Dubai stopover

 Once again we meet a taxi driver who has left his family in another country and works here 11 months of the year alone.  It seems Dubai is owned by wealthy Arabs but staffed by Pakistanis, Indians, Egyptians and countless other nationalities.  Everyone we meet, however, is full of praise for this gleaming new city. 

We arrive in Dubai at 7 am and sleep until early afternoon in our hotel.  This time we know not to walk anywhere in this city as it's just too darn hot.  We catch a taxi to Dubai Mall and wander around bedazzled by the swanky mall's interior with its vast array of shops, ice-skating rink, inbuilt aquarium, gold souk, fountain and light show on the half hour.  We both have a bit of a last minute shopping spree.  Good to see husband finally buy himself something!

Another taxi drive to another shopping precinct - this one selling traditonal wares near the beach area and the seven star Al Qasr Hotel.  We decide to have dinner and sit in an open area overlooking an artificial lake and the amazing sight of the hotel.  Three different waiters compete for our order - each from different restaurants.  Quite ridiculous - Alan has a meal from one, me another and because we don't want to leave the other one out Alan has an apple juice from the third.

Arab men smoking hookers are at other tables.  We can't have an alcoholic drink with dinner so after our meal we head down the steps to the bean bag area right beside the lake for a drink.  It is an extraordinary atmosphere with lounge music playing and lights in the date palms casting intriguing shadows. We watch as the Al Qasr comes alive with strobe lights up and down its sail shape and comment on the helicopter pad which perches off to one side near the top of the building like a side table for drinks.  Bizarre!  After being in Europe where everything is old it is strange to be somewhere where everything is new and the architecture is so vastly different.  Tomorrow we will be back in Australia - which will be a different story again...

Getting there

4 September 2010 - We are finally on our way after months of planning, weeks of stressing and numerous packing conundrums.

It is wild and windy weather aka a terrifyingly bumpy flight to Melbourne. It is nice to catch up with Claire but there are still hours to wait at Tullamarine before being crammed into our back-of-plane seats on Emirates night-time flight EK507 for Dubai. I am seated between husband and a pleasant but very large Maori lady who oozes over into my allocated space. 13 hours is a long time to spend sandwiched like this, willing the plane to stay up, trying to watch a movie or two, contemplating the incredible durability of the lipstick on the Emirates hosties and snatching minutes of sleep only here and there.

At Dubai airport I am impressed with both the vast and amazing architecture and the handsome young Arab customs officials. We are met in the terminal by our smiling Radisson Blu representative who whizzes us in minutes to our hotel overlooking the 'creek' in the old part of Dubai.

It is only 6.30 am and I am not sure I can sleep but after a shower and a lie down on the king-sized bed in our glamorous room, we both fall into a deep slumber until mid-morning. We venture out to walk down the street and catch a wooden punt to visit the old fabric market on the other side of the river. All very fascinating but my major preoccupation is with the incredible heat – it is 44 degrees with no breeze. Ramadan means no drinking or eating in public so we feel very dehydrated. Forget sight-seeing – spending the rest of the day in the hotel seems like a good idea. We have lunch before a swim in the pool (disappointingly the water temperature is over 30 degrees) and slumber around in our hotel robes (so fetching with my leopard skin eye mask - thank you Anna) before high-tea on the 10th floor overlooking an astonishing scene of an ancient scene juxtaposed with a modern world The busy activity around the wooden junks and barges below us is like a scene from Ali Baba and the 40 thieves and yet over the other side of the creek there are many strangely-shaped sky-scrapers and the long thin spire of the world's tallest building.The Nepalese man who comes into our room to check the minibar supplies tells us he has been with the hotel for 20 years. He sees his family back home in Nepal for only one month each year. The Indian driver who takes us back to the airport the next morning has a very similar story – 20 years with the hotel and family back home.