Antidote #1
One of the truths about Dubai is that labor is cheap. Now that is either a good thing or a bad thing, depending on which end of the laboring you are stationed. Now you can make the argument that the poor woman doing your nails for a pittance is better off than she would be at home working in the rice fields for 1/10 of a pittance…..it’s a standard quandary. Or you can chat with her and learn about the hovel she shares with 10 other women and just as many rats. Or, you can stick your head in the Dubai expat sand and get your mani and your pedi, which is what I was doing on this particular day.
I’m in Nail Bar with one poor exploited or not Asian worker at my feet and another at my hands. I think perhaps on this day there was even a third at my eyebrows. The woman next to me looks up from her magazine and says, “Where did you get that haircut? It is lovely!” I replied that I had gotten my hair cut at home, in the states, by a woman named Cheryl at her cool orange salon named Frissuer, where you are served wine and engaged in witty conversation. I finish rubbing it in to this stranger that she will never be as lucky as me with her hair, then I notice something that is quite commonplace here. You can’t see her hair. Her head is completely covered! She is wearing a little white knit skullcap that allows not ONE hair to show and a head and neck scarf on top of that! And this is in a woman’s only nail salon! Think she’ll be making the trip to KC to get her locks coiffed any time soon? Seriously, WHY BOTHER?
Antidote #2
It’s about 9AM and I’m just leaving Caribou Coffee (I know, but cut me some slack, it’s the only reliable wifi I’ve found in a coffee shop). I’m walking around the corner to Exhale, the yoga studio where I’m subbing some classes for my friend Della who is away on holiday. A couple of women are walking towards me looking a bit confused. I think they are mother and daughter. One of them stops me and asks, “Excuse me, do you have ANY idea what day it is?” I had to pause and give it some thought before I could answer resolutely, “WEDNESDAY!”
I laugh and say, “You must be on holiday,” assuming they are jet lagged. Woman Number One says, “No, I live here! This is my mother. She’s visiting from the UK.” I explained that I was also living in Dubai and then we all had a good laugh.
You see it’s so true. Stan and I are always commenting on how life in this Desert Diamond is like being inside a Vegas casino without any clocks. Every day is just another sunny day. The seasons don’t really change and there is no daylight savings time. The sun rises and sets basically the same time every day of every year.
The weekends are off kilter. The standard weekend is Friday/Saturday with Friday being the holy day. Sunday is our Monday. Sunday brunch is Friday brunch. TGIF is TGIThursday.
The Lebanese are perpetually eating lunch at five and dinner at 11pm. The call to prayer wakes you at 5AM yet the Starbuck’s in the mall doesn’t even open for another three hours, I mean why bother when the Arabs don’t have their coffee till 11AM. There are Christmas decorations in this Muslim country and Christmas music in the stores. It’s 80 degrees outside. It’s all terribly confusing.
You TRULY never do know what day of the week it is. For all I know they are pumping in oxygen to keep everyone in high gear all of the time. Do you suppose it could be some Emirati conspiracy to keep us all seduced by this place, as the traffic gets worse, the pollution thicker and the beaches destroyed? Are they doing this so we’ll keep getting our nails done and paying $100 for a nice lunch for two on the beach without worrying that the rents are going through the roof? Well, if they are, it might just be working.
