From champagne to shoestring

There is nothing apologetic about Dubai. There is no angst about refined taste or the restrained enjoyment of wealth. It is thoroughly unpretentious, never trying to be anything other than what it is - a city where a desert should be, an ostentatious mirage. For many, it is a guilty pleasure. The bawdy school friend who has made a fortune selling used cars, whose Ferrari and indoor swimming pool you envy in your weaker moments and whose lavish parties you secretly enjoy.

Nobody worth her worn copy of a Lonely Planet would want to come here on holiday.

I like to think of myself as fairly wholesome. I read books from the appropriate shortlists, follow witty philosophers on Twitter and listen to quirky folk bands on my iPod while I recyle. My house is predictably decorated with statues of Hindu gods from a trip to Chennai and tablecloths from a market in Manila. I convince myself that it is only 15 years and two children that separates me from earnest graduates scouring the earth for hidden beaches and forgotten temples.

And yet here I am in Dubai, the destination all truly intrepid travellers love to hate.

The sand on the beach is soft and almost white. Start digging and you will reach the concrete soon enough. The sea is that clear blue from a postcard somewhere off the coast of Thailand. Behind me the smog suffocates the surreal cityscape. Around me, moneyed older men massage their bellies, each draped in a young mantis dressed in string and silicone. They shrug off the staff’s sweaty subservience with a studied indifference, manners reserved for mothers and business associates.

I concentrate on staring straight ahead and make sure I’m polite to the staff. There is something about constant sunshine and seamless service that overcomes even the most determined cynic. There is something about having two energetic children that forces practical issues like proximity, comfort and weather to the top of your list of priorities when debating a holiday. My boys have been in the sand and the sea all day, watched over by friendly and attentive lifeguards. I’ve spent valuable time with a book off a shortlist and a gin and tonic.

Provided I let go of my pretensions, it’s not all bad.