Dubai Part 2

I wrote part two sooner than I thought I would and what is more, I should be posting my next rant within the week. What is it about? Let us call it ‘On Marriage Part 2’. I really did not want to delve into that topic again but I have to. Apparently graduation changes things and my mother’s quiet acceptance of my disinterest has vanished, God bless her. So if you liked what I had to say last time, the next one should make you laugh. Until then, Dubai.

Trying people managed to find me wherever I went in Dubai. Something as simple as attempting to watch a film in the cinema was disturbed by inconsiderate individuals. We went to watch Robin Hood only to be sat in front of the most irritating men on the planet. They were Saudis, judging by their accents, and were unable to shut up. They talked throughout it and the ushers standing nearby did nothing to stop their chatter. One of the guys read the Arabic subtitles for the rest. Possibly his three friends were illiterate and he was doing them a kindness. Whatever the reason, it was damned annoying. A member of his illiterate posse then decided to rest his face in the space between the seats of myself and a cousin. I assumed he did not understand how truly weird that was. What on earth? It was bad enough trying to concentrate on the film with the nonstop babble but turning around to find his face resting on my chair was extremely disconcerting. When we finally left I could not stop myself from pointing at them and making a rude remark. Unfortunately, though Arabic curses are incredibly effective I do not know how to do this and it had to be in English. I admit that I felt incredibly pleased with myself but my cousin remarked that since their grasp of Arabic was so poor they probably could not understand English (the rise in deficiency in the Arabic language in Arabic speaking countries has actually prompted initiatives to combat it) which rendered my insult ineffective.

I was then made to endure a lady in a pharmacy approaching me about my ‘acne’ and a miracle cure that would supposedly rid me of it. I did not ask for her advice but if I did have acne, which I do not, I would not go to someone who merely wanted to secure a sale and would try to convince me that guano helps skin to accomplish that. Instead I would ask my GP to either prescribe me something or refer me to a dermatologist. I did not appreciate being approached by a patronising saleslady with mock sympathy on her face. Do you think I do not own a mirror? I know what is going on with my face and I am undoubtedly my harshest critic. Unless I ask you about it, DO NOT APPROACH ME, it is rude. Basically, bugger off. My ‘acne’ was actually as a result of the centuries-old dusty tomes I had to deal with whilst writing my dissertation and an unfortunate habit of touching my face. It was especially galling that my purpose in going to the pharmacy was to buy some tanning cream but my attempt at browning up was a spectacular flop. This in turn meant that my experience with the saleslady was for nought. Women were turning brown or red (Not that I condone burning. Pink skin is neither healthy nor attractive, it looks raw. Turning pink? Seek shade) before my very eyes but I remained as white as ever. I was also exposed to some seriously disturbing sights. Ladies, I concede that it is a women only day but it is a beach and not your bathroom; some things are supposed to remain a mystery.

Another individual I found a little funny, not necessarily trying as I cannot say I was irritated by him, was a man who worked at Dubai’s iFly. It was something I was not particularly enthusiastic to try (I was a little ill on the day of the outing) but I decided to go through with so that I would not regret not trying it. The instructor saw that I looked somewhat reluctant and could not believe why. I explained I did not find it particularly gripping and he was adamant that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I said nothing but secretly thought “yeah right Mohinder” (he was identical to Dr. Suresh but was significantly more tatted and pierced). I mean really, how was this a unique opportunity? If you have £40 to spare you can try it in numerous cities around the world. It is indoor skydiving, not time travel. Basically, you get in a tube with an instructor, you’re blown up the tube and you ‘fly’. In a way the instructor was right; I probably would not repeat it.

One thing I absolutely loved was jet skiing. I was initially adamant that I would not be joining in as my inability to swim would make the attempt incredibly stupid. Somewhere along the line I was convinced that it would be fun and that I should at least try it and not to worry about drowning as I would be wearing a lifejacket. This seemed reasonable enough until we were actually presented with the inappropriately named lifejackets. I am not exaggerating when I say that there was no way in hell those jackets had been updated in the last ten years. Mine was ripped and looked as if adding to my weight and causing me to sink would be its contribution were my jet ski to tip over (many of them had capsized). I finally threw caution to the wind and agreed to it and found myself enjoying it immensely. Admittedly I had some incredibly morbid thoughts at the same time as my relishing the experiencing and I was offering up little prayers to God to keep my jet ski from flipping over or the engine exploding (the smell of petrol or whatever it was filled with was overwhelming. It smelt so bad that I was convinced something was burning). Nevertheless, it was thrilling.

Clearly I have been gifted with incredible kindness to my fellow humankind, common sense and intelligence, al7amdullilah.