On New Years Day we were rather rudely shaken from our vegetative state by
a ding dong on the front door. “That’ll be the new tenancy contract”, Mrs
H states confidently, powers of telepathy keen as ever.
I open the door to a slightly sheepish looking security guard, who hands me
a letter, the contents of which can be summarised as “kindly pack up your
stuff and move out, we’d like to upgrade the kitchen cupboards as a pretext to jack up
Close but no cigar Mrs H, right subject, wrong outcome.
Well, Happy New year and f*ck you too, what a way to start 2015. On reflection, I think this is actually a good example of life in Dubai, the kind of roller-coaster ride that the Expat Guides don’t care to mention. New Year’s Eve you’re watching fireworks over the Burj Al Arab, twelve hours later you’ve got an eviction notice in one hand, downloading
the Property Finder App with the other. Living the dream indeed.
Of course what the landlord is doing is quite illegal, but they don’t really care, rules and regulations are for ordinary people who don’t have the wasta. So what to do? Run down the clock on the official 12 months notice period, or get out of Dodge before it turns into a building site? Decisions, decisions.
The landlord “kindly” (as they like to say in these parts) offered us a third option. Move into one of the newly refurbished villas, which will be offering out with a mere 59% increase in rent. Er, let me think about that…..hang on…..piss off. Kindly.