Finding Home in the UAE: A Journey of growth and belonging

Eid Al Etihad or National Day in the UAE always makes me a little sentimental in a proud, smiling-to-myself kind of way. It’s the day I’m reminded that this country didn’t just host me, it shaped who I’ve become. I arrived in 2006, young and eager, hired for an evening newspaper that, in a twist of irony, lasted about as long as a Dubai winter.

When it shut down after a year, I genuinely thought I’d be packing my bags and flying back to India. I already had dreams in motion and a ridiculous emotional attachment to a country I had barely begun to understand. Then I landed my role at my current newspaper, and here I still am, 19 years later, with the UAE an essential part of my life.

What this really means is that I’ve had a front-row seat to how beautifully efficient life here can be. Things get done. Processes make sense. Systems are followed. You don’t spend four weeks waiting for a government stamp while contemplating the meaning of existence. You don’t fear chaos at the counter, nor do you mentally rehearse wrestling moves before entering a queue. It’s orderly. It’s fast. It’s civilised. You learn to appreciate that very quickly.

I also discovered that accessing healthcare here doesn’t feel like an ordeal. If I fall sick, I just go to the hospital alone, get a check up, get treated, and get home. No drama. No dread. No wrestling with paperwork. There is a sense of care and clarity that gives comfort, especially when living away from your home country.

Let’s break it down: the UAE is built for people who operate on different clocks. My body thinks midnight is early evening, and the UAE seems to agree. The city hums at 2am with a steady, confident pulse. Supermarkets are lit. Pharmacies are open.

Restaurants pulse with life. And my favourite discovery: gyms at odd hours feel like private sanctuaries. I get in, stretch, lift, breathe and enjoy the rare pleasure of having the machines all to myself. Then I step onto the street in the quiet of the night and head home without anxiety creeping behind me. I walk comfortably and confidently, because this is a place where women feel safe, seen and secure. That’s more than convenience. That’s true freedom.

There’s also a cultural richness here that you absorb without realising. I learned about the warmth and hospitality of Arabs across the Middle East, Emirati dignity, Filipino cheerfulness, Iranian elegance, African joy, the witty banter and charming politeness of the Brits, the relaxed, cultured ease of my European friends, and the confident, friendly openness of my American colleagues — all without needing a single passport stamp. During work meetings, at dinner tables, in everyday life, you realise the world lives here together, and you learn how different cultures laugh, negotiate, socialise, celebrate and express respect for each other.

Another thing that surprised me early on was the chivalry. I wasn’t used to men holding the door for me or stopping their cars to let me cross the road. At first, I assumed they must have mistaken me for someone important. But here it’s just standard decency. My countrymen do it too, here in Dubai. Living here naturally raises the standard of everyday courtesy, and we all unconsciously adapt to it.

Still, one thing continues to mildly haunt me: I never quite picked up the Arabic language. Nineteen years, and I’m still smiling helplessly when someone speaks to me. I nod, I gesture, I improvise… and still somehow get by. I suspect my communication skills might well win me an award — if charades was a category.

Yet, I did achieve something monumental this year, I finally got my driving license. And trust me, I didn’t glide through those tests like a superstar. It took me a year and a half of multiple attempts, nerves, re-takes, pep talks and mild emotional breakdowns. But I got there. So if you ever need proof that dreams have no expiry date, look at a woman in midlife grinning at her UAE driver’s license photo.

Eid Al Etihad always brings back the feeling that moving to the UAE opened up a whole new chapter of personal growth for me. I came here with hope, ambition, and curiosity. I stayed because this country made space for those dreams to land, expand and eventually feel like home.