This morning as my two girls were fighting over a Nintendo DS game, I was reading a heart-breaking story about Rabab, a little girl aged four and her twin brother who spend their summers working at a brick-making factory in Narwan, southern Iraq. You can see the story here. http://www.thenational.ae/article/20080816/FOREIGN/854404655/1001

These children are younger than Leonardo, but as the journalist points out, Rabab has difficulty “holding a smile”. She has practically lost the will to live. She is destitute, hungry, desperate and will probably spend the rest of her life making bricks. The difference between the lives of my children and Rabab’s is just too distressing to imagine. This girl has no hope that her future will be any better than her present, she has never been to school, her life is unbearably tough and her main battle each day is to find enough water to drink in the searing heat and dust.

So while my children worry about who is playing with the Magic Mario game on a toy that is most certainly worth more than Rabab earns in two years in horrendous conditions, she focuses on not dying of thirst.

Maybe this should make me feel proud, make me happy that I am able to give my children such a nice life. But it doesn’t. It makes me feel like a failure. And like adopting Rabab, along with her entire family.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

I have not yet described the heat to you. It is quite remarkable. Here instead of sheltering inside shopping malls against the snow, sleet and rain you shelter from the sun.

I remember once in St Petersburg in December Rupert and I decided to walk from the Grand Hotel to the Hermitage (like you do). “You’ll never make it,” said the concierge. He was right. Despite regular sips of blueberry vodka from a hip flask, we had to take shelter.

Here it is the same but it’s the heat that will hinder your progress. I couldn’t imagine walking from here, for example, to the Corniche, which would probably only take fifteen minutes. I would melt en route. Even with an umbrella which I have noticed lots of people carry as a sun-shelter. There is no relief from the sea either. We went swimming yesterday. I kid you not, the water was as hot as a bath.

It’s strange though, I don’t dislike it too much. I find it quite comforting. It really is like walking into a steam room every time you go outside, the shock of it hits you and doesn’t lessen. But rather that than the Russian winter. The paper we’re going to work on here seems to be staffed mainly by Canadians, no surprise that.

Meanwhile our housing crisis lurches on. All being well (or Inshallah as we say down this way) we will be transferred to another, nicer, bigger hotel apartment today. Our dream flat is still not ours on account of our inability to come up with two annual salaries in one day.

But we are settling in. Suda our Sri Lankan cricket-playing taxi driver is a gem. The kind of man who is always calm, kind and charming. The children love him. He has his own family, but they are in Sri Lanka. He only sleeps three and a half hours a night so he can support them by working practically around the clock. I guess there are thousands of people like him here. We are all so spoilt in comparison.

Talking of spoiling, my new friend Amanda and I are going to have our hair done today and get manicures which I think will make all the difference. Not only to my hair but to my state of mind. And I will never complain about lack of sleep again now that I know what Suda does every day, day in and day out.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

Things are better.

I have a friend who is lovely and knows all the best bars, beauticians and shops. I have been to M&S (not bad, bit pricey) and in the same mall there is a play-area where you can leave your children in a sort of child’s heaven all day for about £2. Olivia has made about seven friends from all over the world.  I have also seen that you can get a manicure in the same mall for less than £9. Not bad.

We have found an apartment, only problem is they want a year’s rent up front before we can move in or secure it. So we are still in the dump in the wrong part of town with the three children camping on the floor.

We have also met a lovely Sri Lankan taxi driver who says he will now stay here as long as we do. And he plays cricket. Now we are going out for an Indian meal to a restaurant he suggested.And I have a local mobile phone.

Not bad for 24 hours. I hope in another 24 we’ll be in our apartment. Rupert has pointed out that we could rent a place in Chelsea for less. But the manicures are more expensive.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

So we’re here. The flight was good, despite Olivia’s fury that we were not “in the best bit” of the aircraft. Having prepared myself for seven hours in the air with my children by drinking a glass of Barolo at the Rhubarb Cafe in Terminal 3 I fell asleep as soon as we took off. I woke up three hours later to find the girls happily eating, Rupert ordering Whisky and Leo snoring away with his bear, Connaught.

So far so good. Then we arrived. I have to admit that so far I am not overwhelmed. Abu Dhabi seems a little like living in an oven, but possibly less attractive. Actually that may be unfair, we are in a total dump of a hotel apartment but drive ten minutes to The Corniche as it is called and things get better, greener, more elegant. Sadly there is no way we will be able to live there as apartments rarely come up for rent and when they do you need to be an investment banker to afford them.

We looked at a villa this morning on the other “new” Corniche. When they say “new”, they mean not yet constructed, so apart from a little bit where you could walk, the rest was a building site.

This is as far away from any place I would ever choose to live; there are no walks, no nature, no little side streets with designer clothes shops tucked away, no charming Italian bistros. It is a little like Florida, although the people are a lot thinner and I have to say universally charming.

But here’s my hope. I am hoping that after a long flight and being stuck in the worst part of town and getting used to living in steam room conditions (my glasses actually steam up when I go outside - it’s not a good look) that things can only get better. My hope is that in a week or even a few days I will be writing to tell you how marvellous it all is. How many friends I have made and how much I love the highways and impersonal shopping malls and how I never want to drink fine French wines again.

But for now it all feels a bit grim. Although I am encouraged by one fact I read in my guide book. There is an M&S. It could be my salvation.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

It is tough being back. No calming lake, no one bringing me food every meal, no massages, no doctor monitoring my progress. But I am trying my best to keep up the good work I began. The enemy lurks around every corner in the form of alcohol, chocolate and Pringles. It is also difficult to stick to eating certain things at certain times and dining before seven pm.

Last night instead of waiting for a late dinner with the friends we are staying with I ate a bowl of cereal and then watched as they tucked into a lamb stir-fry and red wine. Was I jealous? Did I want to grab the bottle of wine? No, oddly enough I didn’t.

This morning I woke up bright and early while Rupes slept on (clearly digesting all that lamb and red wine) and tried to do some yoga but was interrupted by Leonardo jumping on my back. I am wondering how easy it will be to carry on the routine once we get to Abu Dhabi.

We leave tomorrow - the Friday flight was full so we have had to wait until Sunday. We fly overnight and land at 07.25am local time. From the airport we take a taxi to the hotel we will be living in for a month. I am thinking about writing a book about it all, starting with the flight and ending, who knows where.

Yesterday we went somewhere that was about as far removed from the Arab world as you can get. It is a shop called Abercrombie & Fitch near the Royal Academy which my husband took me to. You are greeted at the door by a man with a naked and rather impressive torso. Inside it is practically dark but light enough to see that every member of staff (male or female) probably model for Ralph Lauren in their spare time. The place is crawling with gorgeous young men asking if they can help you at all. “Well, now you mention it, you probably can,” I was tempted to reply.

Needless to say I was totally seduced by the whole scene and bought jeans, two jumpers and some little dinky vests, even though a subtle voice inside was telling me that this is really a shop for people under the age of 25.

Despite that it was an extremely anti-ageing experience and I recommend it to anyone who wonders what it is like to be in a room surrounded by young men you have only ever seen on the cover of a magazine before now. And just in case you’re wondering, it felt great. It has certainly given me something to think about on that long flight to Abu Dhabi.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

Tomorrow I leave this delightful haven that is the Viva Mayr clinic. I think everyone should come here, at least once. I have discovered several important things about my health that will change my life.

First the reason I have always had a pot belly is not because I am built that way but that I have an inflamed small intestine. So my tummy has swollen up to protect it, just like your arm would swell if you fell over and bashed it. The good news is, it should be gone within two weeks. So if I am allowed to wear a bikini on the beach in Abu Dhabi, I will be doing so. Second my doctor has told me that due to my body’s reaction to stress (throwing calcium at it to reduce acid levels) I will almost certainly develop osteoporosis unless I start taking supplements (and avoiding stress). This is particularly emotive for me as my mother suffers from the disease. Finally (and also linked to stress) I am exhausted and have to allocate one hour a day to myself, along with one day a week and FOUR WEEKS a year - this is going to be the most difficult thing to do.

I don’t feel exhausted, I feel great. I have been working hard but also enjoying massages, saunas (to prepare me for Abu Dhabi) and lots of reading. I am almost at the end of A Thousand Splendid Suns which has been a huge international best-seller. It’s a really lovely book, totally gripping and a great if horrible insight into the plight of women in Afghanistan.

I have been trying to define it. It is not great literature, nor is it pure chick-lit. But somewhere in between. I would say, and this is no way a criticism, it is chick-lit for grown-ups. It is compulsive reading, the characters are well drawn but I think one of the differences between this and say F.Scott Fitzgerald is that here we are told things and with Fitzgerald we are shown them. There is a scene in The Great Gatsby where he describes Daisy Buchanan and Jordan Baker sitting on a large comfortable sofa, their white clothes being gently lifted by the wind, the view from the window and the billowing gauze curtains. In that paragraph he tells us more about the characters and their world than any passage that is purely descriptive.

Talking of chick-lit, a spa would make a great setting for a chick-lit novel. Maybe my next one could be set here with a cast of characters including: The attractive and successful female City executive deafened by the sound of her biological clock, looking for someone, anyone, to silence it. The gruff owner of a Premier League football club and his wife who share the exclusive suite at the top of the clinic, but what goes on up there? The brooding Spaniard, a man who seemingly has everything, but who is riddled with sorrow. The aristocratic playboy with a dark childhood secret…..I could go on. A good excuse to come back next year.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

Alexander Solzhenitzyn, the Russian Nobel laureate and former prisoner of Stalin’s gulags, has died in Moscow aged 89. I can’t pretend to have read any of his books, but I have at least heard of them and I am aware of what a huge impact he made exposing the cruelty of the gulag system despite harassment from the KGB and then eventually twenty years in exile.

Sarkozy (keen to get on on the act) has called him “an heir to Dostoyevsky”. The letters on the BBC website all talk about how he changed people’s lives, what an inspiration he was and one even says that A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich showed him the power of literature to change the world. Solzhi, as he was known by friends in his adopted America, would probably agree. One amazing fact I read this morning is that in the gulag they were allowed neither pens nor paper, so he memorised everything and kept it in his head until he was free to write it all down.

I think every writer secretly dreams about changing the world, either with a huge scoop or with a great book. But maybe at slightly different levels and obviously linked to your circumstances. Were I living in Afghanistan, for example, I like to think I would write a book that would help the plight of women there. But as I’m not I am quite happy helping women in my world lose weight, discover matching underwear and feel better about themselves. Possibly not as ground-breaking or as important as Solzhi’s epic work, but it suits me.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

Although I have at times been tempted to eat my lip-gloss due to extreme hunger pangs, I am really loving the Viva Mayr Clinic (www.viva-mayr.com). It is very different to Renew Retreats, much more medical and not a mention of matching underwear, but as I have found it’s a good place to have a sore neck (massages and relaxing treatments guaranteed to ease the pain). And despite the medical angle it still offers that essential element of time to be totally and utterly selfish and focused on one self, which is something I enjoy thoroughly.

There are of course tough decisions to be made; such as do I go to the sauna or the steam bath, but I’m learning to cope.

Actually I’m learning a lot of things. I am here as I explained to write The Viva Mayr Diet Book, a diet book based on the philosophy of the clinic and the man that runs it, Dr Harald Stossier. His theory is that not only what, but more importantly, how we eat is the key to a healthy life.

The more I learn, the more it makes sense. For example one of his big things is that we have to chew our food well. When he says well, he means around 40 to 50 times. Try it. It’s not easy, but I promise it gets easier. And when you look at the benefits, it’s worth it. It eases the pressure on your digestive system, giving you more energy and generally avoiding digestive problems. It means you get the best taste and the optimum nutrients out of your food. Dr Stossier told me that if you wolf down an organic salad and properly chew a Big Mac, you will get more nutrients from the latter. Most crucially it exercises your jaw muscles so is incredibly anti-ageing because you don’t end up with that jowly look. And on top of that it makes you lose weight because you are chewing more so sending signals to your brain which says you have had enough to eat. What’s not to like? Don’t wait for the book, get chewing…..

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

I am in Austria at the Viva Mayr clinic and online again after several days. I am here for my new book deal; I am writing a diet book based on the Viva Mayr philosophy, which is all about chewing a lot and not eating too late. Well, there is more to it than that of course, but as I only just arrived you can’t expect too many details. And anyway, I don’t want to put you off buying the book.

London was good practice for Abu Dhabi. It was unbearably hot and full of people from the Middle East. We stayed near Marble Arch at our Society of Authors affiliated club, The New Cavendish Club. Let’s get this straight, there’s nothing ‘new’ about it. And that’s what makes it so charming and so very English.

“This is a proper Englishman’s breakfast,” said Olivia tucking into bacon, baked beans, tea and toast. “Grandpa would like this. He’s a proper Englishman. He fought in the war and he won it.”

I doubt the club has changed much since the war (hence the lack of internet connection). The ‘public areas’ require a certain dress code, copies of The Daily Telegraph are strewn over lavishly upholstered sofas and fish and chips is on the bar menu. It is a little corner of London that remains forever England.

Step outside though and you may as well be in down town Abu Dhabi. I would say at least 50% of the people walking down the street are Middle Eastern, quite amazing. Why are they all there? What is it they like about it so much? If you walk through Hyde Park to Kensington Park Gardens and up to the Diana memorial playground the average increases to around 70%. Here at least I can see what has attracted them; the sand around the pirate ship makes them feel at home.

Anyway I am pleased to report they seem extremely nice and I am looking forward to moving there next week even more. Bea met a charming and beautiful young boy at the playground who clearly fell in love with her on sight. Olivia spent her time asking young girls if they liked wearing head scarves. They don’t really think about it is the impression she got.

I saw some very elegant ladies in traditional dress with just a touch of frivolity; a pair of pink shoes, or a Prada handbag, or some gold lace lining the austere black garb. It seems under all that cloth they are a bit like us.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

Because we travel so much for work, Rupert and I have never really been on a proper family holiday until now. I can’t believe how nice it is. This is my routine: I get up, I do some writing (I am working on a novel), I do half an hour of yogo (as Leo calls it). Then Rupert and I go down to our ‘brygga’ or pontoon where we swim out around a boat called My Lady III, a mast-less sailing boat who is in more or less the same position every day.

We get back and have breakfast, then maybe play tennis, or read (I am reading Diana Athill’s Stet - an editor’s life, Rupert is reading The Riddle of the Sands by Erskine Childers), go to ICA the supermarket and buy strange Swedish food, listen to Mamma Mia!, go for a walk, check my amazon rating (2833 since you ask) go to a lake etc etc. In the evenings we often have a sauna, followed by a beer and dill-flavoured crisps.

We leave on Saturday and I have been grumpy all day at the thought of going. I am off to Austria for another book project (all will be revealed once I have the contract) and Rupes and the children stay in England with friends until we head to Abu Dhabi and our air-conditioned office.

But the good news is that, all being well, next year someone will actually pay us to come to Sweden and go swimming - one of the upsides of a job is paid holiday. I am already planning how to spend it. I think we might just come back here and do the same thing we did this year…..

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008