I’ve said it before, but one of the great joys of living in Dubai is just how safe it is. You never need worry about someone breaking into your house, stealing your stuff, getting mugged... or any of the other revolting criminal activities inflicted on us in South Africa.
It’s wonderful.
I’ve just picked up my credit card, which I left at a bar last night after having a birthday drink with a friend. Stupidly, I signed the slip and forgot to remove the card from the folder. It took one phone call and “of course we have it here, Ma’am.”
Twenty-four hours later and absolutely no unauthorised transactions have taken place on the card. Bless!
The only problem was proving that I am who I said I was.
Manager Dude: Aaah yes, I remember you from yesterday. But for security reasons, I need your ID.
Me: But, of course. I’d be upset if you didn’t. It’s really great that you are so security-conscious. Anyone could just forge my signature and pretend to be me! Thank you for asking. Let me just get my ID out....
(Open purse. No ID)
Me:.... erm, I think I’ve left my Emirates ID is on the photocopy machine at work. Had to copy it for a media function. Wait! I think I have my driver’s licence.
Desperate scratching in purse
Me: .... Oh, I think I left that in my passport.
Manager: Passport is fine. Anything with your name on it.
Me: Except my passport is at home. Maybe I have my South African drivers licence...
Even more desparate scraching - which I realise is in vain, because that’s inside my South African ID book, which is, co-incidentally, right next to my Passport. At home.
Me: Hang on! I know! My laptop! I have a pdf copy of my passport and ID.
Laptop out..press “on”... wait for Mac to boot up, while he stares at me like I’m a little off
Manager: May I offer you a drink in the meantime?
Me: Well, I’d love one, but if I don’t get my card back, I can’t pay for it.
Manager in his smart - but increasingly condescending - 5-star hotel-issue suit just stands there. Eventually, in the bowels of my handbag, I find a crumbled up, very faded photocopy of my SA drivers licence.
Manager: (puts on his glasses) Oui! (he is apparently, French) I see your name and your picture. It looks just like you (God help me).
Me: Ok, you can hand over my card and that glass of Pinot Grigio now, thanks.
But seriously, it is an extraordinarily liberating thing to live without fear and the incessant security-related issues that take up so much of our time and energy back home.
I’ve left my laptop in a taxi and asked the driver to wait while I quickly dash into the supermarket to pick up a few things. He, and my laptop, were waiting when I got out.
You can leave your coffee, your bag and worldly possessions on a table and dash to the loo. It’s there when you get back.
It’s been very hard to get out of that “always-looking-over-your-shoulder” mentality. If I misplace something, I’m embarrassed to say my first thought is that it’s been stolen. The first night I left my bedroom door open (there’s no such thing as burglar bars here) I didn’t sleep a wink, because my mind is still sometimes poisoned by a totally irrational paranoia.
Well, to be fair, it might have been the fear, but it probably also had something to do with the Call-To-Prayer which happens five times a day - and the first one is just before sunrise. Early and loud!! And I live near 4 mosques! At prayer time, it’s like all the Imams (Muslim Priests) are competing against each other to see who can praise God the loudest!
Actually, I’m going to record that and post it on the blog soon for your audio pleasure. Then you’ll see that I am not exaggerating. Not even a nanometer...
Anyhow, I am obviously back in Dubai after a brief, yet wonderful Christmas trip home to see family, friends, and of course my beloved dogs. I really do love this city more and more. And my aunt is visiting from home - SO good to have a family member in my side of the world. I come home to supper, or if she is out, soup/asparagus and a note containing microwaving instructions.
Everyone needs to be looked after sometimes.
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