Love and the Bu Qtair

This blog does not get an ironic title. It is an entire story of its own, and I probably won't do it justice. But I'm not too worried about it. This is one of those stories that I will remember the rest of my life, without writing it down.

Let me start by saying I have had a celebrity crush on Anthony Bourdain since I first saw him on the television show "No Reservations". Now that I have met the man that I love more than anything else, Bourdain has taken a back burner, but I'm still a huge fan of his shows, blogs, books, wit....

Enough. I dig Anthony Bourdain, I think you get it now.

So, naturally, I watched the "No Reservations - Dubai" episode to get some inspiration for our upcoming trip. I highly recomment watching it, so that you can get a better idea of the Bu Qtair. Hubs and I were both excited after watching the episode, we had to get our hands on the fresh fish and prawns marinated for hours in something and drenched in a spicy fish curry that looked deliciously orange, if that makes any sense. We found it online and hopped in a cab, certain that we had great directions if our cab driver had been living in a hole the last twenty years and didn't know where the place was.

Apparently, cab drivers in the UAE are just as bad at getting directions as giving. Because he had no idea what we were talking about. Even when we showed him the google map of how to get there. So, we asked to be dropped off at a bus stop and hoofed it. Through the dimly lit side streets and alleys, we managed to find it. A brightly lit but small building in the middle of a suburban area. Apparently, this is a high volume fishing area, and the fish served at the restaurant is nothing but the freshest.

In true American fashion, Hubs and I divide and conquer. I'll be damned if I have to stand and eat this fish curry. I'm finding a table and reserving it until we get our food, no matter how long that may be. But I am quickly rushed off by restaurant staff. They seat you when you get your food. Hmph. I mumbled a lot about how I'd better get a table, and right then, our dining experience was off on the wrong foot.

We waited in line for close to an hour. Mainly because the family of six in front of us (this included the four small, hyperactive children) turned into a family of twenty during the course of that hour. And thats with the kids (at least 15 by now) going outside to sit in a "waiting area" (we'll get to that later...) The inside of the building was incredibly small and unairconditioned. Not the ideal place for men who have been outside all day either fishing or working construction jobs. I'm surprised I have a sense of smell at all anymore.

Conveniently, they had a hand washing station, which I thought was great! We may eat outside and on plastic tables, but no need to behave like barbarians. Hats off to the Bu Qtair's dedication to cleanliness. These thoughts were quickly reversed as we witnessed a customer blow a pretty forceful "snot-rocket" into the sink. Hello. We're surrounded by tissue boxes, dude. Why the sink? Why?

We finally get to the front, pick out a raw fish and watch the fresh prawns measured out to a manageable amount for our dinner. This is the stuff. This is what brought us here. This. Is where Anthony Bourdain ordered the exact. Same. Thing. Then the bill. 100 dirham for not that much food. Excuse me? Family of 23,974,283 just gave you 100 dirham and got change back. Ugh. Take your dirty money. Give us our prawns.

We ordered. We paid. Now we wait. Outside. For our plastic chairs around a plastic table. And we pray that the host of children (all under four) either stop screaming and running rampant between said tables, or are not sitting close to us. Hubs and I split a Coke and waited till poor Hubs could wait no more and decided to stand closer to the man calling out orders. Nothing like a 6'10 handsome man to bring a real presence to the room. So, I was able to sit and take it all in. A circle of mothers, again, all with children under four, sat with their children and visited. Maybe it was a rare night out or a regular Thursday night ritual to get together with their families. But they soaked up each other's stories and gave hearty laughs. I saw a couple show up in a cab. (how did that cab know where this place was and ours didnt?!) The girl was dressed to the nine's in a skirt, fashionable top and, of course, heels, and was not thrilled in her date's choice of venue. Especially considering that the Burj al Arab was within view and a much pricier and air-conditioned place. They left on foot after a relatively quick conversation and after giving up hope on a taxi driving by to pick them up.

When we did get our food, it was pure Heaven. (despite the fact that we had to pay another ten dirham for bread and curry sauce...) The whole fish is fried without breading, so it's crispy goodness is purely blackened in its marinade and the flavors left behind from the hundreds of fish fried in the oil before it. The prawns? Oh, delicious prawns. There's no way to describe the melt-in-your-mouth goodness that made such a silent dinner table. We were seated at a back table, essentially in the dark, so we were blindly grabbing at more fish and occasionally went too heavy on the curry which was so spicy delicious, but we didn't care.

We talked about that meal the rest of our trip in Dubai and even now that we're back in Moscow. We love to brag on how we found the local hideout and what good foodies we are for following the trail of Anthony Bourdain. Sometimes, we even include these horrible facts about our night, but we mainly save that for our private memories and teasing.

I love this story because it's another moment where our world became a little bit smaller. We have such specific memories to be cherished and this indeed made a top ten. It has a healthy dose of good and bad, loud and silent, dirty and clean. (albeit, mostly dirty, though...)

Cheers to the stories we cherish. Dirty, hot, stinky, delicious stories.