Dubai Life part 3: A new pad in Jumeirah & Latitude Brunch

First thing’s first (I’m the realest), can we all just raise a glass to the fact that I’m no longer living in a hotel in what felt like the Wild West. I knew it was time to check out of my palace in Al Rigga when I got a phone call from reception. A guy who had tried to chat me up at the pool was downstairs asking for my room number, was it cool to send him up?

Probably not, no.

I only had five days of company-paid hotel life left anyway, and I was starting to panic about effectively being homeless in Dubai. Imagine sleeping rough in the actual desert, waking up to a camel chewing on your ear and a sandy mouth. No thanks.

I scheduled a few viewings and set off, determined to take one. I arrived at the first and was shown around by a snazzy Italian man who, at the time, seemed like he’d been sent from heaven. I decided to just take it and not bother with the other viewings. I practically stuffed 500 AED in his chinos pocket for a deposit and he sent me on my way with a “Ciao, Bella” and a wink. I wondered if I’d ever see the cash again but thankfully when I rocked up with my suitcase the next day, he was there. I hung up my work wardrobe, had a little cry (because where am I what am I doing etc), then had a hunt around my new neighbourhood.

I have to access the building through a carpark that looks awfully like the ones where clueless women get murdered in US crime dramas; then I go through a service entrance and through a few unmarked doors to find my apartment. I’m pretty sure it’s an illegal setup, but the room is fine and I’m living with people from all over the world so it’ll do.

When I conducted my search, I wanted a balcony or a sea view but then I remembered that I used to live in an Edinburgh flat that was so cold and damp you could see your breath. Who did I actually think I was? I checked my privilege and shut up. I did view much more luxurious apartments than this one, but they were all full of weirdos so I’m staying put for a while.

I’m living in Jumeirah Beach Residence, in one of those towering yellow giants that cluster around the beach. That’s right ladies and gents: this is my backyard.

My room looks out onto one of the many bridges crossing the Marina. I suppose life’s taken a turn when this is considered standard! (Please don’t hate me.)

So far, I’ve only located one of the four pools I have access to and I (accidentally on purpose) haven’t seen the gym either. I’m told the swimming pools are like a quest, and you don’t discover the location of the final one until you’re ready to move out.

Latitude Brunch at Jumeirah Beach Hotel

On Friday, I got to do the thing I’d been waiting for since I accepted the job out here: a Friday brunch! My company had a hefty discount on the Latitude Brunch at Jumeirah Beach Hotel so 30 of us descended on the restaurant. I had heard from other expats that these were always raucous affairs, so I was excited but wary. As I got ready, I had a word with myself. I will not get drunk at my first work event I will not get drunk at my first work event I will not get drunk at my first work event….

Everyone was dressed to the nines – this was not your bacon bap and a pint down the local kind of occasion. Moet was poured, air kisses were exchanged and glad rags were worn. We sat outside on the terrace in the happy sunshine and plowed our way through the banquet as the live band played.

The food at the Latitude brunch was like nothing I’ve ever seen. What a spread! In the starters room I was confronted with exquisite displays of fresh seafood – huge prawns, mussels, squid rings and clams piled high, plus pates dressed in leafy greens in huge vessels made from carved fruit. I helped myself to endless sushi, salmon tartare and brie and washed it down with a Mojito. So much for not mixing my drinks…

I could happily have lived forever off the buffet in the starters room (it probably had a fancier name than ‘starters room’), but my eyes were bigger than my belly. In the mains room there were stations for every cuisine: a Great British Roast with juicy roast beef and proper roasties, aromatic Indian concoctions, a Dim Sum mini factory next to a huge Peking Duck where a chef was serving pancakes, a pasta chef plating up tempting bowls of ravioli, a goodie-two-shoes Vietnamese build-your-own healthy pho station… I didn’t know where to look.

There almost wasn’t room for dessert – except there totally was. Guys, there was a popcorn machine, ice cream AND a candy floss machine! All the older expats could probably tell I was fresh off the boat thanks to my gleeful overzealousness.

There was also a vast assortment of teeny tiny desserts: lemon meringue pie and passionfruit cheesecake and dense chocolate torte and mini cupcakes and little creme brûlées… I would have legit tried them all but my colleagues were watching. Instead I chose three, and then elbowed some kids out of the way so I could get to the chocolate fountain.

We were turning into a bit of a rabble and the boss’ wife looked uncomfortable so a few of us jumped in a golf buggy meant for hotel guests and went along a jetty to a bar called 360. It’s a super cool circular bar on the sea looking onto the Burj Al Arab, the luxury sail-shaped hotel that’s come to symbolise modern day Dubai. (I just spent a few minutes on the website kidding myself I was minted and could potentially stay there, try it it’s fun.)

We stayed there as the sun went down and danced in the dark until everyone sort of scattered. I was at home in bed for 9pm, happy as a clam – and I slept off my champagne buzz on the beach behind my apartment the next day. If this is Dubai life, I reckon I’m gonna be okay. My plan for the year ahead is basically just to sample every brunch there is and maybe travel a bit.

So here I am, living the high life in Dubai. This ain’t half bad! Pretty soon I can use my flight privileges so I’ve drawn up a list of destinations to visit. I’m looking at Cape Town, Hong Kong and Rio, so I need to start planning. I’d love some tips on easy places to visit from Dubai, if anyone’s been in a similar situation. Leave me a comment!

Aside from the fun stuff, I’ve also done my first grocery shop at Carrefour where a cucumber was £5, and been ripped off in every taxi I’ve gotten. I’m in that horrible new expat grace period where you have to accept that you’re going to pay over the odds for stuff until you know what you’re doing. Oh well.