Posts Tagged ‘Emaar’
We often get messages from the property developer that originally built and now maintains our community.
Ramadan Mubarak. Eid Mubarak. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Happy Diwali. It’s sweet how inclusive it tries to be.
But today, for the first time in 10 years, I saw a post-summer message. And it made me smile. It’s good to be back.
I’ve made a few personal resolutions for the New Year but, as they’re pretty boring (drink less, cycle more, meditate, do something about finishing my novel) I thought I’d tell you about my resolutions for our home.
We live in a standard Emaar house. It came fitted out with cherry wood. “But madam, it is our highest spec. Everyone wants it,” said the salesman. That would be everyone except me. Well, me and my friend A. And T. And J. And the other J. And F. And… you get the picture.
In 2009 we put in a swimming pool and made an entertainment deck. In 2010 we revamped the kitchen (twice – god bless that particular contractor for stuffing it up the first time). 2011 is the year I vow to:
1) Spray-paint all the cherry wood white. Every last devilish little bit of it.
2) Remove the Ikea beech-effect shelves in the family room and replace them with white toy cupboards so, when I’m sipping my Sauvignon in the evening, I can’t see a single plastic toy.
3) Change the Prisoner Cell Block H stairs (grey iron railings – um, why?) to something more attractive for a family home. Even if that just means carpeting the stairs and replacing the banisters.
4) Lay artificial grass in the garden. The real grass costs a fortune to maintain and, since the gardener killed it last summer, it has never looked the same.
5) Replace the flooring throughout the house. Really, after five years of vomit-coloured ceramic tiles, I’ve had enough.
DH and I reckon we’ve got another 10 years in this house, so it’s probably worth the effort. I’ve started on the artificial grass already… I’ll keep you posted.
Haven’t we all had moments when the red tape pertaining to something appears to be so clearly wrong that it leaves you totally speechless?
And let’s face it, those of us living in Dubai possibly have more of those moments than most people.
I had one myself today. I’m not annoyed – just kind of baffled, really.
So here’s the thing. Our garden faces directly onto a community park with a kids’ play area. The park ground level is higher than our garden and there’s only a low fence, so it’s really easy for us to step up to the park or, more worryingly, for little kids or dogs to jump down to our garden – and fall into the (deep) pool.
Me, I think that’s a safety hazard.
So I asked our property developer for permission to put up a nice wooden fence. I was going to commission a classy, slatted one in meranti wood to match our pergola.
Not only would it give us some privacy around the pool (let’s face it, I’m not keen on being watched by 20 Filipina housemaids when I’m in my bikini; neither do I like DD being ogled by the park landscapers when she’s in hers), but it would also prevent Other People’s Kids from falling over the tiny fence and into my pool. Or even from standing forlornly at my fence begging for ice creams while their mothers drool at my jug of Pimm’s.
It’s a no-brainer, no?
No. The property developer said we can’t have a fence because ‘We have to protect the looks of the community.’
‘But what about safety?’ I asked. ‘What about privacy?’
Turns out I can’t have a handcrafted, slatted, stylish wooden fence that matches our pergola, but I can have a metal fence with a beige plastic sheet sellotaped to it ‘for privacy’, so the garden stays in keeping ‘with the beauty of the community.’
Nice one, Emaar.