Up on cripple creek

3. Deira Dubai
8:55 p.m.

"The creek divides Dubai into two parts - Deira Dubai and Bur Dubai. The creek is 14 Kms long. It now has eight wharfages each capable of catering to 31 ships of capacity of up to 800 tonnes. Around 720,000 tonnes of cargo pass through the creek each year. Only wooden ships are allowed to enter the creek to keep its traditional feature.

An imaginative way of seeing Dubai is to take a tour of the creek by traditional wooden dhow or cabin cruiser. Most of the major landmarks can be seen from the waterway. Daytime or evening cruises are available with food and beverages on board." [Datadubai, the Dubai guide resource]

I'm not quite sure that seeing Dubai from the Creek is "an imaginative way" of experiencing the city, although you can tell yourself that if it makes you feel "adventurous". Nonetheless, one evening, post work and spice-souk bargaining, I found myself fully suited and seated on a surprisingly sturdy dhow. I had (embarrassingly) thought that toting my $800 Longchamp bag (courtsey of Cousin Wendy, Longchamp employee) to Dubai would be appropriate for this town, momentarily ignoring my own style (or lackthereof) and the fact that I am not a $800 bag kind of girl. My packing errors made themselves known when I climbed aboard the dhow in my heels and designer (fine, Macy's) suit. I sat down on the wooden seat next to an Indian man, probably my age, playing pool on his cell phone. The rest of the dhow was filled with workers who probably make $800 combined in one year. The ride was pleasant, pool games were won, the city looked beautiful, fellow boaters looked exhausted, and then a cockroach fell in my longchamp bag. I pretended this was completely normal. Then I paid my ten cents fare (mas or menos), alighted (british) the dhow and got in a mercedes taxi for my return journey to the novotel.

The guilt and confusion of these mis-matched worlds is with me all of the time and I don't know how to reconcile them.

Epilogue: I think the cockroach (Feivel) realized longchamp was not his style either; although I liked the idea (just the idea) that Feivel could experience the Novotel

Consolations of Philosophy

2. 8:07 a.m.
Shaikh Zayed Road
Taxi to the Novotel

I learned that my first taxi driver - female, Lebanese, fully robed and wearing Paris Hilton sunglasses - has been in Dubai since the day when just one building barely scraped the sky. (It's not clear to me who she was driving around in those days; I've subsequently met several taxi drivers who have been there since the beginning of the skyscraper explosion - maybe they were driving each other to work?).

Our conversation:

FLFRWPHS Taxi Driver - So, are there this many Indians where you come from?

Me - er, um [not yet sure where this line of questioning is going, but aware that she is expecting the correct answer] - yes, I live in a very diverse city

FLFRWPHS TD - They are every where. And they are awful. Just look [I looked around; she was indeed correct that our fellow road-mates were Indian, as were the dozens (hundreds?) of men filing the construction sites]. There are too many of them

Me - er, um [now aware of what she wanted to hear, also aware that we were cruising along what is considered the most dangerous highway in the world, or at least Dubai's world*]

Shaikh Zayed Road still most dangerous
By Alia Al Theeb, Staff Reporter

Dubai: Shaikh Zayed Road continues to be the most dangerous road for motorists with 14 deaths in 61 accidents in the first five months of the year.

Emirates Road followed with 11 deaths from 40 accidents.

According to statistics, this year there have been 144 deaths in road accidents in the emirate, while police reported 107 deaths during the first five months of last year.

FLFRWPHS TD - They should just go home.

Not willing to engage in this line of conversation, though not knowing exactly how to escape ["In conversations, my priority was to be liked, rather than to speak the truth. A desire to please led me to laugh at modest jokes like a parent on the opening night of a school play. With strangers, I adopted the srvile manner of a concierge greeting wealthy clients in a hotel - alival enthusiasm born of a morbid indiscriminate desire for affection. I did not publcily doubt ideas to which the majority was committed." Consolation for Unpopularity, Alain de Botton]

In this case, there was no majority - but there was a racist someone in the driver's seat, so, fully executing my rights as a british passport holder, i asked her to tell me about the weather in Dubai.

back again

First trip to Dubai
Monday, August 13, 2007

1. 7:22 a.m.
Dubai International Airport
Baggage Claim

Plans to be recruited for the CIA on location fell through when I inadvertently left my notebook on the airport cart while I wandered off to the bathroom (a la the Mr. T and the A-Team sweatshirt left in an airport cart in Newark International Airport in 1984, never to be seen again). The notebook, at least, was there upon the return, waiting patiently, arousing no suspicion (which disappointed me a bit).