Come as you are

This is just a totally random picture with no reason to be here.

One of the things I love about living in Dubai is the fact that no one feels the need to adopt the prevailing culture. Because there is no prevailing culture. In Australia many recent immigrants buy unfamiliar clothing and walk around feeling uncomfortable, so as to not stand out. You couldn’t stand out in Dubai if you tried. In any wander on any day down any street, you may pass an enormous man dressed like a African king and a tiny Indian woman in a sari, a Pakistani in a loose tunic and pants (barefoot) and a Saudi woman in full abaya and niqab (often with sunglasses covering the eye-slit – love that look!). There are at least as many men in crisp white dish-dashes and sandals in the financial district as there are sharp-suited Western businessmen.

I usually throw a scarf or cardigan in the car in case I go somewhere that would frown on bare shoulders or arms, but mostly conventional Western dress is fine for women here. I can't tell you how many times I was asked (before I left) if I would have to wear a headscarf. I don't, but I think they are pretty so I might do it one day anyway, just for fun. The cool thing is, no one would bat an eyelid. I would just be one more drop in the wide ocean of Dubai variety. Now, there is a kind of freedom in that for me, because at home I'd earn some strange looks. I know not every woman here has that freedom, and I cherish it.

In Australia, people from other countries often adopt a Western name but here not so much, because almost everyone is from somewhere else. This may result in some confusion, and even some laughs – Evie goes to school with Muhammad Ali, and our Pakistani gardener (yes, we have a gardener, it comes with the house, all right? You can’t expect us to get our hands dirty... sheesh) is widely known as Ali G, for some reason (his real name is Tarique Hussain Jaffar Khan. Actually, he does look a bit like Ali G).

Wes’s Arabic teacher is Mr Osama and we joke about him being Irish (Mr O’Sama) and always refer to him in an Irish accent, and Archie has an Uzbekistani friend called Hakisan whose name we learnt by thinking of hacky-sacks.

When we named our children I wanted to choose less popular names because I was concerned that they would end up in a classroom full of kids with the same name. Especially with a common surname like Thomas. My own name was the most popular in Australia the year I was born and I personally know of several Michelle Thomases floating around the place. Boring. Turns out I needn’t have worried. Now the kids are in school with Mugamed and Deepthi, individuality is a given.

I’ve saved the best til last. So far, the best name I’ve stumbled across belongs to one of the grocery baggers at the local supermarket (it’s called Spinney’s for those of you who like the everyday details – took me a while to stop calling it Coles).

His name? .... Ha.

Awesome.

What's your favourite foreign name? Or a story of fitting in with or standing out from another culture?