130 - “I Am The Burj Khalifa" (Dubai, United Arab Emirates)
DUBAI WAS, MORE OR LESS, A PIT STOP ON THE ROAD TO AZERBAIJAN. I was going to spend a night and move on. It’s not a cheap city to dawdle, as one might expect from the shopping and entertainment hub of the Middle East. It’s not that I wasn’t intrigued, it’s just I believed the money would go farther elsewhere. A week in Dubai might be a month in Azerbaijan, a trade-off I was willing to make.
Enter Couchsurfing.com, a superb way to cut costs and squeeze the most out of a few days’ visit. Sign up on their website to host a wayward traveler or find a crash site. “Couch” is synonymous with “space,” “room,” “extra bed”, etc. If memory serves, I don’t believe I ever slept on a couch. The value goes far beyond accommodation. It’s a great place to contact fellow sojourners and meet curious locals. Hard to find a better spot to get the inside track on a destination. I availed myself of the site’s benefits for the rest of my fandango.
My Dubai “couch” was owned by a gentleman named Mustafa, who was kind enough to offer refuge for three nights. The website provides some measure of verification via references from previous hosts/guests. I was reasonably confident he wasn’t a homicidal maniac, and subsequent correspondences underscored the assumption.
Mustafa was nothing short of exceptional. He hailed from Malaysia, working in middle management at a M&M’s factory. Less than twenty percent of Dubai’s population is from the UAE. It imports workers from across the Middle East and Asia. Couchsurfing was his way to meet people and add flavor to the monotony, as well as combat the separation anxiety away from friends and family. He gave me the key to his apartment, showed me around, and even cooked breakfast. With him, friendship was part of the package. He also introduced me to the resident Dubai Couchsurfing community. Over a couple of gin and tonics, I met folks from Egypt, Iraq, Pakistan, Sudan, Canada, Mexico, Iran, and the Netherlands. Our short time together was a highlight of my world tour, the gratitude from which stills swells my heart to this day.
(Courtesy of Drone Snap)
Although Dubai is one of the more “liberal” emirates, discretion is key. Decency laws are strict. Just ask the couple from the UK that received a one-month prison sentence for kissing in a restaurant. Whoopsie.
Shopping and I go together like peanut butter and asparagus. Malls are not my thing. And yet, I spent an inordinate amount of time inside two. Why? Well, I adjusted my perspective, choosing to view this urban “exploration” through the lens of cultural anthropology. I was awestruck by what I experienced, a sharp contrast to anything I’d seen during my trip, or in my life as a whole for that matter. I’d spent most of the last year in the developing world, so stepping off the plane felt like beaming a hundred years into the future.
The Dubai Mall is a biggy, the second largest in the world by land area. (The Iran Mall is number one.) I suppose it’s fitting, and not at all coincidental, that the largest mall in the world sits next to the Burj Khalifa, the tallest man-made structure in the world. If my calculations are correct, it’s feasible to maneuver a Boeing 747 through the mall’s corridors. Inside, you’ll find whatever thy heart desires, including a ginormous ice-skating rink. (Not to be outdone by the Mall of the Emirates, which has an indoor ski slope.) It also has the best aquarium/underwater zoo I’ve ever seen. And then there’s the Ibn Batuta, the world’s largest themed mall. I had the pleasure of window shopping in China, India, Egypt, Tunisia, Persia, and Andalusia. Don't want to walk? Hop on the golf cart taxi for an international tour. All this and more in an otherwise inhospitable desert. Hard not to be impressed, if not slightly depressed, by the runaway conspicuous consumption.
I found all this ostentation ridiculous, if not morbidly fascinating. The world financial crisis laid the smackdown on Dubai, as the legions of petrified cranes testified. Excess in excess of excess. The Burj Dubai was renamed the Burj Khalifa after Abu Dhabi (the emirate next door) bailed out Dubai with billions in aid. (That’s embarrassing.) And “The World” may not be enough, but it’s adequate to showcase rampant narcissistic tendencies of authoritarian megalomaniacs.
(From Internet)
I couldn’t resist a visit to the 124th floor of the Burj Khalifa for a bird's eye view. (When in Rome, no?) The building is an engineering marvel, underscored by an elevator that reaches near supersonic speeds accompanied by a psychedelic light show. All that for a paltry $27 ticket price. (Sarcasm alert.)
After future world, I strolled through the past, visiting parts of old Dubai in the Bur Dubai-Dubai Creek-Deira area. Hard to believe it’s in the same city. No building taller than a mosque and a Middle East market vibe contrasting starkly with the ultra-modern city minutes away. Go back thirty years, and you wouldn’t recognize the city. Skyscrapers have multiplied like tribbles, and there seems to be a contest pitting architects against one another in a heated competition for supremacy.
On day three, Mustafa took me to Al Ain in Abu Dhabi. We visited a date palm oasis and a museum, then drove to the top of Jebel Hafeet, a small mountain/rock formation skirting the border with Oman. In the late afternoon, it’s a bit surreal atop this rocky outcrop in a flat sand sea of misty expanse. The next morning, he brought me to the airport, and we bid a fond farewell. Wherever he is, I hope Mustafa is happy, healthy, and wise. Thank you, my friend.
