How many of us here in Dobby have made the following journey more times than should be humanly possible?
Wait in cab line—traffic—arrive at massive mall—enter cavernous showroom—struggle through house-wares—lose it in self-service—wait in line—wait in home delivery line—have loud argument with “customer service”—exit massive mall—wait in cab line—traffic—stagger into apartment—collapse.
All for the pleasure of furnishing your place with affordable, sometimes well made, non-bling-i-licious stuff.
To be fair, Ikea in Dobby is actually a lifesaver. Without it, we would be paying twice as much for crap made in China, but geared-towards-Arab-bling crap, not nicely organized, space- efficient, sometimes not so crappy crap. So ultimately Harry and I are happy with Ikea. My struggle is to carry these feelings into the moment when we are somewhere in the middle of the above sequence of events. Once you have passed the third or forth screaming child, it is really hard not to just start pitching a fit of your own. Harry of course is far better at maintaining his cool than I am.
But we are not alone. Thanks to Ikea, I get to feel like a normal-height female due to all the European families that share our commitment to some concept of value for money. Once in a while not feeling like a tall, gawky stork surrounded by little roundish black birds is good for the spirit. Plus Harry gets a break from the constant barrage of Indian “brothers”.
And speaking objectively, the mall housing Ikea is actually quite nice. It is a massive rendition of a waterfront and canal, where you can walk along the “water” (as soon as construction is completed and the water actually arrives), but still peaceful despite being completely fabricated. Since it is so far off the beaten track, and most people seem to go for Ikea only, outside Ikea is not crowded at all. What a pleasure after elbowing through hoards at other malls, dodging shopping carts and fighting for your place in the toilet cue!
Which brings us to the rite of passage. Now that Harry and I have completed four rounds of the trip to Ikea, we feel we can officially claim the title “Expat” with pride. Yes, we are initiated to the life abroad, where familiar global brands promise, but few deliver with the panache of Ikea—a complete physical, mental, and emotional experience. It could almost become a spiritual discipline.
However, on Friday morning (first day of the week-end) as Harry and I sat on our Ikea couch drinking Ikea coffee from our Ikea coffee cups (after getting up out of our Ikea bed), we looked around, shared a “dawn of realization” glance, and immediately headed off to Zara Home. Unless Ikea gives out prizes to those customers that create potential Ikea advertisements in their own homes, we decided we had to mix it up a little or we might just wake up in the Ikea universe.
Wait in cab line—traffic—arrive at massive mall—enter cavernous showroom—struggle through house-wares—lose it in self-service—wait in line—wait in home delivery line—have loud argument with “customer service”—exit massive mall—wait in cab line—traffic—stagger into apartment—collapse.
All for the pleasure of furnishing your place with affordable, sometimes well made, non-bling-i-licious stuff.
To be fair, Ikea in Dobby is actually a lifesaver. Without it, we would be paying twice as much for crap made in China, but geared-towards-Arab-bling crap, not nicely organized, space- efficient, sometimes not so crappy crap. So ultimately Harry and I are happy with Ikea. My struggle is to carry these feelings into the moment when we are somewhere in the middle of the above sequence of events. Once you have passed the third or forth screaming child, it is really hard not to just start pitching a fit of your own. Harry of course is far better at maintaining his cool than I am.
But we are not alone. Thanks to Ikea, I get to feel like a normal-height female due to all the European families that share our commitment to some concept of value for money. Once in a while not feeling like a tall, gawky stork surrounded by little roundish black birds is good for the spirit. Plus Harry gets a break from the constant barrage of Indian “brothers”.
And speaking objectively, the mall housing Ikea is actually quite nice. It is a massive rendition of a waterfront and canal, where you can walk along the “water” (as soon as construction is completed and the water actually arrives), but still peaceful despite being completely fabricated. Since it is so far off the beaten track, and most people seem to go for Ikea only, outside Ikea is not crowded at all. What a pleasure after elbowing through hoards at other malls, dodging shopping carts and fighting for your place in the toilet cue!
Which brings us to the rite of passage. Now that Harry and I have completed four rounds of the trip to Ikea, we feel we can officially claim the title “Expat” with pride. Yes, we are initiated to the life abroad, where familiar global brands promise, but few deliver with the panache of Ikea—a complete physical, mental, and emotional experience. It could almost become a spiritual discipline.
However, on Friday morning (first day of the week-end) as Harry and I sat on our Ikea couch drinking Ikea coffee from our Ikea coffee cups (after getting up out of our Ikea bed), we looked around, shared a “dawn of realization” glance, and immediately headed off to Zara Home. Unless Ikea gives out prizes to those customers that create potential Ikea advertisements in their own homes, we decided we had to mix it up a little or we might just wake up in the Ikea universe.
3 comments:
Yeah, you don't want your place to look like it came down with a case of Ikea disease. You should take some pics of the blingy furniture though - am kind of dying to see it.
oh girl--sonnets could be written about the bling I keep refering too. I have heard it described as harem-esq. But you will just have to come visit and see for yourself.....:-)I will get to the pictures as soon as the camera turns up again--
Yes, we have fond ex-pat memories of IKEA along with a few things. I think the difficulty of access is part of the allure. It's like a real accomplishment and an all afternoon (if not day) event. I'm sure that you will have many happy returns.
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