The ancient world of the 1980s

Last weekend, my kids were excitedly telling me about this new movie that was coming out. "It has these kids and one them has my name!" says one. "There's a dog, too, with a bird for a friend!" says the youngest.

"Oh the Peanuts movie, yes, I saw that was coming out." I replied. "The dog's name is Snoopy and the bird is called Woodstock."

The kids stopped dead. "How do you know about it?" they gasped. Amazed that I might know anything useful at all.

"Peanuts is as old as the hills. I used to have a Snoopy when I was your ages. In fact, I think I even had two."

My kids are always amazed when I've seen a cartoon they like. "They had Scooby-Doo when you were a kid??!" or "You've seen Tom & Jerry before?!" They can't believe that something they think is so cool could've been around so long ago.

"Did you watch it on an iPad?" Darbs asks. This is when the eldest finally pipes up: "They didn't have iPads back then. They didn't even have mobile phones when mum was a kid."

This information seems truly amazing to them. No mobiles? How on earth did we survive? So I tell them tales about answering machines and home phones and just turning up and hoping you'd run into someone. About phones books and remembering people's numbers. About how their uncle was super cool and had a car phone. "But why was the phone stuck in the car?"

I tell them that I didn't have the internet and we had to write letters on paper, put a stamp on them and get the postman to deliver them. About taking photos on film and taking the roll to the shop to get developed. "But what if you didn't like the photos?"

Looking at their faces there was a mix of confusion and wonder like I was telling them something about a mystic ancient world.

After a moment, Goosey pipes up, "But how did you look things up if you couldn't Google it?"

So, I  launch into a tale of libraries and encyclopaedias. "Grandpa bought a set of encyclopaedias, which is a collection of big books filled with information. He bought them in 1967 so the information, especially the populations were a bit out of date, but that's all we had."

"What if you had to print out a picture for your project?" she asks.

"Well, we  photocopied them from a book at the library (in black and white, of course) or sometimes I went to travel agents and asked for old brochures," I explained.

I look over at Goosey who's tapping on the laptop to see she's made a Powerpoint presentation about why she hates her sister. Scolding her for the subject, but admiring her work - "I do like those swirly bits"

"They're called transitions, Mum."

They are indeed.

Grease isn't the word

One of the things I've looked forward to being a mum, is sharing my favourite things with my kids - books, movies, music. I've always wanted to share the things that I've loved, that have made me happy, that have shaped me. I know I'm not alone in this, I've heard so many other parents say the same thing.

The thing is, no much how much you love something or expose your kids to something, doesn't mean they're going to love it.

Last week, my eldest was home sick. We don't get a lot of time together, just the two of us, so I had the brilliant idea of watching a movie together. I imagined us snuggling up on the couch and sharing a cherished moment. Passing something wonderful on to my eldest. Something that would ignite something in her. The only thing was, which movie to watch? I wanted something that the younger kids weren't ready to share in yet, something I could share just with her. Something I adored, something I thought she'd adore. Little Women? Anne of Green Gables? There was a chance they'd be a little old fashioned, a little sedate.

Of course, Grease! Music, dancing, colour, energy. A blonde girl from Sydney, Australia transplanted to a new world. There was  no chance she wouldn't love it. Easy peasy.

Eagerly, I put it on. She watched. She was quiet, except for the odd comment "Are they smoking?! At school!!", "Those boys really like to misbehave, why do they want to hang out with them."

The credits began to roll. "Sooooo, what did you think?" I asked.

"Yeah, it was OK."

OK?! It was like it was Christmas morning and she'd opened up a gift I'd being dying to give and she just tossed it aside after opening it. I wanted to grab it and say "Well, you can't have it then!"

Instead, I have to suck it up and accept my kids aren't going to love everything I love. You can't plan those "cherished" moments. There's no accounting for taste!

It's not a tumour (except it is)

A few months back, I was sat on a plane, heading home to Dubai after a fabulous trip to Australia for a wedding. We'd had a ball at the wedding and then a great few days in Singapore. Probably a bit too much partying and late nights so I wasn't surprised when I got a blinding headache on the flight home. I suffer from headaches, so it wasn't something new. I rubbed my head all over in an attempt to soothe the throb when I felt a lump, at the end of my jaw just behind my ear.

"Ooh a swollen gland," I thought. When I landed, I went to the doctor to get something for the severe headache and I mentioned the lump, just as I suspected he diagnosed a swollen gland. A few days later I developed a kidney infection so it all fell into place. I had been fighting off an infection. Simple. After large doses of antibiotics, I recovered from the infection. Then I noticed the swollen gland will still there. "I must get back to the doctor to check it out."

Finally a few weeks later, one free morning after dropping the kids at school, I decided I better get that lump checked, on the spur of the moment. Just in case.

"Just a swollen gland, I'll prescribe some antibiotics." "But I had all those antibiotics!" "hmmmm"

Taken to the room next door for an ultrasound, I was then asked to wait while he spoke to the doctor. I could see them talking for five minutes or longer. Called in, I was told there was something wrong with my saliva gland "do you have a history of any problems? Does your family? You'll need an MRI, you'll need it today." 

I didn't have it that day but the next. An hour of jack hammering in my ear. "your doctor will give you the results in two days".

Exactly 48 hours later the phone rang. "It's a tumour. You'll need to see the specialist."

Tumour? Specialist? Tumour means only one thing. Fear and tears and dread. Death and deformity. It all seemed like an overwhelming wave of certainty or uncertainty. Tumour. It can't be good. 

Arnold Swarznegger uttering "it's not a tumour" in my head. But apparently it is. 

"These tumours are most often benign, but they can sometimes be more sinister. They can be cancerous. I recommend a biopsy. Whatever it is, the treatment is the same. It needs to be surgically removed, they can't be left, malignant or benign."

Google told me these tumours aren't common. Not necessarily rare, but fairly uncommon. Google told me, if malignant, they can be tricky to treat. Google told me Adam Yauch from the Beastie Boys had a malignant tumour the exact same size, in the exact same location as mine. He sadly died in 2012. Google told me the surgery could result with permanent facial paralysis and other weird side effects. I was terrified, to say the least.

I was admitted for the biopsy. It was painful, but not too bad. "We'll have the results in five to seven days." Two days later I got on a flight to Europe, for a holiday. Try as I might to ignore it, there was a black cloud hanging over me. I wondered if I'd actually return to Dubai. If the results were bad I would fly straight to Australia for treatment. Should I warn my friend in Ireland that we may not come visit them after all? Could I really have cancer? What if I do have cancer?

After a long weekend in Berlin we drove to Bratislava. My eye constantly wandering to my phone. Thinking, I should know today. As I put my bags down in our Air BnB apartment and logged on to wifi, I saw my doctor's name pop up with a ping on my email. 

"Samples indicate a pleomorphic adenoma." A benign tumour. I felt like 50 ton of concrete had been lifted from my shoulders. I burst into tears of pure relief. Benign in Bratislava. For more than two weeks I'd lived with this lump, not knowing if it was cancer. Knowing that it might be. Everyone kept saying "it will be alright" I daren't believe them, because what if it wasn't alright. It isn't always alright. 

My ENT in Dubai said it had to be removed because it would keep growing, as it got bigger it would be harder to remove and as it had already grown quite deep could affect the facial nerve. As it was growing deep, he couldn't remove it. All this meant I had to return to Sydney to see a highly-skilled surgeon, who repeated exactly what the ENT said, it needs to be removed. 

Wanting to avoid surgery, especially one that had risks, I read everything I could get my hands on. I could live with a lump on my neck. But they all said the same thing, these tumours have to be removed, especially in the location my was or they would cause more problems. 

So last week, after jetting into Sydney I went into hospital and had my lumpy little friend removed. I woke up in agonising pain, wondering why on earth this was necessary. Quickly though I began to feel better. Numb and sore at the same time, but better. I still sometimes brush my hair back from my face and feel a weird, spongy thing on the side of my head and it takes a few seconds to realise it's my poor, numb ear. "Who needs feeling in an ear?" people say to me, but I've realised I quite like feeling in my ear. It may come back. It might not. 

Once removed, the tumour was bigger than it was when I had the MRI. Further "proof" that surgery was necessary. A numb ear is better than a paralysed face or the benign tumour turning "sinister" as they can do. 

I'm now back in Dubai, after a whirlwind trip to Australia. Time to move forward from that time I had a tumour in my parotid gland. Incredibly grateful that I have the opportunity to move forward. 

European Vacation

We recently escaped the Middle Eastern summer furnace for a few weeks in Europe. The only problem was it seem that the heat followed us with Europe being struck with a heatwave.

We flew to Prague and at the airport jumped in a hire care and promptly drove to Berlin. With the help of a friend's sat-nav we found our way through the north of the Czech Republic. The sat-nav only came with a German-speaking feature, so I had to follow the map and give the directions, which kept leading up off the autobahn and onto tiny, picturesque country roads. Which were lovely and all but after a seven-hour flight we was just eager to get the three-hour drive over and done with and get to Berlin. I have to say, Berlin was a bit of culture for this Middle Eastern-living girl. People walking down the street with their shirts off and a large can of beer in their hands, doesn't happen too often (read, at all)  in the streets of Dubai. It's funny how all these little things jolt you when you've been living life one way.

Our first day in Berlin was a balmy 41 degrees. Which is not too bad in Dubai, where we have lots of air con, in Berlin where the buildings are built to keep the heat rather than out it was stinking hot! We just looked at it as a good excuse to have a few German hop-beverages. 

The kids were a little overwhelmed by Berlin, but they did love the Berlin Wall. Especially Lil-lil who was fascinated by the memorial and museum and spent many days afterwards filling us in about what she'd discovered about the wall. Which shows why it's so important to remember these parts of history. 

Berlin Wall memorial

Preserved section of the Wall

The imposing Brandenburg Gate in Berlin

After a couple of days we headed to Bratislava on our way to Budapest. A few people had told me not to bother with Bratislava, but it was a nice stop-off point and plus another country, so why not? I'm glad we did as I really enjoyed our time in Bratislava. Along the banks of the Danube is a new development with lots of nice bars and restaurants. We ate dinner while the kids ran around on the grass in the late evening sun. The next day we strolled through the beautiful old town and had lunch in a Slovakian pub before setting off for Hungary.

Old Town, Bratislava

Budapest has been floating around the top of my travel list for some time and I have to say it didn't disappoint. In fact, the only thing I was disappointed in was that we weren't staying longer. The architecture, the history, the beer, the food, the vibe, the people - Budapest has it all. The only thing that made it difficult was it was 41 degrees in Budapest too, which made it hot and sweaty seeing the sights. 

If you haven't been to Budapest and you get the opportunity to go, take it! It's a fabulous city! 

Hungarian Parliament House

Lots of Hungarian salami!

After Budapest, we drove to Vienna, on my birthday. We've been to Vienna before, but the last time we were there it was cold and snowy. We arrived on a warm sunny day and headed straight into town to wander around. The best part was having the famous Sacher Torte with a candle at the beautiful Sacher Hotel as my birthday cake. 

The following day we wandered around the city again in glorious sunshine. We met up with some friends who used to live in Dubai and moved back to Vienna about a year ago. They took us on a short bus ride to the hills on the outskirts of Vienna with an incredible view over the city. We wandered down the hill through the vineyards until we found a winery serving food and wine and had a band playing out in the vines. It was magic evening where everything was just right - the music, the food, the wine, the company, the weather. Everything came together just right, there's no way you could've planned it. It's moments like this that make you appreciate living overseas and the people you get to meet. We'd never have found this place if we were on our own. 

After Vienna we headed back to Prague for five days. We wandered the town, ate lots of Czech food, climbed the hills to overlook the city. The city was filled to the brim with tourists and there were times I felt like part of the herd. There were moments of bliss though, like discovering a tiny French market on Bastille Day where we ate scrummy French food. 

Pretty Prague

At the end of the five days, it was time for Skip to head home to Dubai and the kids and I to jump on a plane to Ireland. We were lucky enough to be invited to stay with good friends in Dublin "for as long as you want! The whole summer if you like!" I thought the whole summer might be the end of a beautiful friendship, so we opted for 11 days instead. 

These guys were really good friends in Dubai (and still now, of course) and within 2 minutes of seeing their faces in the arrivals hall of Dublin Airport it was like we'd seen them yesterday rather than a year ago. Lots of laughter and chatter. They took us all over Ireland, from east to west and south to north. We swam (well I dipped my toes in the chilly water), we climbed mountains, we boated, we hiked and rode bikes, we sat in pubs and we camped, we partied and heard live music. It was a brilliant 11 days. Our six kids altogether had a ball, running outside and adventuring and playing and scampering and trying new things. Just like a summer holiday should be, even if it didn't quite feel like summer to us desert-dwelling Aussies. 

We flew back to Dubai, with a quick one night stopover in Prague. Happily back to Skip and our home. Not so happily back to the sand and the heat. 

It was a beautiful escape. One of the biggest perks of living here in the centre of the world. 

Whatsappening in August

A few people have (no so subtlety) asked me recently when I was going to blog again. I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure if I wanted to even blog again. Sometimes you run out of things to say, sometimes you get sick of the sound of your own voice. Sometimes you edit yourself to the point where you wonder, well what's the point? I've had a lot of stories in my head recently, but they're not really for this blog and maybe that's just it! Maybe all these stories in my head need a new home and different space to play.

Yet, here I am typing so let's see what happens.

We are in yet another Dubai summer. Hot, dusty, humid, sweaty, oppressive summer. Quiet. Hibernation. Not much else to do but stay inside. Most of the city away in their 'home' countries, except for the Australians. For the Australians it's always the same - too far and too expensive and the wrong time of year to visit 'home', so it's a few weeks somewhere else and then sweat out the summer, swearing they'll never do it again (until next summer).

It's a strange time of year. You see Facebook posts of friends in the UK and then messages from other friends who are in Italy on their way to Scotland or in Russia on their way to Italy. You Whatsapp a friend you think is in town for a catchup and get a reply of 'Sorry! We're in Pakistan, we came back at the last minute won't be back until the end of the month.'

The other night I had a messages back and forth from a friend who is in Lebanon. She decided it was time to show her kids the place of her birth. There was talk of tanks and beaches and boredom and kidnapping. All as I lay in my bed and she sat in a hotel room 'that isn't four star' in a black out. A few weeks previously she messaged me as I lay in a tent in an Irish field in the pelting rain and she was in air conditioned comfort in Dubai. It can be surreal!

As August wears on there will be more messages, but they will start to be "We're back! It's soooooo hot! I forgot how hot. Are you around to catch up?" and "What day does school start again? Is it Tuesday or Wednesday? PS: It's so hot!"

As August wears on the kids will complain more and more every time I mention going to the pool or the mall. They may even get excited by the prospect of returning to school.

So I don't know if this qualifies as a blog post. But there  you go. I might even do it again. Crazier things have happened!

Here, there and everywhere

For the first couple of years we lived in Dubai (we've been here almost 3 years, can you believe it?!), I lived in this strange state of confusion. In Australia, or more accurately - in Sydney, I knew exactly what time of year it was, there were constant little reminders that I didn't conciously realise I was acknowledging - the smell of Jasmine in the air, it's September; the sight of a glorious purple carpet of Jacaranda flowers, it's November; that cool crispness in the air and the sky is cloudless blue, it's April; the heady humidity, definitely February. What I didn't know at the time was, I'd know exactly where I was what needed to be done, the place in the year.

When I moved to Dubai and all these little indicators had vanished and the school year was suddenly topsy-turvey (not to mention the seasons), I found myself feeling constantly confused. In September I'd start thinking 'Is it almost Easter?' and in May I'd start thinking about Christmas. Then I'd have to stop and seriously think about what time of the year it was, had I missed someone's birthday? Quite often I would have to resort to looking at the calendar on the phone to remind myself. It was truly unsettling. 

I had resigned myself to feeling this way forever. Until last week, when we returned from a trip to Australia. I pulled up to Darbs nursery and instantly we both saw a palm tree laden with fresh green dates. "Look, mum! Peas on that tree," Darbs squealed. "No they're dates! That means summer is on it's way."

Then as I drove home I saw a bright, glorious flame tree in full bloom and instantly thought to myself: "It must be May!"

Later than same week there was a haziness and a heaviness in the air. Like an old sailor, I commented to Skip: "The humidity is definitely on its way, can't be far off."

I realised that I have been here long enough that I'm starting to recognise the different little nuances of the seasons. That I've been here long enough for it to become familiar.

Coming back to Dubai after a couple of weeks in Sydney was difficult. We stopped in Singapore on the way home to break up the journey, have a bit of a holiday and catch up with some lovely old friends. When we arrived back it took me about a week to get used to it, every morning there was those few seconds - "Where am I? Sydney? Singapore? Dubai? Is it a weekend? Do I have to get up? What's going on???" I even had a moment on the plane when the stewardess woke me for a meal and I thought "Where the hell am I? Who is this lady?"

Life has now settled back into the routine, sort of. It's always hard coming back after holidays, you dream about how you can start a new life where you've just holidayed. I always used to start googling real estate and jobs to see if we could make a new life where we just been. Romanticising that life would be better in that new locale. It's weird when you start holidaying where you're from. Thoughts of "Should we move back?", "What are we doing here?" creep in. Just like before, you start thinking about uprooting life again from the mundane everyday world.

It wasn't helped that I developed a kidney infection and was back and forth to the doctor. Then just when I thought it was over, was told I had to come into every day for IV antibiotics That doesn't make the re-entry to real life any easier!

As the days roll on, you settle into life again. Look forward to summer (well sort of). Think about end-of-school year concerts and exams. Prepare for Ramadan and Eid. Get ready to wave friends off until August. Life rolls on wherever you are....

Spring into action

We're in the middle of spring break here. The kids have two weeks off school and it was definitely needed. With the long summer break we get long stretches of school term, this one was 12 weeks and my little ones were definitely exhausted. I think after our trip back to Australia, they started the term exhausted! The past few weeks there have been cranky kids galore and more tears than I thought possible.

We have been taking things fairly slow in the mornings, but the rest of the day has been jammed-packed catching up with school friends and soaking up the outdoors. On Sunday, we spent 6 hours playing at the park. Six hours! The weather was just bliss and the kids were having 'the best day ever' so we just stayed. It's almost like you can hear the tock of the clock ticking closer to summer and being unable to get outdoors for anything length of time, we're certainly making the most of it.

The girls went and saw Cinderella at the movies with a friend and then there was another picnic in the park, but with the temperature pushing 38 degrees we didn't spend another 6 hours in the park this time.

It really is the best time of year in Dubai, the weather is perfect. If you're ever thinking of making a trip here, late March/early April is the time to do it.

This morning everyone was moving even more slowly, relaxation taking over, so we spent the morning splashing in the pool and the afternoon pottering around the house, reading and watching telly.

Next week will be a rinse and repeat of this week and then we'll be ready to tackle the last term of school for this academic year as well as a brief trip home to Australia!