An audience with the Arabs
After 8 months in Dubai I was finally invited to a 'local's' house for dinner. It's a big deal to be invited to a house over here so I was full of excitement going there. I met the lady of the house in a hotel car park and had to follow her back to her place (very James Bondesque). She set off like a rally driver possessed. I could barely keep up with her in her Aston Martin DB9. The sound of screeching tyres could be heard the whole way across Dubai as I as tried to keep up with this demented lady who would suddenly decide to dart across 4 lanes of traffic without any indicator.
Twenty minutes later and we were entering Mirdiff, or as I like to call it Stiffupperlip. The streets are lined with mansion after mansion. We pulled up outside a magnificent villa and as I walked up to the door I remembered that I would have to take my shoes off before entering. I took off my shoes to reveal a once white sock on one foot and a black sock with a big hole in it on the other foot. Not a good first impression!
I was escorted to a room and was left there to wait on the giant size couches that spread the whole way around the room. After ten minutes the man of the house entered. The next half an hour would be an interview process where he would decide whether I was worthy enoughto have dinner with the family. We talked politics, weather, pollution, travel and organic lifestyles. The man was in his mid fifties with a grey beard down to his chest and had been in Dubai all his life. He is disgusted at all this development that is going on as he is a real traditionalist. He confided that he will not allow his family to eat any food with chemicals in them. Instead he has chickens out the back which provide the eggs and meat and a goat for the milk. Of all the things I thought I would see in Dubai, a hippy Arab was not one of them.
Because they get so passionate about things out here I thought that the shouting meant that I would not be staying for dinner but when he invited me out to the back to watch him kill a chicken I knew that my socks must not have caused too much of an offence. The wife appeared from the kitchen where she had taken off her abia and revealed herself to be an absolutely stunning lady not over the age of 30. Sitting down to dinner I asked the oldest kid what age they were and by doing a little maths the wife was no more than 17 when she gave birth to her first, and now she has 5 kids.
The dinner had a distinctive arabic feel to it with rice, a type of salad and the marinated chicken. It was a very messy operation as I struggled to use my hands to gather up the rice. They had it down to a small art of course. The meal was delicious although the chiken left a little rumbling in the stomach.
After dinner was tea, tea and then more tea. Served in tiny cups. The man of the house asked me if I had enjoyed the meal and seeing my genuine appreciation of the food he boasted of how 'the wife had cooked it', not my wife but THE WIFE. I think he might have more than one but who am I to judge, he was just after feeding me after all.
Twenty minutes later and we were entering Mirdiff, or as I like to call it Stiffupperlip. The streets are lined with mansion after mansion. We pulled up outside a magnificent villa and as I walked up to the door I remembered that I would have to take my shoes off before entering. I took off my shoes to reveal a once white sock on one foot and a black sock with a big hole in it on the other foot. Not a good first impression!
I was escorted to a room and was left there to wait on the giant size couches that spread the whole way around the room. After ten minutes the man of the house entered. The next half an hour would be an interview process where he would decide whether I was worthy enoughto have dinner with the family. We talked politics, weather, pollution, travel and organic lifestyles. The man was in his mid fifties with a grey beard down to his chest and had been in Dubai all his life. He is disgusted at all this development that is going on as he is a real traditionalist. He confided that he will not allow his family to eat any food with chemicals in them. Instead he has chickens out the back which provide the eggs and meat and a goat for the milk. Of all the things I thought I would see in Dubai, a hippy Arab was not one of them.
Because they get so passionate about things out here I thought that the shouting meant that I would not be staying for dinner but when he invited me out to the back to watch him kill a chicken I knew that my socks must not have caused too much of an offence. The wife appeared from the kitchen where she had taken off her abia and revealed herself to be an absolutely stunning lady not over the age of 30. Sitting down to dinner I asked the oldest kid what age they were and by doing a little maths the wife was no more than 17 when she gave birth to her first, and now she has 5 kids.
The dinner had a distinctive arabic feel to it with rice, a type of salad and the marinated chicken. It was a very messy operation as I struggled to use my hands to gather up the rice. They had it down to a small art of course. The meal was delicious although the chiken left a little rumbling in the stomach.
After dinner was tea, tea and then more tea. Served in tiny cups. The man of the house asked me if I had enjoyed the meal and seeing my genuine appreciation of the food he boasted of how 'the wife had cooked it', not my wife but THE WIFE. I think he might have more than one but who am I to judge, he was just after feeding me after all.
posted by Unknown at 7:10 a.m.
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