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So Dubai

"Satire - trenchant wit, irony, or sarcasm used to expose and discredit vice or folly." - Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary

I am officially in Dubai. I have my residence visa, a sweet, pink, little card, inserted in my passport. It will be considered null and void only if and when I leave the country and do not return for six months. If that happened I would also lose my job, thereby eliminating my need to return.

Gracefully inhabiting the sacred spot behind the clear veil inside my wallet is my United Arab Emirates driver's license.

I have my account at the local bank and my Etisalat Internet connection inside my flat. I have my quad band mobile, which I can use when I go back to the States on holiday (with a different SIM card) and no voicemail whatsoever. So Dubai. I have yet to call a number that ends with a message on which I could also leave one. Luckily (unless one is in a meeting) no one in Dubai is afraid to call back, and keep calling back until they reach their intended party. Who needs voicemail? We're in Dubai.

I just picked up my new car with 30% tinting (the legal limit here) and my Dubai plates and stopped to pick up my Salik tag on the way home. Salik is the toll system here, and the Salik tag, which is placed on one's windshield, is automatically scanned when a person drives under the toll. The government — or whoever — will send us an SMS when it is time to add money to our Salik accounts. This I will supposedly be able to do easily once I sign up for online banking benefits. It's all connected. On my way home, I switched three lanes faster than I ever did on the East coast to make my exit and did not disrupt traffic. Very Dubai.

Today, prior to going to pick up my car, I ordered domestic services and a maid will arrive for the first time Saturday morning, and then she will return each Thursday to clean up after me before I begin my weekend. (I do not yet consider myself an ex-pat wanker, but cleaning the whole flat end to end takes me approximately 10 or more hours, and with the amount of grading I will be doing this year, on top of planning, teaching and my master's program - it makes sense to hire a professional). So, Dubai.

Directly after I hung up with the woman from Sky Maids, I called the dry cleaners. They will pick up my dirty, dry-clean-only laundry from the security guard downstairs in the morning sometime after I fax them a map depicting the location of our Al Barsha building with no name. So Dubai.

Comments

Melynn said…
A maid!!! Hallelujah!

I love to hear about you living a life of relative luxury.

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