A French Date

Time: 8pm, Thursday, May 25, 2006
Location: Blue Bar, Novotel Hotel, Dubai, UAE
Date: Vianney, KSG Classmate Luc’s close college friend in France

After some aerobics in the French swimming pool, I forced myself on heavy make-up and a futuristic patterned dress. Fashionably late, I was confident with my smell of Light Blue down the elevator. Vianney was waiting in his French casual, matching well with the white sofa just outside the bar. We picked the Kriek, first on the drink list. Vianney proposed Blue Bar because he used to stay in this French hotel and I stay here. Blue bar is not French but fusion, famous for its live Jazz music and unique selection of Belgium beers, such as Kriek.

I have never been to France nor Vianney to China but both of us have worked in South East Asia and Middle East. Vianney roamed on Arabian Peninsula for the past 18 months while I beached in Israel last summer. We both thumbed up on the best Singapore Sling at Raffle’s Hotel. Gradually, culture became a focus of our conversation. Vianney joked that wives were important assets here because they had priorities in performing civil duties. Otherwise, men had to queue in long lines with 65% Indians and Pakistanis in this country. Islamic marriage allows males to have up to four wives as long as they are treated equally. “Men are privileged.” Vianney had a sway of his head. “Or, women are disadvantaged.” This time he nodded.

After 9:30pm, the Jazz music was on and it got so loud that even though we bumped our noses we couldn’t hear each other. We started walking out while the cherry fermented beer hit my head strongly. Barely balancing myself, I still recognized his French humor on his Dubai experience. We kept on talking in Café Cream as time passed by until my eye lids were getting heavy. His farewell cheek kisses certainly woke me up—“I apologize for being French.”