strange lunch...

Just got back from a little explore around the vicinity of the office block. “The American” told us there’s a place downstairs that sells the best samosas in the world for one dirham, which in London would be free.  Almost. It’s cheap, anyway. So T and I took the SLIT-ME downstairs – that’s the Slowest Lift In The Middle East, for the uninformed. And it really is.  It’s one of those lifts that seems to stop at every floor, even when no one gets in or out, and when people do get in it’s always at the last minute, so the doors shut half way and then slam back again as a little hand reaches through. Argh, I hated that in London and I hate it here. Annoying.

Anyway, we finally got downstairs and found nothing but furniture shops. There must be about six on the ground floor around a giant car park and they’re always empty, except for a gaggle of Arabic men perched on stools near the doorway, waiting to sell you a bed the size of my grandmother’s entire living room. There were no food shops, however.  So we asked one of the men, who then stood up and led us out into the blistering heat of the car park, towards what turned out to be a coffee shop, shrouded in green plants and flowers. How mysterious. He then disappeared, leaving us to tentatively push the door open and step inside.

The sight was breathtaking. Well, we took what little breath we could through the cloud of shisha smoke that slammed our faces (another harsh reminder of the smoking ban that’s just come into force back home).  All around us sat Arabs in traditional whites, puffing on shisha whilst eating from giant plates of steaming food and watching cricket.  And the only thing the people behind the “bar” seemed to sell, besides hot rice-based dishes, was fruit juice and Red Bull. I don’t think it was the samosa place.

We paid the equivalent of over £1.50 for a Red Bull each and snuck back out into the car park, feeling a little bit like Alice must have done after exiting her wonderland.  What a wonderful, magical place to have as a local eatery – if we dare to step in there again. It definitely wasn’t the Benjy’s experience of last week, when I wandered out of the office door, through the next one, picked up a tuna sarnie and left again, not so unimpressed as completely oblivious as to what I’d just done. 

It’s funny how getting a sandwich in your lunch break can become so routine; how the monotony of it all can eventually force entire hours out of your head as you drift somewhere else, anywhere else in what little spare time you have.  But the shisha, cricket place that hides downstairs across the car park, like Narnia sleeps untouched by most inside that wardrobe, wasn’t even of this world.  Well, not of my normal world anyway. Until I get a little more adventurous, unless I want a giant bed or some energy juice for lunch in Dubai, I’m probably better off bringing a pack-up.

Comments

[sylvied]

Hi,

Fuel has recently had some surgery and your voting widget needs updating. All you need to do is to login to your account with us and follow the link for widgets. All the widgets displayed will match your blog ;-0
Thanks!
Sylvie

[Maggie Cooper]

Heard that you had moved to Dubai, it certainly looks as though you are enjoying yourself. Don't forget to come to see me when you are in Watford. Maggie