Beware of Driving Surprises

This is what it says on road signs on the way to Abu Dhabi. At first it seemed meaningless but lots of things don't translate well from Arabic and I've now got a pretty good idea what they're getting at. Expect the unexpected and drive in a state of complete paranoia. Never assume that a fellow driver will do the rational thing.

The standard of driving here is abysmal. Actually, that's not true. It's not that good. I can't recall a single uneventful journey where I haven't marvelled at some act of stupidity. For example, the standard response to fog and sandstorms, which occur quite frequently at this time of year, seems to be to put on the hazard warning lights and speed up. A Toyota Landcruiser or similarly large 4x4 approaching from behind, lights flashing, at 160 km/h or more is unnerving. Today, on my regular 200 mile trip to Abu Dhabi I saw 3 crashes, a stationary car pointing the wrong way on the edge of the fast lane and someone in a Lexus drove drove through the tiny gap between me and the guy in the next lane at about 200 km/h (I had to swerve into the next lane).

The police behaviour is also strange. I regularly overtake them at 160km/h on the way to Abu Dhabi, as does everyone else, and this seems to be fine. They don't pull you over for anything as far as I can see but just write down your number. I received a 100 Dhs fine on our first day here for 'not staying in lane when compulsory'. I've no idea what this was. You only discover the tickets when you renew the registration or check the website (try it yourself at the Dubai Police website, registration number F 56259).

Anyway, I'm still in one piece and, in a perverse way, actually generally enjoying driving here. Once you get used to it, and accept that you may die at any minute, it can be quite exhilarating.

I spotted an advert yesterday from a university offering various courses in Arabic, Islamic Studies etc., but I was particularly taken with 'Training in English for ill-literates'.

Lucy stood underneath the enormous guitars at the (very average) Hard Rock Cafe

View from the back of our villa. It's not far to the desert!

System change

I'll try and keep today's update brief (if only to avoid editorial input from my wife who doesn't like my long winded wittering).

I drove over to the Driving Licence centre this morning - no mean feat of navigation I can tell you - confident that I now had all the appropriate pieces of paper and ticks in boxes. I was even wondering about the logistics of collecting the new car. Such optimism, as you will no doubt have guessed, was sadly misguided. I handed in my forms at Reception. 'Go see Manager' he said. Never a good sign.

The Manager was amiable enough but explained that it's only possible for them to issue a Dubai driving licence to a Dubai resident on an Abu Dhabi visa if their visa says Manager. Mine has the lowly designation of Engineer. If I'd come a month ago, he helpfully informed me, it 'would have been no problem, but system change'. And that was that. He was very sorry, but he couldn't help. 'Go Abu Dhabi' he said, 'get licence there. No problem'. If only he knew ...

When I got back I spoke to our Agent in Abu Dhabi. 'There may be a way' he said. 'I know a man in the Dubai Traffic Department. Maybe you need to give him present'. What kind of present I wondered, a bottle of whiskey perhaps? 'Perhaps 4,000 dirhams' he said (nearly £600!) 'or you wait 6 weeks maybe for Government eye test...'

The driving licence saga continues

I had planned to write about the experience of driving in the UAE, but, after today, that will have to wait for another time. Those who have been following my antics (is anybody reading this? Please leave comments) will know that I've been having problems getting a driving licence - a combination of visa and colour blindness difficulties.

But first, a note about the weekend. On Thursday (the new Friday of course) we had our first night out without kids thanks to the wonderful maid Sriyanie. I took Janet to a restaurant the Dubai Explorer described as 'fit for a king'. It was smart but the food was absolute rubbish.

On Friday afternoon we went to the Jumeirah Beach Park - a public park with a small admission charge and reasonable facilities. It was busy, but not packed. The sand is lovely (although Max hates it with a vengenance and was only happy when on the sunbed or in the sea), the weather a sunny 38 degrees, a slight breeze and the water is clear and warm. There is a slight fly in the ointment. Hoardes of men (mostly Indian and Pakistani I think) dressed as if they have just come off the street, walk up and down the shore staring at women as if they had never seen a woman, never mind one in a bikini.

Anyway, today started off well enough. Today is the second day of Ramadan and the roads were quieter than usual getting in to work. I saw the curious sight of a group of camels at the Nad Al Sheba racecourse out doing early morning 'gallops' which put me in a good mood.

I called Ayesha to see what progress she had made with my driving licence. Precisely none. The upshot was that I was going to have to go and do it all myself. I drove over to see her and collected all the documentation. She gave me hopeless directions so I decided to get a cab.

I had a terrible feeling of deja vu as I entered the building. The man on reception gave me a form. I asked if I could have a pen. 'No - go there', he said, pointing at a wall. After a few minutes walking all over the building I went back and then he said 'go typing'. I should have guessed of course and went off to find the typing pool and stump up yet another typing fee. The 'typist' was an incredibly rude local (who hand wrote the form) who was shouting loudly at the poor Indian in front of me. At least you don't get treated like dirt when you have a white face in this country and he completed the form without incident.

Back to Reception. 'You have eye test?' 'No - can I do it here?'. 'No, you go to Optician and come back'. OK, now I played my trump card. 'Can I speak to Major Yousuf Logani' I asked, as directed by Ayesha. [BTW, Janet has just walked in and said this is incredibly boring. It may well be, but that's just how it is.Feel free to stop reading if you're losing the will to live. After all lets face it, actually experiencing the whole thing took less time to complete than it does to read it!!!!!And you've got to keep reminding yourself that this whole thing is nothing more than a product of Mark's own making. If he'd gone through the proper channels in the first place instead of trying to cheat the system he would have had a driving licence by now, but it's far more atractive to try and beat them at their own game. I bet he'll edit this bit out! OK, Janet,I'll leave it in].

To cut a long story short, for Janet's benefit, they didn't know the Major and so I had to go and find an optician. I passed the test - she didn't bother with the colour bit, even though I had memorised the numbers, and ticked it as 'Fit'. I tried to call Janet to tell her but my phone had fallen out in the taxi. By now, he was in Traffic Hell, or Bur Dubai as they call it here, and he didn't get back until over an hour and a half later. By the time I'd got back to the Police Department they'd closed (shorter hours during Ramadan). I'll be back there again tomorrow morning for another dose...

A good Madam

It's official. Janet is a good Madam. This glowing recommendation comes directly from our Sri Lankan maid, Siranie (who has worked for a few Madams in her time and apparently knows a good one when she sees one). I am 'Sir' or 'Boss'. Don't laugh - it's not meant to be ironic.

Siranie (spelling is almost certainly wrong) started full time this week and has been great. She arrives at eight and leaves at four. The house is clean and tidy, the laundry baskets are empty, ironed shirts are in the wardrobes, she's good with the kids and she's going to babysit once per week. The kids like her and vice versa. Long may it continue.

The rest of the news in brief (since I have to get up at 4.30 in the morning to catch a helicopter, as you do, from Abu Dhabi to 2 miles from the Iranian border in the Gulf). At the risk of worrying my mother, I found out yesterday that the (French) rig that I'm visiting was struck by a (French) Exocet missile during the last Iran/Iraq war. And we're worrying about slips, trips and falls ...

Anyway, the kids have started their new school and it seems good. Ben in particular is really enjoying it - he didn't want to come home yesterday.

Lucy is going to ballet, drama classes and Rainbows.

Janet has a posh friend in Jumeirah and officially doesn't have HIV.

I got my no objection letter for a booze licence from the Abu Dhabi police and also discovered a Duty Free shop in Abu Dhabi (30% cheaper than the Dubai off licences). The fridge is finally full of sauvignon blanc and cold lager.

Still haven't got a driving licence ...

You can take the man out of Yorkshire ...

When you move in to a villa in this area a whole load of people start knocking at your door – ‘Sir, you want housemaid?’, ‘water?’, ‘gas?’, ‘DVDs?’, you name it). One of them was a gardener who offered to sort out the garden for 250 Dirhams (less than £40) per month. I agreed and initially was really impressed at how often he came and how much better the garden looked. Our conversations were brief – his English being limited to ‘open gate’, ‘water’ and ‘give money’.

He did a good job and the garden looks much better (although the water costs significantly more than him). It’s a simple garden and now there is nothing to do except cut the grass once a week and a tiny bit of weeding. He doesn’t do these things unless I ask him. Instead, he prefers to stand in the shade and hose down the patio. So I decided to sack him and do it myself. Janet found an advert for a cheap second hand lawn mower. I called the guy (who confirmed my theory about not being able to go anywhere in the world without meeting a scouser) and asked for directions. He lived on the other side of the city but we decided to go since it was opposite a place called Dragon Mart, which Janet had heard of as a cheap place to get bedding.

I got the mower (he lived in a huge mansion with pool and had paved the garden since the water bill was crippling) and then we queued to get into Dragon Mart.

Dubai is a city in love with shopping. Apparently there are 21 shopping malls. The latest one, the Mall of the Emirates (the one with the ski slope) makes the Trafford Centre look small and is the biggest outside the States. As if this wasn’t enough, as part of building the world’s tallest building, they’re also building the world’s largest shopping mall.

Dragon Mart is shaped liked one of those Chinese dragons that you see dancing down the street at Chinese new year. It is truly enormous – over a kilometre long – and apparently has over 3,000 shops. I famously used to think that eBay was the place to go to get anything you want, cheaply. I’ve changed my mind. This place is cheap, real cheap, and there is an amazing variety of things on sale (airport seats, 5ft diameter grinding wheels, quad bikes, electronics, clothes, shoes, ‘Gucci’ handbags, furniture, toys …). There must be 30 shops selling nothing but massage chairs. I’ve always coveted one of these after trying one priced at £3k at the Ideal Home Show. The Chinese equivalent here is £500 and I’m very, very tempted. Janet liked it and the kids had a great time trying them out.

This morning the gardener came and started watering the grass and patio – a complete waste of time in this heat and unnecessary since we have the automatic system. I went out, turned off the water, and explained that I would be doing the gardening from now on and that I wouldn’t need him to come back. He was upset (‘work not good?’) but I explained there wasn’t much to do and I would do it myself. He then turned the water back on and started to wash my car as if trying to prove that he did have a use. Again I stopped him. He called his boss who speaks English. He came round and I paid him off. He looked at me as if I was mad doing my own gardening (people round here just don’t). ‘You not got job already?’, he asked.

Mixed fortunes

Things started to look up a bit today. First of all we've employed a maid - again this could be the subject of a long article in itself but I haven't got the energy to explain the trials and tribulations. We interviewed her, or rather her husband as her English is a bit lacking, on the recommendation of a woman Janet has met here. She doesn't want to live in but will do 8 'til 4, 5 days a week - this for the kind of money even McDonalds would struggle to get away with. She's also going to babysit one night a week so that will be a big boon. She starts next week.

Then I got a call from the car saleswoman. 'Bring all the documents for the driving licence to my office', she said, 'I have a cousin in the Traffic Department. He will collect your papers and process the licence tomorrow'. No need to worry about the colour blindness test now, which is a bit of a shame because I've been busy for the past couple of days memorising the numbers used in the test (many thanks to Jim York for the info!).

The kids school is located close to the world's only (self-proclaimed) 7 star hotel - the Burj Al Arab - the one that looks like a sail (and where we had the world's most expensive cup of tea at £30). It is a bit of a pain to get to and it hasn't been helped by the unseasonal weather - very foggy, and a huge sandstorm that was quite scary to be driving in. Dubai driving is legendary and the UAE is right up there with the highest fatality rates in the world.

Janet has been finding the trip hard and the kids have been spending a long time in the car. There is another school, Dubai British School, within walking distance of our villa. It had no vacancies last year but Janet called them in desperation and now they have space. We went round it yesterday and it is obviously a very good (school.ae). Subject to them passing the assessment tomorrow (by no means certain as Ben can be quite stubborn when it comes to doing what people ask him), they are going to start there next week. It means another set of school uniform, and loss of deposits to Wellington School, but it should make life easier in the mornings.

Today I carefully filled in the forms and arranged the multitude of paper and photos (and 160 Dhs) needed for a liquor licence. Ben and I went over to the branch of MMI in the Mall of the Emirates to try and get some wine (which has now run out and we're down to 6 cans of beer). This is a muslim country and going into one of these shops doesn't feel right - a bit like going into an adult shop in England (no windows, all very discreet). Anyway, needs must. The Abu Dhabi visa thing, however, thwarted the attempt. 'Sir, you need a letter of No Objection from the Abu Dhabi police'. Deep joy. How on earth do I get that? Another brush with bureaucracy in prospect. In the meantime I'm going to have to beg my colleague Graham to get it for me again or do the 'booze run' to a dodgy unlicensed place in Ajman, an hours drive north. The only worry with this is if the police stop you - transporting alcohol is illegal and you have to go through Sharjah which is both dry and strict. If I suddenly disappear for a month with no contact then you'll probably be able to guess what happened ...

Brushes with bureaucracy

All had been going very well on the red tape front. I have the book of the same name and our sponsor in Abu Dhabi - everyone who is not a national Emirati needs a sponsor - provides a Public Relations Officer called Aboobacker to help out with visas and the like. Then we decided to buy a car...

Up to now we've been renting 2 cars. One is a nasty old Mazda 6 which I took because I was in a hurry and the other is a lovely brand new 3.7L Jeep Cherokee (guess which one Janet has?). Anyway, this is clearly a waste of money so I started to look for a car for Janet. Her friend in Ormskirk has a Chrysler Grand Voyager so this is what she'd have. I was a bit nervous since these are pretty expensive in the UK - a quick look at the Fords of Winsford website revealed that am ordinary 3 year old one costs around £16k. However, a quick look around here showed that they are really cheap. A new one with leather seats is around £15k and a one year old model can be had for less than 10. We went to see one at the Al Futtaim 'Lady' Garage near the airport. Once there, other cars caught the eye. One was a Toyota Fortuner, a poor mans Landcruiser, a big 4.0L V8 4x4 at about £14k. However, it only had a lap belt in the middle so was quickly dismissed. The fully covered saleswoman, Ayesha, then suggested a newish, low mileage, black Dodge Durango. This so-called 'mid-sized SUV' is the biggest car I have ever driven. For my brother-in-law Tim's benefit, it has a 5.7L HEMI V8 engine developing 335 BHP. It is a pretty average car for the Dubai school run. Fully expecting it to be outrageously expensive, I was surprised when she said we could have it for 64,000 Dirhams - about £9,300. I paid a deposit for registration and she gave me a list of documents they would need (copy of passport, residence visa, employment contract, tenancy agreement, electricity bill - and this is for a cash sale! - and driving licence).

I got the Red Tape guide out to see what I need for a driving licence. Things are complicated by our visas being from Abu Dhabi and living in Dubai (various forms in Arabic needed) but it seemed straightforward as a UK licence can simply be converted once you have paid a load of fees - more about 'tax free living' in a later post I imagine. One thing that you do need is an eye test and this can be done at any approved optician. I turned up at the local one, paid the 25 Dirhams and thought it would be a breeze. Then he pulled out the colour blindness charts. The first one was easy - a number 12. Then he turned the page and there were two sets of random dots. 'It's 3, Daddy' said Lucy helpfully. Confidently, I said 'that one's 3'. It wasn't and the game was up. He marked the form as 'Unfit'. Colleagues at work hadn't heard of the colour test - it seems to be new - but were confident it wouldn't be a problem ('no-one asked me for mine' etc.).

I decided to risk it, left work early and went to the Police Station in Barsha at 2.45. They close at 2.30. Next day, I was first in the queue at 7.30, got the form and took it off to get typed into Arabic for the usual modest fee. 'No', he said, 'you are Abu Dhabi resident and have to go to Deira with letter from sponsor' (which I have). Since I then had to go to Abu Dhabi for a meeting, and it takes about 2 years to get to Deira in rush hour, I didn't go.

Later that night I spoke to Gareth, who had just been through the car process. 'I think you have to do it in Abu Dhabi' he said. 'It's easy - no colour test'. As I'm finding out, however, processes and procedures change from one sunny day to the next (don't get me started on getting a medical for the visa) and now there is a colour test in Abu Dhabi, using the same book as Dubai which I promptly failed. At least this time, thanks to Lucy, I got the first two right. 'Is it a problem' I asked the tester hopefully. 'It is problem for you' came the understated reply.

(This is turning into a long winded rant, but I need to get it off my chest now)

So, I go and queue up again (another recurring theme - one day I'll tell the story of the queues at the port to get our stuff and how Ben saved the day, but it's getting late and have to be up at 5.30 to get the kids to school at 7.45). They don't know what to do with me - 'go see the Captain', 'you need to speak to Mohammed', 'Mr Yousuf will help you' ... Surely, I can't be the only colour blind person in the UAE?

Mr Yousuf, in common with the rest of bored locals doing boring jobs, hasn't heard about customer friendliness. They all seem to wait for a big queue to form and then walk off. A local may then breeze up and push past the lot of you. Anyway, 'go to Ministry of Health, you know, behind Najda Street' he said and gave me another form in Arabic which probably said 'Do not give this man a driving licence'. The taxi driver and several people in the locality had no idea where it was. I finally arrived, a bit frazzled, at closing time but was given a letter to take the Government hospital in Mafraq to determine my fitness to drive. This was to include tests of upper and lower limb strength and a complete medical (including date of onset of disability). Mafraq Hospital, I now know, is almost an hours drive out into the desert. I got there and was told to make an appointment. 'When will it be', I asked the (completely covered) woman. 'It is not urgent' she said. 'If you are lucky 4 to 6 weeks'. Deflated, I drove back the 100 miles to Dubai, got stuck in the inevitable weekend rush hour, and got grief from Janet for being back late as if I'd been down the pub or the like.

The weekend passed. On Sunday (weekend is Friday and Saturday here now) I went to see Aboobacker in Abu Dhabi again. He didn't know what to do but has put me onto his boss, a local, to make some calls and speak to some people. I still haven't heard from him.

Today, Ayesha called to see if I still want the car. I explained the situation. 'No problem' she said, 'I know people in the Police Department and will sort it for you'. It's clear that there are different rules for Arabs - fair enough, it is their country - but she hasn't got back to me. So, I'm still stuck in the dirty old Mazda 6. My next ruse is to get Janet to take the test and memorise the numbers in the random coloured dots that I see. I'll keep you posted...

It's not all bad, and I don't want to give that impression. The pic below is of the pool (nicely chilled!) a couple of streets away from us - this is included in the Dubai equivalent of Council Tax.

September 11th

Not sure where to start with this - so much has happened in the 3 weeks since we arrived in Dubai. I've thought of writing a diary but I never seem to get round to it. I thought a few random rambles might be more interesting - but you never know.

I've just realised what the date is. It's significance for us is that today is Ben's first day at Wellington School (www.wellingtoninternationalschool.com). Janet had a few tears last night - 'I don't want my baby to go to school'. He's not a baby any more and I think he's going to love the school.