Awake at 06h30 with the alarm (that time already?) and I catch up on Sky News before the shit/shower/shave routine and head up to the 9th floor for my fruit-laden breakfast. No Pork Corner in this place, or at least I haven't found it yet.
I saunter into the office at about 08h30 and get ready to sweat for the day - literally. The heat in my corner is worse than yesterday for some unknown reason.
I work until just after 1pm when I need a break from the documents and slide decks, so I decide to walk down to the Corniche, just a block away, but the only thing I can find to eat and drink, because it's prayer time and everything is shut, is an apple-filled donut and a cup of coffee at a stall along the beach front. Ah well, at least I'm out of the office and clearing my head. But it's damn hot in the open air so it's less than an hour and I'm back in the air-conned office at my desk. Somehow, it feels cooler than earlier but it's probably because I've just been outside.
Again, at 5pm, I leave and get a taxi back to the hotel, where I get changed and decide to go for a swim.
First...this time I have a Paki driver. All the taxi drivers are ex-pats from somewhere further east than here, as the Arabs won't stoop so low to become a labourer such as this.
The driver is chatting away, asks me where I'm from and I answer "Cape Town". "Where?" he asks. Ha, I knew I would catch you on that one, I think. Then he asks me if I've brought Euros or UK Pounds with me. I'm like "Dude, WTF for?" and I tell him I only have USD on me, at which he asks if he can have a dollar.
I tell him my smallest note is a $5 bill and he asks if he can see it. At first I think "Not a fuck" then he shows me some old Indian Rupee and Vietnamese notes so I think "WTF" and show him the $5 bill. He turns it round and round, over and back, reads every word printed on it, then asks if he can have it. "I don't think so" I say. "Why you not give me?" he asks about fifty times at which I snatch it back from him before it disappears and I have to smack him about the head to get it back, possibly facing assault charges in the process. In the end, I tell him he can't have it cos I have expenses too.
Just as well the hotel arrived then, otherwise I would have sworn at the fucker. you'd swear I'd stolen his money the way he muttered under his breath and looked at me when I gave him only enough for the fare. As I left the taxi, I heard him mutter something unintelligible and, in return I said "Bye Mudderchod" and I'm sure he heard and understood me perfectly.
Ok, so I decided to go for a swim...
the pool is on the roof of the hotel, one floor above the gym and I grab the lift to the "PD" floor ("pool deck", Fishman). I think the water is going to be cold compared to the ambient temperature, but my watch tells me it is 32degC...the pool is heated.
the inlet is 36degC so the pool loses 4deg to the atmosphere...big deal. It's a pleasure to swim in, like a bath.
A half hour later, I take some photos of the streets below and of the sunset, then head to the room to change and go for a beer in Heroes.
I only have one, then go to the Italian pizzeria attached to the hotel, called "Spaccanapoli" where I am greeted by a petite Vietnamese woman in a black one-piece dress. She is the epitome of good service, "Are you staying in the hotel?" "Yes, I am." "Are you a Priority Club member?" "Yes, actually, I am." "Ah good, then we have a special table for you, sir. What is your room number?" (for the bill, nothing else).
She shows me to a table in a little enclave that has a view of the street two floors below and it's a pity I'm on my own as it would have been romantic with SWMBO here (like Lady and the Tramp, where they suck the spaghetti strand from opposite ends and end up kissing).
The team of waiters has just sung Happy Birthday to a little girl in a language I didn't recognise. She is beaming.
I have a starter of fritters and salad, with a carafe of Italian merlot, and quite a nice wine it is too.
A bread plate arrives too, accompanied by bits of mozzarella cheese and a whole head of roasted garlic cloves. I devour both and decide I am going to work from the hotel the following day, cos I'm going to stink of garlic, I just know it.
For my main course, I have a Quattro Stagioni pizza, half of which I decide to take back to the hotel for lunch the next day.
The wine was the most expensive part of the meal at about ZAR70 for 250ml...WTF, the company is paying for it. Or, at least, the client is paying for it in the end.
The whole bill comes to around ZAR220, not bad for what I had.
I decide to have an "early" night and fall asleep around 22h30 with the TV on. Why does one always fall asleep during the interesting programs?
Part 4 of Abu Dhabi coming up soon...
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