conspicuous construction

3:10 14 September, Food Court in Dubai Airport

Yesterday morning, after assembling a healthy breakfast comprised of one part overpriced Black Current and White Chocolate muffin and one part cheap-as-anything vending machine coffee, I gathered my luggage and stepped out into the heat of the Arabian morning. My hotel had provided some basic directions from the airport that hinged on my ability to find and board bus #401 from Terminal 1. Having found the bus stop, I plunked my things down and waited, seemingly forever, for the bus to arrive. In this case "forever" roughly translates to 55 minutes, but I can assure you that this is as long as anyone would want to spend at this bus stop, trying to keep cool as bus after bus streams passed you, their air conditioners blasting out torrents of hot air that mingles with the accumulating exhaust fumes. When my bus finally appeared, it was like a mirage, and I happily followed whatever instructions the bus driver gave me on paying for the ride.

These instructions dictated the purchase of an RTA Silver Card, which would eventually become the bane of my travel existence, but for now I was content to be on the other side of the air conditioning units. It didn't take long for the bus to reach my hotel, and hopping out, I rolled my luggage through a less-than-picturesque neighborhood of Dubai. This is not to suggest that the area was run-down or dangerous. Rather, there were buildings here that - unlike the majority of Dubai - were more than 30 years old. The inside of the hotel, and my room, however, were pretty much the stuff of your average run-of-the-mill three star hotel. Nothing fancy, but a flat-screen TV, a dusty balcony, and an ensuite bathroom (complete with miniature toiletry items), constituted an upgrade from my normal living accommodations. Dubai has no Youth Hostels or truly budget accommodation, and so I tried to appreciate "splurging" on a legitimate hotel.

My first order of business was to contemplate a nap. Beds look infinitely more comfortable and inviting after you've spent the "night" restlessly shifting on the seats of an airport. However, I overcame this temptation and having summoned up the courage to abandon the air conditioning and the comforts of the hotel, I made my way out into the city. My approach to experiencing Dubai was very similar to my approach for experiencing the series of ten European cities that I explored over a two week period last spring: secure a complimentary map from my place of lodging and head off in a promising direction. Though I had familiarized myself with this modern gem of the Arab world over the last five years, I had chosen to come to Dubai primarily to see the Burj Dubai, the world's tallest tower. That having been said, I had no plan, and no idea how to best approach the city. And that's how I ended up wandering helplessly around the canal district, beating back vendors peddling everything from belt buckles to blenders.

My journey started off promising. Examining my map, I determined that everything interesting in the city was on the other side of an canal, which dates back to the ancient founding of the city, decades ago (just kidding, I'm pretty sure Dubai has been around in one form or another for centuries). I made my way over to the canal, and found a public water taxi that would take me across for one dirham (roughly $0.33US). I arrived on the other side with no clear indication of how to get to any of the sites, and with a total lack of appreciation for the distances between objects on my map. Thus, I wandered around, exposing myself to the repetitive invitations of merchants to "take a look inside." There weren't a lot of restaurants in the area, and those that I came across seemed to be closed for Ramadan. This had never been a major problem in Egypt, and I overcame it here by stopping by a grocery store to pick up a thoroughly Western snack: Oreos and milk.

Catching a water taxi across the canal.

Having thus satisfied my Western sweet tooth, I continued my search through the canal district until I came across the least organized bus station in the long and tried history of public transportation. Remembering the Athens Bus Station, I'm tempted to rescind that suggestion, however it should be noted that after 45 minutes and four different suggestions on which numbered bus to take, I still managed to ride off on the wrong one. But I made the best of it by riding all the way out to the Mall of the Emirates. Or at least, that was my plan. Through a complicated series of events, resulting largely from the inability of my RTA Silver Card to properly function, I disembarked from the bus with about six blocks and one very large highway between me and the Mall of the Emirates.

It was while covering this distance that I first appreciated the fact that Dubai is not a walkable city. There are two good reasons for this. The first is the lack of public infrastructure for pedestrians, coupled with a city planning scheme that does an extraordinary job of building up pockets of development, but never bothers connecting these pockets to each other. The second is the heat. If I suggested that Egypt was hot, then I need to come up with a new word for the temperatures of the United Arab Emirates. Flamedeath? Hellkissed? Sunscorched? Any will do, as long as they convey the sense that after spending 15 minutes in the midday heat, your body runs out of sweat and starts to slowly boil. Finding and infiltrating air conditioned areas becomes a necessary skill for the pedestrian to acquire. Amongst other places, I managed to camp out in Dubai's version of the DMV long enough to bring my body temperature down to a rolling boil by making inquiries about the process by which one reports an RTA Silver Card malfunction.

The worst part of the six-block journey was the highway crossing. There were no pedestrian walkways, crossings, or signal lights to assist pedestrians in crossing the six lane highway that vivisected the city. And there, just out of reach on the other side, was the Mall of the Emirates, air conditioned and maniac-driver-free. Watching my fellow pedestrians attempt a high-stakes version of Frogger, I waited for my moment, then bolted across to the median only to repeat the process once again. I gave myself a little pat on the back for my accomplishment, then set about finding the entrance to the mall.

Over its 6.5 million square feet, the Mall of the Emirates contains every possible designer store one could imagine, as well as a gaming arena, a concert hall, and a 14-screen movie theatre. But its biggest claim to fame is undoubtedly its multi-course indoor ski slope. The first of its kind in the Middle East, the ski slope allows residents and vacationers alike the opportunity to sail down artificial snow for a comparatively short time in a faux-Alpine environment. On the plus side, the ski slope does afford spectators the opportunity to watch overweight Arab men dressed in tight-fitting Louis Vuitton ski suites (with matching poles) lose control and go careening into the faux-Alpine environment.

Pretty soon they'll be adding hiking trails to the summit, and building a Swiss-style ski lodge at the base.

I lingered in the mall long enough to pick up some supplies from the grocery store (of course it has a grocery store, and yes, it's bigger than any grocery store you've ever seen in your entire life) before heading back out to face the late afternoon heat. My destination was the Burj Al Arab (not to be confused with the Burj Dubai, everything here seems to start with "Burj"). The Burj Al Arab is generally regarded to be one, if not the best hotel in the world. Its "seven" star rating makes it stand out even amongst the sizable number of exotic hotels that Dubai has to offer. My plan was just to get close enough to it to snap a few pictures, but (perhaps not surprisingly) it turned into a classic adventure of my penetration into restricted areas with naught but a confidant smile and a few mistakenly unlocked doors.

A artificial freshwater canal running through one of the five star complexes, which (you may have forgotten) is in the middle of the desert.

The Burj Al Arab is part of a large complex of five star hotels, which gather at the nicest shoreline in the city. Naturally, these hotels have restricted access to the beach, as well as the amenities enjoyed by their guests. One of these amenities is, apparently, an unimpeded view of the Burj Al Arab. While I am a decent law-abiding citizen (though not of this country) I occasionally feel that certain restrictions are silly, and others are downright unfair, and so as I made my way through one of the more complex hotels, I began probing for entrance to the beach. Ultimately, it would take a little over an hour of patient wandering, but I finally found my way to a jetty from which I could snap a few photographs of the Burj Al Arab. The jetty guarded the private beach, and a tall fence that ran along its length kept intruders from entering. That is, it would have kept intruders from entering if anyone had bothered to close the rather large door at its apex. Slipping through said unlocked door, I went for a twilight stroll along the almost deserted beach, listening to the waves roll in and gazing up in wonder at the Burj Al Arab.

The Burj Al Arab, along side another of its sister five stars.

Looking down from the 25th floor.

Availing myself of a few of the open amenities of the resort, including some rather fantastic dates, I lingered long enough to appreciate how much such a place insulates its guests from the "real world" of the Arabian Gulf. Having taken in enough of the resort, I gathered up my belongings and made my way back to my hotel.

A final look back at the Burj Al Arab.

When I finally arrived back in my comfortably air conditioned room, I switched on the television to find "Gandhi" playing, and I watched about half an hour of the classic film while inhaling a chicken with noodles dish that I had purchased on my way back. Putting milk, bananas, and orange juice in the refrigerator for breakfast the next morning, I collapsed into my bed, totally exhausted, and was asleep almost instantly.

Waking the next morning, my most immediate concern was to have my things fully packed, that I might check out, store my luggage, and head into the city. Accomplishing this task, I left the hotel determined to have better success with the public transportation system than I had yet enjoyed. Unfortunately, this was not to be. After making my way through the souqs and alleys surrounding Dubai's famous Gold Souq, I arrived at the bus station intent on catching a bus that would bring me in the vicinity of the Burj Dubai. When I finally found a driver who claimed that his route would take him right passed it, I tapped my card and plunked myself down in the front seat. It wasn't long before we were pulling into a station with the Burj Dubai still towering in the distance, and I was told that this was the end of the line. Frustrated by misinformation, I decided that though the day was hot and the tower far off, I would abandon the irritations of public transportation and walk to the Burj Dubai.

These bus stops were little air conditioned life savers.

Almost immediately after leaving the bus station, I found myself in a most surprising shanty town. Wedged in between the highway and a developed part of the city, this collection of dilapidated buildings were most likely the homes of the workers hired by the various construction firms of Dubai. By the hands of these slum dwellers, the towering and beautiful city of Dubai has risen out of the desert sands. It is a remarkable tragedy that their labors build a city not for themselves.

The city rising above the slum, the new-looking cars belonged to a construction firm doing some work nearby.

Glad to have been exposed to this other side of Dubai, I made my way into the glittering jungle of glass and steel, walking passed sky scrapers of such size and design that any one of them could define the skyline of a city build around it. Yet here, tower after tower amassed along the main thoroughfare of the city, they formed an overwhelming display of the wealth and prosperity of the United Arab Emirates.

Four towers at various stages of completion.

Before the Burj Dubai pierced the sky, these were the tallest towers in the city.

I continued my practice of periodically popping into air conditioned areas, and it was during one of these respites from the heat that I found a grocery store selling, amongst other things: peanut butter. Assembling the necessary ingredients for a classic American lunch with the addition of jelly, bread, Cheetos, and juice, I made my purchases and began looking for a suitable place to bring my peanut butter & jelly sandwich into being. That place would end up being a half-closed (take away only during Ramadan) McDonald's restaurant, where I purchased a Coke to justify my access of the darkened second floor. There, in my dark and mysterious laboratory, I assembled my creation. Everything was thoroughly delicious, and for one of the first times in my life, I left a McDonald's feeling proud about what I had just eaten.

A little slice of Americana.

After more walking, I finally came as near the foot of the Burj Dubai as I was likely to get. The tower has not yet been opened, as construction was just completed last week. This would mean that I would not be able to go up and see the view from the top, but that was never really my plan. The view from the top is largely dominated by a blurry desert, an indistinct sea, and a strip of development running in between. Comparing that with the breathtaking view from the ground up at this tallest structure in the history of man is like comparing the perceptive of Michelangelo's David on his visitors to the awe-inspiring view up at at the famous marble figure.

Even a first-of-its-kind two-part photograph does not fully capture how unbelievably tall this tower was.

Both in an effort to cool off, and find a better perspective on the tower, I went in to the adjacent Mall of Dubai, another of the newly completed supermalls that dot the U.A.E. In addition to the usual amenities of a world-class shopping center, the Mall of Dubai contains an aquarium with a massive sea tunnel walk-through tank, and a skating rink though a sculpture garden. I took advantage of a bookstore to pick up a guidebook for Thailand, cognizant that I benefited enormously from having one during my travels in Egypt. I left the mall as the sun was getting low on the horizon. The effect lit up the glass of the Burj Dubai, making for a rather dramatic site, woefully poorly captured by film. I slowly circumnavigated the base of the tower, before plunking down on some grass to watch the sun set on the colossus.

Artsy shot of one of two massive sculpture/fountains that cascaded water down three stories with dozens of these figures.

The in-mall aquarium.

Making my way back to the hotel was much easier, if inadvertently much more expensive. I took advantage of Dubai's brand new metro system (having just opened last week, it saw 67,000 passengers line up on its inaugural day) to get me back to my hotel. Falling victim to some of the kinks in the system, I nevertheless made it back to my hotel, gathered up my belongings, and returned to the metro for the ride to the airport. Hoping to get off at the Terminal 1 stop listed on the register, I was disappointed to find that the Terminal 1 stop has not yet been constructed, and so it took a bit of backtracking before I could make it to the appropriate terminal.

The metro stations were state-of-the-art.

Once I was inside, and cleared through the first layer of security, I attempted to check in at 23:00, eight hours ahead of my scheduled lift off, with the hope of catching some sleep while waiting for my plane to arrive. Unfortunately, I learned that I could not be checked in any more than three hours early, and so I have spent the last five hours fighting exhaustion through a combination of meaningless wandering, vending machine coffee, and blog updates. Which brings us to where I am now, it's now 4:22, and I should be able to check in for my flight. As I can't imagine that I'll be getting any sleep before lift off, it's looking as though I'll be facing a 24+ hour day. I can count, on one hand, the number of times I've stayed up for 24 hours (it's four, but that's only if you count this upcoming instance) and I seem to recall the availability of a comfortable bed somewhere around hour 25. As it stands, the first real bed of any kind is still around 17 hours, and one connection in Qatar, away in Nepal; but with any luck I'll catch some sleep on of my flights. For now, it's time to pack up my laptop and make another go at checking in. Next stop: Nepal!