Arab chivalry is wearing thin

I suspect that the little idiosyncrasies that I find endearing at the moment will soon grate. Classic example; my horoscope today said “You will have a meaningful connection with a Pisces that will be even better if you stay sober.” Ummm…what? Promoting an alcohol-free lifestyle through emotional blackmail? I’ll die alone and pickled in gin – is that what they’re trying to tell me?

Being stared at was pretty bad in Bahrain and it’s no better here. At least they don’t make the “HMMMMM” noise in Dubai (not dissimilar to Homer’s “HMMMMM…donuts” but more likely to be “HMMMMM….titties”). Men will stop their cars on busy roads to let you cross. This isn’t an act of chivalry – they just want to look at your bum. The funny thing is, I’m under no illusion that it is due to levels of personal attractiveness – I honestly believe that if you’re 45 stone, covered in scales with a body odour problem, as long as you are white, you’ll get stared at.

Dubai, like Bahrain, does have sinfully cheap treatments. Had a 30 minute massage yesterday in my lunchbreak – getting topless during work hours was a strange concept I can assure you – and it cost a fiver. As a self-confessed tightwad when it comes to these things (eg getting my hair cut about twice a year) this is great news. Men can get a trim for about 70p which also includes a mini-massage with a vibrating glove… but a colleague had one recently and the barber ended by hitting him around the head for a few minutes.

Other cheap treats include anything from the shop downstairs - everything costs either DHS1 or DHS1.50 (between 15p and 20p). Soap, bread, drinks, even Kinder eggs and bags of Skittles fall into this price bracket. Fantastic.

The weekend went far too quickly, spent Thursday night at a speakeasy effort with live music from such well-known acts as ‘Trevor and The Mongols’. It was a little surreal. Hit the beach and the gym on Friday (I can see into the gym from my bedroom so when I’m reclining, indulging in the complete Seinfeld boxset I am guilted into getting the trainers on) then undid all my good work with a boozy night out.

We went to some swanky places (including a bar in the sea that you have to get a golf cart along a causeway to - see pic) and I behaved myself. Big pat on the back and mini-Mexican wave for me. An obese Jordanian ensured I had a drink in my hand at all times then I skipped off into the night to an outdoor club to meet people more from work.

So this weekend brings two nights in the desert. Not dessert sadly – I could cope with that. There are about 20 people who will be unfortunate enough to see me without make-up. Poor bastards. I’m telling you now, you won’t be seeing any photos.

h