When in Arabia…

When I was in Arabia (er, actually, Dubai) I danced with a belly-dancer. I was nowhere near as limber or flexible as she was (nor as scantily clad) but it was a lot of fun nevertheless.

Later on, whilst meandering through the twisty alleys of the souq in Dubai with X, I saw numerous belly dancing outfits fluttering in the breeze. Of course I became fixated with purchasing one.

Hot pink or sapphire blue or apple green with red? Bells tinkled and sequins sparkled…

We found a merchant whose goods looked better quality that most, and I happily rummaged through the vast array of silken garments. Short or long, pants or skirt? Hot pink or sapphire blue or apple green with red? Bells tinkled and sequins sparkled; the merchant’s eyes twinkled (with dollar signs) as he hastened to find a colour that would please me.

At first I hankered for something bright and gaudy like the belly dancer’s. The merchant suggested X take a photo of me modelling one such confection so I could see what I look like. I quickly decided it was too gaudy.

Before I could settle on the black silk embroidered with silver beads and sequins, X firmly directed me out the door to ‘confer’ about the price, as he informed the merchant. I should have been accustomed to X’s flair for the dramatic. “But I want it!” I exclaimed to X as I was bullied up the alleyway. “Yes, yes,” he replied, “but we’re bringing the price down… Alright, we can go back now.”

And sure enough, when we returned the price was suddenly right.