‘Cabin crew, prepare for landing.’
Prepare for landing. In Dubai; my new home. I mean, I still couldn’t believe it. There definitely must have been some mix up at the visa office as how Dubai was permitting a girl from Motherwell – sometimes fondly referred to as Murderwell – to move to the golden grounds of one of the wealthiest playgrounds in the world was beyond me.
I was actually still half-expecting to be tackled to the floor by border control police as I stepped off the plane and to be honest, I wouldn’t blame them. Dressed head to toe in Primark, I doubted I fit in with their usual clientele. Yet, as I looked out of the window, drinking in the standout figure of the Burj, the sand dunes glittering like precious stones around her, I knew I would be fine. In fact, as I stared out of the window, the only thing I felt was the urge to break out into Broadway style song but instead of exclaiming ‘New York, New York,’ I would exclaim ‘Dubai, Dubai’ – original, right? However, I wasn’t sure that my average karaoke singing abilities would be the best first impression to give to the country I was about to call my home.
Instead, I did what every normal British person does when they land in a warm country and step off the plane, which is to exclaim ‘it is hot!’ Only, I did mine internally – I doubted very much the cabin crew staff would have been able to follow such a high brow and unique conversation… But it was hot. And, as I made the short walk outside from the plane into the airport terminal, I couldn’t help but wonder: what else was going to be hugely different? And would these be differences that I could stay afloat of or would they inevitably cause me to sink; causing me to take on the role of Jack instead of Rose in the Titanic. But, unlike Jack, I refused to believe I wouldn’t be able to find a space for me in this crazy Dubai world, a space that I would, hopefully, eventually, claim as my own.
However, there was definitely no danger of crashing into icebergs here, as nothing could remain solid in the apocalyptic heat that made me feel like a rotisserie chicken, as well as causing my upper lip to sweat like Donald Trump’s advisers any time they got a notification he had tweeted. Stepping into the airport was an instant relief due to the full effects of the air conditioning and, in that moment, I suddenly knew what it was to be a man; my only wish being that it would blow me harder.
Anyway, with body temperature no longer an issue, my thoughts turned to my next big difference which came in the form of my new head of school. Now, for the purpose of anonymity – and the retention of my career – we shall only refer to him as Mr. R. While there are many adjectives beginning with R that spring to mind from such a name, for the moment, let’s just go with Mr. Right-on-time. Because, as I stepped out of the baggage collection area with more cases than Covid, there he was at 6am on the dot awaiting my arrival.
I had been anticipating this moment ever since he had first sent me an email two weeks prior saying he would be easily identified by his fruit hat…from having a fruit basket balanced on top of his noggin to a full on tomato gimp mask, I can definitely say that my imagination rove wild with ideas as to the appearance of my future boss. I can sadly confirm that neither of these ideas came to fruition – see what I did there? – much to my disappointment. Instead, he simply sported a casual beany with oranges on it – not quite the Carnival of Dubai image I had concocted. However, as I would find throughout my time working with him, a carnival was the best way to describe him. And, like any carnival, I was at the exhilarating stage where you have just walked in and feel like everything is too good to be true.
As we left the airport, he spoke of the bright lights of Dubai and the shining establishment of the school I was about to become a part of. It sounded great! I was like Dorothy; dazzled by the brilliancy of Oz and, unlike Dorothy, I definitely didn’t see any part of me at any point wanting to click my heels and go home. He spoke about restaurants and pool days; about what a happy team the school had built and it all shone like emeralds in front of me. To achieve all this and more, all I had to do was follow the yellow sand road, and boy, there was a lot of yellow and a lot of sandy roads – I definitely wasn’t in Motherwell anymore!
Driving down one of these yellow sandy roads, I could feel my heart beating out of my chest as it suddenly sunk in that this, my dream, was finally coming true. I had finally moved away! I had packed my bags (all five suitcases of them – was I sure I hadn’t just packed the full of Scotland in there with me?) and had bought a one-way ticket to the UAE. This was now my home where being blinded by the glistening sun was no longer going to be a once a year occurrence but a daily experience. However, they do say love is blind and already I could feel myself falling.
So, as we pulled up to my new building, and walked into my new apartment, my new home and I fell onto my new bed, I looked around me one last time, breathing in my new surroundings and thought to myself: there’s no place like home, before drifting off to sleep.
Loving these blogs – your writing always makes me smile 🙂
Really glad you enjoy it 😊❤️
Your humour shines in your posts. Can’t wait for your next instalment.