A desert for dessert

It took almost two months for the mailed out post cards to make their way across the desert and an Atlantic ocean into the United States from the United Arab Emirates. And since it took me just as long to write about Dubai, I must make it perfectly clear at the start that my Bedouin dreams in Dubai were at best, temporary.

Dubai Creek

Dubai is certified insane. Its sheer opulence makes it crazy. If something could be made out of stone, they chose marble instead. If a building could be built tall, Dubai went for the tallest. Instead of building a sand bank, they build islands and a world on water. And it someone could have made do with a nice Mercedes SL 55, a local Emirati preferred an SL 65 AMG Black edition. Dubai’s sense of magnificence and proportion makes America look positively destitute and its size positively European.

Space elevator Burj Dubai

Maybe it was a case of the rich drawing only the rich. The magnanimous malls failed to impress me. The fancy stores lay empty. The high prices further convinced me that superseding the purchasing power of an American customer is very difficult. Listening to Ferrari’s roar on Dubai’s perfectly laid asphalt roads got tiresome, especially at night. I found myself constant seeking evidences of an Old Middle East, camels, deserts and bearded old people huddle together, gossiping.

Not your neighborhood mall

Instead I saw a city that is half built. If it wasn’t brand spanking new, it was still being built. The city looked liked East Berlin, except the cranes were either cranking granite laden palatial towers or not cranking at all. Of course, the new buildings looked stunning, especially the Burj Dubai (Khalifa). Yet, as I stared at it glistening in the bright Sun, I couldn’t help think of the density of older buildings in Chicago or the rust laden balconies in New York. The architecture lacked a soul and its architects seemed lost.

The local Emirati’s in their superbly white and crisp Kandura dresses continued to be elitists basking in the hot sun. Their ignorance of tourists was further amplified by the hidden eyes of black robed Abaya women. Between them and the countless British expats, lay a tourist like me and a plethora of blue robed, dark skinned low level workers. I never really expected to fit in but I have never ever felt so insignificant.

Dunes over Oil

There was plenty that stuck in my head. Dubai’s ability to build 40 kms of a futuristic metro rail in 40 months is staggering. The roads in the emirates despite the occasional sand drifts made German roads look improper. The occasional camel sighting and witnessing miles and miles of desert landscape satisfied my cravings of the Middle East. The fact that I was spending time with my brother and his family made my time in Dubai more than just enjoyable. But if I ever had to go there on a tourist vacation, I would be all packed to go back in three days at most.

Dubai’s black gold is solidly disappearing. Dubai’s real gold is irrelevant to me. I have no role to play the dreams of Dubai. Dubai, today promises shopping, tourism and a platform for trade. It does so by desalination of oceans. It promises to fight against nature’s heat fury with air conditioned bus stations. It is an artificial oasis in the middle of a brown expanse like no other. And all of it is ruled by a 21st century king.

Just goes to show that being unique in a world of many doesn’t necessarily make you an attractive venture.

9 thoughts on “A desert for dessert

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *