So back to our big December vacation. The final week was spent in – where else – DUBAI. This place is possibly the most happening city in the world right now. Back in the 80s it was a little oasis town… later it was a re-fueling spot on the flight path… now it is the numero uno high-flying hotspot in the Middle East. It’s a weird blend of Arab & Western, tossed in a blender with a liberal dose of cold hard cash. I LOVE IT.

As a small step closer towards my dream of owning a fabulous, city-view apartment in Dubai, we rented an apartment for our Week Of Chic. It was everything a girl could salivate over: mosaic-stone entryway, sleek mirrored elevators, a corner location overlooking the city and Persian Gulf beyond. With wall-to-wall windows, every room paid tribute to all that is Dubai… I washed dishes overlooking the Burj Al Arab (only the first 7-star hotel in the world!)… I napped with a view towards the classy Dubai Marina… I surfed the ‘net while keeping an eye on Jumeirah Beach. When we walked out of the building, a car was waiting to whisk us wherever our hearts desired… Why is life not ALWAYS like this, I ask ?!?!

This trip I tried to balance the shopping impulse (hard to resist in a city comprised primarily of the greatest shopping malls in the world) with some culture and education. We headed to the Madinat Jumeirah for a life performance of the Nutcracker Suite, courtesy of the Rostov Russian Ballet. Now, Soenke has previously flown to Rostov… let’s just say he was pleasantly surprised that this grey, blighted city turned out such a fine ballet company. We were surrounded in the theatre primarily by Western expats and their kids, mixed up with a liberal dose of Emirati families too. The global mix felt surreal… somehow a wonderful boding of the future. The kids LOVED the dancing and colors and music… and weren’t afraid to verbally share their accolades throughout the performance!

We also visited the former home of Sheikh Saeed al-Maktoum (member of the ruling family). With small rooms, low heavy-wood doorways, basic mud-like construction, and everyone gathered under one sprawling roof (which works its way around a huge central courtyard), it differed wildly from Western moneyed living. It was truly Arab-style of 30 years prior. The black and white photos of the family over the past 50+ years were amazing… a real chronicle of the light-speed development of the area. (I was interested how few women were pictured until later years.)

But yeah verily I say unto you, thou shalt not bring thyself upon such a place as Dubai without drawing nigh to at least three shopping malls. Since we’d hit the new Manar Mall (scene of great carpet shopping) back in Ras el Khaimah, I was content to settle for two. Of course Mall of the Emirates was top on our list (yet again), where we bee-lined for the Magic Planet game area. We heartlessly swept aside Arab youngsters to go head-to-head on the ultimate Flight Simulator game. Let’s just say that I had to cheat…. a lot… to keep from flying my plane into the ocean. I don’t understand what was wrong with my plane. Soenke kept getting these annoying messages that said “Great Job! You Qualify!”. Me? “You suck! Your passengers are dead!” But no worries, I was willing and able to destroy him at that American game called BASKETBALL, and give him a run for his money in air hockey (interestingly, the fact that I – a woman – was vigorously playing this game drew quite a crowd). Then, nothing like a Starbucks for game day recap. Refreshed by peppermint decaf soy latte, we headed past the ski slopes (no joke!) over to the mall’s cinema for a pile of nachos and “Deck The Halls”, a Christmas comedy flick starring Danny Devito and Matthew Broderick. Arabs in white garb and checkered headdress joined typically-clad westerners in line for movie tickets to this very Western film!

I have to give this experience its own paragraph. We sat in the theatre – once again surrounded by international adults and children alike – and watched the previews. The first was a Coke commercial in which a beautiful Arab woman sang a catchy tune in Arabic… WELL…. the Arab kids in the theatre jubilantly BURST into song along with her, much to the delight and laughter of the rest of us! The commercial was followed by a preview of a movie obviously about the story of Jesus (although, unless you were a Westerner, this fact wouldn’t have been entirely obvious at all). You heard the Arab kids whisper – IN ENGLISH – “who’s that guy?” “I don’t know.” “There are camels so maybe it’s around here.” “No wait, maybe it’s Jesus”. “You think so?” I really felt like I was sitting – at that exact spot – at a crossroads of civilization. Just for a moment time stood still and I marveled at the experience. Later, in the restroom, I finally got a peek into what all those pretty Arab girls in black abayas & shaylas were talking about…. The SAME SILLY STUFF that American teenagers talk about! There were some Arab gals in there speaking to each other in English (probably thought it was more “cool”) and the mystery was unveiled… typical teenage drivel. Somehow the foreign language and costume had made it seem more exotic before, but kids are kids, and we all are more alike than we think we are.

A few weeks after our return, I read a book called “Mother Without A Mask” which I’d picked up in the Dubai airport. It chronicled a British woman’s experience with a wealthy Abu Dhabi family in the 70s. It was astonishing to see how different this very part of the world was during my own lifetime…. tent dwellings, desert windstorms, men and woman separated, etc. On one hand, it is very sad to see the Bedouin culture be railroaded by Western values. On the other hand, it is astonishing to see the adaptability of the Arabs in SOME parts of the Middle East to the globalization of society.

But I digress. The day before our departure we stopped and talked with a rep at a real estate development kiosk in the Deira mall (after I’d already hit the Lush store and scarfed down yet another Quesadilla Explosion at Chili’s, of course). We discussed housing prices and products, rental arrangements, various development areas in Dubai, and the planned airport which will be twice as big as Heathrow. I asked him for more financial information about a particular property, and he replied “but first, since you are American, you should know that the builder of this property is the Bin Laden Construction Company.” Umm…. uh huh. Soooooo. I haven’t run into THAT dilemma very often in the world of real estate investing. Granted, our boy Osama has something like 50 brothers/sisters, and he personally is not involved with his father’s construction company (which is the biggest construction company in Saudi Arabia), but HELLO. There’s just some place you have to draw the line. We continued on our way, bewildered, thoughtful, pensive, wondering… what IS Dubai ?!

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Photos follow:

On the way back to Dubai, we braked for our furry amigos:

At the Al-Maktoum house, Soenke wonders if the locals used to be really short…

East meets west at the Mall of the Emirates:

Exotic local fashion:

We also found the baby store… back then, we weren’t even sure it was a girl, but I was optimistic!

At the Nutcracker Suite, the Sugar Plum fairies grace the stage…

Hey, a Christmas tree in Dubai!

Our ever-so-fabulous view from our rented apartment:

Notice the Burj Al Arab in the distance!

Not a bad kitchen at all! I could get used to this…

Each year I have to be ever-more-creative in devising ways to celebrate my 29th birthday. This is no small task considering I’ve been celebrating my 29th for several years now. Last year I had donned my sparkling tiara and followed the somewhat-expensive German tradition of taking your friends out for dinner. But this year Soenke surprised me by suggesting a weekend getaway… my ears perked up, my imagination ignited, and I wondered if “Seychelles” could qualify as a ‘weekend getaway’. ..

Soenke recommended something more along the lines of Vienna, Prague, or Barcelona. But something intangible and gripping dragged me back to Paris… the idea of taking our in-utero baby girl on her FIRST trip there… and especially the idea of baby-clothes-shopping in les Grands Magasins! < insert Soenke groaning here > … I couldn’t resist.

Friday evening of the 5th, we jetted over just in time to meet our old Paris crony James for dinner at a sushi joint. Freshly back from a month in his homeland of Australia, James was still overcoming that 80F-to-45F temperature shock and loss of anything resembling sunshine. (I can sympathize with that). After 2 years, his French is outstanding and we gaped a bit as he ordered dinner like a native.

Saturday morning dawned brightly (ok, grey-ly) with the prospect of SHOPPING. After a sleepless night on a very hard bed (I guess my EUR 82/night bargain wasn’t THAT brilliant), we both rolled over for a few more hours of painful slumber. My early-morning-flea-market vision dashed, we headed instead to the top floor of Printemps department store for a leisurely – if late - breakfast overlooking the city.

And then off to the basement floor where Baby Shopping Heaven awaited… tears of joy filled my eyes as I gazed upon the most darling pink baby clothes to grace this side of the Atlantic. I should qualify this by commenting that Germany is VERY talented at left brain design activities: airplanes (big Airbus facility in Hamburg), elevators, CARS, etc etc. But the baby clothes in Germany are some of the most unattractive and uninspired that any of us Americans have had the misfortune to lay our eyes upon. It’s our wine-swilling, art-adoring, love-making French neighbors who have fully activated their right brains and excel at the art of clothing design. I was mightily impressed.

I picked out a few faaaaaabulous items sure to make baby Sophie swoon… haute couture pink dresses from Tartine et Chocolate, a pink-rosebud-studded sweater from La Petite Ourse, and little onesies with hand-decorated collars from Le Petit Bateau. We of course couldn’t leave the building without the fur-lined pink winter coat embroidered with colorful snowflakes… although at this point Soenke suggested that “perhaps the baby would like to wear something other than PINK”, to which I looked at him thoroughly startled, as if the thought had never entered my mind. It was a good thing that I was still contemplating this serious question when the cashier rang up the total… I had only a small part of my attention available to dedicate to the utterly outrageous sum staring at me on the cash register screen… in somewhat of a shock, I obediently handed over my visa and patted my belly, as if to reassure baby “oh honey, you’re WORTH it!”

A short restorative nap back at the hotel prepared us for the next leg of our shopping marathon: house shopping at BHV. This fabulous store (that is, fabulous for its housewares departments – including affordable home décor) is surprisingly unknown among visitors. I head there for every manner of drawer pulls, fabrics, wallpaper, pre-made curtains, lamps, and more. It did not disappoint, as I discovered the 5 tiny red lampshades I had been searching for our new dining room chandelier. Soenke counted the minutes to escape, and I counted the minutes to when my visa would recover and I could come back for some proper acquisitioning…

If all that wasn’t stupendous enough, Saturday night was the absolute pinnacle of the weekend. Soenke – of his own accord – had made reservations at Le Ciel du Paris… the gorgeous restaurant on the 55th floor of the Montparnasse Tower… the scene of our first date more than 2 years ago. All tables overlook the sparkling Eiffel Tower (the sparkling lights go on every 30 minutes). We spent the evening reminiscing over the past 2 years. I rhetorically inquired “babe, did you ever imagine on our first date that we’d be back here two years later with a new house in progress and a baby on board??” He shook his head with a smile and I wondered what wonderful thing we would be celebrating two years from now when we returned for our bi-annual date!

Sunday concluded this weekend of perfection with a small breakfast while waiting for the Roissy bus to take us back to the airport. Now, I violated my #1 Rule Of Cheap Eating In Paris: never, ever, eat at a normal-looking-joint that happens to be positioned in front of a major landmark. Why? Because the prices will be inflated by about 300%. Our modest croissant-OJ-coffee breakfast overlooking the Opera Garnier cost us no less than THIRTY FOUR EUROS. No kidding. We just laughed and lugged our now-very-full carry on out the door and across to the bus….! MERCI PARIS!

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Our first stop, Au Printemps:

Admiring the view from atop the store (you can definitely see the baby now!):

The pink winter jacket:

Some pink Frenchie dresses:

Next stop, Du Pareil au Meme bebe:

This baby Taj Majal (at the BHV) we simply MUST have someday!…

I almost forgot - per Soenke’s request we also visited the Disney store on the Champs Elysees!!

Soenke doesn’t understand why we don’t yet require a Nemo and a giant Eore…

Romantic dinner atop the Montparnasse..