Speaking of breathing, we go to Reem Al Bawadi, the Arabic restaurant where all the stars go, as seen by the photos on the wall of fame. This half-outdoor restaurant is mind-blowingly gorgeous, with fountains and twisting vines and different rooms that are more intriguingly beautiful than the next. The proper Middle Eastern restaurant experience is not complete without sheesha. Well OK fine, twist my arm. Two pages of fun flavours kick off the menu. I choose my sheesha the way I choose my gum: Strawberry-melon, please. The waiter carts over this massive hookah, lights it up, drags staccato-style to get it going, and hands us a fresh pipe. I’m pumped – yes, hookah cafes in Toronto aside – I love these genuine experiences. I am also captivated by the woman at the table next to us, gingerly drawing in from her pipe and letting waft the biggest plumes and clouds of smoke imaginable, a sweet scent billowing over us as she sits with it dangling from her mouth, hardly missing a beat in her conversation. I like the flavour we choose. I order a frothy and thick lemon-mint juice, a huge plate of grilled meat and call it a day. TIP: Go to Reem Al Bawadi, sit outside, and people watch. It smells great out there. If you order the mango ice tea, the chunks of mango are mixed with chunks of ginger, so nibble at your own risk. The lemon-mint juice is happiness in a glass.
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Phish has been my go-to soundtrack for my runs on the beach. There’s something about wandering through the unknown, with the peaks and valleys of Phish’s melodious expression with you along the way. I choose “The Curtain With” as my first song jumping onto the sand because it had such an effect on me when I was backpacking through Australia way back when. It had been the soundscape to my picking through the rainforest and suddenly landing on a beautiful, deserted beach. I felt like I was in some type of adventure video game. And again, Curtain had its effect. “Gumbo” added an exhilarating elixir to my clopping through the sand, past kite flyers and the gently waving Persian Gulf. Just as I was thinking about the magic of Phish, how it always added the perfect punctuation to interesting moments, the band seemed to comment on my reverence: The exact second I reached the end and stopped to turn around and breathe, “Fee” sang out “and catch your breath.” Perfect. TIP: Go Phishing. Arabic food is yummy. Very meaty. We head to a tourist district called Souk Madinat Jumeirah that is just gorgeous. Right on the water with the majestic Dubai skyline as backdrop, and tourists from all walks of life dressed up and enjoying themselves. We decide on Persian food and go to an Iranian restaurant called Anar, which translates to “pomegranate.” The red seeds were part of many dishes (love that). I had a creamy pistachio soup and then we had some stewy chicken and lamb dishes that immobilized us for the rest of the night. Heavy! Ugh. No, we don’t have room for dessert. Nor do we have the capacity to breathe. TIP: Checking out Souk Madinat Jumeirah is a must, and I would definitely suggest Anar, but watch those stews, they are incredibly rich and filling. With me as houseguest, stocking up on toilet paper is a must, and we forgot to buy some last night at Spinneys. But do not stress. Bevan tells me Dubai can be a very lazy place, and much like ordering a pizza, you can pick up the phone and order anything you like. Five minutes later, a delivery man arrives with a massive package of TP on his bike. This was a source of amazement. Need OJ? Smokes? A loaf of bread? They will deliver it, with no extra charge. But no alcohol, of course. Unless a restaurant is attached to a hotel, alcohol is not served at restaurants, and you need a drinking license to have booze on your premises. I am getting used to the Muslim way. And juice with dinner. TIP: Run out of something insignificant on purpose and try this deliver-anything thing for no charge, it will amaze you too. Jetlagged and beyond jetlagged, seeing as I – as per usual – didn’t sleep at all on the flight here, I am wired and of course excited to be in Dubai. Can’t sleep. Did I miss one night or two nights, with the time difference? So confusing. What day is it? I should be exhausted. And I was. But I think I subconsciously knew I would be woken up at 4:30 a.m. for morning prayer. And so I was. Whew, that’s early. I might have just fallen asleep. Morning prayer, and then prayer five more times throughout the day, is loud. It’s emphatic and melodious and quite nice really, except it takes some getting used to, especially when it startles you awake. Earplugs will be a regular. Echoing on loud speakers across the city and from mosques in the entire UAE, you can hear it wherever you are. There is a mosque every 100 feet. I wait until the Arabic singing has stopped, and close my eyes again. But then our local imam starts up again, summoning to the neighbourhood that prayer was starting. I learn that the first section of singing is to rouse everyone to come to prayer, and then the second part was like a last call of sorts. Just when you start to fall asleep again … I can hear the other mosques echoing in the distance, the different imams singing, the different voices, the varied melodies. It’s all quite cool. Loving it despite the tired. TIP: Bring earplugs but embrace your environment. Bevan has to make his fridge more Jenn-friendly, so we stop at Spinneys to stock up. It’s so fun to traipse up and down the aisle looking at all of the different stuff. Love the cereal aisle – “Curiously Cinnamon” seems to be a take on Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I get an apricot-stuffed mini-wheat-type cereal. I notice cream cheese and Laughing Cow cheese on the shelf. Love the gum section, obv. So strange, the refrigerated dog food. Packaged in the way they do polenta. And massive ones at that! TIP: When overseas, go into a grocery store and buy what the locals buy. Noticing the variances is fun. It has been more than 10 years since Bevan and I had seen each other. We taught English together at a training centre in Shanghai, part of a fun and varied group of expat teachers, teaching predominantly students and adults who wanted to study abroad. Bevan and I wrote a textbook together and taught the course. We were in China right when SARS hit, a momentous time when soap suddenly appeared in public washrooms, and spitting was deemed unhygienic. Bevan returned to his native South Africa after China but ended up in Dubai more than five years ago. He’s got a tight contingent of amazing friends here, runs a successful immigration services company and lives in a villa with a cool outdoor kitchen. We kept our close friendship throughout the years, always hoping that we would be able to see each other again one day. Ten years later, with a touch of gray at the temples and the same wonderful soul, Bevan welcomes me with a huge hug and we giggle at the fact that we made this happen. TIP: Watch for opportunities and make things happen for yourself. I have always felt the biggest regrets in life are a result of NOT doing something. As I stepped on to Middle Eastern ground for the first time in the wondrous Dubai airport, I already overstep. I guess I got way too close saying hello to the customs officer at the counter who was scanning my eyeballs. He motioned for me to get back. Way back. Apologizing, I quickly reeled in my hyper-happy demeanour. The loud speaker went off in a melodious Arabic prayer and I looked around, startled.
I texted my friend Bevan on the other side – whom I had travelled 12,000 kilometres to see after more than 10 years – to tell him I was through customs and someone was singing. “That’s the welcoming party I organized for you.” Ahh yes, there’s that dry wit. Some things never change. TIP: Even though you are excited to reach your destination, never lose focus that you are on someone else's turf, and act according to the culture. Too stimulated to sleep as per usual on a plane, I went back to my seat and a paused Brad Pitt fighting off zombies. Now who’s seen World War Z? Was there an entire plane crash scene zapped from my version? Brad Pitt was on the plane, I got the feeling it was leading up to a crash, and then suddenly there was a momentary pause, and Brad Pitt is writhing on the ground, walking away from the plane. I get it, that’s not the type of scene you want to be watching while flying (because scary zombies is what you want to be watching) but man! That looked like it would have been an exciting scene.
Still can’t sleep. I am watching my second movie and it is so strangely interrupted by … a phone call. I look around and see a handset tucked behind my head. OK, yes, this is a phone. And I have a phone call! It’s Gary. The call is identified on my screen by his suite number. He laughs after I fumble the phone in my sleepless fog trying to figure out which way the phone went. “Hiya!,” he began, “just thought you would like your first phone call at 40,000 feet.” Yes … I liked that very much. TIP: Remember when choosing movies that plane-crash scenes, sex scenes and the real grisly parts have probably been censored – pick something else to watch so you don't miss out on the good bits. Also at the fully stocked bar, full of nuts (including us) and fruit and tarts and Veuve, was Mani. Mani was also a pilot, and Mani commanded the room. His personality was big, he welcomed new friends continually to our social hour, even the poor blokes just trying to get to the loo. He made a target of Andres the bartender. He wore some serious bling. Mani regaled us with his incredible piloting stories too, and plenty of hilarious turbulence puking tales – like the big spenders who hired his private jet service. They rolled in with their attitudes, only to be reduced to trembling, green-faced crying baby-men when the ride got bumpy. Mani told us about the high rollers who left the plane carrying out full bags of vomit in each hand. There were many spew stories being traded back and forth between pilots, but they didn’t get old. The best was Gary’s tale about him noticing a man puking in the air on his small plane, which was turned sideways due to bad weather. In an instant, Gary was able to nudge the plane so gravity would halt the mass of vomit in mid-air, only to shift the plane in a nano-second to disperse the lump on the man’s own shirt. “Only three drops hit the floor,” he said. Now that’s a pilot. It’s stories like these that kept us at the bar for hours. Nofel was an inventor. He sold his invention for big bucks. He is on to more, devising a machine for outer space. I saw his prototype. The blueprints. This is real. What’s also real is he is a Bollywood singer with a movie coming out. It’s amazing the people you meet mid-air. TIP: The journey to Dubai was that much more special because of the people I met. Pause your movie and socialize. Everyone is en route to somewhere, and that in itself is a good story. I'm not sure if you should ask just anyone to try on their bling, however. |
Jennifer Bill
Published journalist, world traveller, big thinker, fun haver Archives
May 2014
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