I’m watching my feet as I avoid stones and darting crabs, blissfully enjoying the tepid sea water, the sun beats down on us and I take a moment to absorb the rays. There’s a shriek as my friend drops one of the shells she’s been collecting and a little hermit crab pokes his head out. It’s the most drama we’ve witnessed all week. I must say, how selfish of him to occupy the nice shell that WE want. This is the first time I’ve even seen a hermit crab.
Only a few days ago we were enjoying this life of easy leisure and counteractive therapy to England's recent grump inducing chill during a girly visit to an old friend from primary school who, to our gleeful discovery and unendless excitement currently lives on one of Dubai’s luxurious Palm Islands. Our lovely hosts do their best to help us get the most out of our short stay but the three of us are happy to just spend the majority our days soaking up the sun on our heat deprived bodies and wandering up and down the shore line along the Island’s leaves or ‘fronds’ picking up shells and rescuing washed up half-dead star and jelly fish. We also enjoy fabricating tales about the neighbours and observing their beaching activity, their outrageous garden decor, the endless happy paddling Duracel dog and the lone fat kid next door who just rolls about in the sand and constructs tents. After the longest winter Britain has seen in 30 years, nothing could be more ideal.
Dubai is famous for many reasons, its innovative architecture and construction projects, business economy, lavish catering for the high flying lifestyle, world’s tallest building, largest shopping mall. And the fact that it's all been built in a matter of decades. It’s a strange place.
I remember the last time I was there I went on a hunt to find some semblance of historical culture. My endeavours were fruitless and the trip descended into a resigned return to the shopping mall. It’s easy to see how one could lose concept of reality in a place where life is focused on the world of business, luxury living, the profits of success and activities of the wealthy expat. Old people are a rarity and so is natural beauty. This time round we made the retrospectively bold decision to take a walk and make our way to the grocers to pick up food, triggering alarmed and bemused stares from construction workers. It’s something people don’t really do there. It’s a city dedicated to the car, the flashier the better. Pedestrianism just isn't done, ok.
As we lay sunbathing one day, staring out at the Marina in the distance and helicopters circling ducking and dicing through the high rise buildings, someone remarked on their resemblance to fireflies, and in the heat of the sun my brain began to perceive Dubai as this strange sci-fi distortion of nature. The private beach we spent our days on was actually man-made, the sand we sank our toes into, which had an odd synthetic texture, would have been laid down by some kind of truck machinery. I’d imagine the various species of marine life must have been pretty confused and still somewhat peeved to be one minute residing safely far out at sea only to find themselves living within crevices of an Island of houses shaped to look like an infant's artistic vision of a palm tree. Since fishing is allowed on the Island, during one particular stroll we witnessed a man accidentally catch one of the many stingrays. When he pulled it inland to remove the hook from his mouth we were able to see the creature up close flapping its wings, which was as fascinating as it was distressing and symbolic of Dubai’s tireless interference with nature.
A staggering amount of money and countless bus loads of migrant workers have gone into the venture of creating the ‘ideal lifestyle’ with all human needs catered for, including an upcoming project to fit cooling pipes under the sand of one beach. A day at one of the many shopping malls could also be combined with a ski trip on real snow in its glass cased ski centre, or an idle gawp at a 30 ft fish tank filled with exotic sea life while you shop for overpriced wares in oversized stores. Everything is grand and large and designed to impress and outdo, the architecture itself is often awe inspiring and a testament to those who argue for the value of modernity and yet at the same time the sheer number of these buildings being constructed often renders them quite meaningless. The symbol of Dubai, the ‘seven star’ hotel, the ‘Burg al-Arab’ remains one of my favourites not only because of its aesthetic sail shape and its noble solitary presence out in the middle of the sea, but the extravagant way of life it has come to epitomise. Admittedly also because it’s gaudy light display and decorated interior allows for fond mocking of the ever amusing ‘taste’ of my fellow Arabs.
It is no secret that the Dubai dream is now in jeopardy. Projects are struggling despite a hefty investment from Abu Dhabi to complete the world’s tallest building, the now renamed ‘Burg Khalifa’ and remnants of the flagging economy are visible in the unfinished buildings and projects lying desolate including an unfinished frond.
One night we visited a cocktail bar with breathtaking views of the city. In between magnificent scenes of a fountain display and impressive beaming structures, large patches of dark in the brightly lit aerial landscape show where work has been abandoned. I wonder what will become of the Dubai dream since it has long been forewarned as a city in denial of its limited resources. Many years from now I can’t help but picture this place overspent, exhausted and deserted as the Emerald city in ‘Return to Oz’. Who knows, I suppose until then just like Brits making contact with the sun on their holidays, best to just soak it all up while it lasts.
