We had been steadily heading East, but then we took a giant leap back West. It couldn't be helped. Worldwide flights are almost always cheapest out of London. So we landed in Blighty, and it was raining, as it was to be expected. I still wasn't feeling very well, and because of this I had booked a hotel (Chris had wanted to sleep at the airport, yeah right). Our hotel was located in Bayswater, just near Hyde Park. The weather didn't allow us to do much. We sought out food then retired to our cushy room. What then followed was an arguement that lasted half the night, and in the morning we grumpily made our way to Heathrow where we boarded our plane to Dubai.
I had never flown Emirates before, but I had heard good things. I got the impression that Emirates is aspiring to be what Pan Am was back in the day. The flight attendants all looked the same with their scarved hats (I don't know what else to call them) and their bright red lipstick. They had taken up a whole seated section at the gate, and yes they were quite the attraction, smiling for pictures and just generally looking attractive. The crew walked past us, greeting everyone with hearty smiles. This wasn't Easyjet, that whole get em on and get em off again attitude, this was an experience, as if flying were a novelty. My flight with Emirates was the only time I've flown where I didn't want the journey to end. With the multitude of hot moist towels being passed around and blockbuster movies on my personal screen, I was set to keep flying for at least another two days.
Dubai has that unmistakably rich feel to it, even at the airport. The clocks were Rolex and everything seemed plated in gold. There were sheik-like figures with flowing robes and women covered from head to toe in black. You could smell the money from under their simple garments, and more that that, a sort of power. I felt I had to mind my P's and Q's, no wardrobe malfunction stories were to happen on this leg of the journey. I kept myself covered the best I could. I had heard that Dubai is fairly liberal, but only compared to the rest of the Arab world. Perhaps a bare shoulder could be tolerated here and there. But this certainly wasn't Vegas.
We had arrived at night, and the heat was shockingly powerful, radiating up from the streets in sweat-producing waves. Chris a I decided to go for a walk. According to our map, the harbour was just down the street, a little stroll away. The lighted spear of the Burj Khalifa (the world's tallest building) seemed within walking distance. Either Chris and I were wildly optimistic, or the heat was producing mirages. Nothing was close by. Nothing. It soon became clear that Dubai was a city that was designed with a vehicle in mind. The sidewalks were dark and, frankly, quite scary. The busy streets were hard to cross, even with a crosswalk. The only people we saw sharing the sidewalk with us were migrant workers. It was clear we weren't in Europe anymore.
It was a major relief to return to our hotel room. It wasn't the best hotel on the planet (the whole time I was there I felt a mild distain from the men, me being female and all), but it least it had air conditioning and a t.v. We had ventured out, we had tried not to be lazy-asses, but Dubai was working against us.
A New Kind of Hot
Two steps out of our hotel and we were overcome by the heat. The sweat was coming out of us so hard and fast I was thinking we would just shrivel up like a piece of tar on the sidewalk. It was obvious that in order to get any place we had to take a taxi. We were still under the delusion that everything was nearby. We grabbed a taxi to visit the Burj al-Arab, that magnificent structure that everyone thinks of when they think of Dubai, the giant sail against the blue sea. Well, it took nearly 45 mintues to get there by cab, and when we got there, we couldn't go any further than a gate. Along with other tourists, we stuck our cameras through to take a picture. It hardly seemed fair.
It became apparant that we had to go someplace as standing outside in the sun was suicide. There was a resort relatively nearby, meaning we could walk to it, which we did, but it was a long slog under that toxic sun. The resort was a kind of oasis when we finally reached it. It was mainly shops and restaurants. The only part we were interested in reaching (the beach) was off-limits to us. I was slowly starting to feel disenchanted with Dubai. I had heard about all these cool sights and attractions, but they were out of reach to mere backpackers like us. We could feel the fun being had in Dubai, but the fun was behind high, guarded walls, and only for those with money to spend. We were ever aware of our travel budget, and we had made a silent agreement that we weren't going to be living large in Dubai. We had the whole of Asia ahead of us, and even though Dubai wasn't particularly expensive (it's a lot cheaper than the West) we weren't going to be spending our money here. Luckily, I'm married to a simple-pleasures type guy. He just wanted to get back to the pool at the hotel.
And so ended our sightseeing in Dubai. We found a bus stop (which was enclosed and air-conditioned) and hopped on the next bus that was heading in the direction of our hotel. We were clearly the only Westerners on this bus. This mode of transportation had evidently been set up for the migrant workers. They were all familiar with the process of riding the bus; it involved some kind of travel card (that wasn't available anywhere we could see). We wanted to give the driver money, but he said he couldn't take it. We sat there awkwardly, wondering if we were going to get away with a free ride. In the end the driver dumped us several stops down from where we needed to be and asked for a small sum of money. We had done well considering.
The walk back to the hotel was probably the hottest walk of my life. Dubai is a relatively new city, plus it's in a desert, so there weren't many trees offering shade. We dipped in and out of places just to get a blast of air conditioning here and there. When we reached the hotel I think I fell through the door and hugged the floor. I was so grateful to be out of that sun and heat.
Chris and I spent the remainder of our stay alternating between our room and the hotel pool. The pool was on the rooftop and offered a fantastic view of the city skyline. It was a bit run down, true, but it was enough to accomodate these backpackers. My standards had changed anyway by this time. I was just happy not to be in discomfort.
We did venture out from time to time, and this was to find food. We came across several indoor malls near our hotel. Malls are the thing in Dubai. I have a feeling that most residents here live their whole lives inside air conditioned walls. I don't blame them. I've never been such a fan of AC in my whole life. Anyway, the food was really good in Dubai, thanks to the migrant workers (I have no idea what the food of Arabia is like). We had the best Indian food at a food court in one of the malls. I'm talking full Indian fare served to us in a stylish way. It cost mere pennies. Finally we were finding pleasure here in the desert. And then we stumbled across the Metro. So such public transportation did exist in Dubai! We may have discovered it on the late side, but at least we had found a way back to the airport that didn't require us hailing a taxi. This was money saved and a real triumph for us.
We had retained our backpacker mode, even in the most challenging of places. And Dubai hadn't softened us. We didn't go running back to the West. Rather we realized that we were in this for the long haul. Asia was ahead, and Asia was going to be hard. Perhaps Dubai had been that middle ground between Europe and Asia to rerev our engines.
Perhaps one day I'll return to Dubai, but I doubt it. Las Vegas does the attraction thing better. Nevertheless I was glad to be able to visit Arabia, just to say I've been. Without the attractions (which aren't particulary accessible) Dubai is a rather soul-less city. Chris and I experienced the other side of it, the every day side, with the concrete blocks and the migrant workers. Even the Burj Khalifa seemed like a mirage in the thick haze. Three days in Arabia. It was enough.
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