Day one at the Iransion...

Moving day went relatively smoothly on Saturday, and our Iranian inventor greeted us merrily on the stairwell of the villa, ladder in hand as though he'd spent the morning renovating our bedroom. I harboured a glimmer of hope he might have invented something for us. Such was not the case, although he has now installed two single beds, each with a built in headboard which doubles as a shelving unit. Very handy. I can fit at least three books in mine and when I lie down I lose half my head to the bottom shelf. With some clever imagining it's almost like being in a cave. We do have a fabulous view of the fleet-horse contraption, too, still sitting proudly on the driveway. And also quite nice (although clearly not as cool) is that the Burj Dubai, soon to be the tallest building in the world, stands about half a mile away from the villa. So technically, I could watch them build it from my bed, if my head wasn't stuck in the shelf.

Worth a note in itself perhaps, are the channels we can receive on the telly. He's given us cable, but along with an Internet connection that's so slow it's most probably powered by another animal on a conveyor belt somewhere, the only channels that aren't scrambled are some French news stations and a whole load of porn. I'm not saying our Iranian inventor is subscribed to the porn-package, but when you can watch an Asian secretary being taken on her office desk by a longhaired lothario in an 80's patterned shirt, yet you can't watch MTV, there's something amiss. We also discovered he's shagging the cleaner - an Asian girl young enough to be his daughter. Which is nice.

It was pretty hard to move with a hangover. Wouldn't recommend it. I met Becca for her birthday brunch on Friday, and it was an all day, all night affair that left me wondering how I ever spent my Fridays any other way. This one cost the equivalent of about 40 quid, and was in the poshest hotel I've ever seen. Seriously, words cannot describe how incredible it was. This brunch now plays a serious part in my idea of what heaven will be like. Imagine three restaurants, all linked by various corridors, all full of food and drink stations, intertwined with ice-sculptures. You can eat anything you want. Anything.

You want squid, mussels, lobster cooked just for you? You want roast beef, salad, spaghetti, a piglet on a carving tray? You want cheese, bread, sausages, beef sizzled in a wok before your eyes, smoking with Jim Beam? You want to dip delicious fruit into a chocolate fountain and then delve your hands into various sweetie jars? You want glasses of creamy custard and mini cakes that melt in your mouth? You got it. And the drinks are unlimited. You want endless champagne? You want Bacardi cocktails? Mojitos, red wine, white wine, vodka and cranberry? You can even have coffee. If you want. For five hours straight, you can enjoy a disgusting act of gluttony you never thought was in your power to display and then, when you're totally hammered and your clothes are stretching over bulges in all the wrong places, you can leave and fall asleep somewhere. Or. you can get a cab with some very nice boys, to a 70's disco night in a club called The Lodge, and dance to Wham until your ears bleed. Which is what I did.

Oh, and when we left to get a cab, I had one of those one in a million, serendipitous moments that still leaves me in shock. I ran for the same taxi as a bloke I went to summer camp with in 1999. A kiwi called Brad. What are the odds of that? I've not seen him since that sticky summer in Pennsylvania, when I taught photography to a hundred Jewish rich kids who made more money selling lemonade on their driveways than I do now. And we meet again randomly, nine years later in Dubai. I was drunk and he was drunk and my phone was dead, so I gave him my card. Oh, as I type, he's just emailed me!

Tonight, we met our flatmates - two Indian brothers, one of whom is in finance and the other of whom runs an events company. He deals a lot with laser beams. He even showed us 300 photos of his luxury events here in Dubai, all involving laser and light displays, and then he said I could work for him on a cricket event he's organising. If I can get some companies to sponsor it, I'll get a cut. And we're talking three times my monthly salary. I said I'd think about it. It could be difficult meeting clients without a car, and I'd have to do it at weekends and after work, obviously. But I guess I could give it a go. It's funny how everyone talks business here, all the bloody time. I mean, there we were, sitting in the Iransion, flicking through endless porn, and trying not to lose our entire bodies to the vortex created by our headboards, and we get offered a freelance job as soon we head into the kitchen.

Check out my meaty sausages. I've got more pics of the posh brunch so I'll make an album on facebook later if anyone wants to drool over their keyboards...

Comments

[flats]

Hahaha, Embutidos Ibericos huh? Those are from Spain, Im spanish and I love´em, Jamon iberico the most...have you tried it?