47º in Dubai

Looking out from the Mövenpick Hotel shuttle ride to the Palm, Dubai slowly revealed herself. The first impressions were not overly impressive, which is deceiving. A dull sand-coloured veil shrouded the city. The architecture wasn’t especially spectacular, neither ultra modern nor traditional. Except of course its most famous buildings – Burj Al Arab and Burj Khalifa, still the world’s tallest building. I don’t know what I expected, maybe traffic congestion with bumper-to-bumper Hummers and wealth literally melting off the sides of the glitzy buildings like oil.

This was my first time in Dubai, a one-night stop-over from where I was glamping in the UK to Singapore. It was July 2012, just days before the start of Ramadan. I was already sick with a cold, a dry cough threatening angrily. The plan was just to take it easy – check out the beach and do a cursory night tour. I had less than 24 hours in the city.

Sitting in the Persian Gulf

The shuttle bus ride from the hotel to the beach itself took half an hour. Dubai is surprisingly expansive and spread out. Deira, where my hotel was, is nowhere near the Palm Jumeirah, where I was headed, but I wanted to sit in the Persian Gulf. And I did. Not for long. The water was hotter than the air. It was like sitting in a bath. Just as I wondered if there were any fish, a little one darted to my toe then near my elbow, pausing briefly on cue to say “hello”. Seeing the fish made me smile and I replied “hello”.  And he was off.

I was amazed that life as “normal” as a fish could exist at such a temperature. If I learned nothing else from the movies, it’s that “life finds a way”. Life is resilient.

When I left the hotel, it was 47ºC. Yes, 47ºC.

It would climb into the 50s later that day.

I’ve never ever been in such a hot dry climate. I live in the 30s in Singapore, which is so very humid. It’s great for the skin and hair! So humid that when I step outside, I just start dripping.

Swimming in the Persian Gulf – ticked.

With mission accomplished, I headed back to the club pool to cool off. Looking around, you wouldn’t know you were in a Muslim culture. The pool was full of foreigners. To be fair, Dubai is even more international, with everything flown in, than even the famously/infamously international city of New York.

The waitstaff was also international – Philippines and somewhere in Africa. Later, I would find a lot of Pakistani nationals in Dubai. Like Singapore, Dubai is built with foreign workers.

With signing privileges at the Oceana Club that came with my stay at the Mövenpick, I decided some food was in order. A fruit platter and fries, somehow a comforting and welcomed combination. I thought the salt would help with my throat’s scratchiness.

Sitting uncomfortably in the heat, I wondered how hot it really was, and how do you get used to it? Even years of living in Singapore I have not acclimated to the heat or humidity.

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When daytime temperatures run up to the 50s, it’s no wonder the city comes alive at night. Heaviness and heat still weighed in the air for some time after sunset.

My first stop was the souks. I was hunting for Iranian figs and frankincense resin. And there were a lot to choose from. The souks were generally disappointing and disappointedly small. I guess the upside is you know where to go to get what you want, whereas the souk in Morocco was a maze – a fun maze – to navigate, a surprise around every corner. The textile souk reminded me of Singapore’s Little India. The reviews from Tripadvsior were spot on.

And the gold souk?

My guide insisted on taking me. Perhaps it’s their crowning glory, the souk of souks. It was glitzy and glittery. The lights meant to magnify this sparkle must have pushed the air temperature up a few degrees, just when the night air was starting to cool. Leaving the gold souk felt like I was leaving this strange glowing manifestation in the middle of, well, sand. A mirage that rose up from nowhere. I did love the jewelry’s intricate designs – simply stunning.

To be honest, the rest of the night was somewhat of a blur. Fatigue hit me like a brick wall soon after that. I had only gotten to bed around 3am, after a 7-hour flight from Heathrow, which is always busy and not relaxing.

I fought to stay awake as my driver drove me eagerly to a couple more  usual tourist spots. The thing about having your own driver is not having a schedule. Ahead of the plan, I headed back to the hotel to relax in my ultra-comfortable room until my 12:30am airport shuttle.

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24-Hour Check-In

Let me tell you – this 24-hour check-in is fantastic.  Check-in is any minute on that 24-hour clock.

This means I had my room for my entire stay, without needing to check out at the usual time and put my luggage with the concierge. Perfect for late night flights. Not every hotel provides this and not every location of the same hotel chain either. I stayed at Mövenpick Deira because of this perk. The other Mövenpick Hotel wasn’t a 24-hour check-in.

(note: the 24-hour check-in/out concept can be confusing, even to the hotel staff. Patience and humour are key to having a smooth check-in, while they calculate your check-out time. I dealt with three receptionists and all three were VERY confused. They actually de-activated my room key at one point.)

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So that was my first time in Dubai. For less than 24 hours, I managed to see many of the major tourist sights, poked around in the souks, dipped in the Persian Gulf, and experienced 47º.

I also met some very interesting people. I had long conversations with three Pakistani nationals – taxi drivers and a dashing security guard. An interesting glimpse at what living in Dubai is like for foreigners. When I asked the Kenyan bartender what it was like being Christian in a Muslim country, he quickly dashed off. No, really, he did. I guess politics and religion are still taboo, especially when your job was potentially at stake.

In this super-short visit I barely saw what this city has to offer and with rapid change continuing apace I am certain my next visit would reveal a different place. Things next to try – falconry.

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Cover Image : Christoph Schulz