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Dubai Diary

Andrew – March 3rd – Arrivals

When I first came to Dubai, I remember it was the pure intensity of the heat that struck me most. As I emerged from the door of the 747, trudging down the metallic steps to the airport tarmac, it felt like I was walking in front of an open furnace. My skin seemed to pull itself tight across my entire body, as if to say “What the hell? Get us out of here.”

Of course, today, things have changed a lot in Dubai. No longer do you make the trip across the broiling tarmac to the terminal bus. Instead you walk out of the air-conditioned plane, having just watched the latest movie on your personalized entertainment system, into an equally conditioned concourse that takes you directly into the terminal. Even the trudging isn’t as bad as you make your way from one movable walkway to another.

At this point, it is hard to tell that you are even in the Middle East. The facilities are the same as in any of the better airports in Europe or America and only the occasional hints of Arabian design suggest the inspiring culture. The heat, the clearest indicator that you are somewhere alien, is banished by the quality controlled habitat that is the airport itself. If you remember the old airport, you quickly realize the massive changes that have taken place from the walk alone. It must now be almost a mile from the plane to immigration. Fortunately the moving walkways make short work of the distance and, for those needing a breather, there are conveniently placed drinking fountains.

Nowadays, the first real clues that you are in Arabia are the people themselves. While western clothing has been freely adopted in Dubai, there are still many who wear the traditional Arabic dress. The men, in white robes called kandooras, look very dignified. The effect is even more impressive when they are wearing the national headdress, a ghutra which is normally white but can be patterned red and white. This square of material is draped over the head and kept in place by a black snake-like cord called an agal. Traditionally dressed women, especially from the older generations, can also be seen as they make a striking counterpoint to the male dress. Covered almost completely in a black abaya, only their eyes are visible behind a black hijab head covering.

I finally hit an escalator that takes me to a large immigration room. A sea of people all arranged in neat queues greets me and, digging out my passport, I hitch my carryon rucksack over my shoulder, take a deep breath and stand in line. I expect a long wait but am pleasantly surprised to find the queues moving forward fairly quickly. Up above me is the glass viewing area and I can see groups of people scanning the crowd looking for friends and loved ones, waving madly as they try to attract each other’s attention.

Considering the number of people going through immigration, I am relieved to find that my passport is stamped and I have picked up my baggage from the carousel in just under 20 minutes. Checking my watch, I realize it is still on New Zealand time and so I wind it backward 8 hours to GMT +4, Dubai Time.

I have arrived.

One more baggage scan, this time an x-ray, lets me finally into the country proper. There are a lot of people waiting for their relatives here but the general cleanliness and feeling of organization, immediately removes any ill ease I might have felt at arriving in a new country. Passing the various mini outlets offering car rental, money exchange and hotel accommodation tells me that I am in a very thriving and dynamic city with all the amenities that you would expect from the heart of the industrialized world.

Various people are carrying signs with people’s names on them, part of the meet and greet services provided by many of the hotels for people new to the city. Having booked my hotel room online at dubai.hotels.reservations.ae  and specifically asking to be collected from the airport, I read through the signs looking for my own name.

I see a very smart asian gentleman holding a sign saying “Mr. Spark” and I head over to him, nodding and pointing to myself, “Mr. Spark” I say. He starts grinning at me, revealing a mouth full of ridiculously shining teeth and immediately helps me with my bags to the hotel car, parked nearby. As I get in the lush, pine scented vehicle, he announces in a sing song voice for no particular reason, “Thank you very much.”

Coming Soon – March 4th – First Impressions