Through the fog

Dubai through the tired, confused eyes of a brand new ex-pat

It’s been a month. A month since we stumbled off the plane in Dubai from Sydney, 12,000 kilometres and 14 hours of straight movie-watching behind us. A whole complicated life disentangled, unravelled, rolled up and stuffed badly into boxes, ready to spill out in a new place.

This means a couple of things. The first is that we have to take a short evening drive to Oman this week to exit and re-enter the country. This is in the absence of a resident’s visa for me and the kids, which has met a few hurdles. Nothing I can’t stagger over (even if I have to knock down a fence or two on the way). The fact that I have not met anyone who didn’t have to do an Oman visa-run at least once is also reassuring.

Now it might sound sort of glamorous, visiting another country in between Eve’s gymnastics practice and dinner and homework on a Wednesday afternoon. Where you would maybe fit in a visit to the gym or the supermarket, I will be swanning my way around the Middle East, poking my nose across the border of a land of beauty and mystery. But in reality, it will look like this:

for about an hour or so heading east, then much the same for an hour or so heading west. In between, we will go in and out, twice, of a small building on the border.

We are hoping to make a more substantial visit to Oman quite soon, in the April school holidays (or ‘spring break’ as I am now required to call it. Funny how quickly you adopt the words and practices around you. I am now quite naturally asking for people to pass the ketchup at barbecues, although calling thongs flip-flops keeps slipping my mind. Some strange looks there). Then we will see landscape that looks more like this:

Yay! Now that’s glamorous (cue jealousy on other side of the world).

The other thing being here a month means is that our container from Australia will arrive tomorrow. Am I longing for my precious keepsakes and framed family photos? Do I want some relief from the six dresses I have been rotating for two months? No. I want – I really, really, really want – my coffee maker (or my happy maker, as I now realise it should be called). The first two weeks involved some shameful imbibing of Starbucks and the similarly insipid Tim Horton’s brew, until a canny Scot (thanks, Carol-Ann!) pointed out that a fancy providores nearby sold Byron Bay coffee, made properly by a real barista who did more than press a button. That has been a lifesaver, but unfortunately they don’t open til 7am, and since my antipodean sleep patterns are still not quite reversed, I often want something before then.

Apart from that I’m actually a bit worried about how I’m going to fit all my boxed junk back into my life. Streamlined living has rather suited me. So much less clutter. Okay, I don’t have exactly the right kitchen implement or a t-shirt in the exact shade of green I might need, but I’m willing to put up with that. Here is a picture of my lovely new lounge room now:

(Mind you, it’s the absence of kids that perhaps makes the room look good). Tomorrow I will provide one when it is full of unnecessary bits and pieces. You decide.

I started writing this thinking I would provide – for my very first blog entry – a list of five things we love about Dubai, and five things we love perhaps slightly less. But I’ve rambled on too long already. Much better to leave it for next time. I’m hoping next time will include a recording of the call to prayer (or the ‘man with the annoying song’ as Archie first referred to it) and our neighbours’ unbelievably obnoxious sprinklers, recorded at full-force at 4.50am tomorrow morning. I think you can probably guess what category they will fall under.