International lenders did not disclose specificities, but said it was part of global cost-cutting plansNovember 26, 2015 11:32
2014 Football World Cup: in bad taste
I can not wait for the 2014 football World Cup to be over
June 24, 2014 7:16 by kippreport
By Florence Pilkington
During the World Cup, attention turns to one thing: football. Even in a country, such as the UAE, that is not even competing in Brazil, all eyes – very tired eyes, that is – are fixated on the four-week-long tournament.
Last night I headed out for a nice, relaxing dinner with my family. Admittedly, we are right in the middle of the ‘greatest sporting event in the world’, but even I didn’t think football fever had spread into every corner of Dubai, especially to my favourite little restaurant in Jumeirah.
I could barely hear myself think, let alone understand what the waiter was saying to me. As we sat at our usual table, I am not only subjected to loud football commentary, screaming fans and background music – a seemingly new addition for football fans – but endless complaints about the food.
You see, when you’re in a restaurant, and all its staff are positioning 52-inch TV screens, rearranging chairs for optimal viewing and then, when the match starts, watching the football, they are not focusing on what they should be. In this case my Chicken Cordon Bleu.
It took 45 minutes to receive my food. And when it did arrive, it was overcooked. The chicken was dry and the vegetables were soggy. This, however, came as no surprise as the chef spent more time watching the football than he did in the kitchen cooking my food.
And if being served below par food wasn’t bad enough, the side serving of football talk and paraphernalia was simply too much to stomach.
I can not go anywhere, it seems without seeing signs advertising the World Cup, over hearing conversations about last night’s game and being forced to watch replays of the tournament’s ‘best moments. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation that didn’t involve football.
There are just two week’s left, I hear you cry.
And at the end of those two weeks, on July 14, you will find me in my little restaurant in Jumeirah. And, while everyone else is sobbing because his or her team has either won the World Cup or spectacularly crashed out, I will be enjoying a perfectly cooked Chicken Cordon Bleu.