Solocation

One of the things that amazes me about this place is how international the community is. The joke about Dubai is that you will never see an Emirate. Chances are that your taxi driver is from Pakistan or India. Many of the staff in shops, restaurants, and hotels are from all over Asia and the Middle East. It has been catching a glimpse of Iran that has proven most alluring for me. I’ve met several people from there; some working here, others passing through. You can have your pick of restaurants, from upscale like the one in the Hyatt to fast food versions, to try Iranian food. I’d never thought how international their menus would be serving caviar and tikka mixed grill.

Saturday morning, I woke up still undecided about what to do. I was tempted to spend some of the time in the hotel, using the gym and the Jacuzzi. In the end, I stayed in bed like a lazy, happy vacationer before deciding to catch the free shuttle to Dubai Mall. This is the mall to end all malls, supposedly the biggest in the world. It has an underwater zoo, which I didn’t make it to, and an aquarium, part of which you can see for free as you wander around.  However, the real lure was the promise of constant AC during the main heat of the day. I shuffled around the four stories for a few hours. It has a great food court—I ate at Hatam, an Iranian restaurant. After that, I was pretty much done. Souks are one thing: interesting and alive, but malls are just blaze in my humble opinion. Having said that, I will say that the architecture for Dubai Mall was quite nice and its “Gold Souk” very exquisite.

I caught the free shuttle to Jumeirah Beach Resort because it was supposed to be a short taxi ride to the public beach. What the mall information misinformed me about was a place to change, so even though my swimsuit was in my bag, I never ended up doing more than wading. Asking at the hotel, I found out the open beach was actually a short walk, just out the hotel and the next street on my left. I walked. The gulf water was an almost emerald green like nothing I’d seen before. There were two shaded structures, so I sat under one and pulled out my book to read as I’d done so many times in Haifa. The beach was no so very crowded, but nothing about Dubai is crowded at this time of year except maybe some of the narrow roads near the souks. Looking behind me, I noticed the Jumeirah Mosque. I took time debating about walking the several blocks over to it, unsure that I’d be allowed inside. As I was pulling out my map and making up my mind to try it (after all, I’d brought an umbrella to shade me from the unrelenting sun), the call to prayer began. That would not work now, and I’d already purchased a ticket to go up the Burj K, the world’s tallest building at 7 PM, that being close to sunset and much cooler.

Examining the map more closely, I realized that the familiar looking structure to my left was actually Burj al-Arab, the famous self-proclaimed “seven star” hotel. Armed with a new plan, I packed up my belongings, pulled out my red umbrella, and headed in the correct direction. I was walking slowly and shaded but still the heat made the journey seem significant instead of a mere few blocks. I arrived at the entrance, sopping wet from the heat and covered in sand. I felt anything but elegant. Still, it was hot, and they really could not expect much else. I told the security man that I wanted to go inside for a fruit drink. I was presented with a single option of taking “tea” at a restaurant inside for a price that made my head swim. I smiled and said that would be fine, thinking of the time I had not ridden on a gondola because the price was a few Euros higher than I’d expected.

Into this palace of extravagance I went. Almost immediately on entering, I located the ladies’ room. As soon as it was empty, I unabashedly washing my feet and calves in the sink, cleaned my face, brushed my hair, and in general succeeding in making myself look like something other than a royal mess. I took some shots of the lobby and found a staff member who was kind enough to take some photos of me. Finally, I took the elevator down to the J— Room for my appointment. It was a cruel twist of fate that this would be the Asian restaurant. I was given two cocktails and a snack, but pursuing the snack list was unimpressive:  dim sum, fried prawns, etc. None of it looked out of the ordinary and all of it I’d had almost daily for the past month. I decided to try the Korean option because I’d never had it before. The mocktails were exciting because they weren’t sweet. The first was a blend of jasmine tea, banana, and kiwi. The second was watermelon juice with raspberry puree.

About halfway through my snack, a group of ladies about my age who were sitting next to me asked if I would take their picture. Soon we were talking up a storm. They were from Iran. One of them was working in Cyprus as an architect alongside her husband. They were on holiday having left their husbands behind with the children. I was sorry to have to leave them to make my appointment.

The staff called a taxi for me that reminded me of the Silver Birds in Jakarta. I arrived at the mall in style. I had just enough time to go to the entrance to the Burj in the mall’s basement. The elevator ride up 124 floors takes exactly one minute. It is so smooth that you can only tell you are moving because the pressure makes your ears pop—unbelievable. Outside on the observation desk, the view was amazing though hazy from the silicon that fills the air. Just like Israel, it’s better to visit after the first rain. When I came down, it was time for the water show outside the hotel. It was shorter than the one you can see in Las Vegas, but still very cool. I walked to the metro from the mall. It’s a very clean and new system that is very reasonably priced. I highly recommend it though I will warn that there aren’t many seats; expect to stand.

Today is my last day here, and I took today slowly. After lying in bed half the morning, I made a quick trip to the souk one last time. Partially I went there to have shwarma for lunch. (I liked this dish in Israel, but I’m still baffled by my strong attachment to everything Arab.) I worked out at the gym briefly in the afternoon. I took tea in the hotel lobby waiting for the day’s heat to dissipate somewhat. Today has been a rest day, just the perfect day for me to relax by myself. I’m a little surprised that without internet or company for the last two days that I’m anything but lonely. I’ve met a few really interesting people and have had plenty of time for me doing whatever it is I feel like. Still, I won’t be sorry to be home tomorrow.

 

Back in the Sandbox

The flight from Jakarta to Dubai on Emirates was almost empty. I had a whole row to myself, which was wonderful. Changing my ticket to arrive before midnight, instead of leaving at midnight, was a terribly brilliant move on my part. I was in my hotel room as the clock struck midnight. This has been my first solo holiday since I went out to Oregon while in grad school. And like that trip, I met up with a good friend for part of it.

Sam met me about mid-morning. I was able to sleep later than I have since I left the States: a beautiful luxury. We sat down to brunch in one of the Hyatt Regency’s restaurants and marveled that we were back in the Sandbox together. We had a hard time deciding what to do because, as with most of my good friends, our conversation constantly flew from one topic to another—trying to catch up in hours what had occurred over months.

My confidence, which had taken a vacation from me this last month, came bounding back. I was back, I belonged here—even though “here” was a place I’d never been. The level of familiarity was strange and intoxicating after Asia. Ironically though, I found a lot of my Asian mannerisms didn’t immediately fade into the background. It took me all day to be able to point things out to Sam with my index finger. After weeks of trying to say “Shookran” in Jakarta, I found “Terima Kasih” on the tip of my tongue all the time. Hardest of all was trying to figure out the UAE currency, which is a similar exchange rate to shekels. After looking at 40,000 and knowing it was about $4, it was hard to see 40 and remember it was more like $11, especially when you’ve gotten in the habit of dropping those extra zeros.

By eight in the morning the sun is high and pounding. Though not humid like the South, every time I walk out of the hotel my sunglasses fog up. Despite the heat, my “to do” list was mostly outside. We weren’t sure what the souks would be like, and Sam wanted to take me anywhere I couldn’t go on my own. Into a taxi we hopped for the short drive to the Gold Souk, which is in the Deira section of town just like my hotel. There is a 10 Dhrs minimum on taxi rides in Dubai.

Dubai is quite deserted in the summer months, so the souks had few customers. Sam and I weren’t surprised to be constantly solicited to come into stores. However, for the first time, all the men wanted to sell me knock-off designer bags. Granted, this isn’t a commodity I saw in Israel. Still, it took a while for me to realize what had happened. The bag I had bought at Tanang Abong in Jakarta turned out to be a Gucci imitation. (Yes, I honestly just thought it was a nice, simple summer bag that zipped: exactly what I’d been looking for. When I found out it was a “Gucci,” I almost didn’t buy it. Sam and Rachel laughed when I told them; it really is the type of thing only I would worry over.) So now that I had this labeled purse, all these merchants thought I was interested in that crap. It was really just funny.

The souks were covered by wooden structures providing relief from the sun if not the heat. We strolled along at a leisurely pace, and my Middle Eastern temperature kicked in. It was hot, but why would it be any other way? Even looking at the creek, it didn’t seem hot enough to need to swim. This odd mentality has never really left me since I left Israel. The heat takes away my appetite as well, but I’m careful to drink enough water and remember to eat, even when food doesn’t sound appealing.

Without a detailed map, Sam and I stumbled along the streets in search of the next interesting thing. The rows upon rows of shops with ornate gold displays were breathtaking; it’s such a nice change from the silver and white gold jewelry in the States. We stopped to ask where the Spice Souk was. Half a block later, our noses led us the rest of the way. Burlap bags of saffron, rose hips, curry, frankincense, and cardamom enticed wanderers into the small shops that had plastic curtains hanging from their doors to keep the AC inside. Some Iranian shopkeepers gave us a demonstration on how to tell good saffron from the cheap version. Throughout the day, I bought a few things, quite pleased that my bartering skills have improved so much. I also got the chance to use some of my Arabic.

Sam and I took a water taxi to the other side of Dubai Creek, where we ran into the textile souk. I found this very ironic after the weeks in Jakarta of frantically trying to find fabric for clothes—to no avail. We wandered around the Bastakiya Quarter and found the Grand Mosque. What no one seemed to be able to locate for me was a mosque created in the Iranian style with the colorful tiles visible from the exterior. This was important to me because non-Muslims are not allowed inside throughout the UAE. The one exception to this are the weekly scheduled tours of the Jumeirah Mosque in Dubai.

Circling the Grand Mosque, Sam spotted a structure resembling a fort and chose that as our next point to explore. Turns out, the fort is actually the Dubai Museum. I told Sam it was supposed to be very good and had AC. I think the latter was the selling point. The afternoon was brutal, and we’d been outside for hours. Especially for 3 Dhrs (87 cents), the museum was an impressive display of the history of the United Arab Emirates. I think what I most enjoyed was the exhibit on pearl diving, which was a main source of income here until cultured pearls became popular. A net was tied to a rope and held by men who jumped overboard on these small vessels. Diving without equipment, they would collect the oyster shells and return to the surface. It made me wonder if that would have been Andrew’s job if we lived here back then since he’s such a good swimmer. Sam was fascinated by the wind towers, the first air conditioning in the region. These towers were designed to let hot air out and circulate air back in. The tower allowed the windows of the house to remain closed, which if I had to cover in public would have been of the upmost importance to me.

We ended the afternoon at the Heritage Village. It’s very nice but still under construction in places. Sitting in a cool restaurant, we watched the barges and boats along the creek while feasting on hommous, pita, and my favorite: lemonana (lemon and mint drink). Sam had his narghella, and I had everything. After a month of working aboard, I felt like I was already home. There was water outside and Arabic style buildings, insane heat, and regional food. Not to mention a good friend who had been there then. Finally, it was time to leave.

Breakfast is not included and the hotel is located in a way that makes it difficult to walk to the local shops. After Sam left, I decided to explore to see what the hotel and Galleria had to offer. The Galleria has some shops and an ice skating rink. There is a little bakery to sells at 50% after 8 PM and a small grocery. I will be able to eat after all. Seriously, nice hotels seem to think that you should spend at least 100Dhrs on dinner. I just am less likely to splurge on a dinner when I’m alone though I may for the Iranian restaurant in the hotel.