Chronicles of That Middle Eastern Chick.

(Arabic vocab for the day: Souq- bazaar, market place).

Okay, I feel ashamed. I LIVE in Dubai and I had no idea how insanely awesome the souqs were out here. I’m not talking about the traditional spice souqs, gold souqs or fish souqs. I’m talking about huge merchandise souqs where you find the latest Juicy Couture for dirt prices! I found this tiny little shop in a tiny little corner of relatively tiny little souq. I got attracted by the colourful tie-dye summer-wear (I’m a sucker for those things) and went inside to check it out. I think my heart sang opera as I took in all the brilliantly-coloured cotton-wear that could easily sell for ridiculously skyrocketing prices in high-end fashion stores. I felt like I had just landed a plane ticket to heaven. 

Needless to say, I’ll be going back there as soon as I’m done with these pain-in-the-butt exams that I’ve got at the moment. I will shop till I drop… and my purse strings will still have a considerable amount of jingly booty to hold on to at the end of the day. It’s a win-win situation! Forget the rip-off malls. It’s souqs for me from now on! 

Do you know what the strange thing is? This isn’t even the best market that I’ve seen! I’ve seen WAY cheaper market places in Mauritius, Cambodia and Turkey. Cambodia was like living in a permanent Clearance Sale. I bought the most exquisite beach dress from an obscure little shop for $9.00! That was after bargaining for ages… The price had started off at $18.00. I was quite pushy that day… 

Here are some pictures from a brilliant Turkish bazaar that I went to a couple of years ago: 

The Spice Market.

Beautiful Mediterranean art.

If you live in Dubai and you fit the criteria “teenager”, this is a group you want to check out. www.adolescentsanonymous.wordpress.com 

thisisray:

That’s exactly what my life in this city is. Some people might call it a bubble, but I think it’s a cage. You can see everything on the outside, but you just can’t get out. I know life ain’t bad but sometimes I see something makes me think it’s amazing:

Like this.

This is an exquisite photograph taken by my best friend, Ray. It really captures the essence of the tallest building in the world… Those fireworks never fail to fascinate me. I’ve always loved fireworks; when I was younger, we used to watch them on New Year’s eve- or other random times when people decided to throw a party. So, for a firework lover, watching the Burj Khalifa fireworks was like handing over Willy Wonka’s factory to a kid with a sweet tooth. Bloody fantastic. 

Salam Alaikum! (That’s a greeting in Arabic).

It’s official… one of the best ways to celebrate New Year’s is in the desert. Last night/this morning was my second New Year in the desert. the first one consisted of a typical desert safari. Ever been on one?

Well, it’s basically a party in the chilly desert at night, in a Bedouin camp. There’s an enclosure surrounded by tents under which there are loads of cushions and really short tables to sit around; there’s a huge dance floor in the centre and many long tables along the sides for the food! Of course, camels are seated in the corner, happily resting and taking a poop while waiting to take the next person to sit on the large cushion strapped on their backs for a short walk on the cold sand. The empty spaces in the enclosure are dotted with a few traditional cooks, making local delicacies like the delicious  and warm syrup covered dumplings that melt in your mouth. 

The party really starts when the belly-dancer arrives. She enchants all those around her with her fluid movements, long hair blowing in the wind and hips swaying to the beautiful rhythms of Arabian music. The dance floor opens up to all, and the rest of the night passes by in the blink of an eye as the music consumes us and we lose ourselves in the sea of pulsating beats among the strangers. The only thing that links us the music that intoxicates out minds. 

This year, however, New Year’s was celebrated in the desert over the flames of a crackling bonfire and the glowing charcoal of a fiery barbecue pit, surrounded by family and friends. Loud music was played from the cars, blankets were spread over the cold sand, jokes were cracked, memories were recalled and reunions were made. We saw the brilliant fireworks show from the tallest building in the world, Burj Khalifa, and more fireworks from all the cities around us. The biting cold wind was locked out as a bubble of warmth from the flames and comradeship surrounded us. Apple flavoured smoke from the bubbling sheesha (hookah) swirled in intricate tendrils, as if painted in the wind from the brush and palette of a nostalgic Bedouin. The night passed in laughter and dance and we left behind, lingering in the night wind, a memory filled with happiness. 

I wish you all a very Happy New Year… May 2011 be filled with new experiences, love and all the bliss in the world! 

Kul Sana W’antum Tayyibeen. (May every year bring you happiness). 

Every place has a hangout. Not just any old hangout, but literally a place where you can go at ANY time of the day and find a bunch of teens/young adults partying away or just… hanging out. Out here, there are many such places, but there’s only one (in my opinion) where you can go and find drama at every nook and cranny! It’s called Al Qasba (translated: The Canal). 

I hear many stories about it… Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been there, but I never got sucked into the exciting world of the teenage Arab underdogs. Partially because I never went there with friends (if you’re alone, it’s wiser to stay away. Having friends from the inner-circles is always helpful) and also partially because… well… I’ve always gone there with either my mom or my grandmother. That’s like blasting a siren in the faces of the young toilers: “STAY AWAY!” So basically, it’s safe to say that I’m not part of any exciting underdog pack at Qasba. That’s where a LOT of the drama happens. However, that doesn’t mean I’m any further away from the drama itself. I get a lot of updates from different sources… juicy updates that I myself, being an Arab girl, find shocking. 

Turns out the world of the Middle Eastern teenagers is no different to that of teenagers everywhere else in the world. Of course, a lot of people immediately assume that Teenager+Middle East=Underprivileged Sob Stories. To all those people, I’d like to just let you know that we live just like everybody else. No, we do not ride camels on a daily basis. No, we do not live in tents. No, the girls do not stay locked up indoors out of the public eye. In fact, a lot of the girls out here are just normal girls… and some might just be more promiscuous than those back in the West. ;)

That brings me back to Qasba. Well, I’m going there tonight (once again, with my family… so don’t get too excited) and I’ll be sure to watch out for some action. It’s fairly easy to spot the packs in question… They seem to have an unwritten rule about their dress-code- especially the boys. It’s almost as if they all- all the male teens of the UAE- decided to gather at a convention and actually decide the uniform attire of a typical Arab B-Boy. I can just imagine the debates…

B-Boy 1:We need something that makes a statement… 

B-Boy 2: Something that will make people notice us… especially the chicks. 

B-Boy 1: Brothers! We must put our efforts together and think!

B-Boy 3: OOH! How about faux-hawks! 

B-Boy 1: Hmm… Maybe… 

B-Boy 2: NO NO! How about NEON PANTS!

B-Boy 1: Even better… NEON SKINNIES! With tight shirts! *Squeals*

B-Boy 4: But I want permanent sun-glasses!

B-Boy 5: I think our signature style should involve an unlimited display of our boxer booties. 

B-Boy 1: Alright alright! All your suggestions are valid… SO, we’ll use it all! 

B-Boys: YEAH! We’re pimpin’ dawg!

I just wish they could have hired some style-gurus at the convention… Their choice is NOT making the cut. I’m not being harsh… honestly. I’m just stating a GIRL’S opinion; after all, this was intended to appeal to the opposite gender. The thing is, some girls might like the look of a hot guy with an exaggerated swagger, sunglasses (at night), skin tight skinny jeans of the most ostentatious colour (e.g: neon green) halfway down their asses, only held up by a belt, and displaying supposedly classy boxers with playboy ears printed on them, skin tight tee that clashes horribly (e.g: neon pink), clown shoes (as I like to call them… but I think they’re usually Vans) in the most bizarre shades, palm trees on their heads (this is what I call it when a guy wants to have long hair AND a faux-hawk… NOT pretty) and, of course, random pieces of jewellery. Hey, if some girls find that becoming, you go ahead girl… Whatever floats your boats. 

I, however, see it like this:

A guy 

a)with an exaggerated swagger… like a freaking amoeba about to topple over

b)walking in darkness wearing sunglasses… Uh… No comment. He might just be blind.

c)donning a pair of skinnies so tight that I sometimes wonder where they stash the junk- if you know what I mean. They’re bright enough to blind the poor soul that looks at them directly and lowered down to pretty much below their asses, displaying boxer-clad booties that I REALLY do not want to look at. Look, if I wanted to see your underwear, I’d pants you. Do not force me to bear witness to your partial mooning! 

d)wearing clown-shoes with palm-trees added to further upset his balance.

e)with badly mis-matched jewellery- like a random skull earring or something.

=Poor Confuzzled Soul. 

I don’t do a double take because I find it oh-so-hot… no, I do a double take because I’m shit-scared that they’ll probably topple over any second- due to all the conflicting forces acting upon them- and crash into me like a neon snowball! Eventually, the initial fear gets replaced with an unimaginably strong urge to just pull the belt that holds it all together. I’m just evil like that. >=D

Basically, boys of the Middle East, please hold another convention to discuss damage control (all the poor girls who have lost hope in today’s youth. Oh, and the people who went blind) and, of course, come up with an outfit that does not make us want to pants you in public. Oh, and lose the sunglasses. 

Wow. Rant…