The Backstreet Traveller

I looked at the shop keeper with polite but determined indecision.

“How much you want to pay, for Russians I always give best prices.”

I was from Scotland, but here in the souks of Deira in Dubai it seemed close enough.

Resisting the temptation to say 1 Dirham, I strategically looked towards the door, past the sparkling trinkets and souvenirs that lured in the crowds of people outside.

Hot tea was brought. We sat together, him in a faded Shalwar Kameez, me in shorts and a Star Wars T shirt, and negotiated. I’d crossed the line from tourist to trader.

Having started off with 1 cushion cover, I finished with 2 cushion covers, 3 bracelets and a necklace, and a furry camel. As we shook hands, Tariq (we were now on first name terms) offered me more tea and the opportunity to buy more things from his shop. I accepted the tea, politely declined further purchases, and watched him expertly move onto new customers.

The lesson here is don’t go to souks to just look, go to buy. You’ll become part of a thousand years of tradition, and have a lot more fun.

I walked out, prepared for offers of “copy” Rolex, Breitling, Cartier watches and Gucci, Prada, Luis Vuitton handbags, by every other person, and drinks and snacks by the person in between, and joined the crowds wandering through the strange intimacy of the souk. The atmosphere was noisy, brightly coloured by burning lanterns, and flavoured by spices piled high outside tiny shops lining both sides. The spices, together with scarves, clothes, sandals, household and tourist goods, pushed out into the crowds demanding to be bought.

Night is definitely my favourite time here.

Emerging, I made my way down to the Deira Old Souk Abra Station, to take a Water Taxi across the Creek to Bur Dubai. Sitting down the side of these little wooden poorly lit boats with perhaps another 20 people, chugging past big moored up Dhows waiting for cargoes to deliver all over the Persian Gulf and Arabian Sea, is truly an experience from history. The Creek was like a souk itself, with crowding Water Taxis pushing along every navigable path, passengers waving and shouting, and boats crashing in and out of Abra Stations like impatient shoppers.

Having arrived at Bur Dubai, I rushed through the fiercely touristy Textile Souk and escaped into Baytal Wakeel Restaurant on the waterfront, which has the best view in Dubai of the living busy Creek. Ordering falafels and excellent hummus, examining my purchases, I relaxed and took it all in.