No sweat

One of the traditions in Dubai is to state every summer that “it hasn’t been this hot last year”. It is hot, it is humid and it is dusty. Last year (and the year before last) the temperatures soared over 50 degrees. So imagine how exasperated and tired I was when I decided to go out for a stroll in a desperate move to get Saboodlette to take her evening nap. Since coming back from holidays, I’ve been a single mum for most of the time as husband is travelling every week. I needed a break from the overactive baby who is determined to learn to walk and on the way there explores every speck of dust… The poor thing was ecstatic when she realised we were going out – she must’ve been so bored day after day stuck at home. So there we go fully ready to come back 10 minutes later drenched in sweat. Surprise! The air was fairly clean, the sky looked blue (well, dark blue, it was right after maghrib), the moon sharp and not hazy as usual. The temperature was well below 40 degrees and there was a cool strong breeze. It would’ve been downright pleasant if it weren’t for the humidity – definitely over 80%. But all in all, we had a pleasant walk, Saboodlette fell asleep within 10 minutes and I wondered around for almost an hour. Today, feeling brave, I decided to venture outside before sunset so off we went around 16h30. The weather was as pleasant as yesterday even with sun shining. Thank God for little mercies! Now Saboodlette has a proper evening nap and I hope she’ll sleep at night as well as yesterday (woke up only twice and went right back to sleep without tossing and turning). Husband is on a plane home, weekend is 24 hours away and I'm ready to put up with all the nagging for some respite...

Home Sweet Home

We’re back home. This year our absence was longer than usual and than foreseen. Almost a whole month. A whole month back at my parents… well, with a week’s worth respite at the seeside. Kamilia was happy – her nose was never dry or stuffy (after initial two-day runny nose), she could crawl everywhere (carpets and rugs) and stand up anytime she felt like (a lot of accesible tall, sturdy furniture). We breathed more fresh air in these 4 weeks than during a whole year here. We also walked. And took public transport and survived. Funny thing, friends told me that people don’t get up for them when pregnant or with babies like it used to be the case when we were younger (the way we were brought up, I cannot sit when an elderly or a pregnant woman stands next to me, my behind gets twitchy). This time again I found it not to be true. Maybe it’s the summer that makes people less tired and grumpy and more helpful. Unfortunately it’s not the case in Paris where you could die buried under your luggage and nobody (with rare exceptions) will care. This hasn’t changed.

So back in dhh (dusty, hot and humid) Dubai and I’m happy as can be. Tired since there is no respite from the Formula1 formerly known as Saboodlette but it’s soooo good to sleep in my own bed, have my own bathroom and not having to check every yoghurt for pork (tip – check out the unknown, local brands – their products usually contain less additives and are closer to the traditional, natural ones - tastier, too).

On the plane back I was musing over the definition of “home”. Found one – it’s the place where I can close the door behind me and I decide who to let in and when. That’s my definition, that’s what made me feel “at home” or as the French say “chez moi” in various places I lived. And that’s what makes me truly happy. I remember this feeling of closing the door behind me in my first “own” flat. Pure bliss. It felt so good that I go back to that feeling when I’m down, upset or else. And it works a treat. I’m not a sharing kind of person.
Now an update on the previous post - on my way back I met my Friend. She's still the same, I haven't changed (according to her). So so good.

Now that’s probably the most boring post I’ve EVER written but what’s done is done. The alternative was to write about ironing and related housework after a long absence.