Tragic Tale of the Tomato Plant

One of the rarest books in Dubai is not Robin Moore's notorious bonkbuster but a tome known best among Jumeirah Janes of the Golden Era, when British expat wives could actually afford to live in spacious seaside villas, do nothing but shop and beautify all day, and employ half the subcontinent to wait upon them.

Gardening in the Gulf was published in 1990 but has been inexplicably out of print for years, despite Dubai's population boom. Now the local weather is cooling but the wider world is global warming, ones thoughts naturally turn to green stuff and gardening and becoming self-sufficient before the sea levels rise and the final volcanic tsunami apocalypse swallows us all. Unless we're camping in the Hajjars that day.

A few years ago one of the local newspapers had an inspirational feature on an Indian couple living in Sharjah who grew vegetables on their city-centre balcony. They used grow-bags, and had huge great harvests of tomatoes and peppers and so on, all thanks to the 365 days of heat and sunshine enjoyed in the sandlands.

By a marvellous coincidence, on a trip to the Dubai Garden Centre not long after, there was one tiny tomato plant left for sale by the till. At that time the garden centre was new,and the only one in Dubai, except for that CITES black hole of Al Hudaiba Street in Satwa. "Plant Street" with pink bougainvillea outside every shop and caged, half-dead endangered wildlife on sale within. If they ever find a living Tasmanian Tiger again, it won't be deep in the Antipodean rainforest. It will be in Satwa.

Anyway with great pride, the new leafy acquisition was set on a sunny corner of the verandah outside Cell Block G. It promised to be the start of a whole new revolution of vegetable growing - a mini market garden that would make Spinneys defunct and bring The Good Life to 21st century Jebel Ali.

But in just a couple of days the tomato plant had developed a score of rots, blights, cankers, diseases and pests. This in itself was something of a miracle, given there were no other plants within about ten metres, save for three palms with their leaves still trussed up. The small solanum struggled, and withered, and died. And with it died all further dreams of self-sufficiency in the Southern Gulf.

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Heartbroken Hotels

Dubai hotel occupancy has reportedly plummeted this summer. Which is sad, because as any long-term sandlander knows, the best time in the Gulf is summer. It's a daily wrestling match with the searing white tiger of the Gulf sun amid blanket-thick humidity, while one enjoys the sight of newcomers and tourists wilting and collapsing all around. But the disappointing absence of the latter this year has led Kipp Report to wonder if the emirate has finally been "rumbled"?

"General opinion suggests the situation could be a combination of factors, some external - like the globally depressed economic scenario and higher cost of flights thanks to spiralling oil prices - but there is a nagging suspicion the city has been rumbled: strained infrastructure, choked roads, few transport options, ugly cranes and little to do beyond malls."

And as Kipp notes, Thomson Holidays - the top ranked UK travel agency website - only recommends one destination in the Middle East...

...Israel.


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Five Dubai delights

As the time of year comes to pack the BOAC bag and set off on another trip back to colder climes, the thought of what will be most sorely missed from the sandlands comes to mind.

Among Dubai's many attractions, five things stand out:

1. Permanent, brilliant sunshine

2. Shops open until at least 10pm every night

3. Being able to drive at 140kmph with relative impunity

4. Cheap, ubiquitous, excellent Lebanese food

5. Alphonso mangoes

Perhaps there are others. But these five delights are those that will cause the greatest pangs while sitting under a grey, drizzling sky munching a wormy apple, with the sandwich shop closed by 5.30pm and twelve points on ones licence for doing 31mph in a 30mph zone.

A Dubai fairytale

"Mysteriously veiled women flit below magnificent crescent-shaped archways while men in long white flowing robes sit by the side of the canal drinking Arabic coffee."

When exactly did this Sydney Morning Herald journalist visit Dubai? Their Souk it up article is dated 1st July 2007 but there is no way even a mad dog or an Englishman is enjoying al fresco hot beverages at this time of year.

Though perhaps heatstroke is the kindest explanation for such a fevered advertorial storycake. The Madinat is indeed scenic with its artificial canals and faux windtowers. But "men in long white flowing robes" drinking coffee in 100 degree heat? Not unless Jumeirah International has started scattering actors around its properties for extra Arabian authenticity. "Mysteriously veiled" women "flitting" about? Come on. This is barely a step away from the harem scene in Carry On Up My Camel.

"I throw open the veranda doors..."

And crank up the air conditioning?

"Except for the occasional golf buggy that zips along the path, I could easily imagine sailing through an Arabian Nights fairytale with Sinbad the Sailor."

The keyword here is "fairytale".

"The writer was a guest of Emirates and Madinat Jumeirah."

Say no more.

Tropical Storm Ahmed

When the ceiling of Spinneys Umm Seqeim suddenly began rattling violently, customers throughout the aisles stopped dead in their shopping tracks. Was Iran invading? Was the apocalypse nigh?

Happily or sadly it turned out to be just rain, but huge, heavy tropical rain hammering onto the roof in great fat drops. It sounded more like hail.

Sheikh Zayed Road was a dark mirror of golden headlight streaks shining through the rain mist thrown up behind vehicles, even more filthy than the rain itself. Rain in the sandlands requires gallons of windscreen wiper water to wash it off continually, as the heat of the day instantly dries it to a dusty film after each sweep. As it is pushed to the side of the window, it appears almost milky with dirt.

But the lovely thing about rain is a slight reduction in tailgating: drivers extend their "safe stopping distance" from two inches to about two foot.

Storms in other parts of the world get names, so given Dubai has so few it is time to start naming them alphabetically, making this one Tropical Storm Ahmed. The next one, in tribute to Dubai's multicultural society, will be Cyclone Babu.

Dubai paradoxes

The expectations are often the reverse of reality.

1. Dubai is roasting hot
Take an overcoat: most of the time is actually spent freezing to death in glacially over-airconditioned offices and shopping malls.

2. Women have to cover
Nowhere else in the world do women wear sluttier clothes even in the workplace than in Dubai: skin tight jeans, plunging lycra, shoes that the wildest London fetish club would baulk at.

3. People speak Arabic
Hardly anyone speaks Arabic: as witnessed tonight by a poor, presumably diabetic Arab man struggling to communicate in English with a Filipina as to whether there was sugar in an (English labelled) soft drink.

4. A dry, desert city
Humidity reaches nearly 100% in Dubai in summer because it is coastal, and the condensation actually irrigates the desert, so the dunes are covered with clumps of plants. In interior and mountainous regions it is much drier, and the desert is barer.

Winter Sandyland

Traffic roars, are you listening?
In the sun, sweat is glistening
A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight
Walking in a winter sandyland

When it sands, ain't it dusty
And the camel's getting lusty
We'll frolic and play
the Bedouin way
Walking in a winter sandyland

In the desert we can build a sandman
Then pretend that he is Mullah Brown
He'll say: Are you married?
We'll say: No man
He'll say: Then goodbye you're going down

Later on we'll perspire
as we sweat by the fire
Of the hot desert sun
It's such sandy fun
Walking in a winter sandyland
Walking in a winter sandyland

Skiing in the rain

Dubai cannot cope with rain. It is a city built only for desert, with flat roofs, limited drainage and few umbrellas for sale. A small amount of water turns highways into slimy, skidding death traps. A downpour floods roads, pavements and car parks, creating gleaming lakes in the desert that last several days before slowly sinking away.

Rain is also not part of Dubai's Great Tourism Plan. It forced Trevor, a visiting customs official, to swap his plans of sun for snow. As the chairlift ascends in the hermetically sealed snow tube, he laments his lack of tan.

"It's not what you expect in the bloody desert is it? Seven days of rain. I definitely wasn't planning on a skiing holiday."

Through his job, Trevor has more knowledge of the capacity of various bodily orifices than any gynaecologist or obstetrician. It will be difficult to regard cylindrical shampoo bottles in the same light ever again, after his cheerily recounted work anecdotes.

One thing in Dubai is always improved by rain. The blue dome of Persia Court at Ibn Battuta mall, which grows duller over time with layers of thick sand and dust, is once again a shining, dazzling azure.

Sweaty September

September is the stickiest month, breeding damp patches out of limp clothes, mixing humidity and sweat, and generally making everyone's life a clammy nightmare. So it was no surprise to note that humidity reached 98% the other day.

Such was the sticky moistness of the evening that it forced a planned al fresco drink with a visiting associate into the glacially dry interior caverns of Jebel Ali Cloob. The associate, most definitely and categorically not a member of MI6, and having no intention whatsoever to photograph the villas of various arms dealers in neighbouring emirates, warmed up by downing a traditional Arabian feast of kebabs, hummous and grilled flesh.

The great thing about Arabic food is that it always suits every occasion. Every meal comes with cold mezze and salads, perfect for summer, as well as hot grilled meat and vegetables, ideal for the wintry confines of the Cloob. You can eat what you want, there is always plenty left over.

And while Arabic food can seem a bit plain - no chilli is generally used, nor exotic truffle oils or essence of peacock tears and so on - it is the only thing ones stomach craves after a day's fasting. Good, plain, basic nourishment. With Ramadan nigh, let's hope the Indian mutton ban ends soon, lest the UAE runs out of of tasty lamb to grill.

Blowing hot and cold

When first arriving in Dubai in July 2001 and staying in the glorious concrete splendour of Golden Sands 5, the bathroom taps were something of a puzzle. They were wrongly labelled for a start. The hot (marked cold) got piping hot, but never scalding. No matter, since it was July, and boiling showers weren't particularly appealing.

It was several weeks before one of the hotel staff pointed out the water heater switch.

In fact the taps weren't reversed at all. The hot water was actually sitting in some form of insulated tank, not being heated. The cold water was sitting in some unsheltered rooftop tank, exposed to 50c heat day in day out, and was extremely hot.

Most buildings in Dubai are like this. The "switchover" - when you stop using the water heater, and let the taps swap their roles, is the definitive sign that summer has arrived. There can be an uneasy period in Spring and Autumn where the cold is not quite warm enough, but if you put the heater on, the cold is too warm to dilute the hot.

It's not mandatory in UAE construction law to build sheltered water tanks, so this uniquely Gulf phenomenon is likely to continue for some time to come.

Sweaty, thirsty summer ahead

Can the UAE's infrastructure no longer cope with the hordes of people arriving by the hour? First we learn that taps have run dry at the "upper class" (if you swap Buckingham Palace for a Bovis home, maybe) Arabian Ranches:

Mother of two, Mariyam Rezvan, who lives in the Al Saheel area of the sprawling Ranches, said she had no running water for five days.

"I'm sending my children to Mall of the Emirates to use the toilet, and to a friend's house so they can shower," Rezvan who owns a Dh2.3 million villa said.

And now Sharjah appears to be running out of electricity:

Sharjah: People living in Maysaloon are suffering from recurring power cuts and parents are using their air-conditioned cars as temporary homes to help their children beat the heat.

The electricity keeps getting cut off for very long periods since the past year, said a resident. "We wet the floor tiles and lie on them to keep cool during the hot afternoons," said C. Surendran, living on Street 25.

Time to start hoarding candles and bottled water.

Lakes and Springs finally a reality

They spend weeks moaning about their swimming pools being closed, and the minute a beautiful, natural lake arrives right on their doorstep, New Dubaians still can't stop whingeing:

Dubai: Residents of some of Dubai's newest developments reacted angrily after their homes were flooded following yesterday's heavy downpour.

Some people are just never satisfied. They should be thankful that Emaar isn't charging extra for the privilege of having this lovely water feature.

Outside Cell Block G the rain-lake is so extensive that windsurfing and other water sports are taking place, with one resident catching a 25lb turbot earlier in the day.

Hot and bothered

With all the hoo-hah, hypocrisy and huff going on in our midst, it is important not to overlook a real tragedy that took place this week in Sharjah. The poor Bermudan cricket team has been completely annihilated by the UAE's men-in-white. Delving a little deeper into the reports unearths why:

"When we got out I think for both of us it was sheer exhaustion. It was pretty hot out there."

Oh dear. It's not "pretty hot" in the sandlands at the moment, in fact it's not even hot. It is midwinter Arctic for anyone acclimatised to the actual Gulf summer - which presumably includes the Emirates eleven. The poor players from chilly Bermuda may be fainting as the mercury nudges past seventy fahrenheit, but the average UAEan is buttoning up their fur-lined greatcoat and blowing on their icy fingers.

As a courtesy to the poor vanquished guests, perhaps the final game could be relocated to the new indoor ski slope?

Weathering the storms of stupidity

"Well, it's turned into a warm, sunny day here in Dubai..."

What kind of cretinous radio weather commentary from the nether regions of infernal hell is this? Even primeval microbes living in steaming, bubbling lava would regard 44c as pretty bloody boiling.

And "it's turned into..." - what the flaming, searing hell is this supposed to mean? What, was it pissing down with rain earlier in morning, with black, overcast skies, sub-zero temperatures and ice-bergs washing up on Jumeirah beach?

Dubai radio DJs are renowned for their cretinry, but this surpasses even their platinum standards of human idiocy.

Hazed and dazed

A thick white dust has been hanging in the air for the past couple of days, turning the air opaque and making it very uncomfortable to breathe outside.

No wonder that Guantanamo inmates are flocking to the fresher, air-conditioned splendour of nearby Ibn Battuta mall. One kilometre long and generously wide, it even attracts sweat-band sporting powerwalkers who perform a sort of human slalom around groups of abayas, sunburnt tourists, and labourers.

The biggest obstacle for these mall-athletes is in the India zone, where a bizarre life-sized elephant has been installed half blocking the main hallway. The rest of the hallway is filled 24/7 with Indian people crowding round it and taking photos. What exactly is special or exciting about this elephant? Is it some sort of god?

A far more impressive artefact is currently on display in one of the handicraft boutiques: a ten-foot-high antique coffeepot, claimed by the shopowners to be the biggest in the world. Recently acquired from a palace in Isfahan - presumably to make space for a stockpile of yellowcake - it has a price tag of $250,000.

Mist of JOY!

Mist of JOY! JOY with MISTY Mountains and Springs!
Scroll around in the lush GREEN Mountains!
Shower and get wet in the Chilly Weather!

These lines introducing an advertorial on Oman's Khareef season are oddly beautiful. The Khareef is a rain-bearing fog that descends on Salalah every summer, bringing waterfalls and mist, and greening the hills and valleys.

"Chilly Weather!" may seem a strange reference in a tourism brochure, given most holidaymakers seek sunshine or good snow for skiing. But in the arid, scorching, clammy Gulf, with the mercury stuck in the mid-forties, cool rain is a kind of fantasy. No wonder over 200,000 tourists visited Salalah for last year's Khareef. Standing in the sprinklers in dusty Dubai is a poor substitute.

The silence of light

Looking into the heart of light, the silence, on a Gulf midsummer midday: few birds sing, the crickets are still. The intense heat beats everything into a limp, dank stupor. The hum of air-conditioning, the whir of a fan, the endless drone of traffic down Sheikh Zayed road: even these are blurred and muted under the glare of the sun.

White-collar workers walk swiftly from their cars into cool buildings, never lingering, never chatting. Blue-boilersuits on the roadside keep still in the shadow of a small tree, or in the thin strip of shade against a dusty wall. At this latitude at this time of year, the sun is directly overhead for many hours, and there is little cover to be found.

And now, thanks to the compassion of labour minister Dr Al Ka'abi, even the clank of scaffolding and churning cement trucks will be silent. After a long battle with construction companies, outdoor labourers will be allowed to rest between 12.30pm and 4.30pm during July and August.

"Shaikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al Nahyan disliked the sight of workers labouring under the hot sun. It's not in our religion to allow this, nor in our culture," Al Ka'abi said.

The minister said the decision has been formulated after discussions with foreign and local specialists and interest groups. He said companies he consulted were not in favour of having a four-hour break.

Dr Al Ka'abi says the labour ministry unfortunately has no statistics on the numbers of labourers injured or dead through heat stroke and exhaustion:

"But we know there are many."

Powers of darkness

Dubai swelters as never before - or at least since the pre-oil days - as a cable fire knocks out power to most of the Emirate. Businesses shut down around lunchtime, people head for whichever shopping malls are rumoured to still have air-conditioning, and there are reports of "erratic driving" on the roads.

So really, no change to a normal Dubai day.

And here at Cell Block G, things are as cool as a cliched cucumber. Electrons stream happily through all the sockets, the A/C roars and this week's food rations are keeping nice and cool in the fridge. If only electricity could be bottled and sold, one could run quite a profitable little racket.

Nuclear War declared on UAE weather

"I've been in the Emirates for over a decade now, and I've noticed that it's always about this time of year that people start falling out with each other," remarks Purvis, a veteran hack. "The summer is starting to arrive, and it affects people's tempers."

But perhaps not this summer. In what must be the most bizarre experiment since camel-milk chocolate and date "champagne", UAE scientists are detonating hydrogen bombs to create rainfall. They also claim to have brought temperatures down below the highs forecast:

ABU DHABI — For the first time in the history of the region, artificial rain was experimented in the UAE last week. Using the latest technology, the rainmaking effort - which continued for four days - brought moderate rain, mainly in the Abu Dhabi emirate and the Northern Emirates, an official source said. The artificial rainfall helped alleviate the dry spells that have lasted for days.

The technique is apparently eco-friendly, and doesn't require any uranium or plutonium, just a bit of electricity to split water molecules. The idea of a turning dessicated datepalms into lush rainforest is wonderful. But will the camels like it?

Hello! and goodbye

It was a dark and stormy night last night, with the feral cats abandoning their usual turf wars and shivering under the palm trees.

But a catfight is in full force within Dubai's enduringly substandard magazine sector, with ITP and CPI drawing their claws over celebrity titles.

Just over a year ago, Incredibly Terrible Publications launched the ghastly Ahlan!, which according to the official press release was:

"...based on the hugely successful style of OK! magazine, and has been produced in association with the famous British weekly title."

Now Crap Publications Inc has announced it will launch an official franchise of OK! in the UAE next month.

"Content will reflect the national and international celebrity market across the Middle East, with about 30% being sourced from sister OK! publications."

According to sources - in this case Lola LebCan and general hack gossip - the ITP/OK! deal was never formalised. When the OK! franchise came up, ITP were pissing around and playing hardball: possibly because they already had the benefits of association with OK without the costs of an official franchise. Meanwhile, CPI stepped in and grabbed it.