Dubai: Ahab the Arab Meets George Jetson

Both Tom and I were eager to see Dubai, the largest port in the United Arab Emirates. It’s got quite a reputation to uphold. It’s home (or at least second home) to a bunch of Hollywood types (in fact Michael Jackson lived here for years, sheltering his kids from the fallout from his “little boys” trial); and it’s notorious for crazy stuff like an indoor ski slope that rivals St. Moritz (in fact the slopes were modeled after St. Moritz). We didn’t know where to start when we landed here so we booked the “Big Bus Tour” of Dubai, a five-hour (yep, you read it right—FIVE hours) hop-on, hop off double decker bus tour complete with non-stop tourist recordings which you listen to on headphones they give you when you board the bus.
Remember how I mentioned in an earlier blog post that every city has a word? Well, the word for Dubai (the city and the emirates state have the same name) is ASTONISHING. It’s hard to begin to describe everything here. First of all, it’s a devoutly Islamic country, so all the crazy stuff that goes with that—the women in burquas, the guys with the abayas (those flowing headdresses that I associate with Yassar Arafat), and the long list of “forbidden” behaviors. One such behavior is any type of what high schoolers refer to as “PDA”—Public Displays of Affection. We were warned by our ship’s captain that a married couple was jailed for 28 days for inadvertently kissing each other goodbye at the airport. Now, that’s just nuts. Anyway, we were given a long list of stuff to avoid. Seems to me that one should pretty much adopt the demeanor we’ve all learned to take when going through security at the airport—no jokes, no shoes, no backtalk, and be ready to hand over everything when they ask to see it. They treat you as if they’re pretty sure you must be guilty of something, so act like a grateful wretch when they wave you on your way.
But once you get beyond all the Muslim no-nos the place becomes a wonderland of sorts. It’s literally a sand dune on a waterfront. Even coming from the Arizona desert, like we do, we were stunned at what they’ve done with sand, water, and money. Heavy on the money.
They have green parks, and golf courses, and spectacular architecture, and clean, wide streets for all the Bentleys and Lamborghinis. The amount of greenery in this dry, sandy soil is jaw-dropping until you learn that tiny Dubai, which is just one of seven “states” or emirates, of the UAE uses some 250 million (yes, you read that correctly—MILLION) gallons of fresh water a DAY. Where do they get all that water in the shifting sands of the desert? From desalinization plants. They literally make 90% of all the water they use from sea water. Expensive? You bet, but here money is no problem (until recently, of course).
The city is essentially broken into two distinct areas—the Bur Dubai, or new area, and the Deira, or old city. In our long, long bus ride (in all we were riding, hoofing, or sailing for all of nine hours) we saw it all. The new area is astounding with its man-made islands (some in the shape of a world, some in the shape of a giant palm tree) and its skyscrapers. We drove right up to the tallest building in the world (the one that got them in financial trouble lately because they couldn’t pay the loan). It looks like something out of an old Buck Rogers flick. It really looks fake it’s so tall, so blue, so startlingly modern. Some of the people on our ship went up to the 124th floor but it took hours to wait in line so we opted for a “worm’s eye view” of the place. Even from dirt level, it was astounding.
We also drove around the iconic Burj Al Arab Hotel, the one that looks like a sail boat. Supposedly Tiger Woods drove a golf ball off the helipad at the top. I wouldn’t doubt it. These guys are really hot on “really big.” I think this place is probably a publicist’s dream—everything is bigger, better, faster, richer. Making the news here requires deep pockets and lots of chutzpah.
We stopped at “the largest mall in the world” (here we go again with the “largest” theme). The Mall of the Emirates. It’s the one with indoor skiing. We went to the ski place and looked inside. It’s huge and it’s frozen. They keep the snow at 1 degree C. Their little slogan is, “It’s more fun at 1” meaning one degree. Pretty cute, huh? Anyway, it was beyond weird to see people in full snow garb, including goggles, ski pants, parkas and ski boots stomping around a “chalet” with a fire snapping in the stone fireplace (until we realized the “fire” was a video screen!). We ate lunch at the Emirates Mall and were surprised to see people in traditional Arabic dress (especially the women) chowing down on KFC, Papa John’s Pizza, and Teriyaki chicken. We were there when the “call to prayer” came over the loud speakers throughout the mall. Really LOUD warbling sing-song Arabic that we figured probably meant, “Get your asses into the prayer rooms before you get too corrupted by all the offerings of the Great Satan.” Speaking of that, American enterprise was well-represented by the stores in the mall. But we’re not talking just The Gap and Old Navy. No-sirree. We’re talking Tiffany’s, Victoria’s Secret (lingerie is big business here—makes you wonder what’s under those burquas), and Calvin Klein. There were also plenty of high-end European brands. The bus tour recording advised us that things were “affordable” because there are no taxes of any kind in Dubai—no sales tax, no income tax, no property tax—but trust me, taxes were not the issue. The stuff was all ridiculously expensive, and we saw plenty of black-robed women and guys in white dresses and abayas pushing shopping cars LOADED with goods. Did I mention how money is the life-blood of this place?
We wove in and out of traffic, switching from the top of the bus (windy and hot but with a better view) to the A/C of the bottom level. We drove by mosque after mosque (in tiny Dubai there are over 500 mosques; about one every three blocks) but we never went into one. The only one open to “infidels” (I swear they call us that—they make no bones about our place in the pecking order) was the Jumeirah Mosque, and even that one had only two hours a day (an hour in mid-morning and an hour in mid-afternoon when the temp hits over 100) when the “infi’s” could visit.
The old city and the new are separated by the Dubai Creek, which is a busy waterway that anyone from our side of the world would call a canal or a river. We went under the creek in a modern tunnel and came up the other side into a world right out of the Arabian Nights. It was a close, teeming place of stucco buildings that look like they were built to withstand the ages (and they have) and narrow, crooked streets that caused the poor bus driver to really earn his keep. We went in the Gold Souk (their name for the gold market) and were hustled by guys trying to sell us hapless tourists “copy watches, handbags” and in the windows of the tiny shops we saw the gaudiest gold jewelry you can imagine. The only thing that caught my eye was a bright green belly-dancer’s outfit with little fake gold coins all over the bodice (all the better to tinkle when you shake your “thang”) and puffy veiled pants that looked like something MC Hammer had to pawn to pay the rent. Tom was all for me giving the belly dancing thing a go, but the bus pulled up just in time.
We went on an hour-long dhow (boat) ride up the “creek.” The original dhows were largely used to haul spices, and even now we saw huge sacks of saffron, cinnamon, cardamom and so on being transported by the method they’ve used since the days of Marco Polo. We also saw the huge buildings for Rolex, American Express, the World Trade Center (which looks eerily like the ghost of those in NYC) and Citi Bank (in fact, all the major banks are here. It’s weird because Dubai practices “sharia law” with regard to banking which means they can’t charge interest on loans. I have no idea how that works, but knowing these guys they’ve probably found a way around it).
The odd thing about Dubai is that we spent over nine hours gawking and I was never bored. It’s a place where, if you have enough money, you could never be bored. You name it, it’s here. And, you can bet whatever it is, it’s the biggest.