So I've finally done it.

After months of delays and endless ups and downs later, everything came together in the last 48 hours in a bit of a blur. 30kg heavier, and armed with a handful of monopoly money (or Dirham as it's formally known) for a new life in the desert, I set off for the airport. Typically I'm terrible with goodbyes, the usually emotionless ice queen melts into a blubbering little pool when it comes to closing a chapter of my life. But not this time.


Maybe it's because I've had so much time to prepare. Maybe it's because I've said my goodbyes to friends countless times, only to turn up with the promise of cocktails and dancing that same weekend. Maybe it's because I've looked at every blog/website/video imaginable on being an expat in Dubai, to the point that I feel like I already know my way around. Or maybe it's because this is too exciting to be feared. Of course I'm going to miss days with my mum and dad, home cooked meals, Box Friday's, brunch Saturday's and hungover Sunday's that religiously plagued my London and Cheshire weekends. Not to mention my closest girlfriends to comfort, reassure and mislead me on a daily basis. But life is too short to spend it in one place.


So with martini in hand I say goodbye for now. In 12 hours time, I'll see you on the other side.

It's been almost three months to the exact day since my scheduled flight to Dubai. I should be twelve weeks into my new role in luxury hospitality, to my new shared apartment, to my new life in the sandpit.

But as I *apologetically* restart writing the blog I began over five months ago, I do it from my cosy suburban bedroom in the house I spent the first eighteen years of life, still yet to begin my adventures in Dubai. It is safe to say this summer did not go to plan.

The reasons are long and complicated, wrapped mostly around the arduous process that surrounds UAE laws. Add a side of visa difficulties and a major lack of communication and you've got the perfect recipe for a fourteen week delay. It's left me in a total state of limbo, caused endless hours of frustration and even left me questioning whether I even wanted to go. After all, why would a recently graduated, Western, twenty something want to move to the Middle East, or more importantly, to Dubai?

In a recently published article in The Telegraph a middle class, middle age journalist coined an article asking who in their right mind would want to visit Dubai? According to said journalist, a man who it is worth noting has never visited Dubai in his life, the climate is unbearable nine months of the year, the area is drained of culture and the people are superficial and self absorbed.

I happen to disagree on all accounts.

Yes, the weather can be insufferably hot, for the summer months, but I'd take insufferably hot over being insufferably wet and cold every time. While yes, much of Dubai was built in the last twenty years, it did exist long before that and both old and new town Dubai are rich in their own cultures and identities. And while I can't yet vouch for the people, anywhere where 200+ nationalities live calmly in a state only twice the size of London must be doing something right.

So I'm now less than 24 hours away from leaving for my new life. Unexpectedly, I'm really thankful to have had these last few months at home. I've been able to make memories with friends I'd not have had the opportunity to had I left in July, and we've had a summer full of long nights, lazy days, zipping around the country, relationships ending, new friendships starting and spontaneous trips that I'll never forget.

And now I'm more ready than ever for tomorrow.