So it's been more than three weeks that we're here in Dubai. I guess that means we are staying. One would normally expect to stay more than three weeks when you move countries. But you don't know my husband. This is our third trial of trying to shift to Dubai. Third time's the lucky one, I guess. Not once has he talked about going back. So maybe we will stay, at least for a year.
Since we are going to stay, I may as well get to like it. What's not to like, anyway? The villa is beautiful, bright, sunny and spacious. It has just enough space so as to look nice and uncluttered and not feel huge or unmanageable. The area or the gated community is lovely as well from inside. One would forget that one is living in a desert, looking at the artificial lakes and the green, manicured lawns. Why do they call lawn 'manicured' anyway?
But ofcourse, the moment you are outside the gate, you do remember. The desert, that is. To the right side of the main road which leads up to the gates of the Lakes community, there is sand. A lot of it. With thorny bushes dotting the mini dunes. And the sun beating down mercilessly, the moment you are exposed outside, would not let you forget that you are living in a desert.
Not that I have not lived in extremely hot places before. Much of my childhood was spent in Vidarbha, Marathwada and such areas, where the temperature regularly shoots above 45 degree celsius in summer. But 50 degrees? I haven't experience that yet, nor am in a hurry to do so. Fortunately for me, the weather is cooler this year than normal. But decades of living in Mumbai has softened me, made me unaccustomed to anything beyond 35 degrees. So no, right now, the weather is not making me happy. But it's a matter of a couple of months before Dubai will be all cool and pleasant, is what I am told. I am really looking forward to it.
Ofcourse, I miss Mumbai. It is home to me, in as much as any place can be home. I miss my lovely home in the green, shady lane of Khar. Most of all, I miss the easy access to the shops and services which I need almost daily. I could just walk out of building and be at a stationery shop (you need to buy lots of stationery when you have young kids) in 5-8 minutes, at the salon where I get my hair cut and nails done in the same time and the grocery shop where I can get all the food i desire in ten minutes. And for anything that is more than ten minutes walk, there are autos. For even longer distances, there are Olas. Movie theatres are a ten minute auto ride away or less. Prithvi theatre, where I can get my fix of plays, is only twenty minutes. And my parents home is just half an hour drive away. All these things seem so precious now, now when I no longer have them.
Here I am completely dependent on the car and the driver. I could call a cab as well, but there's the practical problem of most apps needing a location not working on my phone. This is a problem that should be solved urgently, because without this, I will not be able to order groceries online and we're almost out of milk! If I had good sense, I would get off the computer now and try to attend to that. But then probably I have to wait till the husband comes home and hope that he, at least will be able to fix it.
So I am a lady of leisure here, well, I was that in Mumbai too. The difference was that there I had a staff of four and here I have only one helper. But she is hard working and takes care of everything, so it is all good. She is Sri Lankan. But speaks Hindi. which is the reason I hired her. Communication with her is difficult but not impossible. That is important. I am sometimes amused at how 'bambaiyya' her Hindi is- she has either worked at some one's house who lived in Mumbai and speaks that unique language or she has learnt her Hindi entirely from watching Hindi films with a lot of 'tapori' language. I never expected a Sri Lankan to use words like 'khallas' and 'mangta hai'.
The driver on the other hand, speaks courteous Urdu. He is Pakistani. Kids can't follow his brand of Hindi. they have never heard the word 'mizaz' in their lives. Like most other Mumbai kids. I love hearing the Urdu, it sounds so very polite and elegant. I have often felt that even swear words like 'mc, bc' will sound very refined when spoken by Pakistanis. Can't very well put it to the test though!
So there's my multi-cultural household. Kids have a very multi-cultural environment at school too. Their teacher is Irish and class mates are from all over. I hope they make friends soon.
Its all very posh around here. There is no traffic, there are no crowds. A community swimming pool and play area is just outside the villa. The club house where I go for my yoga classes is a five minute drive. There are the French hypermarkets about five minutes drive from the gate of the community- Geant and Carrefour and further on near al Barsha is Lulu, the Indian owned hypermarket which is the cheapest place to buy the monthly groceries. Much to my frustration, they don't allow you to try on undergarments before you buy them and they don't exchange them either. How prudish is that?
Let me think of all the ways in which Dubai is different from Mumbai. Not the obvious ones, like good roads, big shopping malls and weather. More subtle ones- like the above. Even the small stores in Mumbai will let you try on undergarments. The first thing I noticed when we moved in to our villa was, the toilet paper was thicker and softer than India. Cars stop for pedestrians and kids or women riding on bikes. Taxi drivers help with getting your stuff out of the car.
Maids get weekly off. Even the live-in ones work only during fixed hours and are not on beck and call.
It is a weird feeling being a foreigner. Even in a land where most everyone is a foreigner.
I hate grocery shopping here. I really do. It is so time consuming and requires so much effort to find things. Too much choice is a bad thing. It seems to be that I spend much more time on shopping here than I did back in India. I miss being able to call the neighbouring shop and rattle off my list and have everything delivered. I really, really need to fix that phone of mine and start ordering groceries online.
Anyway of you get tired of the sparkling and sprawling malls, you can head to Deira fish market. I went yesterday and predictably saw only two or three white people shopping there. It is very much like an Indian fish and vegetable market, not air conditioned. The only differences were that it was more spacious, cleaner and had people offering to carry your goods in a trolley for a price, like a coolie. That last was deifnitely different. But rest was the same. Same calling out of the shop keepers urging you to buy from them, same bargaining. I even saw a cat wandering about the fish stalls. I was so happy at this familiar sight, inspite of the ferocious heat, the sweat that was bathing me and the weights of my bags. I saw one white person filming the market with a video camera and smiled- it was definitely exotic, documentary-worthy material- the Deira fish market.
Well, its lunch time now, so more desert musings for another day.
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