Drama at the Beach

I think I've posted quite enough about my preferred weekend activity of kicking back on a sunlounger with my favourite people and a pile of celebrity trash magazines large enough to sink the Titanic, so I won't bore you with more details on this.  Suffice to say it was the usual routine this weekend, with one small drama - a near drowning!  No, I'm not joking.

There we were, cooling down in the sea next to the Burj (which incidentally is a LOT colder than it used to be)  generally chewing the cud and gossiping.  About what, I can't remember.  Boys, fashion and make-up most probably.  The first time we heard a cry of 'help' we all looked at one another blankly.  "Did we really just hear that".  Then we heard it again - coming from a woman, quite far out - and very clearly shouting and in distress.  The lifeguards didn't appear to have heard her.

L and I looked at one another in horror. 1) I'm not into swimming in the sea 2) When I do swim I don't get my hair wet 3) I was wearing a pair of my favourite shades and didn't want to lose them 4) A strapless bacofoil bikini is not ideally suited to frantic sea-rescue missions.  Thankfully J came to the rescue.  "hold these" he bellowed as he thrust his Raybans into my hand, before proceeding to dive in, swim at high-speed, and pull the woman out from under the water.  It was all very Baywatch, let me tell you!

L and I basked in J's reflected hero glory ("Our friend just saved that woman!") as she was led away by the lifeguards.  We were imagining all sorts of drama - jellyfish sting, shark attack, but apparently she had 'got a bit tired' and couldn't stay afloat.  Not that I'm being disparaging about her predicament.  And obviously L and I would have helped out no-one else had stepped up.  That's if the bacofoil bikini was up to it and I didn't burn her retinas out before we got to her!  The whole incident was quite exhausting and we all retired to the sunloungers for a much needed snooze.  No change there then!

Just Another Birthday in the Sunshine...

Another weekend, another trip to the beach…..we’ve been a little at a loss since Shoreside closed down – and with the sad news that it isn’t re-opening, we’ve had to look further afield for our beach fix.  As it was M’s birthday weekend, we allowed her to choose the venue, and she plumped for the Jumeirah Beach Hotel.  It’s a stalwart of the Dubai hotel scene, with a fabulous rooftop bar, Uptown, and of course the amazing 360.  The latter is a circular bar, which you reach via a narrow causeway…and it’s in the middle of the ocean.  Gorgeous.  It’s also right next to the Burj Al Arab – priceless location.

In typical Dubai beach style, we were rocking out a variety of fabulous bikinis…purple, white, frilled and my favorite (mine) silver.  When I say silver I mean tinfoil-like.  Only in Dubai would my hands have ever lingered on such an item, least still, grabbed at hungrily and charged to the cash register with.  It’s so wrong it’s right is all I’m going to say.  

We duly collapsed onto the ridiculously comfy loungers, handed round celebrity trash magazines, and got on with the business of tanning and talking boys fashion and make-up.  All interspersed with free ice lollies, water misting and a regular supply of iced, lemon scented towels.  Occasionally a helicopter came into land on the heli-pad of the Burj.  Spoilt, us?

The evening saw us head down to the marina and to Frankie Dettori’s restaurant.  I may have blogged about this before – it’s one of my favourite Dubai eateries, and not just because I love Italian food.  It has a great piano bar, which leads to a great atmosphere.  There’s usually a fair few Italians in there which I think is always a sign of a restaurant that’s cracked the formula.  We troughed, we troughed some more, we slurped wine, all with lashings of gossip and boys fashion make-up chat.  There’s a theme here! 

It’s always hard to come up with birthday celebrations, as it really does seem like every weekend in Dubai is a birthday, such is the fun that we have.  This was a good weekend.

Thanks Sian!

So, I had afternoon tea at the Burj yesterday. You know, the world’s only 7 star hotel. It’s funny – the first time I saw the Burj, on my very first day in Dubai, I actually squeaked with excitement. It’s absolutely stunning when you get close to it, and being such an internationally iconic building, it is impressive to see it in the flesh.

That was day one. Since then I must have seen it a hundred times. I used to be able to see it from my bedroom window, and I’ve driven past it often. Amazing how quickly one becomes blasé to something so impressive. Oh, there’s the Burj. There’s the Burj again. And again.

But actually paying it a visit, and going inside, well that’s quite an experience. To get to it you actually have to drive across a bridge. Or, of course, land on the helipad on the roof. As I am not a rock star, and hate helicopters (Maggie, remember New York 2006?!), I went for the taxi across the bridge option.

Before you’re allowed across the bridge, your taxi has to pull up at a welcome centre. Here a very nice man checks your booking reference number before you’re allowed in. Well, it keeps the riff raff out. And there was plenty of that – if you are old enough to remember ‘Bros-mania’ or even the scenes when Take That descended on the BBC in the height of their fame, then you can imagine the kinds of crowds that are at the gates. A LOT of tourists taking photos and videoing. (maybe Bros/Take That were actually inside….?)

Across the bridge you then go. The taxi driver, who has clearly done this a thousand times and is not even vaguely impressed, slows down so you can ooh and aah and hang out of the window taking photos. (I have no shame.) We pull up next to a fleet of white Rolls Royce/selection of Ferraris, and other sports cars which I cannot name but look expensive. It feels a bit like being in an MTV base video. A team of staff greet you and you sail inside.

The reception is vast, jaw droppingly gorgeous, if you like the gold and flashy look. How is there any gold left in the world – surely they have purloined it all for this hotel! Up some escalators, pasta lot of fountains, past boutiques selling very expensive diamonds, bags, clothes – and the world’s most expensive mobile phone. (700k of your British Pounds, if you’re interested.)

Into a panoramic lift which zooms up the side of the building at a very rapid rate and delivers you into the Sky bar – that’s the sticky out bit at the back which is level with the helipad at the front. If you’re a fan of afternoon tea at the Lowry, then you’d love this. The food is in a similar vein, lots of gorgeous little treats, sandwiches mini buns, pastries, caked, scones, chocolates. And of course, tea and champagne. I realized very early on that the tight trousers I was wearing were the wrong choice! Elasticated waist next time…

All of which is consumed whilst watching speedboats below, helicopters landing on the helipad, and general people watching in the bar itself. A mixture of tourists and locals (that’s us now, bizarre!) and some people who could have been famous or were just acting like they were.

After a very pleasant 3 plus hours (well it would have been foolish to rush off without a cocktail) we reluctantly left. A golf buggy took us back across the bridge to a taxi – well you can’t walk anywhere after all that food! As a pathetic attempt to curb the excess of the afternoon I did 20 laps in the pool later on.

Sian, we love you, thank you so much!