OK. Enough already. No fair.
Yes, it is true that Dubai has (at best) a rudimentary postal service in which packages appear to be subject to the whims of fate and the cycles of the moon (possibly). Special impromptu 'taxes' are sometimes needed to be handed over in order to release one's package from secrethideyplaceparcellimbo. Things have been known to languish in hidden corners, gathering dust for weeks, because the recipient of said package is ignorant of its very existence (notification system? Hahaha. Receiving a parcel is often down to nothing more than pure dumb luck).
Be grateful, Western peeps, be very grateful that you are unlikely ever to have to experience the Kafka-esque joys of trying to spring a parcel from the steel jaws of Dubai's central post office building. It's the sort of experience that sorts the men out from the boys.
But all this aside, my big gripe is that this little quirk in what is otherwise an amazing city means that so many delicious baby goodies threaten to remain out of my reach.
As you are aware, I am in major nesting mode. You may also be aware that my elephantine ankles are no longer up to waddling around one of the many ginormous malls, so my insatiable urge for baby stuff gratification is being met by the wonderous interweb. Or rather it would be, if companies would deign to ship their stuff to me out here in the U.A.E. So annoying, especially as the baby shops in Dubai are either 1) a hideous rip-off or 2) stock quite boring stuff.
I have found a way round it though. Cunningly, I have enlisted family members and friends residing in the UK to act as a handling house. These sweet sweet people are prepared to sacrifice time and effort on my behalf, receiving goodies in my name, re-labelling and then trekking down to the Post Office to send these boxes of delight on to me in the U.A.E.. I'm currently waiting for the first shipment and am in a frenzy of excitement. Assuming, that is, that the boxes ever make their way into my sweaty, eager little hands. Fingers crossed that my own brand of dumb luck holds out...
What's in the first parcel? Ahah. Here you go:
Merino Kids Cocooi Babywrap: swaddling a baby seemed terribly medieval when I had my first child eight years ago. But since then it has become quite fashionable and I have it on good authority that it helps babies to sleep more soundly - my first two used to wake themselves up by bashing themselves with their little flailing fists - so I'm happy to give this swaddling lark a fair go. Watch this space.
Summer Infant Swaddle Blanket: a cheaper option than above, this cotton version is in case the Merino wrap gets too hot (even with 24/7 a/c it gets a bit sweaty in the Dubai summer) and also as a spare for when the other one is in the wash. I am nothing if not practical.
Sophie The Giraffe: certainly not needed as baby isn't even born yet let alone at the teething stage, but there is something so brilliantly retro about this chunk of rubber of cuteness that I simply couldn't resist. Suspect it will be stolen by my big girls before the baby gets to gnaw on it.
Yes, it is true that Dubai has (at best) a rudimentary postal service in which packages appear to be subject to the whims of fate and the cycles of the moon (possibly). Special impromptu 'taxes' are sometimes needed to be handed over in order to release one's package from secrethideyplaceparcellimbo. Things have been known to languish in hidden corners, gathering dust for weeks, because the recipient of said package is ignorant of its very existence (notification system? Hahaha. Receiving a parcel is often down to nothing more than pure dumb luck).
Be grateful, Western peeps, be very grateful that you are unlikely ever to have to experience the Kafka-esque joys of trying to spring a parcel from the steel jaws of Dubai's central post office building. It's the sort of experience that sorts the men out from the boys.
But all this aside, my big gripe is that this little quirk in what is otherwise an amazing city means that so many delicious baby goodies threaten to remain out of my reach.
As you are aware, I am in major nesting mode. You may also be aware that my elephantine ankles are no longer up to waddling around one of the many ginormous malls, so my insatiable urge for baby stuff gratification is being met by the wonderous interweb. Or rather it would be, if companies would deign to ship their stuff to me out here in the U.A.E. So annoying, especially as the baby shops in Dubai are either 1) a hideous rip-off or 2) stock quite boring stuff.
I have found a way round it though. Cunningly, I have enlisted family members and friends residing in the UK to act as a handling house. These sweet sweet people are prepared to sacrifice time and effort on my behalf, receiving goodies in my name, re-labelling and then trekking down to the Post Office to send these boxes of delight on to me in the U.A.E.. I'm currently waiting for the first shipment and am in a frenzy of excitement. Assuming, that is, that the boxes ever make their way into my sweaty, eager little hands. Fingers crossed that my own brand of dumb luck holds out...
What's in the first parcel? Ahah. Here you go:
Merino Kids Cocooi Babywrap: swaddling a baby seemed terribly medieval when I had my first child eight years ago. But since then it has become quite fashionable and I have it on good authority that it helps babies to sleep more soundly - my first two used to wake themselves up by bashing themselves with their little flailing fists - so I'm happy to give this swaddling lark a fair go. Watch this space.
Summer Infant Swaddle Blanket: a cheaper option than above, this cotton version is in case the Merino wrap gets too hot (even with 24/7 a/c it gets a bit sweaty in the Dubai summer) and also as a spare for when the other one is in the wash. I am nothing if not practical.
Sophie The Giraffe: certainly not needed as baby isn't even born yet let alone at the teething stage, but there is something so brilliantly retro about this chunk of rubber of cuteness that I simply couldn't resist. Suspect it will be stolen by my big girls before the baby gets to gnaw on it.
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