Hi! I'm Amal!
Who Amal is
I’m Amal. I’m Tunisian. I spent years trying to learn the Emirates smile, working as cabin crew for Emirates in Dubai—the job everyone else called a dream while it quietly tried to strip me of my voice.
When I discovered that I couldn’t give my voice away, I came home to Tunisia: a local with global miles, writing that voice again about the places I’ve lived, passed through, loved, and complained about—Tunisia, Dubai, the sky, and everywhere in between.
Where I got my lens
Growing up in Tunisia shaped how I see the world. Wherever I went, I always compared it back to Tunisia.
When I tasted tea in Sri Lanka, the red glass of Tunisian tea was on my tongue. When I wandered the streets of Malta, Tunisia’s doors were in my memory. When I write about any place, you will find Tunisia slipping into one of the lines.
It is not intentional. It is simply there.
My former living room: the plane
I lived on the plane enough for it to be stuck forever in my memory. I lived there as a worker, not as a passenger. That’s why I see it differently.
The plane taught me a lot about people, and it was the path that took me everywhere I’ve been. I loved planes and I hated them. That’s why, when I write about them, you can see some anger and a lot of complaining.
All of that was lived.
The place I never could call home: Dubai
I lived in Dubai long enough to know the shiny version and the version behind it.
I know the restaurants with the Burj Khalifa views, the areas worth paying for, the places that look good online but feel empty in real life, the heat people underestimate, the traffic, the malls, the so‑called desert, the man‑made beach, the money, and the strange feeling of living in a city designed to impress you.
I am not here to tell you that Dubai is terrible. I am here to tell you what it is.
Would I live there again? No.
Should you visit or move there? That depends on you.
Messy, deep, real
I have never been an Instagram person. I preferred articles and books over reels. Writing gives you depth; it gives you real. That’s why you can tell when AI wrote something: no voice, no soul. It is perfect.
Writing should be messy, deep, and real. I write lived experience. When I travel, I try to see a place from the inside, not the cliché spots to tick off. I write about everything glossy travel content is conveniently ashamed to mention.
I write for people who want a real person’s version: the good, the bad, the sticky, the expensive, the beautiful, the fake, and the part that no one includes in the caption. This is for readers who read. Readers who want the real, raw version—not only the polished one. Readers who appreciate a voice, a personality, and an opinion.
I write the lived version.
What I’m making out of all this
Travel, for me, was not a vacation. It was a way of living when I worked as a flight attendant. I saw cities and countries on 24‑hour layovers and on long vacations. I tried the cliché tourist things—some were worth it. I tried the weird local things too, the things I consider the real basis of travelling.
Now I turn all of this into words: the good and the bad. I don’t leave anything outside. I write everything: the things I’m embarrassed of, proud of, angry about, or happy about. That’s why everything you find here has a voice—even a list, because that list, for me, was lived.
What I’m building now is simple: more lived guides (Tunisia, Dubai, the galley) and a tiny memoir—my real story, from A to Z, about how I became a flight attendant and why I decided to stop.
Should you stay?
If you only want Instagram trends, glamour, and places that look perfect in a 12‑second video, this may not be for you.
This is for readers who read. Readers who want the raw version. Readers who appreciate a voice, a personality, and an opinion.
If that’s you, you’re in the right place. If not, no hard feelings; at least you got the real version.
If you want to start somewhere: