Favorite Place? So… so many… that I cannot settle for just *one* favorite, so I’ll give a run down:
All of France. Because I just love France. It feels like a place where I want to have a second home. So much so that I am doing everything in my power to make it happen. I don’t want to move to France (I love Amsterdam too much for that; this is home to me) but I want to have a farm kind of place and it is my life goal to see it happen. Preferably near Champagne because then I wouldn’t have to travel for a whole day to get there with the dog and possibly cats every time I want to go, just a few hours (like three and a half) and we would be there.
Barcelona. Because if I was a woman of unlimited means, this is where my third home would be (fourth if you count the one I already have in Buenos Aires, plus Amsterdam and the future utopia of French farm).
Turkey, more precisely Istanbul. Because it is magical and I love it there.
And I must confess my biggest sin in all of my choices above: food plays a major role in my falling in love with a place. If I love the food, I want to spend lots of time in a place. It’s the one main reason I pick places as favorites.
And least favorite… there is one: Dubai
I mean, it’s great if you are into sky scrappers and malls. And one caveat: I’ve met some fantastic people (both Emiratis and foreigners). But Dubai (probably all of the Emirates) has to be the least favorite place I ever been to (and I’ve been around quite some).
I will exemplify my dislike with just one anecdote: I was having dinner with customers and friends at the Buddha Bar over there. Wonderful place for all intents and purposes. Food was great, the place is amazing from an architecture point of view, the music is right up my alley, the view is great. You get the idea. Then I have to go to the toilet. And I find out the place is populated with girls, mostly South East Asian, whose job is to stand at the door of your toilet cubicle holding a warm, wet towel. And when you are done with your “business” in the cubicle, they open the door for you, smile and hand you the wet towel.
That there are human beings doing this for hours, standing up, handing warm wet towels to rich people crushed me. I am sincere in this, I wanted to cry. I know people might argue “but the girls had a decent job, etc”. No. I cannot wish for another woman what I wouldn’t wish for myself.
Also, Dubai and Abu Dhabi seem to get out the worst of “Westerners”. I have seen people treat service personnel with such disdain and offensive manners that I wanted to scream. Addressing people in ways that they would never dare do “back home”. Because invariably, these service personnel are brown people. And sadly, the local culture seems to encourage that absolutely disgusting behavior because the locals also do it (some, of course, I am not implying every local is a terrible person). These service people are brought mostly from South Asia and some of them live in conditions that are soul crushing and we should not accept in the name of luxury. But it happens. And then Europeans or North Americans go there and become enchanted with the place, totally enamored with the luxury and rich lifestyle. Only that there is always someone paying a price for it.
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