It’s decided. She’s a Mankhool Maria. So long, Marina Megan!
What’s to be done in a toss-up between comfort zone and swank(ier) neighbourhood? And why on earth should someone pay more to move out of their comfort zone?
Afew weeks ago, I almost changed my address. Almost. Operative word. For more than eight years, I’ve been living — as The Others unflaggingly point out — in the ‘wrong’ part of town (“ghetto”, many helpfully observe). Bur Dubai. Mankhool to be precise (am still a bit confused whether or not Mankhool is a subset of Bur Dubai). So, when my (rental) lease renewal notice turned up sometime back, I introspected: was it time to move to a “swankier” neighourhood where city slickers live a sleeker life as they look out to the sea from their 37th floor pad, couture coffee cup in hand? My subsequent actions, however, were not totally directed by class considerations. I reckoned maybe I should live in an area different from my current one, so when I go back home after life as an expat, I can honestly claim, “Dubai is really a melting pot of different culture — and lifestyles.” I mean, Dubai is rather diverse, so why not shuttle between diverse domicilities?
Since I’d seemingly repurposed my life choices, I checked out a few apartments at the Marina, and even zeroed in on one with a view to move in. Yes, the rent would be somewhat higher. Yes, basic amenities (like, say, laundry services) would cost somewhat more. Yes, the space would be somewhat cramped (the larger ones were way beyond my budget, so I put paid to all my sea-gazing-with-couturecoffee-cup-in-hand dreams). Yes, it would be a bit of a distance from the airport. But those were small prices to pay for the leg-up in status, I was assured.
“You have arrived,” a Marina Megan told me gleefully. “Sign the contract pronto.”
I was very close to doing the deed. But then, I had an epiphany in the form of a strong wave of depression that swept over me when I woke up one morning to evidence of cloud-seeding in the skies. Do I need to move out of my comfort zone? Do I really need to?
I love Mankhool, and my building, and my apartment, the grocery store on my ground floor — but, surely, there had to be more compelling reasons for me to, suddenly, not want to move.
I sat down with above-mentioned Marina Megan and played out the following devil’s advocacy-type Q&A:
SHE: When you get back home, you can check into all the fancy bistros and pubs and put out photos on Instagram.
ME: Most days, I get back home very late… I’ll never be able to drag myself to a bistro or a pub post 10pm. And I’m not on Instagram.
SHE: You can walk to the beach — it takes all of 15 minutes.
ME: The nearest beach from my place (in Mankhool) is 10 minutes. By cab [in reduced tone].
SHE: You’ll be surrounded by diversity. It’s like living in New York. Sooo cosmopolitan.
ME: If you stand outside my building, all you’ll see are hordes of tourists who put up in hotel apartments next door — they look very cosmopolitan too (Carrie Bradshaw would have been proud of them, with a capital C).
SHE: You can make friends with that Hungarian down the corridor: fancy a goulash party?
ME: Hey, you know what, I can’t even keep up with my current crop of friends, don’t think I want to widen the circle of friends. Just yet. And I’m going for an idli party at the Bur Dubai Aryaas this evening.
SHE: But the Marina Walk, it’s so inviting, so pretty! Don’t you want to walk there from time to time?
ME: Sure. I can take the metro from ADCB, get off at Damac (station), and walk to the walk.
What probably sealed the case in favour of Mankhool was a conversation with a former neighbour who’s now a Marina Martin. He complained his wife spent Dh70 getting her eyebrows threaded in posh-ville. “In your part of town — alright, alright, my erstwhile habitat! [in reaction to my raised eyebrows] — it would cost Dh20, tops,” he fretted. He’s issued strict instructions to wifey she should drive down to Karama, that lies on the fringes of Mankhool, the next time she wanted facial hair removed. A bit pointless, I thought to myself. Why would I want to make an effort to play all upscale when in my heart and mind, I’m still Mankhool? I don’t want to not take a taxi because I’d be compensating for extra rent and service charges. Or not shop at Spinneys because the wholesale market offers better deals, and I better watch what I’m spending since I’d be compensating for extra rent and service charges. Or not visit the multiplex and stream (free) movies online since I’d be compensating for extra rent and service charges. Lifestyle, after all, is a state of mind. Not a state of play. Mankhool, I’m staying on.
I checked out a few apartments at the Marina, and even zeroed in on one with a view to move in. Yes, the rent would be somewhat higher. Yes, basic amenities (like, say, laundry services) would cost somewhat more. Yes, the space would be somewhat cramped (the larger ones were way beyond my budget... a small price to pay for the leg-up in status, I was assured.