I’m glad to be here, in the incredible city of Dubai. I’m optimistic, and feel it was the right thing to leave Vancouver — as a family. I’m glad we all came out together.
The boys are tucked in for the night as I’m sipping espresso at a free internet cafe. I feel like I’m in the early formation of a New York. Next to me on Skype, an Egyptian with a German accent has his cigarette burning in the ashtray. People walk by in a cool breezy evening.
We arrived safely at the DXB airport with all our bags intact. Everyone nice and helpful. We couldn’t find the person to meet and greet us, so we took a cab. The 15 minutes it took to find the district of Murraqqabat were doubling quickly, as the driver asked directions in all the back alleys. But we found our wonderful two bedroom apartment in the dark, two hours later. A concrete maze of closed rooms and muffled echoes.
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Jumeirah beach is stunning. Clear aqua green water, beautiful sand with nothing to hurt or tickle your feet. The sand is smooth, and in sections like an ashtray of beige cigarette filters. At 8 am, it’s thirty degrees with clear bright sun, the water refreshing and cool by evening. A very busy beach with a neighboring nightlife, but enough room for everyone. The boys in their hats and shorts left their fleece Vancouver pants behind and never looked back.
Children splash in random regular wear led by two women in full black dress — a daycare outing? Bikini’s on every form of European, Indian, Egyptian. A rare glimpse of Asians is the only fleeting familiarity of Vancouver beaches.
Lifeguards in high lookouts with binoculars focus on the beach dwellers, not particularly the swimmers. A big sign says NO CAMERAS. We hear a sharp whistle blow as the binoculars attract someone’s attention.
People smile at the boys and tousle their hair. My surprise at their affection reminds me of Canadian’s sterile culture. It feels simple here in the sand. People swimming in their clothes, men and boys in their white underwear. Among the stretch of sand, only two people sitting in beach chairs.
Everyone should have the pleasure of rolling waves and clear beaches. How many people never see a beach, or go once a year? The sun disappears at 8pm far above the horizon. At sunset, no sun for an hour and the beach is well lit.
What was a warm yellow glow in a hazy sky is suddenly evening, in shades of grey. I point out the bright crescent moon is directly above us.
“Where does the moon go?” my four year old asks.
I reply that it is always there, but we can’t always see it. He remarks, “
I want you and Dad to keep looking for fun things for us to do.”
Some new abstract works as part of the Circle Patterns collection.
