ROLLERCOASTER RIDE TO THE AIRPORT.

HIYA.Oh my goshhh where to start? I meant to blog much earlier than this, but was waiting for Storm to do her next post (HEH-HEMMM) as she was supposed to cover our rather emotionally fraught journey to the Departures gate. But she hasn't pulled her finger out and written it so I'm doing it for her. I was going to summarise it and move on but its just too long so I'll have to do another one soon about actually being here.

I thought my comfy traveling outfit was so on point..except there was a hole in the crotch of the leggings which I put a safety pin in, before realising you can't go through security with a safety pin there and had to remove it. In public.

What can I say about the journey..it was a bloody emotional rollercoaster (hence the post title).I was rushing round all day doing last minute bits, of which I got about half done.

Storm had agreed to store anything I couldn't fit in my suitcase, but I realised I had too much to get a taxi to hers alone as I couldn't carry it all, and I couldn't leave anything lying around where I lived as it was super dodgy. So I made her come to mine to help me first. 

We left mine late, still couldn't carry all the bags, the taxi driver couldn't find my address, and then I broke my suitcase handle. 

Storm did serious calming damage control in the taxi while I panicked about traffic.

We dumped my stuff with her poor flatmates to lug up the stairs and legged it.

We got upgraded on the Heathrow express so felt super zen and glam for about five minutes, but then judgy Sally at the check-in desk luggage shamed me and I had to rid myself of 9kg or so, which meant Storm had to buy a suitcase at the airport to take home all my excess clothes. Clothes which I MISS..as half my outfits don't work now. My clever shrink-wrapping idea actually just meant that I couldn't deselect specific items so had to just lose whole bags, so had no idea what I was ditching. But on the plus side I was using the scales to weigh individual pairs of shoes so I could sneak them back in. Up yours check-in bitch.

That is my lovely new suitcase and the poor little one that had to go home..no exciting trip to Dubai for YOU leoparder.

We had a coffee and felt a bit calm again, I was planning a nice little browse through duty free..then we realised I had no time and they were calling my flight.

Then I had a little panic cry when I found out Storm couldn't come any further and I actually had to go.

But, you know, started as I meant to go on by making friends with a girl on the plane who taught me all about fancy flights and the fact that you don't pay for anything on Emirates so we had a cheeky little glass of wine to calm my nerves. The film selection was glorious. 

I had been planning to sleep but selfish Stan in front of me decided to put his seat back while I was asleep on the back of it so that was the end of that.

There was a man sitting two seats down who kept burping and even his wife was giving him serious side eye about how revolting he was.

My passport got passed around about five people the other side with no explanation about what their issue was until they decided the original stamp they'd given me was fine.

The luggage carousels made literally no sense as there was no board telling you where to go, you just had to walk around looking at every single one until you found yours.

There was a little man with my name on a sign which was sort of glamorous but it was hand written and he hadn't actually left enough space to write it properly so it was all squished up at the end.

The airport has a freaking waterfall in it.

Aaaaand then I arrived at my hotel on the 38th floor and it was just a full on one bedroom apartment and I felt like a princess (although two weeks later looking back on it it looks distinctly average..not sure if Dubai has ruined me already) so I immediately Whatsapped pictures to everyone before deciding I needed a nap.

So that's where I'll stop for now, as there's so much to tell that it all needs to be done in bits! It's been 3 weeks and I feel like I've been here forever (in a good way).

Hope you're all enjoying the rain in England HAHAHAHAHAHA(I am such a cow).

x

12 THINGS THAT ARE SCARING ME ABOUT MOVING TO DUBAI.

1. LITERALLY EVERYTHING.

I mean no, not everything. But most things. I've finally got all my flight and hotel details through and everything (thank god, since I'm leaving on Friday) so I'm having a really like SHIT THIS IS HAPPENING moment. I mean it's been happening for the last month and I'm so so excited but I've now packed my shoes into my suitcase so it's got seriously real.

But in all seriousness these are the things that I'm fretting about most and if anyone has any advice or knowledge they'd like to share and help a sister out that would be excellent.

1. Getting on a plane by myself. Don't mean to sound like a baby but I refuse to find the toilet in a bar or restaurant by myself so this is almost too much. I'm actually forcing Storm to come and see me off because I feel like she's good at life and will point me in the right direction.

2. What to pack. How the hell do you pack for boiling weather when you have to cover up, and how on earth can I fit my life into one suitcase and still arrive to a new job feeling sassy and fashionable? I'm also using those sucking-the-air-out bags you can get so fear 2.a is those filling with air and bursting open and spraying my belongings everywhere.

3. Getting my visa stamped and approved when I get there. Like, what if they say no just because they don't like the cut of my jib or something?

4. Getting lost. I have a genuinely hopeless sense of direction (much to the disapproval of my dad) and I am now moving somewhere I have never been and the impression I get is that you can't just walk places, which is mostly how I fix getting lost because Google Maps is my babe for life.

5. Phone contract. I have to get a new Sim when I'm out there, meaning I'll have a new confusing number, will probably lose all my friends numbers, and I have too many excellent Whatsapp groups that people will have to re-add me to. Also I still have 10 months of my phone contract here so have to decide between leaving it running for no reason or paying like £1000 to get out of it. EE can do one, they are my least favourites.

6. Being in a bikini a lot. I mean quite self explanatory but my Dubai diet was supposed to start approximately four weeks ago and I'm currently halfway through my eighth biscuit of the day.

7. Finding a flat. My no.1 fear at this point. I have two weeks in a hotel to do it, but it can't be done until my new bank account is set up, which can't be done until my Visa is done, and apparently there's Visa delays. I also have to run around in 30 degree heat in areas I don't know dealing with (probably) dodgy landlords. That was rotten enough when I had to do it in London recently and it was only like 19 degrees. And I wasn't on a deadline.

8. Not making any friends. It's like starting Uni only everyone else already lives there and you're just this fruity panicking stranger barging into their midst begging for love and trying not to sweat.

9. Boiling/burning to death. I'm a secret ginger so fear for my life.

10. Offending someone and being arrested. Not by getting slutty and getting my knees out or anything but through my uncanny knack for thinking without speaking.

11. Hating my job. I've been in same easy, secure job for 3 years and suddenly I'll have to try and impress people and try hard and stuff. And not say anything inappropriate.

12. Being poor. Trying to figure out money and whether I'll be ok and whether my salary is fair is like learning how to live on Monopoly money when you don't actually know how much stuff like washing tablets costs for the little people in Monopoly.

This was supposed to be a list of ten things but I'm so scared it became twelve. What a wimp. I'm just trying to focus on the fact that I'm actually panic excited and no matter how much you stress everything seems to work out in the end, doesn't it. DOESN'T IT?

DD.

SO. Before you get all excited, the Double D in the title isn't about boobs unfortunately. Calm down. This isn't that sort of blog. If you ended up here looking for porn then 1000 apologies.

What this ACTUALLY is is a way for me, Ria, and my sister, Storm (yes, genuinely, that's her name) to blog about the huge life changes that are happening to us both, weirdly at the same time. And what that is, is that we're both moving out of London to places we've never been before, and places that couldn't be more different to each other.

She's off to Devon.

While I'm moving to Dubai.

(Hence the DD)

My understanding of her job is mainly that it revolves around horse sperm, while I'm going to be a stylist for a company that I don't yet know the actual name of. We're potentially making some really strong life choices here.

But anyway we thought this would be a good way to keep our family and all our friends updated on what's happening, and also thought the differences and similarities of moving to two such different places could be interesting to see side by side, and might be helpful for anyone that's potentially doing the same sort of thing. And also it will probably be interesting for horse perverts.

So she'll be updating from a field.

And I'll be doing it from a beach.

I MEAN I know I'm biased but I deffo think I've made the better choice here.

So that's that for now. I'm moving at the beginning of November and she's going early January, so the next month or so will probably just be me stressing about how to dress in a country where it's 50 degrees but you have to be covered up, and her delighting over the fact that she's getting all my winter jumpers. Send help.

Ria x