I’m breathing with memories, I’m breathing.
So, we all know I raised a glass or two to the shores of Dubai some weeks ago. A place that’s always been a little short of complete to me; a certain unruliness of its makings and then the adequacy of its apparent beauty.
Aside from the see all eat all culture, I’ve often found myself, asking, well, myself, what does this place actually have on offer? A place not culturally bound by any means however it seems every inch of every wo(man) wants a piece. You hear me, I know.
Waking up doused in its signature scent from dawn to sunset skies, this place really was a dream. This place being Fairmont, Fairmont The Palm. I mean if there was another reason I was to stay on the Palm, this would be it. Furreal.
Places we visit, I feel, have a lot to say about our thought processes. Basically, I mean to say that our choices are closely linked to our inner desires (a total of wants + needs *cheesy grin*) of being heightened to a place that sends us all on a wee merry go round. If we consider that the yippee ki-yay factor of Dubai sends most of us on a fun filled spiral with helpings of care free living, dope food, royal surroundings, surplus Ferrari’s and well, heat. All at surreal levels too.
Me plus this place. Copious restaurants and more than 800 square meters of beach later, I’m asking myself – where the fudge have I been all my life. Not here that’s for sure.
Hotels have come a fair way since the (not so) good ole days, what with their constantly savvy marketing larks and their likeness to social media (some don’t get it, this rad lot do). To be fair, I’ve come a long way since then too; I no longer dislike tasteful furniture, much to my amazement the rugged it looks, the more I love it.
My overall impression of Dubai; the first time I visited left me a few pounds heavier and given it was on grounds of work, I didn’t mind so much, except that this time, ‘holidaying’ in Dubai has equated to nothing short of warm belly feeling and thighs like, well, trucks. I blame my invitation to the epitome of meals at their Frevo churrascaria, eating the equivalent of a herd of elephants I’m sure – Hotels like Fairmont The Palm, are like the gentle grandad of hotels, not by age, but those that take you to the candy shop (!) each time you meet and spoil you with everything they’ve got.
This place, their staff and the power of their green juice and lobster. Aced it made it. If you happen to stop by, don’t miss out on The Chef’s Palette, the new Friday night in I say.
Note: refurbished in 2012 and 600 staff strong – I was dreaming in real life. Nermin and Richard; I see you.
And no, this isn’t a funded drama of words, this place truly rocked *big lip plumped smile*.