There was a children’s TV programme in the late 1980s and early 1990s called Knightmare. It was my favourite. It was a game show for teams of four children: one who plays and three who act as the advisors and guides. The player was blindfold (in the form of an oversized knight’s helmet) and it was the teammates’ task to guide them through a fantasy medieval dungeon consisting of many different rooms with various challenges to complete. Every time one of these was successfully completed, a door would open and the player could progress to the next room.

In the past week I have received my Emirates ID card and my resident’s visa. In the case of the former this is excellent news as you essentially don’t exist here without it. In the case of the latter it is quite nice to have a whole page of my otherwise baron passport filled with a very official looking document.

My newfound resident status has caused me to look back at the process of obtaining it. A process that goes back to April. For the sake of brevity (and beaucse I like them) here is a little list….

1. Complete an online profile for the Education Department.
2. Get an international police check.
3. Get a letter from my previous school confirming I am who I say I am and I worked where I say I worked.
4. Get all my educational certificates attested by the Foreign Commonwealth Office and the UAE Embassy in London (which involved employing a Notary)
5. Obtain transcripts of record for all my education certificates.
6. Realise what a transcript of record is.
7. Once in the UAE, complete a medical examination and have fingerprints taken.

Now I like thoroughness. I like things done properly. If a job is worth doing:…. you get the gist. But I really do not know how many times it is possible to prove your identity and your qualifications. (For example, point 3 was followed up with a phone call to my previous school from UAE immigration confirming they had written that letter and I had definitely been employed there). I really don’t know whether to respect the fastidiousness or despair at the beurocratic superabundance. That said, given that I am living in an expat paradise tax haven with high wages, free accommodation and beautiful year-round weather, I can see why job and resident applications by non natives are as high as they are and must be managed stringently.

Throughout the entire process I have had no choice but to maintain patience and a touch of humour. In every job that must be done, after all, there is an element of fun. None more so was this the case than a couple of weeks ago when I was sent to complete point 7 on the above list. I was to meet our HR rep at a downtown medical centre at 7.45am. Not well known for my morning disposition, I did not think this a suitable time for the appointment. Still, I proceeded to the waiting room and was given a ticket with a number on it. After some minutes spent cheering myself up by imagining I was in a delicatessen, I was called forward. There was a door behind the reception desk that I was asked to walk through.

This led to another waiting room. Again, I was called forward through another door.

Here I had my chest x-rayed and, despite my attempts to smoke less going slightly worse than planned, seemed to gain the approval of the medic operating the machine. I was then shown through another door. On the other side of the surgery from which I had entered.

This led to another waiting room. Again, I was called forward through another door.

Here I had a blood sample taken. Despite sometimes not being the best with needles this went smoothly and, once again, my designated healthcare professional seemed satisfied. I was then shown through another door. On the other side of the surgery from which I had entered.

This led to another waiting room. Again, I was called forward through another door.

Here I was given a document saying I had completed my medical examination. The forthcoming result would (if a good one) allow me to go to have my fingerprints taken and finally become a UAE resident. Despite my having been prodded and probed at such an uncivilised hour of the day I felt extremely amused, and not just because the blood test made me a little light headed. My merriment derived from being allowed to go through the next door at every stage of the medical, as if on some medieval quest for clean health and residency.

Right then my mind flew back to the 1980s and a young boy sitting in front of a luxurious 20 inch family television set, watching in childlike bewilderment as that week’s contestant made it to the next room, then the next, then the next. I don’t know when I was more nervous, then or a few days ago in my own medical Knightmare.

I like to think that failure might have resulted in being thrown into some murky chasm of ill health, cast aside in favour of a less wheezy music teacher. Instead, I am a proud UAE resident.

And I didn’t even have three friends to guide me safely through…..