The last two weeks have been cuh-razy busy because of all the packing and ticking off things from our short Dubai bucket list (as aptly visualized by TimeOut Dubai’s cover…just in case you have not seen the social networks, The Husband and I are now out of Dubai! For good 🙂
The problem with productivity junkies like myself is the addiction to do more (not compromising on quality) in the 24-hours of each day that God has given us. So lately, I’ve been sucked into the teeny weeny yet cosmos consuming black hole called real life: chores, work, and more chores await. Both seems like they never end. Gone are the days when I could make MORE time for blogging. I make time, but it doesn’t seem enough anymore.
But today is the kick-off of another weekend (Again???), so today I dedicated some time to just stop and smell…not roses, but camels. I don’t mean that a camel popped up in our urban desert neighborhood and I stopped to pet it AND take in the smell of sand, damp pelt and dung.
Thursday is simply camel meat day.
This is one thing that Dubai-nites can never escape: entertaining tourists.
I’ve had a handful of visitors from the Philippines in the few months that I’ve been here and I’ve helped them navigate their way through the city of gold, especially on the food front 🙂
Tonight, a good friend of The Husband (they go way back in high school) stopped over in Dubai from a company incentive trip in Moscow. So we took him around some of the standard Dubai sights, which are not easily accessible via public modes of transportation, for some touristy photo opportunities.
I’ve been here in Dubai for almost 7-months already, but I still consider myself a happy, eager, ready-for-almost-anything tourist. Whenever I walk around the city, para akong naglalakad sa Luneta (it feels like a leisurely stroll in Luneta park) because I manage to see very new things that, apparently, even long time residents fail to notice.
My parents have been every so wise to drill this eating mantra through our hard headed skulls when we were curious vulnerable children: “Eat as the Romans do.” Every time our family had the chance to escape the confines of our suburban Manila home on the hill and explore as far as our pockets could go, we would make sure that we ate the very food that the locals did eat. It wasn’t always necessarily a fun experience for me, especially when fish, which I am not a big fan of, was on the table.
Now that I live here in Dubai, I eat as the Dubai-nites do. But who are Dubai-nites really?
I have a shameless adoration for sausages, or “meat in tube form” as Anthony Bourdain fondly calls these meat links of love.
As the sandstorms blow away the cool winter air and as March draws to a close, I now bid a bitter adieu to one of my not-so-secret happy places in Dubai: Global Village. It pains me to see your dancing rainbow neon lights no more as we zoom through Emirates road. It pains me to not get to stroll through the noisy, crowded halls in awe with fresh eyes on each visit. It pains me to not get any more chances to savor doughy bites of the sugar raised Bambaloni (Tunisian doughnut) or to drown myself in crispy date syrup drenched, crispy Lgeimat (Emirati doughnuts), the highlights of my Global Village trips.
In order to make this sorrowful parting of ways sweeter, I forced (after much prodding) The Husband to take me on one last trip, so that I can take home a part of Global Village to keep and share with my loved ones, family and friends back home, until it opens again.
The food at Bento-ya Japanese restaurant along Sheikh Zayed Road was authentic enough for my taste, but I must say the toilet is the one that made my experience an unforgettable one. Come for the food AND the toilet.
If talking about toilets makes you uncomfortable, I discourage you to read on…
There wasn’t any available taxis in sight and I was so late (I hate being late and 5 minutes past an appointment is already too late for me.) for my 5PM Filipino merienda date with Sandy. So I decided to be crazy brave: I power walked from the Al Karama metro stop to Delmon Filipino restaurant in the heart of Karama. I’ve been to the restaurant twice, but I didn’t know how to get there on foot…alone. That was the problem. A big problem.
I went out of the house this evening wearing just a single layer of clothing, a cool cotton shirt and a pair of jeans. No need snugly woolen or fuchsia pink jacket. The weather was getting warmer. The recent changes in temperature, along with the sandstorms, surely meant one thing: the change in season from “winter” (which I personally like to call fake winter since we have no snow here) into the dreadful desert summer.