After Moving in To Dubai a Decade Ago, Its Time to Plan the End.
Ten years ago I had to made a paradigm shift in my life and moved from the so called developing world to a first class world, I just use the word to express and let the people understand what am talking about, not that I approve of the so called classification for they are used for to discriminate.
Learning the nuances of how to juggle your old life in the place that you previously lived and your new life in the place that you have upheaved your other one to now be in is difficult, to say the least. And if I’m completely honest with myself, I haven’t been doing a great job of managing it. If I could change the consequences that my new life had on my old one for the last 25 years, I would. With that foreboding introduction, let me now set the context of possibly one of the most stressful and busy years I have ever had and probably will ever have in my life.
They say that after death and divorce, moving house is the next best thing that is served up on the specials board of the stressful buffet. Let me tell you that whoever came up with this analysis is not wrong. Last week I began looking back at the last 10 years that have been so busy that I could ever imagine time to a point that that i could not notice the time. Things move very fast here to say the least, and especially when you write a lot and have so many other things to do and thinks about during your free time. The life that I moved into is incredibly charming and everyone one what to here a least the very bit it the moment I mention the city I have called home for the last 10 years way though, it’s just very very Dubai to me.
I don’t think that anyone has lived here for a whole so there was, and still there is a lot of changes, developments and attractions coming up. This is not a friendly suggestion by the way, this is an absolute must. Preferably enroll a friend to help or at least someone you know kind of well. Another problem I encountered when looking is that people were very suspicious when it was mentioned that an African man is looking to move in apartment. People don’t trust just Africans in a flat due to the popularity of Nigerian and their weird stories out here. Anyway, so if you are looking for a flat as a fresh entry in the country is tricky, no one had ever mentioned to me that people here don t pay cash for their rent but rather have to sign up for contract with post dated cheques, it somehow sound fine but the process is longer than one would ever expect. Just be prepared to provide much in-depth information about yourself, your reason for being in the country and exactly where you are working with supporting evidence.
This investigation is necessary because landlords do not want a bad Cheques circulating amongst their banks, just can’t get around that Dubai dignity I’m afraid, so they need to be 100% sure. For some more general advice; watch out for people ripping you off or hiking up the price because you’re foreign, one guy we phoned up said it was 3,000 Dirham’s a month. Although overall I’d say from my own experience that most of the time it’s actually fine. Just don’t display your ignorance of the way things work and you should be ok.
So, coming back to what I mentioned in the first paragraph now – the old life and the new life complex… With all of the apartment stuff moving so quickly, my life became very hectic and chaotic very fast. To be honest it’s been pretty much non-stop since I got to Dubai in general, but this week it stepped it up to super-human level. My new life overtook everything. I felt overwhelmed and confused, my new life had completely swamped me actually, it occupied my every thought and suddenly my old life didn’t really exist to me anymore; it was sink or swim in the new one and that was all that mattered… I became far too determined to make it work as I felt I had no choice. I was determined to such an extent that any time my old life reared its head – whether that was seeing my group chat from old buddies pop up on my phone, seeing that my parents or my best friends from school had texted me – it felt like a chore and a nuisance so I am ashamed to say that I either ignored them or just got irritated at the interruption they had caused and point blank ended whatever the conversation was. What a disappointing lack of effort from me, but you see everything I had was invested in what I was doing over here and it became an obsession for the couple of weeks or so.
I am sorry to everyone, this was the wrong way to deal with it and go about it. It was an error in my judgement; now I realise that the old life doesn’t hinder the new one, but it helps it. The old life provides support for the new one when something inevitably goes wrong as things sometimes do. You need your old life and I forgot that in my crazy hyper rush to make my one over here stick. You need to have patience when people from home ask you how everything is; it’s completely impossible for them to relate to what you’re doing out here but that doesn’t mean they can’t help and you shouldn’t take the time to explain.
It’s been a decade now and I think part of the reason I reacted to the stress in this way, by ignoring people and things back home, is because I’m starting to really miss things. There’s nothing like a bit of home comfort, like a plate of food being served without lashings of dill, for example. There’s an unsurprising lack of home comfort out here. To miss something is not a nice feeling, so I wanted it and the things from home I associated with are long gone – out of sight out of mind right? I can see evidence of this same feeling in everyone I’m out here with me as well; it’s creeping like a virus through the group, the years. The weather has turned up on me and am starting to deal with it, people are starting to miss home though settled and more tired and the more we all see each other, the more on top of each other and claustrophobic we feel – this makes it sound dreadful but it’s really not, it’s just normal I think. I know it just a decade but thousand of days in a row, however it all started, it’s time to plan the end.