06/28/14 - 07/08/14: Dubai, United Arab Emirates
While flying over the United Arab Emirates I was mesmerized by its endless waves of sand. Not a hint of life appeared over miles upon miles of golden desert. Then, as if coming upon a picnic blanket laid upon an arid field, the city of Dubai appeared; a glittering oasis of steel and fantasy. We couldn’t have picked a more different place to visit after India.
Dubai is a city of extreme wealth. Massive skyscrapers line the freeways in strange succession with large gaps between them as though each one needs its own “elbow room.” Luxury cars weave through the city on a casual promenade. Fashion labels, jewelry designers, and even a snow-covered ski slope live within the 2nd largest mall in the world, a mall that happens to sit alongside the world’s tallest building. The Emiratis certainly love their superlatives.
As we drove through this city of abundance, my skin crawled. Hours ago, I’d seen a homeless woman with starving children lying in a filth-ridden street. Now I was in the land of so plentiful no one knew what to do with themselves. The opulence and wealth juxtaposed against the indignities of life smacked me square in the face. Just as India made me ask myself, “How can this exist?” so did Dubai.
And to add to the spectacular dichotomy, the city was practically empty; a virtual ghost town. We’d arrived during the month of Ramadan, a holy time of prayer and reflection where Muslims fast during daylight hours. Well, not just Muslims. All citizens and visitors are expected to observe it by law. That meant we could not openly eat or drink anything, not even water, while in public. Which is why Dubai felt abandoned. When Ramadan falls during this time of year, most people are savvy enough to sleep during the ruthless heat of the day and feast at sunset.
As you can imagine, due to the constraints of Ramadan and the extreme cultural whiplash, our experience in Dubai was less “Venice of the Gulf” and more “Post-Apocalyptic Fever Dream.”
When I stepped into our lavish shower stall to wash the Delhi dust from my body, I realized I could open my mouth under the showerhead. For the first time in months, I had no fear of contaminated water. I then dried myself with a plush towel and soothed my body with fragrant lotion. Afterward, as I laid upon the soft bed offered by our hosts, I felt a numbness in my body. I was alien to my surroundings. I’d crash landed in a desert oasis and discovered a clean atmosphere, fresh water and soothing pleasures. I’d stepped through the looking glass and saw clearly all the privileges I’d taken for granted in my everyday life. It’s the excesses that get under my skin, and they burrowed all-the-deeper having come to Dubai straight from India.
Our nine days in Dubai were a mix of laziness and seeing everything there was to see. Somehow we accomplished both. We spent the first two days in a daze, feeling utterly drained of energy after our whirlwind tour of “India on a shoestring.” Our very welcoming friends, Rebecca and Peter, hosted us at their apartment, which provided a spectacular view of the Burj Khalifa. We saw that impressive monolith close up on our first evening as we strolled through downtown. The Burj Khalifa towered over us, piercing the sky, a colossal needle puncturing the heavens. The fountain at its base danced and swayed in choreographed arcs and bursts. Behind the waterworks, the sun slowly dipped below the horizon and—
BOOM! A cannon fired. Yes, a cannon.
This massive blast signals to the whole city that their Iftar feast may begin. Iftar is the primary meal during Ramadan. It occurs when the fast breaks at sunset. The Iftar we attended during our visit was a splendid affair. Everyone ate buffet-style, serving themselves at long tables covered in seemingly bottomless platters of Persian foods: bowls of dates, fattoush and tabbouleh salads, lentil soups and stews, samosas, moist meats sauteed in spices, and one of my favorite desserts - baklava. We were interested in trying all types of new dishes and, as a result, we were filled to the brim by the end of the night.
At this point on our RTW trip, we’d had over 100 days of 100+ degree heat, and UAE wasn’t giving us a break. To prepare for our days out in the scorching-hot sun, we would eat a hearty breakfast and drink lots of water because we knew, once sightseeing, we wouldn’t be throwing back any cold drinks.
We took ourselves on a self-guided walking tour through old town Dubai. We visited the Heritage House, which included an old schoolhouse and showed us glimpses of Emirati history. We then walked to the Dubai Museum, which was built within the city’s oldest structure, the Al Fahidi Fort. Built in 1787, the fort was constructed from coral rock and mortar and felt reminiscent of early American colonial forts of the same era; a simple square fortified wall with an open courtyard and turrets at the corners. Within the fort walls below the soil were the museum exhibits. There, in a naturally cooler climate, we viewed full scale dioramas of pre-oil era UAE. We saw arish huts weaved entirely from palm fronds, as well as tents filled with every-day objects of the Bedouin people. Bedouin tribes once inhabited the Arabian peninsula and would migrate based on seasonal rains and desert oases. In contrast to life depicted in the dry desert, we stepped into a blue-hued room showcasing maritime life. The Persian Gulf is equally important to the Arabian people, providing food, travel, trade, and the unique occupation of pearl diving.
After our historic walking tour we continued our exploration of Dubai by visiting several souks. These open-air markets are filled with fabrics, jewelry, and gorgeous dishware made of silver and gold. Each souk’s name matches its prized commodity: Spice Souk, Perfume Souk, Textile Souk, and the famous Gold Souk which is considered the largest gold bazaar in Arabia. If you want to dress to impress, make sure to stop there the next time you’re in Dubai and purchase yourself an elaborate golden necklace that is so large it covers your chest like a breastplate. Perfect for a night on the town or leading an army into battle.
Katie and I have both enjoyed walking through markets throughout our RTW trip. It’s been a great way to see the people, the clothing, the craftsmanship, and the art of each culture. We were looking forward to doing the same in Dubai’s many souks. However, during Ramadan, when the streets are bereft of customers, it’s not the most leisurely experience.
“Sweetie!” “Beautiful!” “Lovely ladies!” The compliments would rain down upon us along with the products. Vendors threw out words of adoration whilst throwing scarves around our necks or trying to clamp jewelry around our wrists. It was as though we were surrounded by suitors desperate for our dowries. I suspect outside of Ramadan there are many more interested buyers and far less aggressive sales tactics. As you can imagine, we quickly learned to stay out of arm’s reach.
After running the souk gauntlets we found more casual window shopping at the Dubai Mall. This monstrosity of a building is 12,100,000 sq ft and holds 1,200 shops. It’s the equivalent size of over 50 football fields. You feel its magnitude while watching skiers race down the world’s largest indoor ski slope, or while standing next to its aquarium wall - 10 million liters of water held behind the largest glass panel in the world. Oh boy, there go those superlatives again!
On the weekend, our marvelous hosts were generous enough to drive us to the nearby capital city of Abu Dhabi to see the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque. We wore acceptable attire for the occasion: loose-fitting pants and long-sleeved shirts, in addition to donning the traditional robe and headscarf required for entrance. We took off our shoes and wandered through the pristine white marble halls of the mosque. Crystal chandeliers lit the interior and semi-precious stones adorned the walls in colorful flower motifs. Its external precision matched its internal opulence and grandeur. The Grand Mosque, which holds 41,000 worshippers, was extremely impressive, but not quite as impressive as the tallest building in the world.
The Burj Khalifa rises over 2,722 ft., yet its enormity isn’t felt until you see it standing next to other sky-scrapers, which appear puny in comparison. Its narrowing width is deceptive, making it not as intimidating as you might think. I’m positive that if it were a thick building all the way to the top, it would be terrifying to behold. As it stands, its shape provides a sleek elegance that makes it a work of architectural art.
The price to go up the Burj Khalifa wasn’t cheap, but we had to do it. It’s what one does when in Dubai, after all. Katie and I both noticed an intense scent when we entered the lobby. At first we thought it might have been a visitor’s perfume, but the smell never dissipated. As someone who doesn’t enjoy incense, it wasn’t a pleasant wait for the elevator. While awaiting our ascent, a guide provided a spiel about the building’s facts and figures. He had a voice so odd that Katie and I wondered if he was a robot. I can’t describe it or replicate it. I just know he felt animatronic. Was he? In Dubai, it actually seemed possible.
When you go up the Burj Khalifa, you don’t actually go to the top. You go to the 124th floor. It takes a little over a minute to fly up those floors on a high-speed elevator - so fast you have to pop your ears! When the elevator doors opened, that same oppressive perfume gripped my nostrils. I could barely breathe! We escaped to the observation deck, inhaled fresh air, and marveled at how high we were standing. The distance between you and the ground is so vast it feels as though you’re looking down from a plane. We relaxed against the glass wall floating above the landscape in a sustained sense of flight.
On the whole, our visit to Dubai was strange and somewhat enjoyable. Yes, we were pummeled by culture shock and disturbed by the lavishness, but I have no doubt it helped pad our transition from east to west as we prepared for our trip home. By far, our favorite part of Dubai had nothing to do with the city and everything to do with the company. It was wonderful to spend so much time with our friends and we were extremely grateful for their conversation and hospitality.
As our time in Dubai came to a close we were ready to bring our entire trip to a close. The circumstances of our last week on the road only amplified those feelings…
For one, we had both fallen ill upon our arrival in UAE. Our head colds lingered throughout our visit. As for me, I’d never completely rid myself of the illness I’d experienced in India, which meant I’d spent over a month in less than stellar health. Seriously, how much mucus can one person generate?!
For two, our camera broke unexpectedly within those first few days in Dubai. After 9+ months of wind, rain, sand and sun, it finally bit the dust when dropped on the bedroom floor. Strangely enough, our camera also broke at the very end of our 2011 trip to New Zealand. Maybe this is the universe’s way of saying our trip is over?
For three, we’d been drained by heat and non-stop travel. We were ready to go home, cool off, and reaffirm a sense of permanent place. Only a few more flights and we’d be done. Our itinerary had us boarding a flight from Dubai to Bahrain, then another flight to London. From there we had a flight to Chicago and on to Seattle. We knew it would be a long, exhausting trip. What we didn’t know is that it’d be even longer and even more exhausting than we imagined.
Our first flight to Bahrain was scheduled to leave in the late evening but was immediately waylaid by a fellow passenger. A man on the plane yelled at another man and a rigorous argument ensued. Since they weren’t speaking English we had no idea what their argument was about, but it was heated enough that the instigator was asked to leave the plane. More yelling was followed by security escorting him off the plane. Everyone applauded thinking we could finally take off. That is until the flight attendant told us they had to unload the man’s luggage from cargo.
As you can imagine, removing one person’s bag from over one hundred options takes some time. The passengers chatted anxiously, and it sounded as though everyone was worried about the same connecting flight to London. Our scheduled layover in Bahrain was already short, so there was no way in hell we were gonna make that connecting flight.
A flight attendant got on the loudspeaker and announced they’d hold our flight to London until we landed in Bahrain. Hooray! The plane filled with cheers of gratitude and a collective sigh of relief.
Psych! I’m not sure if it was a tactic to calm the mob or a genuine mistake, but our connecting flight was long gone when we landed in Bahrain. The mostly British passengers became a hoard of posh grumbles as we squeezed into a stuffy room. There was just enough space and blue velvet rope to corral us into a long queue. Two customer service reps looked as excited to help us as we were to be in Bahrain at 1AM.
The air was stale, and the decor had a “Welcome to 1975” vibe. I hoped their planes were more up-to-date than their interior design. The hour was growing later and people were pissed (or as the Brits would say, throwing a wobbler). Katie and I didn’t see the point in anger. It wasn’t going to make the line move faster. So instead of sitting in a stew of righteous anger, we sat against the wall resting, waiting for that long line to shrink. It definitely would’ve moved faster if there’d been more people manning the desk, but it was the middle of the night. Who would be available to help at that hour?
One of the customer service reps stepped away, opening the door to a back room. Plumes of cigarette smoke and peals of laughter floated out. Apparently there was a party going on back there. So there were people around, but no one who was willing (or capable?) of helping us. At least one mystery was solved: the stale air.
You may be wondering “Where is Bahrain?” Yeah, we weren’t sure either. We had to look at a map to find out where on planet earth we were sitting. Officially it is called the Kingdom of Bahrain. It’s an island nation in the Persian Gulf off the coast of Saudi Arabia, resting next to Qatar. The air was hazy when we exited the airport at dawn. A taxi drove us to a nearby hotel that the airline was putting us up in. We scarcely knew what to make of this kingdom or where on earth we were when we fell onto our beds and passed out.
We awoke for lunch. The hotel provided a catered meal behind closed doors; a discreet service offered to non-Muslim travelers during Ramadan. We appreciated the consideration since otherwise we’d have been truly unsure where to find our next meal.
After that point, our traveling went forward without issue. I mean, aside from being awake for 40 hours straight upon arrival in Seattle. We were walking zombies when my brother and niece picked us up at the airport. At that moment, I can’t say either of us were super interested in stopping at Dick’s Drive-In for a burger and fries, but he wanted to treat us, so we gratefully shoveled in the food and both collapsed when we eventually reached a bed.
I’m not sure how long we slept, nor how long it took us to adjust to being back on American soil, but I do know we sleep-walked through our first few days. We hit up thrift stores for “new” clothes and wandered around the suburban neighborhood, breathing in clean air, listening to birdsong. Feeling lucky to be back, yet sad to be home. We attended a beloved friend’s wedding and celebrated life with our beloved peeps. We visited family and squeezed into long-awaited hugs. And silently, between the two of us, we shared a joyful denouement. An exceptional chapter of our lives was over. Never to be repeated, always to be remembered.
