We have just returned from a much needed rest in Dubai, well it was a rest for me and part business for my husband! I wanted to share my findings with you:
Our first impressions of Dubai are that it is the Arab version of Disneyland, without the rides.
In Dubyland, the first thing that strikes you is the cleanliness. The floors everywhere are so spotless that you could sit down and eat off them. There is no graffiti anywhere, no litter, no signs that there are thousands of people that walk on the paving stones. I think people value their hands too much to dare litter. You drop something then its off with your hand!
Lunch by the pool is a wonderful event. You order your food, within 5 seconds you have a table set up in front of you - full silver service. Within five minutes your food is served. You are offered every condiment imaginable, the cleaner is on hand in case you make crumbs, there is someone else on hand with wet cloths in case you get sticky and then they offer to put the food in your mouth so you don't have to exert yourself! I think the best part is that they offer to eat the food for you so you don't have to worry about the calories!
Then you go to the gym, which makes any British gym look like a glorified warehouse. Working out and getting hot and sweaty is really a thing of the past. Here in Dubyland, there is no sweat, just people on hand to mop your brow with ice cold flannels to cool you down. And if you love the look of the gym and really want a workout without exertion, they will run for you, lift weights for you and then stretch for you. Luxury this really is.
The only thing I think is a bit of a cheek, is they get you to do some of the cooking for them. If you ever come here and you see roasted cucumber on the menu - don't eat it.
During the day, when the sun is at its hottest, they bring round slices of iced cucumber to put on your eyes. The slices then bake in the sun to a nice crispy consistency. They are then collected up and used in various local dishes.
But I guess by doing this you are doing your part in giving back - it saves them on fuel by using natural resources. I just hope they don't bring chicken wings round today, they won't be so soothing on the eyes!
The other thing I have figured out is why the Arab men wear white dresses and the women black burquas. They never have the worry of fashion choices. How wonderful, you never have to worry what your going to wear. Never have the stress of wearing the wrong thing at the wrong time. The only thing that changes for the woman each season is the width of the eye slits. The well styled Dubyland woman knows the exact size to the millimetre of the seasons peek hole.
So, we don't feel uncomfortable seeing the men in dresses and the women walking round as Darth Vadar. We weren't quite sure about the terrorist cell sitting at the next table to us at dinner last night.
Anyway, Dubyland is in a unique world of its own.
Can't wait to see what happens next!
The palm trees are swaying gently in the breeze, the sky is blue and cloudless - what more can you ask for?
Day 6
Very sadly, today, Stephen is in conference and I have been left all alone! I can already tell that your eyes are brimming over with unshed tears at the hardship I am facing.
My terrible predicament is this:
I am sitting by the beautiful pool, with the sun beating down on me, I am the only one here. I have 3 pool attendants constantly surrounding me, running over to pour me a glass of water, straighten my towels if they crease, cleaning my sunglasses and moving the umbrella position ever so slightly, every time the sun moves to keep my white, English skin protected.
I have 3 lifeguards who go on full alert every time I stand up, in case I totter over the edge of the pool.(No alcohol has been consumed this morning as yet). And if I so feel like dipping my toe in the bath that is the swimming pool , one of them jumps in, to be on hand just in case my toe starts to drown.
If I would venture down to the beach, which is beautiful, I don't have to worry about getting sandy. They have made the sand the most perfect consistency to walk on, its soft underfoot but doesn't stick to you even when wet. They have even devised a way of keeping the sand cool, even at the hottest time of day, so you never have to worry about burning your feet.
You can walk into the sea, without fear that you may get swept along by the current.
On hand is your personal lifeguard, in a little boat, who will follow your every move and keep you safe. The only thing they haven't quite mastered is heating the sea to a more comfortable temperature, but I understand they're working on this problem.
So while I'm laying here all by myself, I can fill you in on my latest findings.
We decided to venture out of our cocoon here and take a trip into town for,
'The customary visit to the local shopping mall whilst on holiday excursion'. As you can imagine, this was not your usual mall. This mall was bigger than the whole of north west London. In comparison, Brent X is the equivalent of the local 7-11.
How exciting, the shops ranged from Cartier and Jimmy Choo to Bloomingdales and Top Shop.
But why would you go there to browse these luxury stores when you could jump into a cage in the ocean sized aquarium and feed the sharks? Why waste your hard earned cash and overworked credit cards on the latest Rolex watch or Laboutin shoes when you can play with the manta rays in the middle of the mall with thousands of people gawping at you through the glass? And what purpose do these stores have when in the blink of an eye you can go from an underwater adventure to skiing off piste in a total re-creation of the Alps? Obviously, absolutely none! The shops are put there with the same importance as a coconut shy at a fairground. A minor side show. The prices are so astronomical and the layout so Primark, that you are drawn to seek out other amusements. These are provided in abundance!
Anyway, this has gone on long enough, will fill you in on our visit to the Burj Al Arab next time! Just remember, all that glistens there IS gold!
The umbrella is being adjusted, my water being poured - what more can you ask for?
Farewell to Dubyland
So following our visit to the Burj al Arab, otherwise known as, 'Yes, we were rolling in it and may have to sell a few floors to pay off our debts', the famous image of that sail shaped hotel will never be viewed with the same eyes again!
What must a 7 star hotel be like you wonder? Reeking class and understated opulence? Stylish but luxurious furnishings and unknown before to mankind facilities? Actually, not!
If you have ever been on a Carnival cruise ship, which is Americas 3 star answer to in your face gawdiness, the burj has taken a template from this and multiplied it a thousand fold to create this headache inducing, vertigo enhancing monstrosity!
Needless to say, after three hours of being in the building, my head was spinning. One option was to have a rest in the bedroom of the suite our friend was staying in. Could I bear the thought of lying on this super emperor size bed with a thousand ton gold leafed encrusted mirror covering the entire ceiling area? Did I actually want to lay down and stare at my pallid, green complexion from every possible angle? Time to beat a quick retreat to the confines of my lowly 5 star hotel.
So, very sadly it was time to say farewell to Dubyland.
But there was still one surprise to come.
We checked in at the airport, ready for the comfort of an 8 hour club flight home. Sailed through security until the final checkpoint. We handed over our passports and boarding cards to the man in the white dress. "So you're going to Lagos", he informs us. Thinking there may be a misunderstanding with the accent, we both smile very sweetly, nod our heads and say, "London". Just as sweetly, he smiles back and says "No, your going to Lagos, Nigeria", and turns the computer to show us that, actually, yes, we are going to Lagos! OMG, I never knew my heart could go from 0-60 in a millisecond! Porsche had nothing on me, I would have been the fastest supercar ever had I been given an engine at that second! Thoughts of conspiracy rattled round my mind - who did I know who could set us up and have us dumped in Nigeria? No prizes for answers on that one! Panic began to set in and my eyes darted round looking for escape routes.
And then, the man in the white dress starts laughing, "How funny, look how easily I can change your destination on the computer and send you anywhere in the world!!! If you really want to go to London, then I'll change it back for you - have a nice day!!"
Now ready to sleep as my internal supply of adrenaline has been wiped out, we board the plane for London.
And what plane have we been given? Of course! The oldest one on the fleet, with a club class cabin from the 1950's. (Slight exaggeration but you get the drift).
They do this just to rub it in that you are leaving the luxury of the oasis in the desert and returning to grimy, smelly, miserable London.
And so we are back. Was the whole thing a mirage as there definitely wasn't anyone this morning to butter my toast, put the toothpaste on my toothbrush and stir the sugar in my coffee for me.
Oh well, the sky is grey and dark, the washing machine is beckoning - what more can you ask for?
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