**Hadimu Through Drummer Eyes:** Beats, Blisters & Bizarre Breakfasts
woke up to the smell of burnt oil and something that might’ve been oregano. Or maybe it was the humidity-50% and clawing at my skin like a bad gymnast. decided to walk to the market instead of hailing a cab, and immediately realized my beat-up sneakers were not built for cobblestones. maybe i should’ve stolen someone’s drumsticks and just played my way through the maze of alleys.
decided to hit up that café everyone raves about-*Actually, Yelp says it’s called ‘Al Jannah Chai House’ but locals just yell ‘Aye, Jannah, man!’ down the street. Anyhow, the guy behind the counter looked like he’d rather play trumpet than serve tea. Noted towards my pro-tips: avoid the guy who’s always scribbling on his sketchbook. Turns out he’s a street artist who was ‘banned’ from one of the main plazas for ‘over-polishing a mural of a giant parrot.’ Cool vibe? Definitely. Would give him tips? For now, yes.
weather’s a mess, right? i just checked and it’s 20.27°C-for my fellow drummers, that’s sweat-drenched joy. feel like I’m half in a sauna, half on a subway. tried that local breakfast spot everyone swears by-apparently called ‘Mama Zara’s Kebab Factory’-and got a sandwich that tasted like regret and anchovies. Manager insisted it was ‘traditional.’ Called dialect ‘Hadimu Speak.’ Will translate: ‘You’re welcome.’
overheard something weird at the market: someone claiming the old clock tower’s haunted. Not the ghost-hunter kind, but the ‘I saw a guy in a fez arguing with his toaster’ kind. Brought up the Hadimu map app-turns out there’s a hidden courtyard with ruins no one tells you about. Scooped.
neighbors? If you get bored, ‘Dubai’s 45 minutes by rent-a-motorcycle,’ according to the taxi driver who tried to upcharge me. Told him to shove it. He muttered ‘skeptic’ in Hadimu Speak and sped off. Pro-tip: haggle like your life depends on it. Your drum kit’s future roommate will thank you.
P.S. Saw this sign: ‘“I love Hadimu”*’ in Arabic script. Felt like it was making fun of me for crying over spilled hummus. Maybe I’ll frame it.
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