Oh, hello! Finally enjoying a lazy Saturday afternoon (successfully evaded an invitation to go to Wild Wadi with E & Al) so figured I'd post a much-needed catch-up entry.
Life rolls merrily along in the desert despite the gnawing, ever-encroaching fear of summer. And yes, it's already topping out around 100F during the day here, but no, that's not "summer." I haven't had the soles of any of my shoes start melting when they touch the pavement yet, which tells me we've still got a few weeks of sanity left.
Last night was one of the craziest, most fun nights I've had in Dubai. To get out of our typical going-out funk (pretentious clubs, magnums of Moet, the same 100 investment bankers/consultants/Eurotrashy ne'er-do-wells we see everywhere in Dubai) the girls and I planned a "Dirty Deira Pub Crawl" through the Deira neighborhood of "Old" (eg, dating back to the 1970s) Dubai.
The first stop of the crawl ended up being the last, however, because the Marco Polo Hotel's Chikka Grill - Dubai's premier Filipino nightclub - was so insanely fun. We had a slight hitch at the door, when I almost didn't get let in because my skirt was allegedly too short; upon entering and discovering loads of Filipinas showing far more leg than I, we realized the skirt policy was code for "you're a blonde white girl and we can't think of any good reason why you'd want to come here so we assume you're a prostitute and, as such, we don't want to let you in." Hilarious. Oh well - wasn't the first time I've been taken for a hooker in Dubai, won't be the last.
At any rate, once I demonstrated my complete lack of a Slavic accent for an array of different bouncers, we got in and the fun began. I have to say, it was so much fun to hang out at a place in Dubai that was completely unpretentious - or at least not pretentious in the ways I'm used to here. It was dark, it was divey, there was nary a bottle of ultrapremium vodka in sight, and the live band on stage was covering everything from Beyonce to The Mamas and The Papas. The people - 90% Filipino, 9.9% South Asian, .1% white - were just totally there to let loose and have fun. We danced like monkeys for 4 hours straight, and - MUCH TO MY GREAT CHAGRIN - the guys forced me + Dina + Al to enter an official dance-off which involved going on stage under the spotlights and demonstrating our moves to the chorus of "Low" by Flo Rider (Shawty had them apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur / The whole club was lookin' at her / She hit the floor (she hit the floor) next think I know / Shawty got low low low low low low low low), as interpreted by the all-Filipino house band... PLEASE IF YOU KNOW ME, TAKE A MOMENT TO THINK ABOUT THE HILARITY OF THIS SITUATION. THE ONLY APPROPRIATE RESPONSE IS TO WEEP WITH LAUGHTER.
Needless to say we didn't win or even place, but to our credit my British colleague Daz WON the men's dance-off against a competitive field of Flip & Pakistani guys, ensuring us free beer for the rest of the evening. When the club finally started to close up shop around 3 AM, we herded everyone into taxis and went to the nearby Moscow Hotel, whose much-heralded "Rasputin Club" had been the next stop on our original pub crawl itinerary. Sadly, the lights were on there as well, but judging by the aftermath it had been an equally rocking (if demographically different) evening - a must-do for the future.
The whole evening, we were all giddy about how fun it was to do something earnest and real in Dubai. There's so much posturing here - so much pretension and jadedness and judging and being judged - that to just go out and dance and smile and sing your heart out to corny covers of "Love Generation" was just - well, really great.
And with that... a few hours from now I'm getting picked up in the 7-series of a G-town alum who's director at a very successful private equity fund here, and we're going to have drinks at a 5-star hotel and talk about why he should poach me to come work for his fund, all under the guise (which I may or may not have perpetuated) of it being a date.
And so - not with a bang, but with a whimper - the "authentic/earnest" portion of my weekend draws to a close. ;)
