I actually don’t know where to start, am feeling so chipper after my operation - everything looks new and positive when you discover that you can once again go yomping up and down hills. Well, at least I hope that’s what Deepak will tell me when we meet on Sunday.
I am thrilled to bits that we lugged the old crutches here for nothing – though I might just use them at the airport on Monday, to garner a few sympathy votes. But otherwise, touch wood, all izz well.
I am walking - albeit slowly – and have absolutely no pain whatsoever, so right now Deepak is my hero.
Aforementioned Deepak kindly drove us yesterday from Sharjah back to Dubai, and then Himmat and I had lunch in the Dubai Mall, sitting next to the ice-rink. There were lots of girls in long black Islamic dress holding onto each other for dear life and squealing and toppling over. There was a very severe looking middle aged man – dressed in sober office clothes – looked just like an accountant, in fact He skated divinely, doing all those clever backward showy-off-moves, and he was teaching his little daughter how to skate. Whilst other children of her age were falling over, accountant father & baby kept coming to graceful kneeling stops on the ice. They would then touch the ice reverentially, and skate off again. Talk about never judging a book by its cover. Never judge a skater by his clothes.
When we drove into Dubai yesterday, we literally couldn’t see a thing. There was a sandstorm, and all one could make out were the blurry distant outlines of the otherwise dazzling skyline. At one point, we could just about make out the vague shape of the Burj al Arab, which looked like a ghost ship amidst all the haze.
In the evening we went to have drinks with an aunt and uncle of Himmat’s who live in the most breathtaking apartment in Jumeriah, overlooking The Palms. Floor to ceiling glass walls on the 47th floor – the view was absolutely unbelievable. I could so live here.
We met up with Kumud and Gautam on the Jumeirah Beach Walk, and had a fab evening. The place was packed – sidewalk restaurants and pavement cafes, a free jazz concert, a happily noisy funfair, local youngsters strutting their stuff. There were flocks of young girls covered head-to-toe in black, all walking along texting furiously. Young men zooming around on expensive motorbikes. Wildly expensive cars parked everywhere. And a young man walking up and down carrying the biggest teddy bear you ever did see, which he had clearly won at the funfair.
I usually get flak for people watching, but last night was just too good. Gautam said he had read somewhere that there are something like 189 nationalities living in Dubai – and judging from last night, I can well believe it.
We rounded off the evening with drinks on the 52nd floor of the Marriott - at a bar called Observatory - which appeared to be filled with lots of aging Essex girls. But the views…
As Kumud said at one point, looking around the packed bar, “Would you believe that there was any kind of recession or crisis going on here ?”
It’s hard to believe.
