Dubai Needs REAL Parks

Yesterday, a friend of mine at work decided to show me the park just behind our office. Normally, we only get a half hour break, and I’m already known as being a little slower on my feet than most people here (12 years of being spoiled in Dubai will do that to you), but yesterday we were given an hour.

Just a four minute walk behind the building, and there’s a sanctuary of beautiful isolation. In a stark contrast to the pay-to-enter parks, with man-made wonders and rides, I sat down on a non-pay-public-bench, and here’s my view:


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It got me thinking about Dubai, and the major lack of truly public parks available. Here, if there’s not an actual park with a playground there’s a natural wonder on just about every corner. Perhaps the UAE society would benefit from (even man made) parks available to all – meaning no fences, or till’s to take pay, with fields of grass and perhaps some flowers that aren’t manipulated each season and just allowed to grow?

Perhaps if we didn’t find the only grass available to recline on was based in the center of a round-about or next to some sort of road structure, people would find stress in general declining? Perhaps, a it would take just a short while at a local park to help forget about our woes of the day, the traffic, the bitch in the office, the asshole boss whose taking us for a ride, the landlord whose sucking blood and money from our pockets. I know for just a moment there yesterday, I felt like melting into the sheer beauty, without a worry in the world. It was better than any Spa I’d ever seen in UAE, that’s for damn sure.

I love Etisalat (And other things UAE)

Down with a cold, exhausted from the lifestyle that’s gleefully pushed itself on me, I’ve got to say, I love Etisalat (and other things UAE).

Last night Shawna called me up. Since I’ve been home, I’ve learned that her mom is staying in a crack house in Vancouver, and her younger sister was still selling herself to feed her own addiction. Shawna herself, though doing well on the Island away from the drugs, was diagnosed a year or so back as Schizophrenic. I always knew something wasn’t right with her; it didn’t take more than a teenaged confession from her that she’d called 911 thinking her head was falling off, to realize. She’s getting the medical help she needs, she’s working and she’s studying.

Last nights call wasn’t a good one though. Shawna called to inform me that Kyla was diagnosed as HIV positive.

As much as I love Canada, and I love being here – the easy access to drugs, the lawless lifestyle that’s so easy to slip into, and the repercussions are enough for me to once again thank God I’m not raising my son here.

I cried myself to sleep last night. I cried remembering Kyla and how innocent she once was. I cried, feeling pretty shitty before the call, and devastated afterwards. I guess pretty soon I’ll be taking a trip to the Crack House, to visit Kyla with her mom – where she’s now staying.

Educating Mommy...

I’ve learned…

Finally working a full time job, in a huge company, where rather than basing your position on your nationality, looks, or ability to fake it, you’re actually expected to start from the bottom and work your way up no matter what, I’m learning a lot about how life is supposed to be. As much as I hate waking up first thing, on theses cold-assed mornings, it feels good to have a purpose – a real challenge. Six weeks of company training is enough to make you feel as though you’re back in fucking high school; urges to pass notes and all.

Since I’ve been home, I’ve learned:

~*You CAN have a great time without money. Most people here manage with little, and most of them have smiles on their faces.
~*How to put petrol in the car. Dubai doesn’t have ONE self-serve petrol station. Canada hardly has ONE full-serve petrol station. Now, I haven’t actually had to do this myself yet (because I’m playing the spoiled card), but if it came down to it, I’d manage alright!
~*That it’s called gas, and not petrol.
~*That you can leave your house in your pajamas and no one will look twice at you. I actually did that yesterday, in the rain. And I enjoyed it.

And the biggest lesson I’d say I’ve learned is:

~*That most people don’t realize, they only are what the world perceives them as, and not what they perceive themselves as.

Someone congratulated me on the recent choices I’ve made. That same someone, takes personal credit for suggesting I do the same months, if not years ago. Which is funny, considering the fact that this person decided I wasn’t good enough for their friendship and vanished for a short while before attempting to spark a fight with me. I’m not sure really how that works, but I do know that most people won’t take (Or even hear really) ill-gotten advice from someone who (like most Dubains) fakes friendship, fucks off without a moments notice, fails to keep their commitments (even on small levels, like say a promised coffee or phone call?) then attempts to attack you from the side for some mundane reason. Most people won’t take advice when the timing is wrong or there are conflicting aspects to the situation. And as a side note, I always, and I mean ALWAYS knew I had to get the fuck out of UAE. And I wasn’t looking for someone to agree with me concerning that decision. I rarely look for approval in what I choose to do for myself – and I when I do, I come right out and ask, “What do you think I should do?” More often than not, I ask that question of people whose opinions I respect. The truth is, I was fighting my own reality to stay with my child. There is a huge difference, and I’d think that someone educated in the emotional area would comprehend these things. But I guess it takes a mommy to understand a mommy’s heart.

Small Addictions... (We’re all allowed a few of them)

I’ve been gone just over a month. And I still read Gulf News & 7Days, daily. And slowly, I’m learning to spend more time on UAE blogs as well – and I’m actually enjoying those now. It’s funny how true the saying, “Absence makes your heart grow stronger,” is. Only, my pleasure comes from an intoxicated giggle about the redundancy (and seemingly dying) UAE blogsphere. Where’d all the good bloggers go? I cleaned up my blogrolls the other day, removed most of the ones that seemed inactive. If I accidentally removed yours, let me know and I’ll put it back up.

So Sex & Dubai has been blocked. And there’s a petition about it. Whether you read the blog or not, whether you have access to it or not, please go and sign. The fact is, by ignoring proxy blocks like this, you’re simply allowing the TRA to decrease the size of UAE’s cyber world, period. And that aint right.

I’m trying to decide which direction I should take this blog from here. I could be a complete loser who sits outside the UAE and still makes comments, complaints, and demands on a country I’m currently not tied too, but I’m pretty sure that would mirror another well known blogger’s past attempts – and God forbid I’m accused of being a copycat. ~*Yeah, I’d say I’m still a little bitter there… So why not stir up a little shit when I feel like it?

I could write about life here, but I’m pretty sure that’s beyond most readers comprehensions. And I’d hate to be accused of attempting to push my values on the UAE culture – since I still very much consider myself a part of the UAE. I’m too fucked in the head to be anything but!

But I think instead, I might just ramble about experiences here and the major differences between B.C. and Dubai. The first thing I should probably write about would be my daily coffees/chats with a Jew! Until I left UAE, where anything Jewish is blacked out, wiped off the maps, or blocked by proxies I’d almost forgotten Jews still existed (hear the sarcasm there?). Now, I know Greg – in person. And I like him. I’m pretty sure he likes me too, since we have a hell of a lot in common. Do you know how popular pork is on this side of the world?

Nonetheless, I’m not yet sure where I’m going. And that should count for my silences. If you’ve got any ideas, or suggestions… Let me know. But before you do, I ask once again that you sign that petition for Sex & Dubai; even if you don’t read or like it. Blocking out reality is a sure way to stop people from learning from it.

Cheers.

A little Clarity

Waking up on another beautiful Canadian day I can’t help but feel a little more relieved than I felt yesterday. It’s as if slowly, the shackles of Dubai are being lifted.

This morning, I started contemplating the reality of my never returning to the UAE as a permanent resident. This morning, was the first morning with a sober head, I considered the possibility of actually leaving the last 12 years of my life behind, for good.

Selfish as I may be for considering my son’s life without his mother – and I without him, I can’t help but feel this is something I just might have to do now. It’s too soon to tell yet, but the possibility is growing and clarifying itself daily. I can live here. I really can. But can I manage without my baby? Can he manage without me? Those are about the only questions left to be answered, I guess. And I doubt I’ll reach the conclusion any time soon.

Dubai Description – Borrowed from an Email I Sent Earlier this Week

“About Dubai, I actually meant a lot of things. The excesses play a huge part, yes. But even more so, the sheer racism, bias, judgmental, perfectly plastic natural of people in general got to me over the past few years. It'd make me sick to my stomach to go out and see some newly rich British woman scream something insane at her housemaid in public, or to sit in a coffee shop and note how each table had its own nationality, or even get hit on by one bedu after another - no longer a compliment, but a HUGE turn off. I got tired of the fake friendships people build in an instant with strangers, claiming their love and their devotion to people they'd never met before - too many women in Dubai are like that, and it hurt to lose touch with or watch all my truly good friends leave. On top of it all, I hated the judgmental eyes of just about everyone there. You see, I converted to Islam and started wearing Hijab, just after high school. I'm not at all a good Muslim today, but at one time, I really tried. Everywhere I went, people were assuming (many even speaking of) wrong accusations about me - I was a prostitute, I wanted a local passport, I was anything but a Muslim.

I combated all that by isolating myself in my house. I think I only left my house two or three times in the entire month before I came back here. I'd been that way for about 3 years. Now, even back in Canada, I'm not sure if I know how to socialize anymore. I've completely lost touch. And I'm healing. That's what I meant about Dubai messing with your head and a person like me (I'm sure you knew or assumed even at a young age, that I'm Bipolar), doesn't need it.”

I have a lot of resentment for Dubai society right now. It’s little to do with the traditional, religious or the cultural aspects of the past. It has a hell of a lot more to do with the day-dreaming expatriates and their influence on what was once a culturally rich, incredibly relaxing place to live and socialize. I wish I could turn back time and kick the majority of the current population out. I wish I could take the ten lane highways and turn them back into four lane roads, with far fewer accidents and much shorter travel time. I wish I could go again to a shopping center and have people look at me and smile, rather than look at me and judge based on my appearance – or walk in the desert and have the traditional Bedu wave from atop a camel, way across the dunes, and be comfortable waving back, knowing he means no more than ‘Salaam’.

Dubai was beautiful once. I hope it becomes that, or something that resembles that again.

When in Canada I Can...

On my parents last night ever in Dubai, we all sat around got a little pissed and took a couple of photos. At that time, I promised to post the photos of my mama and baba on the net because they're rather entertaining. I never actually did it, and I'm SURE it's because of those UAE social demons that scream at you that you have to be secretive about who you are and what you think. You have to be plastic in Dubai. No one should know what or who you really are.

To hell with you all and your secrets. Here's my mama:








Here's my baba...







And what's probably the furthest cry from the unhappy, fat, mentally retarded looking Tainted Female who spits venom from her mouth at any chance because she just must be so fucking miserable that you all most-likely envision, here I actually am:



No more secrets... I wear my heart on my sleeve. I am not and will not be ashamed of who I am despite what Dubai Society thinks I should or should not be doing. Buhbye Demons.

It's all Good....

Back in a normal place, surrounded by normal people, I couldn’t be doing better.

For those of you who misunderstood, or choose to make judgments let’s get something clear… I love UAE. I always have and I always will. I hate the people in the UAE. And that means you.

I spent the last hour browsing UAE blogs – just for shits & giggles. Some things will never change.

Whether you accept it or not the UAE society (created by the likes of you), royally fucks you up. I doubt that anywhere on the planet do so many cultures, religions, races mix (or rather fail to mix) with more discrimination, prejudice, preconceived notions, and sheer hatred for one another. I hope, there is not a society as plastic – full of virgin Barbie-dolls (who shh – only take it up the ass, but we’re not supposed to know it), and Ken’s in their luxury cars (who shh – haven’t a dirham in their pocket for petrol because they just spent the last fill of their billion dirham loan buying their chaste but cheating girlfriend phone-credit), flashing each other fake smiles so well practiced they can’t even tell the difference anymore.

Like it or not, stay there long enough and you become one too. I’ll be fighting the UAE social demons out of my head right up until I eventually return. And even then, I won’t win the battle.

I’m good. I’m all good. And it’s thanks to a normal society.