Just Call me Grandma

Comfy, no??!!

Heels. High heels. Women salivate over them, lust after them, covet them. And years ago, I was never out of them. In my twenties I went from office to bar to club to bed with a pair of them stuck to my feet like glue. In my raving days I'd dance for 12 hours without flinching in a pair so vertiginous it would make Posh look short.

And then something happened. Living and working in Manchester city centre meant that walked a lot, and realised that I couldn't reach the warp speeds that I like to move at if I was teetering in heels. 

But more than just practicality, I realised that THEY HURT. This revelation was a huge surprise to me. This had never bothered me before. Perhaps in the past I was always anesthetized by wine, perhaps I just got older. Whichever, heels are not the friends they used to be to me these days. I'm tall, so I'm lucky that without them, I don't look like Kylie's twin sister (although I'd love her bottom!) so I don't feel the need to wear them day in day out.

We started an office clear out this week and as I rifled through my cupboards I discovered I have SIX pairs of heels tucked away to change into for meetings. I simply can't stand them for a full day so just jump into them when I want to. Rock, and indeed roll, my friends.

I paused in Marks and Spencer a few months ago - they have lovely heels with (whispers) padding inside them. Is this a step into middle age? Will it be a slanket and giant slipper next (have to confess have always thought these look ace.) Answers on a postcard, please.

Storing Nuts for Winter

Me, about to head to Choithrams.
You snooze, you lose!

My Facebook chums will be familiar with my annual search for seasonal items...iced mince pies, hot cross buns...CREME EGGS.

Last month's plaintive cry for help in sourcing Creme Eggs meant I gleaned a huge amount of intel about where exactly the fondanty little critters were hiding in this fair city. What with my enthusiastic (some might say Holy Grail searching dedication) to finding them, and my lovely visitors and friends supplying care packages, my fridge now literally overfloweth with these treats.

Last count: 19 Creme Eggs. Make that 18, I just scoffed one.

Happy Days!

Dolce and Banana

Some people are never seen again after they visit...

Back when I first arrived in Dubai, we’d heard of a mystical place. A place where Hermes handbags nestled alongside Chloe purses, all at magical prices. Of course, these items were (ahem) copies. Not the real shebang. But their quality was legendary. This place was, of course, Karama. Even my guests who have never been to Dubai before knew its name and it’s a frequent request on any stay.

The way it worked, way back then, was this: a friend of a friend of a friend recommended the name and number of ‘her guy’. This was a tried and trusted source – you would never throw yourself on the mercy of Karama without a guide. 

You then called ‘her guy’. 

Some garbled directions later and ‘her guy’ met you on the steps of Karama Fish Market.

He then led you through a maze of shops and hawkers to ‘his shop’.

Then, dear reader, all the magic of the world unfurled before you…..bags piled as high as the eye could see, secret stairways and doorways to untold purses, clutches, scarves, sunglasses and watches. I actually squealed with delight on my first visit when I saw the brand new Prada Fairy bag just sitting, waiting, for me to snap it up. 

Over the years I took HEAPS of friends and visitors to visit ‘her guy’ who quickly became ‘my guy’. One legendary trip involved 12 of us going in a three car convoy. After perusing he aisles for at least two hours,  and each person in the group buying at least 4 handbags, it was safe to say that ‘my guy’ had a very successful afternoon.

This all changed about a year ago. A police ‘crack down’ on counterfeiting meant that the stores in Karama had significantly less stock. And to top it all off, ‘my guy’ left the country. Hello, selfish?! 

This meant that trips to Karama are no longer filled with joy. As I mentioned, the stock is not what it was. Quality is poor (the Balenciaga ‘sticky zip syndrome’).  There’s also very little room for haggling these days. I’m not a massive haggler anyway – with ‘my guy’ he gave us a fixed price, which we knew was massively less than the tourists paid (we earwigged to check) thus alleviating the stress of bartering.

I had a chat with one of the shop owners recently when taking visitors. We covered quality and pricing. His take was that due to the influx of Russian shoppers, they had no need to reduce their prices, or worry about quality. The Ruskies, apparently, aren’t bothered about either of these things. Interesting.

Anyway, the good news is that I recently found a good shop. Good range, good quality and up for a bit of bartering. I could weep with relief – doing the full circuit of Karama (two hours) in 45 degree heat was beginning to be a little trying, to say the least.

I could tell you the name of my ‘new guy’ but I’d have to kill you. To avoid such extreme measures, message me, and I’ll share the new joy!

Needle in a Generic Haystack

Yes, I'm back from Jordan!  Full update to follow.  In the meantime, I'm throwing myself into the festive period with gusto.  Not as easy as it sounds (and at least not as easy as in the UK).  Nothing to do with living in a Muslim country, let's be clear, more to do with being chained to my desk ever since I got back, and the general inconvenience of Dubai - nothing is in one place, and buying anything usually involves trips to multiple destinations. 

This weekend my main priority is the tree, and accompanying decorations.  General Christmas present shopping is taking  place during snatched half hours (benefit of working/living next to the world's biggest mall.)  But Dubai isn't a place for those unique, unusual, thoughtful gifts, the likes of which you stumble across in Oklahoma in the NQ or when generally muntering round the streets of Manchester, so it's that much harder to source gifts. 

One solution, of course, is to embrace internet shopping, and have a variety of fabulous gifts delivered to your dear family in the UK.  They can then act as gift mules and cart them over when they come to visit.  It's actually quite amusing getting the daily emails from my dear mum ("xxxx has arrived!" "why did you order xxx?") but she's getting used to it.  The Jersey postman has never seen so much action.  Thanks, Mum!

Hi Honey, I'm Home!

I'm back! Did you miss me?! Had an absolute blast back in the UK, but I have to say, I'm extremely happy to be home. I left with mixed feelings, which I'm sure most ex-pats will be familiar with: happiness to be heading home, guilt to be leaving friends and family behind. (Multiply that guilt by 3 when it comes to family what with me being the only child.) I got a bit emotional on the plane (perhaps partly due to watching Mary Poppins - I really don't remember it being that sad!) and had a boo hoo as we came in to land in Dubai. The nice young man in the seat next to me passed me a tissue without making any comment, bless him. Maybe women crying on planes are a common occurrence these days?
It was oh so easy to slip back into the old routines: dinner and cocktails at Harvey Nicks, tea round at Jayne's, and endless lunches, dinners and booze sessions with my favourite people, in my old favourite haunts. Not to mention the hours of shopping: UK economy, don't say I never do anything for you! Thankfully Emirates upped their weight limit to 30 kgs last year otherwise I would have been in real trouble. Who knew that 10 pairs of shoes, 16 dresses, 17 underwear sets, and many other miscellaneous clothing items and cosmetics would weigh so much!

Some topline observations:

Customer Service
I’d forgotten how truly terrible this is in Dubai until I was back in Manchester. Just an hour after landing I headed to House of Fraser for a strapless bra (as you do). The details of what happened in the changing room are worthy of another blog entry – suffice to say I’ve gone up THREE CUP SIZES since moving to Dubai. Put on half a stone and watch it go to my boobs! Things could be worse…anyway. My point was, after measuring me, the lovely sales girl told me to stay where I was, and then proceeded to bring me every single strapless bra they had in the shop (and they had a lot.) Merciless sales technique – maybe but she really wasn’t pushy at all. It was simply about making me, the customer, have as easy and pleasant an experience as possible. Dubai retailers: take note.

Driving
Since the January crash, I’ve never really been the same when travelling by car. I was actually reaching a point where I wondered if I had some deep-seated psychological problem (no laughing). Not so – as I discovered when travelling frequently by car in the UK. What, no-one drives at break-neck speeds? Or undertakes you? Or cuts you up? Or uses their mobile phone whilst driving? I was completely relaxed the entire time, which reassured me that it’s not me, it’s Dubai.

Weather
I know, I know, it’s the most boring topic in t he world and such a stereotype for me to even mention it. BUT. I hadn’t forgotten how much I hate rain and grey skies, but I had forgotten how day after day of gloomy weather makes me feel, well, gloomy. Down in the dumps. In a general slump. I’m so very happy to be back in perpetual sunshine, even if that does mean searing heat and suffocating humidity for many months of the year.

Cost of Living
I understand that I live in one of the world’s most expensive cities, which means that bargains are even more exciting than they used to be. It’s not often that you find one in a place where glasses of wine can cost you 10 quid…so you can imagine my excitement, nay hysteria, when being back in a place where you can buy a bottle of wine for that price. And don’t even get me started on 15 quid work dresses from Primarni. Suffice to say, I went wild in the aisles…of pretty much every shop you can think of.

There’s so much more I could say about the trip home, but exhaustion is over-taking me. Even the 10 am Ramadan start could not assuage the tiredness I felt after getting to bed at 2.30 am this morning. More to follow when my brain is back in gear!

Swap Shop!!

I went to my first ever clothes swapping party last night. I really didn’t know what to expect, but it was ACE! The MO was as follows:
• Take 6 girls. Order pizza, provide wine
• Each one brings a large bag/bags stuffed full of clothes that are in good condition but that they’re just not interested in any more. You know how it is ladies, wear it once, get bored of it, etc etc.
• Dump each bagful of goodies into huge pile in the middle of the room
• Trough pizza, drink wine
• Assign one person (the hostess) to go through the items one by one, holding them up and giving a quick description, with the original owner chipping in (size, make, any particularly interesting features eg makes your boobs look great, v flattering when on, only worn once, an ex-boyfriend bought it for me and I always hated it but it cost 300 quid so someone has to have it)
• Each item gets ‘claimed’ with the caveat that if it doesn’t fit/look right, it goes back into the pile
• Trying on session with items replaced in pile as above
• Process repeated
• Any items not claimed popped in a bag for charity
• Everyone leaves laden down with new items and v happy

I left with a variety of gorgeous tops, dresses, and jewellery. Some of which still had the tags on them. All the pleasure of shopping with none of the guilt, and the added bonus of seeing things that I’ve spent good money on going to good homes. An absolutely top night!

Treats

You can buy most things in Dubai (if you're prepared to swallow the overly inflated prices) but there's still a few things which aren't that easy to get...tan in a can, for one, and some make-up brands, which, whilst not life or death, certainly make a girl's life easier. So it's always exciting when someone makes a trip back to the UK, when you can persuade them to bring back treats for you, or, even better, you can get all your treats delivered directly to their door so that they can avoid the shops...

Liberty, (and Liberty's mum) thanks for taking care of the perfume/tan in a can/make up and escorting it back for me. I promise it won't use up much of your 30kg Emirates luggage allowance!

A Dubai Bargain

Some things in Dubai are expensive. Mouthwash, celery, wine. the list goes on. Some things are ridiculously cheap. Yesterday, in pre-holiday preparation I was waxed, massaged, and polished, to within an inch of my love, for the princely sum of just 20 quid. I don't think that would even pay for a manicure at home!

Shopping – Chinese Style

You’ve head of Wal-mart, well here in Dubai we have Dragon-Mart (see what they did there?). It’s an enormous Chinese supermarket on the outskirts of the city. To say supermarket may have you thinking of your local Asda – well this is on a much, much larger scale.

It’s divided up into lots of different sections – as varied and diverse as the predictable clothes, bags, etc. Then you go round to electronics, fine. Then you turn a corner and find a load of fork-lift trucks. I’m not joking!

Still, I think this may be the perfect solution to shopping with a boy. I’ve always preferred to shop alone to be honest, I’m very single minded and know quickly what I want or don’t want. There’s nothing worse than a man huffing and puffing over your shoulder as you elbow someone out of the way to get to that perfect pair of shoes. Or face cream, Or…you get my drift.

No chance of this happening at Dragonmart. The boy disappeared off into my idea of hell (the heavy machinery section) for at least an hour, leaving me free to roam the shops. I returned jubilant with a variety of gorgeous dresses (30 dirhams each – that’s just over 4 quid) and presents for the gang when I return to Manchester in December. I hope you’ve been good guys!

Home from Home

Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I am officially a Brit Abroad. No, i haven't been scoffing a full English or stomping down the aisles looking for Heinz Baked Beans and HP Sauce. But I have just spent a morning in Marks and Spencer. Kill me now!

In my defence I have a new apartment to kit out, and as my dear colleagues and friends bought me a stack of M and S vouchers as leaving presents, it seemed the ideal place to start. My trolley was piled so high with pots, pans, wine glasses (such excitement) I could barely see my way out of the shop. Thankfully a very sweet man took all my bags from me and took them out to a taxi.

I'm not sure why it felt so odd being in such an English store. Part of me feels that I really should have found a souk and bartered for every household item as part of a more 'authentic' Dubai experience. But there's plenty of time for that. It's 40 degrees, for a start, and if the Open Top Bus Tour taught me anything, it's that I am not willing to be more than 5 minutes away from air con! Picky, me?

Mall of Exhaustion

As the boy only gets one day off a week (!) I took myself of to the Mall of the Emirates today. Hailed a cab right from the front door and set off. I think the trip was £3. Sorry if I am obsessed by how cheap the cabs are!

The Mall is as you would expect: flash, fast and fun. You could almost be anywhere in the world given the amount of international brands there. Harvey Nichols is divine, huge and has some gorgeous designers (Manchester branch, please take note).

Oh and it has a ski slope! Completely outrageous and I love it.

You're reminded that you're in Dubai by the traditional dress all around you, and at 4,45, a call to prayer rang out! I find it really relaxing and quite hypnotic. It didn't distract me from shopping though.

A minor issue in Carrefour: after muntering around for hours choosing bath towels (well, they have to be just right), and staggering up to the tills, I was told that they wouldn't accept my HSBC card. I had to run to a cashpoint with the nice Indian man who had packed my bags for me. This would have embarrassed me back in England but here I couldn't care less!

I decided to quit whilst I was ahead and caught another taxi home. Just in time to finish a book by the pool before dinner. How will I ever find time to work?!