Days 1 & 2 in Dubai: Covered and Hungry
I arrived at my hotel on Tuesday just before midnight, and was greeted in my room by a letter from the general manager reminding me that eating and drinking (anything, like, even water) in public is expressly forbidden (as in, I could be arrested) during daylight hours. No entertainment can occur, and stores have modified hours. The body (especially the female body) must be fully covered. Because it’s Ramadan.
In my rush to pack, I forgot about Ramadan. It’s a hundred degrees out at this time of the year in Dubai, and I’m staying at a beach resort. Not to mention that Dubai is a veritable HUB of excess. Luckily, the need to pack for fall weather in Brussels within the same suitcase (the location of my meetings during the second leg of my trip) tempered my choice of clothing, but the letter stressed me out nonetheless. What did “fully covered” mean, exactly? I went to sleep worried that if I didn’t wear turtlenecks and hide my ankles, I’d be caned.
It strikes me as a tad hypocritical that, in a place where they find it necessary to dredge out the shorelines and destroy all natural life in order to fit all of the stupid gazillion dollar yachts owned by sheiks and to create islands in the desert, and where they waste god knows how much on artificial temperature control to build ski slopes in shopping malls, that (amongst other things) I have to hide the fact that I drink water in the daytime, in observance of other people’s religious practices. I like to think of myself as open-minded and respectful, but this is, quite frankly, ridiculous. Well, here’s hoping the next training hub isn’t located in Afghanistan.
I shouldn’t be so bitter – my presentation went really well, and everyone’s been quite hospitable. We all went sailing (photos, taken by my colleagues, will be forthcoming – stay tuned!) on Wednesday afternoon, and I should be thankful for that. Unfortunately, there is nothing here to see in the horizon but residential highrises, and dust and cranes from construction, in the distance. Even after having lived on Miami Beach (where construction has been out of control since, well, 1978) and in Manhattan for many years, I couldn’t help but find the Dubai shoreline, and lifeless, murky water, ugly as all hell.
It is, however, hard to avoid being bitter when I’m hungry. No restaurant will serve (or sell) me food, and I’ve been in meetings all day, and so I’m helpless and hungry. I just want to go home, where I can cook something up, or order it delivered, when I normally eat, which, during this time of the year, typically happens before the sun goes down. Because I’m American. I grew up eating dinner at 6pm.
Fuck it, whatever. I’m off to Belgium. It may be colder there, but at least they eat and drink 24 hours a day.
In my rush to pack, I forgot about Ramadan. It’s a hundred degrees out at this time of the year in Dubai, and I’m staying at a beach resort. Not to mention that Dubai is a veritable HUB of excess. Luckily, the need to pack for fall weather in Brussels within the same suitcase (the location of my meetings during the second leg of my trip) tempered my choice of clothing, but the letter stressed me out nonetheless. What did “fully covered” mean, exactly? I went to sleep worried that if I didn’t wear turtlenecks and hide my ankles, I’d be caned.
It strikes me as a tad hypocritical that, in a place where they find it necessary to dredge out the shorelines and destroy all natural life in order to fit all of the stupid gazillion dollar yachts owned by sheiks and to create islands in the desert, and where they waste god knows how much on artificial temperature control to build ski slopes in shopping malls, that (amongst other things) I have to hide the fact that I drink water in the daytime, in observance of other people’s religious practices. I like to think of myself as open-minded and respectful, but this is, quite frankly, ridiculous. Well, here’s hoping the next training hub isn’t located in Afghanistan.
I shouldn’t be so bitter – my presentation went really well, and everyone’s been quite hospitable. We all went sailing (photos, taken by my colleagues, will be forthcoming – stay tuned!) on Wednesday afternoon, and I should be thankful for that. Unfortunately, there is nothing here to see in the horizon but residential highrises, and dust and cranes from construction, in the distance. Even after having lived on Miami Beach (where construction has been out of control since, well, 1978) and in Manhattan for many years, I couldn’t help but find the Dubai shoreline, and lifeless, murky water, ugly as all hell.
It is, however, hard to avoid being bitter when I’m hungry. No restaurant will serve (or sell) me food, and I’ve been in meetings all day, and so I’m helpless and hungry. I just want to go home, where I can cook something up, or order it delivered, when I normally eat, which, during this time of the year, typically happens before the sun goes down. Because I’m American. I grew up eating dinner at 6pm.
Fuck it, whatever. I’m off to Belgium. It may be colder there, but at least they eat and drink 24 hours a day.
posted by Clown Hair at
6:04 PM
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