Lead me not into temptation......

Virtually impossible in Dubai, where every street leads to a mall of fabulosity. It’s the holy grail of retail therapy. The centre of the shopping universe. I want everything.....

For the first time in my life I lust after Paris Hilton’s life with her unlimited credit cards. It’s not fair!!! I also wanna!!

The designer stuff is the worst. Having only been exposed to limited ranges of Haute Couture at Nelson Mandela Square, this is a whole new world. God, it’s beautiful. You can smell the difference, never mind see it. It’s causing serious tension in my little unaccustomed head:

Bad me: Oh My God, that’s the most beautiful bag I have ever seen in my life.

Good me: Oh my God, look at the price. Don’t be ridiculous. Put. It. Down.

Bad me: But it will go with everything... last for years, and never go out of fashion.

Good me: It costs 4500 Dirhams. Leave Bloomingdales at once!

Bad me: But, it’s not just a bag. It’s a Jimmy Choo. Everyone will think I’m so sophisticated...

Good me: Out! Out! Leave! Which direction is the exit?

Bad me: ... not to mention a fashionista at the cutting edge of international trends.

Good me: OUT OUT OUT!!!

It’s exhausting.

I would like to assure everyone, however, that despite all the temptation, I have rarely succumbed (says she peering over the rims of her Versace shades). At least I’m not as bad as my friend Kate. We went shopping for gifts on Saturday because we’re both going home to SA for a visit next week. We [bargain] shopped for hours and she went home with six handbags, a good few designer scarves, and a brand new Subaru. Yes, the car. The 4x4 one. She wasn’t even planning it.

'Cos, that’s how we roll here in the Middle East.

Blogging again...

Dubai always feels like I’m in the middle of a Lego set or one of those mock-up model-cities that architects make.... modern high-rise buildings, the odd tree, a lone, miniature statue of a human strategically placed to look like they are enjoying a cup of coffee at a cafe, just to give it that “realistic” feel. OK it has been summer, and anyone with even a vague sense of self-preservation has spent the last two months ensuring that they are never more than 5 meters from air-con. But, you never see people walking around and the shops and restaurants along the street look closed and abandoned, with empty tables and unopened umbrellas on their terraces. They are there, of course. Millions of ‘em. But all are inside, praying that the valet parking guy has switched on the air-con in the car before they deliver it back.

Heat like this is just not right. And it’s not normal for humans to be living here. Take the Arabian Gulf for example. A couple of weeks ago I had the most inexplicable urge to go to the beach in the afternoon, when the sun was at its zenith, and beaming down 45 degree rays. Foolishly, I thought that a nice dip in the beautiful ocean would be just the remedy. Until I got in. Welcome to the warmest ocean in the world, where you sweat IN the water. ‘Cos that’s almost 40 degrees too. No-one can understand this until you have experienced it. The sea is hotter than bath water, no exaggeration.

And speaking of hot water, that’s pretty much all there is. The cold water plumbing pipes are always outside a building, so no matter how much you beg and plead with the Gods of Cold Water to bless you with a cool shower, it never happens. No-one here bothers to even put their geysers on.

By the way, I deserve an award: I officially survived a day when the mercury touched 54 degrees celsius.

I know it’s been a while since I last blogged, but in case anyone hasn’t noticed, I have moved to Dubai. I still work in Abu Dhabi, but I now stay in the older part of the Retail Therapy Capital of the World. Yes, shopping in Dubai is everything it’s hyped up to be, and more. But more about that at another time.

It’s been a strange few months. I’ve not only moved continents, but homes three times, and offices once. I’ve fallen in and out of love. I’ve made new friends. I’ve developed an addiction to edimame beans. I’ve swum with sharks in the Indian Ocean side of the UAE. I’ve been to the top of the tallest building in the world (for 1-minute until I had to leave because I couldn’t breathe). I’ve watched the sun set over Jumeira Beach from the Sky Bar at the Hilton. I’ve got a standing weekly appointment for my manicure, pedicure, and facials. I’m still too scared to drive, but have a regular, Pakistani taxi driver who is outside in the street waiting to give me a lift every morning, and calls to check on my schedule. I’ve gotten so used to the 4am call-to-prayers that it’s become comforting. I’ve felt stifled. I’ve felt liberated. I’ve wept with longing for my dogs, my family and my friends back home. I’ve felt an incredible sense of belonging amongst my colleauges, most of whom are so talented, warm and just amazing.

Yip, folks. It’s been a ride. And the journey is just beginning.