They Don't Make Them Like They Used To...

I've been updating the ipod these last few weeks.  I really don't know why I left it so long.  The thought of going to the gym without music is about as appealing as getting into a Dubai taxi without a seatbelt, and I've been getting bored of my music of late.

I often joke that if I was ever to get hit by a bus whilst wearing said ipod, I'd be panicked about people discovering my dodgy taste in music - it's extremely ecletic to say the least.  In order of favourites we have: hip-hop, house music, soul, and pop.  I'll happily lurch from the Beastie Boys to J-Lo to the Supremes an d back again.

And here's the thing I realised as I was merrily downloading tunes onto the pod.  Hardly any of it is new.  It's usually pretty old.  And I don't mean old enough to be 'classic' like Motown or Elvis.  I mean 16 years old.

The large proportion of my downloads this evening have been old house from 1994...Cream anthems, club classic from my mis-spent youth.

My current favourites:

Ten City - That's the Way Love is
Clivilles and Cole - A Deeper Love
Pizzaman - Sex on The Streets
Shiva - Work It Out

I'm sure a psychologist would have a field day with this - something to do with regression to the comfort of my past.  Which, I concede, is partly true. This is music that I was living and breathing and dancing to in Sheffield when I was at university - away from home at the age of 18 for the first time and having the time of my life.  All the while adjusting to being far away from home, embracing the freedom that gave me, whilst also testing myself and the boundaries of what I could get away with.

But all that aside, the music was just WAY better back then!! Don't deny it kids.  Fellow Sheffield/Manchster clubbing posse, are you with me?

NYE Mayhem

Take four girls, add lots of fizz, friends, throw in some New Year’s excitement, and then let them all loose on the dancefloor on New Year’s Eve….the result is an NYE that goes down in history as the most hilarious ever….

After last year’s damp squib (NYE was ‘cancelled’ – don’t ask, and I had to work, in Abu Dhabi, the next day), I had vowed to really let my hair down this year. Cue the arrival of two UK friends, who flew in very shortly after the family had left. I’d forgotten how much fun it was co-habiting with girls – sorry boys, no pillow fights or naked wrestling, but lots of make-up bag sharing and clothes discussions. Safe to say we had many many wine fuelled ‘boys/fashion/make-up’ discussions.

And the pinnacle of all of this was NYE. I was feeling the pressure of having guests to entertain, and was torn between a local bar (cute venue, know the staff, always get looked after) or a giant club (huge dancefloor, always have a brilliant time, and have 100% hit rate). Both had their merits. A quick chat with the girls revealed that our main priority for the evening: dancing. So the club won hands down.

I can’t share too many details with you (what happens on NYE, stays on NYE) but suffice to say I am still laughing about it now. I actually burst out laughing on the cross-trainer in the gym yesterday. The gift that keeps on giving…

Am I Getting Old?

An event invite popped into my in-box this morning. Nothing unusual about that. As with most cities, there's events every night of the week in Dubai. But my response was, perhaps not the usual:

It starts at what time???? (10 pm)

Who on earth is that dj????

On a Sunday??? (Sunday is the equivalent of our Monday here)

To be fair, my colleagues who we are also invited, and are a fair few (ahem) years younger than me, all had the same reaction. Not just me that's getting old then!

It's at the new Cavalli Club, opened by, yes you guessed it, Roberto Cavalli. I haven't been in yet (which is a shameful admission when it's been open for at least 4 months) so my curiosity to see just how over-blinged it is may outweigh my desire to stay in my pj's...will keep you posted.

Off Radar

If I've been a bit quiet it's because I've been so so busy this last week. I can't claim it's all been work, although I didn't leave the office til 9 on Thursday (not a treat the day before the weekend) and worked most of Friday afternoon (my weekend).....it's also been one big party...

Always lovely to see friends, especially when they arrive with fizz, champagne glasses, books, dvds, and UK newspapers! Take note, future visitors!

I'm too tired for a full update - those of you on Facebook will have seen the evidence. Let's just say it was hard to decide whether to file the weekend under M for Mayhem, R for Rampage, or B for Bedlam. 30 friends in school uniform dancing to Britney and the Backstreet Boys is very, very, funny. Trust me!

A Never-Ending Night

Looking back on my wild social life, there are many many nights which stand out in my memory. The hilarious thing about Dubai is I seem to have a night out like this every single weekend!

Where to start? It's cooling down, a little, at night in Dubai - still a steady 31-32 degrees, but cool enough for the outside bars and beach clubs to start re-opening. So this weekend was all about re-visiting venues that have been closed for the summer. No night in Dubai is complete without visiting at least 3 different bars or clubs, and Friday was no exception.

Despite a warning from friends that the beach was a 'sweaty mess' we headed down there anyway. At midnight it was still very sweaty, but it was worth it to be able to take off our shoes and dance on the sand.

Just when you thought we were safely heading home to bed, we took a wrong (!) turn and ended up in just one more club in time for a final drink and sweep of the dancefloor. As it happened a lot of mutual friends and work colleagues were there. Much fun.

Note to self: there is no need to show off your bogling skills to workmates. To be fair, I think they were impressed. Or that could have been horrified. It was hard to see through the haze of smoke.

As I washed sand out of my shoes on Saturday afternoon, I had a very big giggle to myself. Dubai, we love you.

Beirut: Part 2

So, onto the fun. Or mayhem, whichever you want to call it. Beirut is full of bars and clubs and its reputation certainly precedes it. On announcing our trip in the office people were literally beating a path to my door to impart tales of where we must go, best places to eat, drink and be merry. Thanks to Salam who I think spent a good 30 minutes giving me advice - with maps/drawings and dress codes all listed out! And so much hospitality: you must meet up with my friends/brother/family and they will take you out - thanks to everyone for being so, so sweet.

One very refreshing part of Beirut, quite literally, is that you can walk around, not only are there (shock horror) pavements, but it's also a good deal cooler than Dubai right now - drops to about 22 at night. Combine this with the fact that there are whole streets full of bars (think the Northern Quarter in Manchester or Greenwich in NYC) and it all adds up to a very cool night out.

The first night we started off by hitting Gemayze street - bar after bar after bar. I mentioned the blonde thing being a bit of a novelty, yes? Ok, so no sooner are we out of the cab than it starts, flash bulbs, car horns, people stopping us to talk......hilarious. And it continues inside the bars - but it's not sleazy, even groups of girls are chatting away to us. Everyone is just super friendly, which takes a bit of getting used to when you're a cynical Brit! It's a real mixture of people, of course Lebanese, but groups from Dubai, the States, all over.

And once you're tired of a bar - well you just rock up to the next one. Things don't get going til pretty late in Beirut - much like Dubai. We didn't leave the bars for the club until 3 am. Yes, 3 am...And the club we headed to is a little different to those in Dubai - basically because you can't see it from above the ground. It's an underground bunker - a real one, left over from the war, that's been converted into a club. Call me old fashioned, but since when has it been de rigeur to have club so dark that you can't see your hand in front of your face? Maybe it's my age. The other main difference is that at about 5 am, the roof comes off, and you dance underneath the stars. Fabulous.

Anyway, thanks to the Dubai wedding gang for very kindly hosting us at their table...so, so, much fun was had. And when leaving – there’s a variety of people competing for your attention to offer you a taxi ride home. We decided on a guy called Joe – well, you have to, don’t you – and decided that by taking our photos with them we at least had evidence if he did turn out to be a murderer. Seemed logical at the time! By 6 am we were a little on the hungry side having skipped dinner for a disco nap, so we then began a tour of Beirut on the hunt for manakish. I’ve definitely mentioned these here before – we have them every Thursday morning in the office – for those non Middle East dwellers they are gorgeous flat breads filled with cheese and then anything else you like – I went for olives. A bit like the UK equivalent of heading to the chippy or the kebab house after a night out!

Even the manakish take-away became a huge social event, with the entire place stopping to check out the crazy English blondes…..and refusing to let us pay for them. Bless.

So, onto night two. After the prerequisite disco nap, we donned our finest and headed out. No Skybar or White as the world’s biggest thunderstorm chose that moment to erupt – not that it stopped us, of course. After a quick drink in the Buddha bar (enormous, 3 floors of gorgeous people partying) we headed to Monot – another street load of bars and clubs. Despite our taxi driver speaking no English or French we discovered that the international language of party will get you want to be: just say DISCO and boom! You’re at a club. Very different to the previous night, this was very much a local place, with lots of Arabic music – and even a signer and keyboard! Not speaking a word of Arabic meant we weren’t really sure of what was going on, but judging by the way the crowd went wild, we think he was singing pop songs. The ‘Heigh Ho Silver Lining’ of Beirut, if you will.

Again, we were the only blonde girls to be seen in the place which led to the inevitable attention. Thanks to the bar staff, the Beirut Richard Branson, and countless others for the free flowing drinks and seats in the VIP section. Come 3 o’clock and it’s clearly way too early to be heading home, so we left and headed to Casino.. Not an actual Casino, a club. I’ve since been told by Lebanese friends that this is a ‘Beirut Mafia’ hang-out. Whoops! It certainly explains a lot!

Time to go home and of course no night out is complete without a complete photoshoot with the local militia. Yes, we hung out with the army boys who are so kindly stationed outside local hostelries to ensure your safe return home. Suffice to say it’s a story that I think they’ll be dining out on for years. Bless them. So sweet. 22 is WAY too young to be in the army. The next day was a bit of a blur and we only managed dinner and drinks in the evening. Getting on a plane with a hangover was not high on my list of priorities.

So there you go. No wonder I’m exhausted now. Non-stop. You are of course reading a slightly sanitized version of events: what goes on in Beirut, stays in Beirut. Mum: I did behave myself, honest. Those that know me, KNOW.

Beirut Bedlam

Yes, we survived Beirut. Or should that be: Beirut survived us? It's safe to say that we fully embraced everything the city has to offer. We gave and gave until it hurt. Where to start?

Firstly, the serious stuff. Beirut is GORGEOUS. It looks like Cannes when you come into land, rolling green hills with hotels and apartments built into them. And the European feel continues when you head into the city. It's just like Paris. And everyone speaks French, which adds to the effect. Yes, I spent the whole weekend speaking French - amazing how it comes flooding back to you after a few (ahem) g and t's.

Our hotel was in a seriously cute residential/shopping area (near the ABC mall, fellow Beirut travellers) which meant that literally ten steps from the door were all sorts of gorgeous restaurants, bars, shoe shops. Bliss. And the actual mall was a far cry from the sterile and anodyne malls in Dubai, this was partially open air, with lots of foliage and breezes. Oh and because Lebanon isn't a Muslim country, you can have a glass of wine (ok, a bottle) with your lunch, without having to be in a hotel. So lots of relaxed cafe culture vibes in full effect. Yes, people of England, this might sound tame to you, but after a year and a half in Dubai, this is great news!

Sightseeing: there's a lot to see in Beirut and the surrounding areas. the actual city is so gorgeous. The downtown area has been restored after the war, and looks just like a Parisienne arondissement. There's even Roman ruins to take a look at. Spent many a hungover hour checking it all out, with frequent food/wine breaks, natch.

Thanks to our NBF Joe Le taxi (a taxi driver who was really called Joe: genius) we had our own personal driver for the trip, who scooted us round the whole city (nothing like spending hours in a car with a wicked hangover). He even took us out into the hills to Jeita where we spent a hilarious, if painful few hours exploring caves and countryside via cable car, boat and train (no really). It was a little like the Krypton Factor crossed with Survivor. Or maybe that was just the previous night's antics catching up with me.

So, that's the serious culture/sightseeing part wrapped up. What about the rest? They call Beirut the Ibiza of the Middle East....and if by that you mean you can have the most insane nights out ever, where anything goes, then yes, it deserves the title. I'll keep it short as quite frankly, there's so much to tell when you've been out til 6 am each night, and also, I suspect some of the stories are only truly hilarious if you were actually there.

Some highlights will follow soon....I'll preface them by saying, if you're blonde, female and western in Beirut, you're definitely a novelty. And you attract a LOT of attention. You can't walk 2 paces down the street without every car honking and trying to pull over and pick you up. Which really isn't as predatory as it sounds....

Restraint

The lovely Ms Harris popped over to Dubai this weekend from Oman. Well, I say 'popped over' but it's actually a 4.5 hour drive....anyway, always a pleasure to catch up. This was one of our more restrained weekends actually, what with it being Ramadan and all. No clubbing, no podium dancing, bin bogling, or dj booth storming. Still, there's always next month.....

My Misspent Youth

Last night I was chatting about general debauchery and partying and was asked to share my craziest parties/nights out. It must have got me thinking because my dreams later were a complete mish mash of insane experiences. Many of them are really not to be shared on a public forum, for issues of legality and morality, but I’ve been laughing to myself all the way to work today so here are some of the edited memories. Just a few…..I haven't even touched on Sheffield....Ibiza.....

If you don’t know me personally then apologies, these won’t make a huge amount of sense. The main culprits who can validate or dispute them: Sian, Emma, Maggie, Christopher, Lee….am I missing anyone? Oh, Jon, Raph, Sophie…my memory isn’t what it was…..thank god this was before the days of Facebook photo albums…… Emma - I'm sorry but I just love this photo.....

DJ Cash Money: The Elbow Rooms/Sankeys
To this day, this can still make me laugh. Sian, Jon, I think we escaped arrest by the skin of our teeth. Dancing in the dj booth, being caught on video camera misbehaving, shooting pool with Cash later, no sleep at Malmaison, pulling over on the hard shoulder of the M62 because I just couldn’t see the road, and Sian driving us home. Oh, and Maggie: Cash at Sankeys….Malmaison was involved again, and didn’t you need a chiropractor afterwards?!

Miami Winter Music Conference
TOO MUCH bad behaviour. Tribal Gathering club night, partying in a Laundromat (no, really, and I have the photos of me putting washing in a machine to prove it), the dumpster incident, pool parties with Playboy bunnies, dancing in a bikini all day and all night, feathers and face paint, having a heart attack in the taxi on the last day: 7 o’clock?????? But our flight’s at 8!!!!! Kelly: It’s 7 PM, not am. Oh. And to top it all off: war broke out whilst we were there. Nothing like the world imploding to make you focus on having a good time.

Danny Tenaglia at Sankeys
Arriving at the club at 4 pm on a Sunday afternoon. The journey there is quiet, the city is enjoying a day of rest. The doors open to reveal 300 people ON IT. All resolutions of ‘taking it easy’ and ‘behaving ourselves’ went out of the window in about 3 minutes, and we partied for 12 hours. Just wrong on the Lord’s day! But oh so right.

Tribal Weekender
Where the term Britney on Crack was coined. Details are sketchy but it was a whole weekend, in Butlins. How did we do it??

Creamfields
My Vietnam of clubbing, which sums it up really. Rubber rings, Geri Halliwell, scallies after Rich’s Rolex, the minibus of shame home. Never again!!!

Illegal Warehouse Rave in Salford
Nothing like starting off the night getting grilled by police about where you’re heading:

Me: “Officer, I’m just visiting a friend in her new apartment.”
Officer: “Where?”
Me: “Erm….”

Ten minutes later as I’m climbing up a fire escape into the warehouse (!) I see the same policeman….I had the decency to look sheepish. Full details of that night are best left unsaid: suffice to say that it’s always a good idea to leave when the police arrive with dogs at 7 am. And I needed a week off work afterwards to recover.

Corfu
What year was this????? The holiday with the legendary red and yellow cards, Prince Harry getting ejected from our club, Maggie in the dj booth, getting very friendly with the local constabulary……how did we get away with it?

Marbella, every year, for how many years?
Four poster beds on the beach, too many drinks, dinner, and frying pans. Ladies, I miss our breaks!

Dubai thinks it knows how to party. On a scale of 1-10, compared with Manchester, it’s hitting about a 4. On reflection, us Manchester kids are obviously (in the words of Tim Westwood) off the hook. I’d say a comfortable 12. Dubai, you have a lot to learn…..

The Perils of Clubbing

Clubbing in Dubai is very different to the UK/the US/Europe, for all number of reasons. Clubbing as a single girl is an even more interesting……as a woman you’re considered fair game to be groped, manhandled, and bought drinks. Many women would love the latter, but I’ve always preferred to buy my own – no feeling beholden to anyone, if you know what I mean. In Dubai, if you’re at a bar, even on your own, i.e not with a man or even talking to one, someone will offer to pay fro your drinks. It’s easier to acquiesce to be honest.

Anyway: the man handling…men of Dubai, it is not acceptable to attempt to dry hump my leg! You are not an over eager terrier, I am not a sofa leg! Pack it in! And lest we forget – this is a Muslim country….

Life's a Beach

Another weekend, another whirl of entertaining, and mainly, laughing like a hyena. The lovely Vikki took a trip over from Oman, and we did what girls do best. Gossiped, shopped, drank, the usual.

Way back in my murky youth, on a small island, far far away, we used to have beach nights every Thursday. Remember, people of Jersey? It was at a very dodgy club called Thackery's. I'm not sure what made it a beach night other than our outfits (not bikinis but much more casual than Jersey's usual dress code of jeans and shoes (if you're a boy.) ANYWAY I digress.

Against my better judgement we found ourselves at a beach night here in Dubai. This definitely had more of a beach theme - ten tonnes of sand on the dancefloor for starters (Note to self: tres hard to dance on uneven sandy dancefloor), and for mains, there were a lot of inflatable rubber rings etc being thrown about. No need for this. Yes, there may be photographic evidence of me perched on a rubber ring at Creamfields circa 2001, but I was young, I needed the money. Those days are behind me!

Anyway, I can honestly say I haven't laughed so much in years. Musically we lurched from the hilarious (Club Tropicana) to the hideous (Nirvana) so it wasn't all plain sailing, but, overall, what a hoot! I'm still finding sand in my shoes.....

Long Overdue

I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve lived in Dubai for almost nine months but have never been to a nightclub. Of course I’ve been to various bars and late night eateries, but in terms of an actual, real life, ass shaking club: zilch. A combination of being just too danged tired at the weekend and prioritizing my spare time so that hangovers don’t ruin my ability to lie in 40 degree heat the next day have meant that clubs really haven’t been top of my ‘to-do list’ God I’m old.

Anyway, that all changed this weekend. I finally got off my backside and ventured out. And what a night it was.

Here are some rules about nightclubs in Dubai:

1) Don’t arrive before midnight. If you do you’ll not only look overeager and keen, you’ll be the only one in there. The party starts late in Dubai.
2) If you don’t arrive in a couple, at least try to pretend you are in the queue. They don’t take kindly to groups of guys and won’t let you in if that’s how you arrive.
3) Despite this, once in the club, men will outnumber women by about 3 to 1. Bizarre.
4) Wearing sunglasses in the club is NOT pretentious, in fact it is positively encouraged. You won’t look like a txt, honest (!)

So, onto the night. After some very civilized drinks in a local bar we set off for the club. It followed the same principles of clubs the world over – a few different themed rooms which people roam between. The first thing I realized was that I needed to be much, much drunker if I was going to make it through the night, so decided to tackle this issue head on: with neat liquor.

The first room: indie. Is it just me, or has music got really loud in these places? It was all I could do to make the barman understand my bellowing of the word ‘sambuca’.
The second room: ‘urban’. Do not mistake this for hip hop, dear reader. Instead it was a mish mash of the kind of dire rnb that you might hear on any middle of the road radio station. Despite this, I did find myself on the dance floor. When in Rome….
The third room: house. Best left unmentioned. Some VERY dodgy dancing and outfits in here.
The fourth room (although not technically a room, more a huge outdoor ampitheatre type thing): cheesy 80’s pop.

It was at this point that I realised quite how leathered everyone in the club was – and part of the reason why – the Rugby 7’s World Cup had just ended that evening meaning that a large proportion of the revelers had been drinking all day. Judging by the state of them this is not advisable.

Anyway it was all amusing, in fact more than that, one of those rare hysterical nights where you spend most of your time laughing. You know you’ve had a good night when your first memory the morning after is of dancing to Whitney (I am not ashamed of this – and can I just say – there were LOTS of boys dancing too.) It’s not something I’d want to every weekend, but it definitely needs to be repeated.

Dancing Shoes

It's been a long time since I was in a club that was so hot that I had to tie my hair up in a ponytail. That was exactly what happened on Saturday night at the brilliant Yellow Reunion, at Moho Live in the Northern Quarter. It was like a furnace in there!

We were initially feeling a bit out of touch with the kids as we walked up from my apartment (it was 11 pm, we were usually in our pj's at this time, we didn't even know where the club was) but once inside it didn't take long to get into the swing of things.

Clubbers were (shock horror) our age or older, and everyone was having a VERY good time. A bit of a wedding reception vibe, only without a bride, or a conga.

Spent most of the night dancing on a stage to classics such as Jazzy Jeff's Summertime, Rose Royce's Carwash, and Nomad's Devotion. Much fun.

As I looked out over the very happy, hands in the air crowd, I couldn't help but wonder if Dubai hosts such hilarious club nights (has the Hacienda's reputation travelled that far?).

Had to sleep for a large part of Sunday. Can't believe we used to indulge in such capers week in, week out. We were younger then!