Trip to the United Arab Emirates

Shopping center or suq – in Dubai they are both an experience. One modern, one old, one cool, one sweltering hot, both are extreme.

At the time of my visit, Dubai had completed fifty shopping centers, with many more in the planning or semi-completion stages. Older shopping centers were nothing special, just like any shopping center in the West. But the newer ones were really special. Built around themes like water parks, zoo, ski slope, race track and marina, they tried to outdo each other in glamour and attraction. Egypt was well represented with the spynx guarding its entrance. The latest shopping centers were attached to fabulous apartment buildings, each more grandiose than the next. One building turned on its axis twice a day to allow residents sea view and land view, sunrise and sunset. Another had rotating individual floors. The owner could turn his residence as desired to admire the water or to the land. At the fabulous marina, people lived in intelligent apartments where they controlled washer, dryer, air conditioning, stove, or lights from anywhere in the world via computer. They could check the contents of their refrigerators and order foods from the ground-level store housed in a shopping center.

All provided fabulous play areas for children, with ice skating rinks, or splashing pools, buggy racing rinks, kiddie trains, computer games, climbing areas, and great places for mothers to socialize. Each shopping center housed at least two mosques, one for men and one for women, and the larger provided two mosques at each end.

I loved strolling along the display windows, and admired the merchandise from all over the world, restaurants from many different countries, and was fascinated by the local fashion. Muslim women are as fashion conscious about their abaias, the long black gowns worn outside the home, as Western women are about the latest styles. Abaias décor and design seem to change every year. They are always long, and always black, but the sleeves may be cut differently, the decorations may change from embroidery to sequence to stones. Materials differ. Some are very fine, rich texture, and probably very expensive. Under the abaias, the ladies may wear the latest fashions or simply jeans.

I wanted to buy an abaia, veil, and headscarf, but could not afford the prices in the shopping centers. Later, in the suq, I bargained for an older model in which I greeted my friends "back home."

In the ladies’ rooms, each toilet was equipped with a hand-held water sprayer, something like a portable bidet. What a great idea in such a hot climate. In the common area women removed their veils and headscarves to brush their hair. Beautiful hair, shining, and great shapes. I became aware of the beauty shops in the malls. Unlike in the United States where the customer sits in front with dripping hair and running mascara, to be seen by everyone passing by, the women are groomed in back rooms where no one can see them. The window fronts of the beauty shops show play areas for children, some even equipped with child-sized beauticians’ chairs.

I spent an entire day at the Ski Dubai shopping center. The ski slope area is attached to the shopping center and from the outside of the building looks like a big fat thumb sticking up in the air. Floor to ceiling glass walls offered a look onto the activities on the slopes. I settled down for lunch in a Lebanese restaurant with a perfect view. Winter in Dubai! Two ski slopes, an obstacle course, play areas. Local women in abaias covered in long black winter robes coasted down special slides on inner tubes alongside their children. In another area women pulled their children on sleds, helped them build snow men, and a few children enjoyed snowball fights. People rented skis, shoes, toboggans, winter clothing and coats at a booth next to where tickets were purchased. The ambience was complete with a roaring fire in a giant stone fireplace.

To visit Dubai’s suqs I hopped on the tourist bus. They are located in the old part of town. Narrow streets and alleys, and off them again smaller alleys, they are picturesque and mysterious. The first destination was the gold suq. Canopies or glass and steel provided much needed shade and a bit of coolness. Shops with fabulous displays of gold and precious stones were lined up next to each other. They looked exotic. Ladies in abaias, headscarves and veils floated from store to store. Gold, gold, gold, everything 18 k gold. Rings, earrings, bracelets, necklaces, all shapes and sizes, glittering with diamonds, rubies, emeralds and other precious stones. I admired the shop windows, and the people inside.

Eventually I selected a store where a number of local women were in lively conversation with salesmen. The displays inside were even more fabulous and seduced me into wanting to buy something. After much "should I or shouldn’t I", I selected a pair of diamond earrings and a diamond ring. Some quite intense bargaining followed, and they were mine. When I returned to the U.S. I learned that I had purchased well. My prize would have cost twice as much.

"Authentic fake watches" and "authentic fake hand bags" were hawked by street vendors who shot out of narrow side alleys and tried their best to lure prospective buyers into their shops and stalls. I wasn’t in the market for an authentic fake watch or bag, but I wanted to find a T-shirt for my husband.

After my selection, the vendor tried to sell me a second one. He thought my comment "But I only have one husband," was a great joke.

The guide led us to the spice suq. The smells were overwhelming like nothing I ever experienced before. Strong, sweet, pungent, wonderful. It was impossible to identify individual spices, they had melded together into one overwhelming sensation. Nostrils wide open I kept breathing deeply to fully
indulge in the pleasurable mix of aromas. Here, as in the gold suq, many shops were lined up next to each other, all offering the same or similar merchandise. During my Dubai visit I had learned to like cardamom sugar for my coffee, so I purchased a glass of cardamom spice.

There were so many streets and alleys, that without the guide always somewhere in sight, I would probably have been lost. Since I wanted to buy an abaia, headscarf, and veil, he directed me to an area with many such shops. I admired the fashionable stones and embroidery. The materials were not as beautiful and rich as in the shopping centers. After trying on at least five, and looking in the floor length mirror at my very strange apparition, the haggling began. In the end I paid twenty dollars and was happy.

Suq or shopping center. This is Dubai, and everything is extreme. From ultra modern to the old, and old means about sixty years. Before then there were sand dunes and Bedouins.

A visit to Dubai must include a date with the Burj al Arab, that fabulous sail-shaped hotel, the icon of Dubai and brain child of Dubai’s ruler, Sheikh Mohammed bin Raschid Al Maktoum. It is so exclusive that no one is allowed to enter the gates leading to the hotel without a reservation. This meant that everyone, in tour groups or alone, was required to consume something. Just sightseeing was not permitted. Venues and Menus were online, and I.had an eight o’clock reservation for hors d’oevres and two drinks at the Skyview Bar on the 28th Floor - for a price of $180. Sounds expensive? The tour lunch at the bottom level cost more.

The limousine dropped me off at the grand entrance past the Ellipse fountain that looked like bursts of fire. Next to it, four fireballs, eight feet in diameter, appeared to be floating on air. The façade of the hotel, covered with a Teflon-coated woven glass fiber screen, displayed spectacular pastel lights, a fabulous mirage.
From the entrance level elevators and escalators flew up and down an interior that resembled a collage of shells, with lighted waterfalls cascading through the center and in intervals bursting close to one hundred fifty feet into the air. I was standing in the world’s tallest atrium, nearly six hundred feet high. It’s glass wall on the right displayed a multi-storied aquarium with fabulous fish of all sizes.

An army of liveried men was standing and talking with guests near and behind grandiose desks and invited everyone to look and walk around. So much gold everywhere, over five thousand feet of 24k gold leaf embellishes the interior.
There are no rooms at the Burj, just suites, and all 202 of them are double-storied. Each is equipped with the latest technology, and each has its own crew of butlers and servants. Children play in their own club on the 18th floor, and guest arrival can be arranged by limousine or helicopter.

The escalator brought me up to the lounge level where a string quartet was playing classical music. From there, an elevator lifted me to the Skyview Bar. I was lead through lights, crystal, glass, mirrors, and flowers to a round terraced room where small tables on numerous levels presented a spectacular view. Since I was alone, I stayed at the bar where I could watch the bartender mix exotic drinks like "Devine Dates" consisting of dried dates, spiced rum, cointreau, and fresh pineapple juice, "Monkey Freeze," a mix of Oreo cookies, banana, vodka, and coffee liqueur, and "Burj Royal," a concoction of vanilla vodka, ripe blackberries and raspberries, topped with champagne. I chose the "Devine Dates" and the "Burj Royal" for the two drinks of my reservation. Luxury seemed like an understatement when I discovered that I could splash myself with Hermes Elixir des Merveilles in the ladies’ room.

The Burj al Arab was reputed as the most luxurious hotel in the world, though the newer Emirates Palace in Abu Dhabi I visited the next day seemed much more grandiose and luxurious.
Visiting dignitaries with government business stay at the Emirates Palace, a sprawling extreme of more than half a mile from wing to wing. There are nearly four hundred rooms and suites, forty meeting and conference rooms, a ballroom that can accommodate 2400 people, and an auditorium for 1100. For an open air concert, there’s room for 20,000.

Chefs from around the world cook in 128 kitchens and use 11 pounds of edible gold to decorate deserts. Everything is just extreme. 114 domes, 1002 chandeliers. The Emirates Palace offers the world’s most expensive tailor-made holiday for a mere one million dollars.

Walking through this palace was almost intimidating. Everything was hushed. The hotel’s lobbies and halls were as large as stadiums, exquisitely decorated with statues and Persian carpets, furniture of the most expensive and beautiful materials possible, much red and much gold. Arabic men and women in candoras and abaias seemed to float noiselessly, as many people in Western dress walked and sat quietly, or spoke in whispering voices.

I discovered a sign for "Picasso Abu Dhabi." The gallery, its entrance flanked by liveried men, advertised rotating exhibits. It was just as enormous as everything else in the hotel, with hall after hall of Picasso’s work. Men, women, and families were assigned different visiting days. This, fortunately, was the women’s day.

It had been accidental that we, a small group, could even enter the Emirates Palace. It was not meant to be a tour destination. Someone coming from Dubai was dropped off at the hotel, and our guide took the opportunity to show us what real wealth looked like. And it looked – incredible.

The crew that was escorting me was foreign-born. No local would perform this kind of work, locals hardly work at all. One of the guides came from Morocco, the other from India, and the third from Egypt. All were well educated and multi-lingual to entertain the international tourists visiting the United Arab Emirates during high season. June was low season, and hot. Everyone who could had already escaped the desert heat, and tourists stayed away until November, when the cool weather returned. I had two tour guides and a driver chauffeuring me around, and I loved it.

"What is so great about working in Dubai?" I asked. "People are usually paid ten times the amount of the average wage in their home country," was the reply. "A construction worker who earns $40 a month at home, if he works at all, makes $400 here."

"All workers, no matter what level or type of work, must be hired from outside the UAE," the Moroccan continued. "Construction workers are recruited by scouts traveling third world countries, mostly India. Office workers, marketing and banking professionals are either transferred by their companies with subsidiaries here, or find employment over the internet. They are always looking for teachers. Teaching and trades jobs happen mostly via the internet."

"So I couldn’t find myself a teaching job now while I’m here?" I asked.

"That’s right," was the reply, "And that way we have no unemployment, and hardly any crime, and Sheikh Mohammed wants to keep it this way," referring to Dubai’s ruler.

"There are five conditions for companies that employ foreign workers. Health insurance must be paid, the worker receives a one month vacation with pay to his home country every year and that includes the air fare, he gets one month salary annually toward retirement, free room and board for construction workers and domestics, and no taxes," said the driver.

"You hear so much bad publicity lately," added one of the guides, "It is not true. The poorer workers may live in what may be unacceptable conditions to some Westerners, but they still live better than in their own countries, and after three years they have enough money saved to build a house at home." The Moroccan guide had already built two houses in his home country in the ten years he had been working in Dubai. All three shared that they made a very comfortable living and liked living in the UAE.

"You said there was no crime," I said. "I see police everywhere, what is their job?" All three of them laughed. "The locals like being police. Many work at something, or they would die of boredom, and the money is good, really good. Easy job, hardly any crime, and that for five thousand or so a month. And then they can retire after fifteen years and earn eighty percent of their income."

"But there are some crimes," added the man from India, "People may not pay their debts. We have debtors’ prisons. Foreigners will go to jail if they don’t pay their debts, they also go to jail if they behave badly, like sex that is seen by the public, and no consulate can help them. It is a crime for a man and woman to live together without being married. If someone is caught dealing drugs, he goes to prison for fifteen years, for stealing they have an eight to ten year sentence. Murder and child prostitution result in death. Only foreigners commit these crimes. After they have served their sentence, and depending on the crime, they are branded between the eyes before they are deported to make sure they never return."

"Locals also have government jobs, and some work at the airport," added the Egyptian. "But they make a lot of money with sponsorships."

"What is that?" I asked.
"All foreign businesses must have local sponsors," he continued. "For a two thousand dollar registration fee a year a business can operate, no matter how large or small it is. Any local can be a sponsor. It is his job to make sure that all licenses are current and the books that required by the state, are correct. This takes him about six hours per year."

"Is it easy to open a business in Dubai?" was my question.
"Yes, it seems to be," replied the Moroccan. "You just have to find the sponsor. Many of the locals are really stretched thin. Look at how many foreign businesses we have here, and the few locals. And if they don’t do a good job with the papers, you can lose your license to operate."

We visited a museum and heritage site where women in local dress, long black abaias, veils, and head scarves, demonstrated weaving and crafts. It seemed so strange, realizing that these "locals" were foreign workers.

"We also have prostitution here," shared the driver later. "It is illegal, but with so many men here without families, the government knows they have to do something. So they recruit the prostitutes as hotel workers."

"But these women know that they are recruited to service men," added the Indian. "Everyone who comes to this country knows what they’re here for, there are no secrets. No one is lured under false pretenses, no one is lied to. Women from certain countries are known for their prostitution trade, and they are happy to come here. They get the five benefits too, and are checked by doctors on a regular basis."

I started to ask people at hotels, shopping centers, restaurants, and buses where they came from. It was amazing. Not a country seemed to be left out, from near or from far. The British were highest in numbers, then other European countries. Most of the construction workers were from India. Many Africans were in hotels. Everyone who dealt with the public spoke English.
The UAE is experiencing the recession just as the rest of the world. Many foreigners have left, many companies have closed down. They all have hope for the future. Dubai has the only stock exchange in the Middle East, it is a great financial center, and by all accounts, it will return bigger and better than before.

After the glitter of Dubai and the imposing structures of Abu Dhabi’s government buildings, the Sheik Bin Sultan Al Nahyan Mosque in Abu Dhabi is the pinnacle of everything the United Arab Emirates has to offer. Located on a hill, it rises into the sky in majestic splendor. Four 351 foot high minarets and 82 domes of white Italian marble glisten in the summer heat. Looking up at the imposing white apparition against the blue sky, I felt humbled before I even neared the steps to the colonnade leading to the main entrance. What grander splendor would follow such an awe-inspiring exterior?

It is the only mosque that encourages visitors of all religions to visit. Initiated by the United Arab Emirates’ first ruler, it was not completed until after his death. In 2009, all the fountains, reflecting pools, and tiled areas were finished. The Grand Mosque, as locals call it, is the third largest mosque after Mecca and Medina.
The mosque covers an area of 237,000 feet. The floor of the exterior hall and courtyard is paved with beautiful floral tiles from Turkey. 1096 slim columns made of white marble and decorated with inlaid vines and flowers, each a replica of the other, lead to the interior. The splendid sameness of the columns enveloped the senses. People were walking quietly, respectfully, in local or Western dress. I had entered another, more beautiful world.

At the entrance to the prayer hall a group of women in black abaias, veils, and headscarves asked visitors to deposit their shoes in lockers that no one locked. They handed us abaias and head scarves to wear. Suddenly our little group of seven was transformed into something ephemeral. The feeling was strange in the unfamiliar environment, the long cool robes caressing us gently. Barefoot we continued.

A gasp emanated from seven throats. Our breath just seemed to stop. Nowhere, ever, not even in the grandest cathedrals of Europe, had I seen such incredible splendor. 96 large columns inlaid with blue designs and thousands of rare and semi-precious stones support the domes, the tallest rising 246 feet into the air. 42 karat gold is used lavishly. The qiblah wall that directs the faithful towards Mecca, 75 feet high and 165 feet wide, is decorated with the 99 names or qualities of Allah and back-illuminated with fiber-optic lighting. Suspended from the central dome is the world’s largest chandelier. Made in Germany, it is almost 33 feet tall and equally as wide, and weighs nine tons. In reds, greens and clear crystal it looks like a giant flower just opening up.

We were standing on the largest Persian carpet in the world. Sized at over 65 thousand square feet it had been weaved by 1200 Iranian women over two years to. Very soft, very lush, in greens, browns and reddish hues it covers the large expanse of the prayer hall. Forty thousand people can pray at the same time. Standing there I felt incredibly overpowered.

We walked around, awestruck. Suddenly, from the minaret came the call to prayer. We were asked to leave.

After the crazy traffic of the city, the skyscrapers, construction noise, shopping centers, suqs, shouting vendors, honking horns and boat motors, the stillness of the desert covered us like a calming blanket. The incredibly quiet expanse with its hues of brown seemed less real than the electricity of the all man-made Dubai.

Drivers, dressed in long white candoras and white gutrahs, chauffeured groups of tourists and ex-pats in four wheel drive vehicles into the sunset. We paused and wondered about the daytime heat in the desert. After four, it had cooled off comfortably and a breeze was refreshing. The soft sand felt delicious between the toes. We stopped at several camel farms and admired the majestic animals. Camels are bread for steaks, stew, briefcases, handbags, and jackets, not some exalting purpose like taking people through the desert or racing. They were always chewing and moving their jaws in circular motion, and close-up their teeth were huge and their eyelashes incredibly long. Camels can run fast, but these farm animals moved slowly, their large bellies swaying from side to side.

The calm ride didn’t prepare us for the "bashing." I was one of six passengers in one car. The vehicle stopped somewhere off the road in the sand, and while we drank water, the drivers let some air out of the tires. "Better in the dunes," went the explanation. The "all aboard," was the beginning of the wildest ride I have ever taken. The dunes we entered weren’t nice and easy slopes. These ravines, often twenty-five feet or deeper angled at forty-five degrees. We raced up and slid down head first, sideways, backwards, waiting just long enough for the vehicle in front to get out of the way. We squealed, laughed, caught our breath, occasionally in flight, often at the brink of tipping, but always regaining balance. "I’m a daredevil," explained our driver, "I have never had an accident." He was laughing, the joy of giving us a wild experience sparkling in his eyes. I have no idea how long the dune bashing lasted, the exhilaration made me forget time and space. Sitting in the front next to the driver, I tried to film. The result was a movie as wild as the ride itself.

Our destination was a Bedouin campsite located in a fairly deep depression. Camels with muzzles kneeled down to receive riders for a short walk. From there we meandered down a slope to enter the camp through a great gate that resembled the ranch entrances of the Old West. With much time on our hands, we admired the eagle perched on the bedouin’s wrist, and explored the interlocking huts and tents containing sales stalls, kitchens, henna tattoo stall, and an Arabic dress shop.

We donned Arabic garb for photo shoots. The women looked smashing in their long black abaias. It was amazing how comfortable and cool they felt. The headscarf and veil were one piece of material with a slit through the middle and a band on either side. Covering nose and eyes it is tied in the back of the head. Half is drawn up and back to cover the hair, the other half pulled down just below the eyes. Men shrouded themselves in long, white candoras and tried a variety of gutrahs on their heads. The transformation to a different culture took seconds.

In the center of the compound, round tables and large cushions encircled a carpeted stage. Comfortably seated, we were served a menu of barbequed lamb and chicken with vegetables, stew, several rice dishes, a number of salads, Arabic breads, and non-alcoholic as well as alcoholic beverages. We wondered if the stew contained camel, but no one would tell us. All of the food tasted surprisingly good for a tour destination.

I could have lived without the interactive belly-dancing performance. The dancer moved gracefully to the discordant tunes of the local music, but when she pulled people from the audience to follow her gyrations, the exotic ambience was gone.

Millions of stars twinkled in the night sky. "Nowhere can you see as many stars as in the desert," sighed our driver on the way back.