From Gold to Infidelity

Read more from Margaretha here

Taking a taxi into the Dubai to the Gold Souk provided me with an answer to why I never see any Police or Traffic Officers in Dubai. The taxi driver pointed out that cameras are placed at a distance of one kilometer apart, along the city's main highways. They are connected to the CTV's main Traffic Department. He said that you never see a traffic officer, unless there is an accident or another event that requires their presence and then they appear very quickly. I commented on the speeding and he said that you are legally allowed to do 120 km per hour, unless otherwise indicated. The minute you are at 130 Km, the camera flashes and you have to pay a fine of Dh600. At 140 Km it rises to Dh1,000 and at 150 Km it triples to Dh3,000. (divide by 3.5 to get NZ $). If you argue about the fine, they automatically triple the fine and if you don't pay, you go 'inside' for a spell to learn your lesson. He said that most people abide by the traffic rules, rather than risk having to pay the heavy fines or a spell of fored incarceration.

The day was hot, the heat sapping everyone's energy as we trudged along the covered Gold Souk streets. It is hard to imagine the abundance of gold jewelry displayed, unless you have actually seen it. Not here one or two beautifully crafted pieces, no the windows are crammed with gold jewelry, in western, Arabic and Indian style. It is hard to look at them. Instead of seeing one lovely chain, you are looking at fifty or more. Instead of a necklace, you might be stunned to see a whole tank top or breast cover of mesh gold, intricate fringes and chains looping from the edges, precious stones and diamonds, some as large as a small bird's egg, plastered all over it. Women in Asia and the Middle East, are often given gold jewelry as part of their wedding dowry. This gold is her security and her property only, not her husband's. She will often wear it at her wedding. A small gold mesh top can have a necklace looped onto it, as well as bracelets and finger covers, all in fine 22 or 24 carat gold. Forget 9 carat here!

It is considered rubbish and being looked down upon. Imagine being dressed in a measly half a million dollars or more, worth of smooth gold, carefully woven and crafted into an exquisite garment! Children are taught the permanent safety value of gold pieces at a very young age here. Gold jewelry is a normal part of their daily clothing. It is a wise move and all parents should try and instill the value of this safety-metal into their children and encourage them to put at least ten percent of their earnings in gold of some sort as a long-term investment. Not for selling or earning an income, but purely as an escape solution in times of need or disaster. Although part of that ever-growing safety stash could be in a working and profitable gold mine shares.

I remember holding an enormous bunch of Chinese paper money, many years ago in China and Italy. I had instantly become a millionaire according to that paper currency. But was it really worth anything? NO! We ended up throwing it out weeks later as the value totally collapsed. And here is the USA, printing money as if it is play money. I have a horrible feeling, it will be in the near future if they don't get the world economy under control! Twice, I have been in an extremely difficult financial situation and thanked my parents' foresight in gifting me a few gold coins years ago. Selling one at a time, helped me through those low spots. Over the years, their value had increased more than ten times!

The designs of the jewelry pieces in the Gold Souk, were incredibly imaginative and I wished for a millionaire on each arm!

I spent a full day wandering in and out of the shops, discussing prices with the owners, learning and absorbing that they too consider gold and silver, the only currency worth having in difficult times.

An invitation to a business evening cruise on 'The Creek' turned out great entertainment in people-watching. The Creek has been the main route of trade transport for centuries. Dhows lie four to five deep along the quays, where goods are stacked high, ready to be hauled aboard to be transported to far away countries. Food, tires, furniture and even cars are loaded on these fragile looking, but sturdy boats. Families live and work on them also. Tourists wander in-between, gob-smacked and taking photos.

However, we were seated in comfortable chairs aboard one of the dhows, festooned with multi-coloured strings of lights. The host, whom I had only met the day before, welcomed me.

A long, rectangular table was set with fine linen, crystal glasses and sterling silver cutlery. Obviously, this was going to be an interesting evening. Several groups arrived, all welcomed by the host, a tiny Angolan man, of Portuguese descent, who reminded me of Napoleon. Balding, squat and full of his own importance, I judged him to be in his late forties. His wife, (the fourth it was whispered), was a stunning Brazilian lady, towering over him, her legs going up higher than her armpits. Her very shapely and very young 20-year old body, was poured into a skin tight stocking dress of cream and tomato red tiers. Her wrists, ears, neck and fingers held at least a solid part of the Gold Souk's wares, the gold being decorated with large sparkling diamonds and rows of honey-golden topaz. He obviously adored her and you could see him drool every time she pouted her full, moist red lips at him or fluttered the long curling lashes. Her long black hair had been crimped and she regularly flicked it back and forth o er her shoulders. Oh the power she wielded over this poor schmuck! Nevertheless, I noticed that she picked at her nails non-stop and that they had been shredded back into the flesh of her fingertips.

I was seated next to my host and opposite his lovely wife. It was a peculiar mixture of guests and I suspected that it was more a dinner for the host to show off his international connections – and his new wife – rather than to do business. Several Arabian men arrived, escorting one lonely female family member, the woman's flowing black abaya coat exquisitely beaded in swirling patterns upon silk black lace, her wrists and fingers heavily bejeweled, but wearing tracks shoes on her feet! An Egyptian man escorted five, rather ugly identically-looking women, their eyes, heavily coaled in the Cleopatra style, three in western dress, sporting henna tattoos on their hands and arms, two in traditional dress, their hair covered, accentuating their very large noses.

They had lovely smiles though and I found them extremely intelligent during our conversations. They were directors of a the largest Egyptian construction family conglomerate. Three American men arrived casually dressed in jeans and t-shirts, but they were over-dressed by comparison to the three Germans, who wore shorts! I was stunned at their lack of respect towards their host and the host country. Apparently, they were very wealthy mining specialists. Two British couples looked down their noses at everyone and sat apart, talking in low tones and occasionally throwing smug glances at the rest of the guests. They hardly opened their mouths the whole night. I never found out what industry they were in. A very fat, smiling Italian couple waddled in, dressed in evening clothes. He headed, yes you guessed it, a chain of food restaurants in the Middle East. The last party to arrive, was a group of immaculately dressed Japanese men and two ladies, their delicate faces like flowers. They seemed very shy and rather bewildered, as if they had landed in the wrong party. One owned a private island, and was the CEO/owner of a cultured pearl farm, the other one was director of a computer chip business.

I hugged myself gleefully, expecting a very interesting evening with this internationally diverse group.

Our boat departed, gliding smoothly on the dark water, skillfully being maneuvered in between the arriving and departing working dhows, the tourists boats and the tiny water taxis. It was a very busy transport river!

Two chefs were cooking dinner at one end of the large dining cabin and waiters kept up the supply of wine, beer, fruit juice, even sake, or whatever we wished to drink. It was a buffet, but the chefs would cook us some of the many choices on the especially printed menu. If we wanted a steak, grilled fish, chicken or any of the numerous choices, we only had to tell the waiters. The Entrees were varied enough to be a whole meal on their own. Western and Eastern dishes were both available and I noticed with surprise that there was at least one dish typical of each nationality represented. There was pasta for the Italians, the Japanese traditional delicacy karasumi (dried and salted mullet roe) was laid out artistically on fine greenery, German Black Forest cake and even our Kiwi pavlova were available! Obviously, our host had gone out of his way to please and impress. Dinner was sumptuous and the desserts luxurious, with many imported fruits as well as delicious tiny petit fours, small chocolate eclairs and fruit tartlets, crème brûlée and some Egyptian umm Ali, that looked like bread and butter pudding to me.

By now, everyone had relaxed, drinks kept flowing and the conversation turned to more personal matters. Our host declared passionately, that the Spanish had always received too much prominence in world history and that Spanish was not the most widely spoken language in the world, but that it was Portuguese as the population of past and present Portuguese occupied countries totaled in excess of 250 million people, a far greater number than Spanish speaking people. Portugal controlled still many very profitable industries around the world, such as diamond mines, petroleum fields, coffee and cocoa plantations, large fishing industries and many others. It was the Portuguese explorers, navigators and conquistadors that were the first Europeans to discover many parts of the world where no other European had set foot before. "And we Portuguese conquered the world!", he concluded loudly.

Just as the conversation threatened to become too political, his young wife joined the conversation with; "Yes, and the Portuguese women conquered the men! I certainly gave my ex-husband a thrashing he will never forget!"

A stunned silence followed, but unaware, she happily prattled on:

"When I discovered the pig's infidelity, I had all his and her private love messages reproduced on large road-side billboards. A local radio station called me and paid me well over one million for the rights to broadcast them in the evenings as a play, called 'Revenge'. As he had stupidly used my laptop for his filthy dating tricks and filed them together in a folder under MY name, I felt absolutely entitled to sell whatever was on it. He, and the shrew he was playing with behind my back, became the joke of our city and region and he had to move away. Good riddance of people that cross me."

With that last remark, she turned to her open-mouthed new husband, who stared at her like a stunned fish and sweetly smiling tweaked his ear, cooing, "You would never do something like that to me, would you darling?"

Remembering that she was his fourth wife, I couldn't help my laughter bubbling out and other guests also exploded, until we all were hiccuping, tears streaming down the Egyptian women's faces. Even the Japanese giggled behind their hands.

Our host wisely decided that it was time to wrap-up the evening and the captain was instructed to return to base. What a public warning for him! She wasn't an air-headed bimbo after all!

I still don't know the purpose of the 'business' dinner, but hey, I am all for such unexpected surprises that end in hearty laughter – and maybe another divorce?

If readers have any interesting tales to tell regarding revenge after infidelity, please email me (meema1596@gmail.com). I am gathering them to, hopefully, bring more laughter to everyone.