Before Ramadan started a group of us escaped to Dubai. My first time out of Kuwait since arriving in February. To say I was excited was an understatement. I haven’t been that excited by an airport since I was 7 years old and about to fly on a plane for the first time ever. And believe me, there is little to Kuwait airport to get excited about!
After hot footing it out of the office and in to the airport lounge we availed ourselves of the free food and drinks. Quite soon our gate was announced. We went skipping through the airport because freedom was within sniffing distance. Ok, not so much ‘freedom’ as a lukewarm miniature bottle of cava off the trolley as soon as the wheels were up. Landing in Dubai was tedious. Nearly an hour long queue to get through immigration. The flight was only 90 minutes. Thankfully a man in a dishdasha spotted our British-ness and plucked us out of the queue or it would have been 2 hours. Time to step outside…
Now Kuwait is hot. It’s dry, 45+ heat during the day and at night only drops a few degrees. It’s dusty, dirty, burning heat. Dubai is 10 degrees cooler, and worse! I have never known humidity like it. It was gone 10pm and I was sweating just standing at the taxi rank. If that was night time temperature I didn’t fancy my chances in daylight.
We arrived at the, rather upmarket, hotel and hit the hotel bar, luggage still in hand. Never has a glass of prosecco gone down so well. Well, maybe the other 6 did.
The hotel rooms were lovely (we each had our own) with balconies overlooking the sea and bath tubs you could swim in. Not to mention the walk in closest in which to hang my two dresses! After a lazy morning of sitting on the balcony and swimming in the bath I got ready for brunch. I had often been told about brunch by friends who had visited Dubai over the years so was fully versed on what to expect. We went to one of the more expensive places (about £130 a head) but with the free flowing champagne, the 10 food stations and the vodka station we thought it was worth it.
Don’t get me wrong, it was. But for those of us that have been to a Royal Air Force Officers Mess summer ball I wasn’t as excited as most. Oh look a vodka luge, oh look a Chinese buffet, oh look a massive seafood buffet, oh look a dessert room. Been there, done it and it came with men in uniform. I stuck to the hog roast. Give this girl a massive plate of roast pork and Yorkshire pudding finished off with ham, bread and fois gras and she’ll get her money’s worth.
What struck me most was the sights! I don’t mean the beauty of the hotel, I mean the people watching. At what point exactly did Essex throw up in the desert? I have never seen so many bandage dresses and sky high heels in one place (other than a red light district). Is it the thing to dress like a slut to stuff your face these days? (Don’t answer that).
Brunch completed and we hit a bar, went back to the hotel to freshen up and hit another few bars. Then not much else happened. Nothing that couldn’t have happened in any other club in any other part of the world. We spent a lot of time in cabs, couldn’t get in to some places because they were full and my feet started to hurt. I had a row with an idiot boy, I met a nice boy that kissed me and I drank black sambucas. Pretty standard night out by all accounts. And bloody expensive. So for all the fuss and bother I left Dubai feeling it was all a bit overrated. She says. I’m going back in November with my two best friends. I have a feeling my opinion may change with those two in tow!