Clover and I have been charged with organising a hen night in Dubai: a challenge at best, since strippers, battery-operated toys and serious hi-jinks are all ruled out by the less-than-cosmopolitan rules on decency in Dubai.
In addition, the Hen has also laid down some fairly restrictive guidelines:
1. No outfits
2. No games
3. No dares
For someone that is getting married in Vegas, something doesn’t quite add up …..
Before even leaving the house today, I’ve discovered two things that have made me realise that maybe my life’s actually verging on normal.
eBay is auctioning off jars of “celebrity breath”, including from Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt.
The terrorist detention camp at Guantanamo Bay has been piloting a new method to break suspects. Whenever the prisoners nod off, the guards apparently drop water on their head and blast out tunes by Christina Aguilera until they crack. A mix of Chinese water torture and plain bad taste?
Ibn Battuta – the concrete monstrosity located some way down the crazy highway, just before you hit the Jebel Ali port. Rather confusingly themed in sections such as China, Persia and Indian courts – with the same yawnsville high street names present in any of the other thousands of malls in Dubai – it left me cold. Watching people posing for photos in front of the giant papier-mache elephant passed the time (and not a Japanese tourist in sight) but other than that, very little to report.
The IMAX cinema’s the only selling point in the sprawling mall, and let’s hope it’s better than my last experience there. The Frenchman and I went to watch The Wedding Date (quite cute romcom, packed with Four Weddings-esque cliches but fun never the less) and were not amused to find it cut so much that it was only 65 mins long. That’s a loss of 20 minutes according to www.imdb.com
on a PG13 film.
What could be quite so offensive to cinemagoers in a city that claims to be as cosmopolitan as London? A few smooches and a the odd “profanity” apparently – sounds like a tame night at Rock Bottom, then….
However, credit where it’s due: during the recent power cut, Ibn Batty and City Centre were the only areas in a sweltering Dubai to have electricity and therefore AC. So, after a few hours of work at one of the Cities – and finding it near-deserted after a mass exodus – we decamped to Ibn Batty for lunch and an afternoon viewing of the Brangelina fest, Mr and Mrs Smith.
Having been persuaded by a friend to start blogging, and failing to take into account my inherent blondeness, the ensuing drama resulted in lengthy MSN instructions on how to set it up.
This is the result, the virgin post, the start of something not-very-new, not-very-original, but guaranteed choc full of drama queen.