Ignoring Dubai

Dearest Rachel –

Seeing as I have so little time to put this together, what with having to assemble today’s shore excursion videos and another list of things that have been occurring to me as this trip has been winding down, I may not do a lot about Dubai’s history and culture. I covered that of the U.A.E. yesterday, in any event, and then there’s the question about how much time and ability I’ll have to see the sights of the city to begin with. And, to be fair, much of what’s famous for can’t really be seen all that well from the ground, at any rate:

…but I suspect I’ll have to mostly be concerned with more down-to-earth issues, such as getting to my hotel, and perhaps getting yet another suitcase, as the ones I have are just that much insufficient to the task:

I can only hope to get to a local mall (and hope I don’t have to pay through the nose) for a similar suitcase to the large one I came here with. The thing is, Dubai’s known for its shopping opportunities, but not necessarily for its bargains. This, I understand, is the place where saying “guess what I paid for this” isn’t so much a boast about one’s shrewd business savvy as it is one basking in one’s wealth and ability to pay for something in the first place. Maybe I’m wrong about that, but that certainly is its reputation.

Speaking of its reputation, there’s also the fact that the place is neat and clean and state-of-the-art. Mohinder would talk about how the place puts any American (perhaps even any Western) city to shame, and I suppose that would be true, when you have a near-infinite supply of petrodollars to spend on megaprojects and other infrastructure. There’s still something about the place that doesn’t quite sit well with me, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

There is the fact that the nation is basically run by the seven sheikhs (not emirs, apparently – who knew?) who are basically the monarchs of the individual emirates. Collectively, they seem to be able to serve as a check on each other if one or another gets a little too crazy with their ideas for their fiefdom, although as Dubai in particular has gone a little overboard from time to time with certain megaprojects, that restraining power is… well, rather restrained. To be fair, Dubai seems to be, on the surface, at least, a roaring success story, and who argues with success? Meanwhile, there is a parliament elected by the people (well, by the Emirati citizens, who make up about ten percent of the population; you can’t become a citizen unless you’ve lived here for three generations, or one of your grandfathers was an Emirati. Your maternal lines don’t count), but their rulings are treated rather like suggestions by the council of sheikhs. They are free to disregard anything and/or everything that’s brought to them by the duly-elected representatives of the people.

But the emirs seem to want to think of their rulership as benevolent; they generally act that way. Our guide spoke of the leader of Abu Dhabi who drives his own car and obeys the rules just like any other citizen. Were it not for the number “1” on his license plate (those small numbers come up for auction now and again, and he and the other emirs bid staggeringly high prices for such status symbols. To be sure, the auction is meant to benefit certain local charities, particularly for children, so it’s not a case of blowing money simply because he can), one might not necessarily recognize it’s him. Give him the right of way simply because he’s the king, and he’ll insist on following the law. So, there’s that.

So yeah, everything is peachy keen in the Emirates. Ask any Emirati; they’ll tell you. Better yet, ask any expatriate; they will, too. They kind of have to. Certain statements on social media will, apparently, get you a contact from the government to either scrub who you’ve said, or leave the country, and possibly get blackballed from working in any of the Gulf States entirely. The Emirates doesn’t need any Room 101; just the threat of unemployment and deportation is more than punishment enough to keep the rabble in line. And their cleanliness and lack of crime is a testament to all that.

Of course, by saying that, I’m probably running that same risk right now. But really, I’m at the end of my tour; I’m ready to go home. Being deported would be like getting thrown into the briar patch.

If it seems like this analysis comes from a bad place, you may be onto something. Not only is this the end of the line – when I have to start taking care of myself, at least until I get on the airplane tomorrow morning – but during yesterday’s tour, I felt myself coughing like I’d swallowed a feather, and chased it down with a shot of crème de sandpaper. Of all the times for me to catch a cold…

So I didn’t sleep particularly well last night, and just when I need to be at my physical peak. Needless to say, honey, I’d like to ask you to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.