Summer in Satwa
We have moved ten miles up the road and it feels as if we’ve moved to a different country entirely. Al Barsha, our haunt for the last three years, has many good points: it is fairly central, close to the Metro and a big mall, and it is the home of Shawarmaji – purveyors of the finest chicken shawarmas in the country (in my humble opinion… Oh! The roasty, pickley, garlicky goodness!). But it never really felt like home. It never really felt like anywhere if I’m honest. The problem I had with Barsha is, I think, the same problem some people have with Dubai in general: it doesn’t feel finished. Less buzzing suburb, more building site, in Barsha one is never far from the pneumatic drills, dust, trucks, cranes, scaffolding and incessant hammering.
So here we are in Satwa. Our new apartment is smaller than our last but, because the area is nearly all low-rise, there is a wonderful feeling of space and air – and so much LIGHT! In a previous post I wrote about the bizarre ‘Rear Window’ experience of looking out from our balcony straight into the living rooms of the apartments opposite… From our new bedroom balcony we have an amazing view out over the roofs of Dubai, from the scruffier satellite-dished dwellings nearby right up to the glittering lights of the Sheikh Zayed Road and the magnificent Burj Khalifa.
It’s like being treated to a free fireworks display every night; in fact, on New Year’s Eve – our balcony will be the place to be! (It will have to be a rather exclusive party I’m afraid, as you can only fit about three people on it…)
Satwa itself is a wonderful, bustling place that comes alive at night. It is filled with tailors, textile emporiums and haberdasheries, their windows glimmering with satin and sequins, and extraordinary little hardware shops that sell everything you can possibly think of – plungers, piping and boxes of nails filling every square inch of wall, floor and ceiling space. There are bakeries, their windows flung open to the cool night air as men in white aprons puff up pockets of hot bread over naked flames, and neon-lit restaurants with mouth-watering, spiced meat roasting on rotating skewers.
Revelation of revelations (particularly after my recent adventures with driving): here in Satwa we can walk to nice places. Even though it’s hot! We can walk to the beach. We can walk to a huge selection of fabulous shops and restaurants. We can walk up to the aromatic, neon craziness of Al Satwa Road. There are pavements and, what’s more, pedestrian crossings! To head into Satwa proper, one has a choice: take the main roads or short cut through the quieter, residential streets. The main road is Diyafah Street and, unlike some bits of Dubai, it has been here for quite a long time. Yesterday, a friend of mine was telling me about life in Dubai when she first lived here nearly twenty years ago: one day she was walking up Diyafah Street, when who should she see but His Highness Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum himself strolling towards her, with his smart walking cane and a discreet entourage. It’s perhaps not quite the same sort of street that it once was (I haven’t spotted any royalty yet), but it’s certainly still lively and characterful. To mark the fortieth anniversary of the unification of the Emirates, Diyafah Street was renamed after the date of National Day itself – it is now 2nd December Street.
The short cut through the quieter, residential streets has become one of my favourite things about Dubai. Sometimes I count the trees as I walk, just to wallow in the delight of being close to green things. There are old villas here, with mature, rambling gardens; gnarled tendrils of bougainvillea twist over the tops of the white-washed garden walls. There are beautiful old wooden doors and gates, the paint fading and peeling prettily in the heat. There are people chatting outside front doors, washing hanging up to dry between trees and – this one makes me shiver with delight – there are chickens wandering about in the road. Chickens! They may not be wandering for long (one suspects their existence may be somewhat short and purposeful), but while they wander they make the place feel positively rural. And that makes a displaced Maid of Kent very happy indeed. All I need to do now is find a place that does really good chicken shawarmas…