried to spray some fake tan on my legs- as I've always said 'brown fat is better than white fat'. But, no board shorts? This I had not planned for. How could I flash the Dead Sea and the Holy Land my plump behind? After the reality check of having to walk from the beach chair to the Dead Sea, I was told to suck it up. And that I did, in more ways than one. While I plucked up the courage, we watched a young blonde girl and her boyfriend/photographer pose at each stage of the mud covering process. Entertaining. She then posed in a sequence of Austin Powers "you're a tiger, you're a tiger" kind of way- claws out. I didn't have my camera ready, but made sure it was for the "you're a frog, you're a frog" poses she did on her lily pad.

Sans board short, sarong or towel, we quickly made our way to where everyone was covering themselves in mud and drying off before floating in the Dead Sea. It was then that I realised "brill-i-ant" (in a British accent). I dug deep in the mud pot and pulled out a gooey clump of black mud and wiped it first on my bottomly region- perfect- the best cellulite cover-up known to man. I was proudly prancing along the beach waiting for it to dry- the sugar/IKEA high kicked in. When the mud had hardened, it was time to float, so we went into the last phase of nature's finest spa treatment. We were careful not to do any hair removal the day before and were told by friends- what ever you do don't open your eyes. We ticked those boxes and took the plunge. It was a bizarre feeling- never had treading water been so effortless- I could be an Olympic Water Polo player in the Dead Sea- no problem. I was so excited trying out all the different positions-where you'd normally drown in any other ocean/sea (for the Turkish people)/vessel of water. I pointed my feet down and they would naturally kick themselves up, we squatted making our legs into chairs- and you didn't even have to fight to keep your balance. Then just after my friend had a touch and go moment and said- "don't lean forward", in true Terence of Arabia style, I leaned forward, and nearly made the Guinness book of records for first person to nearly drown in the Dead Sea. Eyes open, mouth wide open and within a split second the Dead Sea and I were one. I took a gulp of the Dead Sea. Only moments before, I had been telling my friend about my deportment lessons and how I had lessons to refine my 'lady' skills, however, there was nothing graceful about my Dead Sea exit. It turned into a splashing catastrophe as I slipped on the rocks with some repeated shouts of 'time out' and the matching gestures. There was no mud on my behind anymore. I told one of the life guards what had happened. He had a very relaxed Fijian kind of vibe about him teamed with ESL language skills which didn't suit my state of panic. He asked me how much I drank saying 'little' or 'big' and I repeated the 'gulping' gesture that had put me in this predicament. He gave a bit of a belly laugh and kept pointing at me then motioning to his bottom then up to his mouth. Now, I am a qualified ESL teacher myself, and I am certainly one for a bit of toilet humour, and if that was what he was getting at, I just wasn't in the mood. He then came back with a jug of full-cream milk- I put all my lactose intolerances behind me and gulped that baby down. I was still not satisfied with the lifeguard's remedy, so I went to reception, explained my story repeating my 'gulp' gesture, just to make sure my insides weren't pickling as we spoke. They assured me that I wasn't "poisoned" as I had asked them to confirm, and as it came from front of house, I was happy with that and it was enough for me to decide it was now time for sun downers.

Crossing over... with Terence of Arabia

While I wait for my visa, I have to leave the country every 30 days. Before my other lady of leisure friends became gainfully employed, we used to be a posse of 3 that would take enough water, almonds and Natural Confectionery Company dinosaurs and do the drive to Oman which is only about an hour and a half away. One time, as part of a routine border check, we got pulled over by a military guy in a skin-colour Toyota Landcruiser with the biggest gun I have ever seen- in fact, the only gun I've ever seen was when we went clay pigeon shooting, and all those years of practice on Nintendo payed off. He asked for our passports at which time I think all the blood in my face sank to my feet (yes those fat feet with elevated toes). He looked at the passports then looked up to verify each picture, at which time he saw me coloured a pale shade of death, gave back the passports and ever so sweetly said "its ok madam! I'm so sorry! no problem! all ok! so sorry!...".

So my new lady of leisure friend needed to leave the country this week which coincided with my "crossing-over" dates - its great to be back in cycle with someone. Sri Lanka was her destination of choice and she had planned to go see the elephants. I was totally on board and ready for the adventure until I googled travel advice - which is so dangerous for a lass like me. How could I go to Sri Lanka? I haven't had my required shots and worse still the Australian government advises that you "reconsider your need to travel" to Sri Lanka because of the political unrest- its in a state of emergency. Just to check I wasn't being paranoid, I ran the idea past the most level headed and sensible people I know (you know who you are- most of you were at happy hour...there was even a kiwi too) to get their advice. It was 60% no, 40% yes which made me feel that if I'm mental so are 60% of my friends (within the sample size) or maybe it is the 40% that are mental. I also sought a second opinion on whether I could go there without getting the "jabs". Yes, I did seek medical advice...from my dad. Yes, he's been practising general medicine for 40 years, but you know what they say, 'don't trust a plumber in the family to fix your toilet'. Instead the advice that convinced me not to go came from my friend in London who is a vet, is writing her thesis on bats and who also enjoys musical classics such as Calamity Jane and Fiddler on the Roof.

So we decided- Jordan it is.

it doesnt get better than this...

So here I sit on my palm tree bower my prison, (to quote Coleridge, sound educated and do him a favour by making him modern and relevant) on my balcony looking over the Burj al Arab (the 7 star hotel in the shape of a sail), a cool 29 degrees, the two imitation Crystler buildings off in the distance, some awesome marinara to my left and a glass of NZ's finest to my right. Don't really think it could get better that this. Actually it could. The bar below have installed a masive screen in the beer garden so the sporadic bellows of blokeish glory seem to be travelling up to level 8. I am only every so slightly understanding as Man United are playing Liverpool, and other than Chelsea they are the only soccer teams I know, so it must be a big game. I'll fix that with a bit of overpowering Brittany and some Disney classics. Yes, High School Musical too. I am so cool amongst 12-15 year olds- didn't you get the memo?

I'll show you my Dubai if you show me yours...

As both of our other halves were at work today on a Saturday...again... my new lady of leisure friend and I went on another adventure. Our adventures started today at 9am and finished at 5pm, so we too crammed so much into the working day until we were exhausted. Will compare office politics notes with the giant when he returns home tonight.

I met this friend when I first arrived in Dubai, when I would over-enthusiastically introduce myself to everyone I saw in my building, car park, lobby, coffee-shop, gym and beach-you name it. She used to live in the apartment opposite me, where my Belarusian friend now lives, and I remember thinking that maybe the lift wasn't the best place for my over-enthusiastic intros and that she must have thought 'who is this weirdo that has moved in opposite me and how am I going to avoid bumping into her all the time?' However I was wrong, she slipped a welcome note under my door, suggested a wine in the bar downstairs and the rest is history. So today she came to pick me up from her old building and she wanted to go do a drive-by past the new developments on The Palm. Like I said, we live on the trunk but all the hotels, which are still being built, are on the outer crescent with the enormous Atlantis hotel at the very top and centre. We adventured around the crescent and got a view of Dubai from a perspective I'd never seen before. The marina skyline is just mental, and to think 3 years ago none of it was there. Every so often I'd look off into the Persian Gulf and give a wave to my Iranian neighbours. Reminded me again that Australia's quite a while away. Its quite a drive from one end of the crescent to the other- in fact it's about 5 kilometres, and long enough to discuss important, worldly topics such as pet cockatoos, religious icons (as heavy as the day's conversation got), whether cats and dogs born here eat pork, OH&S and yellow snow.

After our trip around The Palm, we then headed to downtown Jumeriah for the Magrundy's book sale. Books? I hear you all say. Does Terence of Arabia now read for pleasure? The answer is no. There are still too many things to think about and do when I pick up a book to read. It was a sale and I am my mother's daughter you know. I was more keen to pick up a range of Lonely Planet guides as they were all $1.50 as I think they look nice stacked together on a bookshelf. Unbelievably I actually found the book I've been wanting to read for ages "Where Do Underpants Come From?" and that was also $1.50, so it was really worth the trip. After "schlepping" around the sales, us weary ladies stopped off at Shakespeare's Cafe; a Laduree type cafe that has amazing sweets, does an all day breakfast and a killer eggs benedict. As I started to explain I'm not a very graceful eater, I had a rather awkward encounter with piece of lettuce. But I digress. It was so nice to spend the day in little suburban shopping centres (very Top-Ryde-esque) rather than the huge malls and it was amazing how my friend's Dubai was so different to mine.

I loved every second of this shopping adventure. Things I had never seen before like novelty teapots in the shape of caravans, tasters, golf clubs and beautiful boutiques with amazing decorations. Well, at least I thought that was a shop window decoration until I saw that each over sized bling-bling crown was on sale for about $1000. I would love to know what that will ever be used for.

Without a trip to Ikea or The Daiso, my day could not have gotten any better. Then we made a turn and ended up at the 'Park & Shop' supermarket. I don't think I need to explain the emotional intensity and sensory overload I experienced. I think we all know by now how much I love to grocery shop. It looks so 'Flemings' or 'Jewel' from the outside, yet a world of wonders within. I hate to be so Jerry Seinfeld about it all but why "Park & Shop"- what else do you think I'm going to do? What do other people do with their cars when they go to the supermarket? And to be quite frank, if the only parking is that which is infront of the shop. What happens if I don't get a park? We would have a serious case of brand not matching promise...

The greatest finding by far today was a line extension to end all line extensions. The Burger King Onion Ring Crisps and Fries. That was it. I surrendered and I was now happy if the adventure had to end.

Punctuation

I just got a call from my mum to tell me that I should be punctuating more in my blog, that a fullstop ends a thought and that "..." and "-" shouldn't subsitute normal punctuation. I was explaining to my mum that my blog is a flow of thoughts and ideas. I also explained that rarely does any sentence of mine contain less than 5ideas, and even rarer still for me to take a breath at any point, therefore no need for many full stops. For those of you who know me, how often to I start a story and then start another within 5 seconds, then another, and another? This blog is not supposed to be a perfectly edited publishable work, it is merely giving you an opportunity to enter this crazy mind and how it thinks. Just imagine we're sitting having a coffee and I'm tellig you about my day. Don't try get a word in, just breathe for me...

A string of pearls and Ali Baba's treasures...

As most people know, I love to go grocery shopping and what a better place for a lass like me to be than Dubai where supermarkets are on steroids. For most Aussies, the concept of a hypermarket is a foreign one, but here it is how it's done. They're like a massive Woolies, with Big W and Dick Smith Powerhouse combined. I remember when I was in France in the 90's they also had hypermarkets on the outskirts of Paris and the sales assistants used to get around on roller blades. But of course they did, how French is that. I bet they all still go with their patterned jumpers to the pattinoire (ice-skating rink)on a Friday night for 'the disco'. Come on, and the world takes their lead on fashion and trends?

So, on my weekly trip to Carrefour, I was into my first hour of grocery shopping going up every aisle and looking at every single product and wondering why they really need KRAFT cheese from Australia, America and the UK and how much of it actually gets bought in its short perishable life? There's no need to cut back variety on these huge shelves- this place is a marketers dream. It also takes me so long in Carrefour because they like to change where things are every week so you end up scouring the aisles till BINGO- its the Middle East's answer to Supermarket Sweep. At the entrance of Carrefour there is a free standing off-location section where they usually have all their catalogue products and where all the awesome bulk packs, bundle deals and gift with purchases are. I usually spend my first 15 minutes marvelling and wondering who in the world is going to buy a bulk pack of 12 airfresheners- but then I remember, there are houses here with 12 bathrooms, and I'll avoid the toilet joke that could be placed here- you were all thinking it, that's why we're friends. Just yesterday, I saw a gift with purchase to end all gift with purchases. A carton of cigarettes and a string of pearls. I hate to say it, I nearly thought about it (until I knocked some sense into me) - There you go, here I am mocking you Mr Windfield, yet you nearly got me.

The other day, my new found lady of leisure friend took me on another trinket adventure. This one truly blew my socks off. It was in a warehouse in the industrial area of Al Quoz, and it really was like stumbling across Sir Ali Baba's cave. Incredible- it kept going- a room within a room within a room... amazing. So many babushka dolls, imitation aladdin's lamps, pots, antiques, camels of all types; brass, stuffed, wooden, soft plush, teracotta, plastic, santa claus ones, ones with dish-dashes on, ones with boggly heads ... you name it. They had all types of paraphenalia imported from Turkey, Japan, Africa, China, Thailand- but I mean like giant ornate door frames and a whole range of brass statues that would keep the dolphin, out front of our house at home, in good company. An awesome adventure.

Mani, pedi and around the world in 1hr 15 mins...

I have a little icon on my desktop that tells me the temperature in my selected cities; Sydney so I understand why you all have colds, London so know what rain I'm missing and Dubai so I know how quickly my clothes will dry on my verandah. When I got up this morning it said 21 degrees, so I thought I would go for a jog. It must have been reading the temperature somewhere in doors in a mall or something because I lasted 10 minutes before I had to go inside and retreat to conditioning. I just flipped to it now at 10:48am and it says 32 degrees which is how its going to stay for the rest of the day. Just awesome. We've finally been able to sit on the balcony and the giant and I spent Friday evening sipping a few and rehashing world news and current affairs (mainly the Kardashians). My new Belarusian friend from across the hallway popped over for a vino and joined our scintillating discussion. She is an amazing cook. Every time I walk down my hallway I seriously feel like I am Yosemite Sam and my nose sniffs out the way to her door. A few nights go she showed me how to make Belarusian rissoles which I improvised that night- though there were none left for her to try. They were sensational. She's been here for a few years and so was telling me the ins and outs, as the Dubai veterans do, and said she would take me to the best and cheapest place to get a mani-pedi in Dubai. I gladly accepted and cleared my diary on Tuesday afternoon.

I was even more willing because it was in a place called 'International City' which I had never been to and I knew it would create a perfect segue for one of my next blog entries which explores the "cities", "villages", "worlds" and "lands" of Dubai. 'Knowledge Village' where the finest universities of the world have campuses like the University of Wollongong, 'Media City' where all the publishing houses of the world set up shop, 'Internet City' where businesses like HP and Sony reside and so 'International City' has always puzzled me- was it a city made up of all the countries of the world, with restaurants from all parts of the globe and housing for the masses? Yes, yes it was. So we had our mani-pedi and then quickly popped to Persia, Spain, Greece, Italy, France, England and Russia. Its all we could fit in in an hour...

SPAIN

PERSIA

ITALY

GREECE

FRANCE

A road trip...

Yesterday I went to Sharjah- one of the 7 Emirate states. There's no border line crossing nor is there any pomp and ceremony or a sign saying 'Welcome - home of the Big Banana' that you might find on our Australian roads. It's not what you'd expect at all of a city that just pops up out of nowhere or for a city with a population of 800,000- and a completely dry state- in fact it has quite an impressive skyline. I decided to take a trip with my newly made lady of leisure friend who has just quit her job. She's been here for a while now so knows all the ins and outs. She took me to a trinket and furniture shop where you can buy things 'dirt cheap' (to be said in British accent) and it was full of beautiful Arabic heavy wood furniture... I went to get some inspiration for my place for when I grow up. We left at about 9am, and were met by heavy traffic which brought on my need to use the ladies facilities and hunger pains- I was told I was 'rubbish' (say in same British accent) on a road trip and was keenly on the look-out for the golden arches as of 9:15 am, but alas, no luck. If I had my GPS lady, 'the bi-atch', with me, I would have had a full belly, ready to take on the rest of the days adventures and all in all would have been in a better disposition. Although it doesn't have quite the same ring to it, apparently the Beef-Bacon and Egg McMuffin is something to look forward to, though I'm told the sausage and egg is superior.



One of yesterday's highlights though was an impromptu visit to The Daiso- a Japanese $2-like shop which was full of amazing Japanese tid bits, unnecessary items in unnecessary packaging, and many things with Engrish written on them like "Love find joy in pocket of careful enterprise" and the like. When my friend was selling the idea of the visit she said "it has every single type of little container you can possibly imagine and it also has wind up sushi roll toys with feet that you can race"- I was in. I love novelty toy food, better still the little Asian bowls and steamed yum cha container key rings and erasers. It took me back to the Willy Wonka days of Victoria Road, Gladesville- I put their children through uni I'm sure. My high (of IKEA adventure proportions) was met by a serious low at the end of a solid hour or so, and I needed chocolate and a nap. Didn't get either but soldiered on- well maybe just one or two chocolates.

I made it to Satwa in the end, though it's always touch and go with the skilled drivers and aimless pedestrians round town. I don't know, is it just me or does it always seems to be about 5 degrees hotter there- or is it just that they drive me crazy because they change their prices every 2 seconds? I must be known as the mental expat that bargains for 30c...sometimes I have to stop and remember that. I was wearing a top that had a slightly slightly see through panel (I know, sounds ever so 80's doesn't it, but its nice and tasteful), and I was getting looks left, right and centre- until I stopped, turned around, stared the man dead in the eyes and said 'do you want a piece of me?' how so very Brittney of me. Straight after I got honked and hooted at- you'd think a boob was hanging out.

One of the things I have learnt here is that there are no laws that prevent copyright. I delved into this when I saw young Mickey Mouse endorsing a few products that were surely not on brand and put two and two together when a little lady knocked on my door and whispered "you wand dvd?". I'm not quite sure how it all works, but I don't know if Nick Carter from Backstreet Boys himself gave sign-off on this one...

An Update...

So here I find myself again, in my gym clothes with every intention of going, yet finding so many other important things to do than go to the gym, including writing in my blog. The giant and I had a fabulous weekend mainly because we finally got the GPS to work so we didn't end up fighting because we spend half of the day getting lost. I was particularily happy to find out that our GPS includes McDonalds as points of interest and many a roadside 'danger meal' (see photo above). McDonald's close competitors. Its nice to be able to go for a drive and every so often you look out the window and see sand all around you or camels or flamingoes, and then you remember you're not home and actually in the desert. As co-pilot on this desert adventure, I was on a photographic joyride. As we followed the unsuspecting few to get some choice shots, the GPS lady was going crazy yelling with the same intonation "recalculating" and "make a u-turn right now if possible". We know we're not following your directions Bi-atch as we affectionately call her- but sometimes you see something and need to go off road to capture the moment (see photo of man on bike texting in the desert).

I went to IKEA last week and I don't know what the brew-ha-ha is about it being a place of evil and a harvester of badwill and headaches. The amount of adrenaline that was pumping through my system was out of control. If it were an olympic sport, I would do my country proud. As always, I went for a pillow and came out with a trolley full of things with viking sounding names. While I was there I got the inspiration to turn our spare bedroom into a study/craft room. In a very modest sort of way, I cant even begin to put into words how impressed I am with myself. Since my stroke of genius, I have been calling myself a visionary and often call upon the giant to confirm whether he also thinks so. He does of course. Please note space to the left that will soon house my sewing machine which I have asked Santa for Christmas. Sent him a letter to see if I can get it a little earlier than December- now waiting to hear back, although I think his reindeer may be held up in customs.

I'm now off to Satwa- an Indian community where they sell fabrics and craft goods. Lets see what I come home with this time...

That's so Dubai

Definition:

Dubai (n) pron. doo-bahy

1. (n) One of the seven Emirates located along the Southern Coast of the Persian Gulf. Estimated population (official figures are not published- so Dubai- see below) 2.2 million, 26% Arab population of which 17% are Emirati. 78% of the population are expatriates of which 63% are from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and the Philippines. English-speaking expats make up a mere 6.7% of the population.

2. (adj) to have the characteristics of something that is typically from or found in Dubai: That is so Dubai, How Dubai was that? (see also bling-bling)

How do you explain some thing that is 'so Dubai'? In its purest form, the photo to the left summarises it all. Yes, that is a fusse ball table, yes that is covered in diamantes and yes, it does cost $150,000. I did have a few stories of the experiences I have had, but thought I would leave those for the dinner parties. Instead, I thought I would post some photos which may help paint the picture or thread together the Persian rug as would be more appropriate in these parts of the world.

Paris, London, Rome, Dubai...and a jade bathtub

Like the cows in Austria- now the blingbling camels of Dubai...

a webber for the masses

An outdoor airconditioner

A gold car, all gold




Diamante car badging- a badgers dream...