There was chaos. Sweet, decadent chaos.
Brace
yourself as you're launched into a city racing to become as big and as
bad as the biggest and baddest in the world, but with no real clue as to
how to go about it or to sustain itself. Lonely Planet itself needs to
remind you that Dubai is NOT the capital of the United Arab
Emirates, it just thinks it is. A very small, badly planned and tightly
built city, ever expanding amongst a mess of cranes, roadblocks,
scaffolding and construction arrays. Oh how I long for the gridlines and
trams of Melbourne at a time where the taxi drivers get lost for an
hour on a twenty minute trip. However, you can't help but fall in love
with the place. There's a keen awareness that the traffic is chaotic,
that the rubbish from masses of apartments can't be managed, and that
the government compounds are the atrocious hellhole you would only land
in for a month if you were desperate for a roof over your head. In
distinct contrast, customer service is the highest I've ever seen, from
our five-star hotel right down to Jeans West. Everybody knows it's
haphazard here, they know the traffic is shit, but heck, they're out to
make the best shot of this place that they can, and realise that the
people and their relationships are the things that hold the chaos
together in some sort of quasi-order. At last, our journey has begun,
and I intend to fill you in on all the good bits, quirky bits, and
utterly stupid bits along the way. Andrew's had his fun in Thailand, now
it's my turn to do it - without all the spelling mistakes.
Welcome to Dubai.
Waiting in Melbourne at 2.30am for our flight. I was
starting to feel like we lived here. I like flying. I really
do enjoy it. It's the portal to adventures, journeys, and all kinds of
cultural experiences. But fourteen hours on a plane is enough to test
the patience and circulation of the most avid flyer, even with Emirates.
With less than average service, tightly packed economy seats, and a
body that's already been nine hours around the world less than 48 hours
before, I have to say it was the hardest flight I've ever endured. There
was however a bright light at the end of the airbridge. Not only was
hour transfer waiting on arrival in the airport, he was standing waiting
at the very end of the tunnel (customs anyone??) ready to take my 12kg
carry-on (no, I don't know how I got it on either) and guide us through
to a guest lounge for some unknown reason.
After three or four attempts Andrew was able to finally communicate the
message that he was indeed here to live and work, not to holiday, and
that he did actually need to go to the Visa desk. None of this bothered
me though, as I'd been plied with delicately soft dates, coconut cookies
and whatever I wanted to drink. Add to that the discovery of free wifi,
and I was a happy girl for the hour that we were stuck in Visa
purgatory while a staff member of Arab Media Group drove to the airport
to deliver the Visa that Andrew was promised on arrival. Snapshot of
things to come? I think so.
Wrong.
Fast forward.
Manic racing trying to keep up to our Pakistani transfer host. That dude
is fast!
Tracking down our luggage after it went around the carousel for an hour.
Done!
Buying UAE Local sim cards with no knowledge of the currency exchange
rate. Done!
Realising that the transfer host had already had my passport stamped
with my Visa.
Woah!
Racing to the carpark to our transfer vehicle. Phew!
....wait. That's us? The white Mercedes stretch limo?
<insert
religious deity here> help me.
This is where it starts. Where we
regularly look at each other and discuss our level of insanity or how
we've actually ended up here. Our journey takes us past the newly opened
Burj Dubai, scraping the skies and towering over every other building
in the city. Traffic races past us as our driver slides easily through
the chaos, talking in broken English about how to get here and there in
Dubai. I'm gobsmacked, and then we arrive at our hotel. No, it's not
Atlantis or the Burj Al Arab, but it's amazing all the same!
Completely decadent and fit for a princess
such as myself, we not only have a huge bed coated in pillows, but also a
lounge room, executive desk and a bathroom that takes up the better
part of half the apartment. Split into three sections involving a
toilet/bidet combo in one room, double vanity in the middle with a TV
Andrew fondly watches while using the facilities, and a separate room
for the double head shower and epic bathtub. Seriously, the wardrobe
opens from the bedroom side AND the bathroom side, just for your
convenience. Also fitted with a GIANT LCD TV, complete with the Cricket
Channel, Andrew is in heaven.
Two weeks you say? Heck, let's stay for a year.
Oh wait, there's the hotel services price list. Maaaaaybe not.
My credit card's already hurting from the $1000 guarantee on the room.
Hunger eventually drives us out
of the hotel and towards Dubai Mall, and incredible mix of the most
amazing and exclusive brands, but all a good dose cheaper than
Australian prices. Andrew needs to be thankful we'll be moving into a
small apartment, otherwise my shoe collection would explode. It
was a nice relief to confirm that pretty much everybody speaks English,
and really, we shouldn't be in too much of a hurry to use Arabic as most
of the expats don't speak it anyway! We explored the mall, filled our
tired and weary bodies with Lebanese delights and oooohed and aaaahed
our way around the equivalent of Collins Street in Melbourne, but
without that heavy feeling of being priced out of the market. Once
Andrew had given in to temptation and purchased some new clothes, a taxi
whisked us back to our hotel when we realised just how little sleep
we'd had in the last couple of days. All in all I have to say, that by
the time we arrived back to our luscious hotel room that night, I was
feeling very, very good about our latest escapade.....
k.
