So back to our big December vacation. The final week was spent in – where else – DUBAI. This place is possibly the most happening city in the world right now. Back in the 80s it was a little oasis town… later it was a re-fueling spot on the flight path… now it is the numero uno high-flying hotspot in the Middle East. It’s a weird blend of Arab & Western, tossed in a blender with a liberal dose of cold hard cash. I LOVE IT.

As a small step closer towards my dream of owning a fabulous, city-view apartment in Dubai, we rented an apartment for our Week Of Chic. It was everything a girl could salivate over: mosaic-stone entryway, sleek mirrored elevators, a corner location overlooking the city and Persian Gulf beyond. With wall-to-wall windows, every room paid tribute to all that is Dubai… I washed dishes overlooking the Burj Al Arab (only the first 7-star hotel in the world!)… I napped with a view towards the classy Dubai Marina… I surfed the ‘net while keeping an eye on Jumeirah Beach. When we walked out of the building, a car was waiting to whisk us wherever our hearts desired… Why is life not ALWAYS like this, I ask ?!?!

This trip I tried to balance the shopping impulse (hard to resist in a city comprised primarily of the greatest shopping malls in the world) with some culture and education. We headed to the Madinat Jumeirah for a life performance of the Nutcracker Suite, courtesy of the Rostov Russian Ballet. Now, Soenke has previously flown to Rostov… let’s just say he was pleasantly surprised that this grey, blighted city turned out such a fine ballet company. We were surrounded in the theatre primarily by Western expats and their kids, mixed up with a liberal dose of Emirati families too. The global mix felt surreal… somehow a wonderful boding of the future. The kids LOVED the dancing and colors and music… and weren’t afraid to verbally share their accolades throughout the performance!

We also visited the former home of Sheikh Saeed al-Maktoum (member of the ruling family). With small rooms, low heavy-wood doorways, basic mud-like construction, and everyone gathered under one sprawling roof (which works its way around a huge central courtyard), it differed wildly from Western moneyed living. It was truly Arab-style of 30 years prior. The black and white photos of the family over the past 50+ years were amazing… a real chronicle of the light-speed development of the area. (I was interested how few women were pictured until later years.)

But yeah verily I say unto you, thou shalt not bring thyself upon such a place as Dubai without drawing nigh to at least three shopping malls. Since we’d hit the new Manar Mall (scene of great carpet shopping) back in Ras el Khaimah, I was content to settle for two. Of course Mall of the Emirates was top on our list (yet again), where we bee-lined for the Magic Planet game area. We heartlessly swept aside Arab youngsters to go head-to-head on the ultimate Flight Simulator game. Let’s just say that I had to cheat…. a lot… to keep from flying my plane into the ocean. I don’t understand what was wrong with my plane. Soenke kept getting these annoying messages that said “Great Job! You Qualify!”. Me? “You suck! Your passengers are dead!” But no worries, I was willing and able to destroy him at that American game called BASKETBALL, and give him a run for his money in air hockey (interestingly, the fact that I – a woman – was vigorously playing this game drew quite a crowd). Then, nothing like a Starbucks for game day recap. Refreshed by peppermint decaf soy latte, we headed past the ski slopes (no joke!) over to the mall’s cinema for a pile of nachos and “Deck The Halls”, a Christmas comedy flick starring Danny Devito and Matthew Broderick. Arabs in white garb and checkered headdress joined typically-clad westerners in line for movie tickets to this very Western film!

I have to give this experience its own paragraph. We sat in the theatre – once again surrounded by international adults and children alike – and watched the previews. The first was a Coke commercial in which a beautiful Arab woman sang a catchy tune in Arabic… WELL…. the Arab kids in the theatre jubilantly BURST into song along with her, much to the delight and laughter of the rest of us! The commercial was followed by a preview of a movie obviously about the story of Jesus (although, unless you were a Westerner, this fact wouldn’t have been entirely obvious at all). You heard the Arab kids whisper – IN ENGLISH – “who’s that guy?” “I don’t know.” “There are camels so maybe it’s around here.” “No wait, maybe it’s Jesus”. “You think so?” I really felt like I was sitting – at that exact spot – at a crossroads of civilization. Just for a moment time stood still and I marveled at the experience. Later, in the restroom, I finally got a peek into what all those pretty Arab girls in black abayas & shaylas were talking about…. The SAME SILLY STUFF that American teenagers talk about! There were some Arab gals in there speaking to each other in English (probably thought it was more “cool”) and the mystery was unveiled… typical teenage drivel. Somehow the foreign language and costume had made it seem more exotic before, but kids are kids, and we all are more alike than we think we are.

A few weeks after our return, I read a book called “Mother Without A Mask” which I’d picked up in the Dubai airport. It chronicled a British woman’s experience with a wealthy Abu Dhabi family in the 70s. It was astonishing to see how different this very part of the world was during my own lifetime…. tent dwellings, desert windstorms, men and woman separated, etc. On one hand, it is very sad to see the Bedouin culture be railroaded by Western values. On the other hand, it is astonishing to see the adaptability of the Arabs in SOME parts of the Middle East to the globalization of society.

But I digress. The day before our departure we stopped and talked with a rep at a real estate development kiosk in the Deira mall (after I’d already hit the Lush store and scarfed down yet another Quesadilla Explosion at Chili’s, of course). We discussed housing prices and products, rental arrangements, various development areas in Dubai, and the planned airport which will be twice as big as Heathrow. I asked him for more financial information about a particular property, and he replied “but first, since you are American, you should know that the builder of this property is the Bin Laden Construction Company.” Umm…. uh huh. Soooooo. I haven’t run into THAT dilemma very often in the world of real estate investing. Granted, our boy Osama has something like 50 brothers/sisters, and he personally is not involved with his father’s construction company (which is the biggest construction company in Saudi Arabia), but HELLO. There’s just some place you have to draw the line. We continued on our way, bewildered, thoughtful, pensive, wondering… what IS Dubai ?!

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Photos follow:

On the way back to Dubai, we braked for our furry amigos:

At the Al-Maktoum house, Soenke wonders if the locals used to be really short…

East meets west at the Mall of the Emirates:

Exotic local fashion:

We also found the baby store… back then, we weren’t even sure it was a girl, but I was optimistic!

At the Nutcracker Suite, the Sugar Plum fairies grace the stage…

Hey, a Christmas tree in Dubai!

Our ever-so-fabulous view from our rented apartment:

Notice the Burj Al Arab in the distance!

Not a bad kitchen at all! I could get used to this…

Nothing thrills my soul like a good old fashioned road trip. Especially a good old fashioned road trip to OMAN. In a spirit of great exploration, we were one of about 4 tourists that month which dared to head unsupervised up to the tiny, barren little piece of Oman nestled on the tip of the Arabian peninsula – a mere 55 km from Iran across the Strait of Hormuz (the entrance to the Persian Gulf). The main body of Oman lay much farther to the southeast.

Soenke felt that this little adventure of mine was pushing his travel boundaries to the limit. I think he envisioned Al Qaeda training camps lining the rural roads, with dangling tourists strung up on gallows for effect. I pish-tushed his worries and assured him that Oman was just like California, but without the cities/trees/shops/civilization/women, etc. He was still pretty dubious.

Between us and the border lay the city of Ras el Khaimah (also the name of the emirate we were in), and our road map was woefully inadequate to effectively navigate the surprise traffic jams encountered on our way through. We stopped at a local market for snacks, where the few other women in the store wore head-to-toe black with small holes for their eyes (usually the men do all the grocery shopping in this part of the world - yeah!). Little did we know these were the last women we’d see for a looooong time. Back on the road, we were impressed with the many Emirati flags which lined the roads and topped buildings in various villages. I’m not sure if it was patriotism or propaganda, but the green-red-white-black fabric billowing against the very blue sky lent a nice effect.

A surprisingly first-world road led us to the Oman border, where we paid for the privilege of both leaving the Emirates and entering Oman. The immigration paperwork and processing was tedious (what, were they worried we were going to STAY there?!); we had to wait outside the drive-through immigration booth while cars of men drove by on their way out of Oman, pausing to whistle at the uncovered hussy (me).

Once inside the hallowed borders, we continued driving along what proved to be an absolutely stunning coastline. It was just us, the roiling turquoise waters to the left, and stunning desert mountains towering immediately on our right. The occasional VERY small village (populated visibly by just men, goats, and a few small stores) crossed our path. Other than that, nothing. Just absolutely wild nature as it had existed for thousands of years. It was like driving on a moonscape – a moon with a big, beautiful ocean. I turned up the Arabic music on the rental car radio and savored the experience.

A few hours later, I was done with Arabic music and my bladder was requesting attention. We had passed exactly one gas station (a Shell) quite some time before, and I was not about to risk lifelong imprisonment by relieving myself along the highway. I bit my tongue and waited. We eventually reached the Musandam area where it opens up over the Strait of Hormuz – as we came over the last hill, the deep blue strait and the shapely mountains jutting straight up from the water presented a remarkable view. I knew that tucked in those mountains are still many villages isolated from the passing of time, accessible only by boat.

Here we descended back to sea level and rolled into the very small town of Khasab – apparently the largest populated area in this slice of Oman. We passed a grounded and abandoned dhow (Arabic fishing boat), some locals playing soccer, a host of dilapidated buildings, then stopped in front of an office whose sign promised boat excursions. I sent Soenke in to negotiate a ride on a dhow. He was dubious as to the wisdom in my idea, but I was adamant: “when in Oman”, I always say. After relieving myself in the uniquely Arab restroom (see photo below – enough said), I headed into a nearby “restaurant” to find something to eat. Two men looked up at me surprised; I looked at them equally surprised as I noticed they were deftly eating fish and rice without any utensils. The proprietor seemed delighted to see me, and in a bad mixture of English and Arabic we ordered me up a fish lunch to-go (Soenke had no interest in eating at a place which perhaps lacked first-world health standards).

A short time later, we boarded our own exotic Arabic dhow – lined with dusty oriental carpets and pillows – and headed out to sea. A very grizzled old fisherman in a white djellabah (kandora, I think it’s called in this part of the world) was our captain, and his nephew assisted. I dived into my delicious BBQ’d fish lunch – of course served without utensils – and enjoyed the exquisite view and the feel of Omani wind on my face. We passed into the strait, admiring the amazing rock formations, peering at a remote beach (reachable by boat only) where we saw dozens of women – the only ones we saw the entire time in Oman – covered from head to toe in black, frolicking on the sand.

And soon we came upon an utterly life-changing experience. Here at the corner of the world, alone save for these two Omani fishermen who spoke no English, we were suddenly surrounded by dolphins. Words can’t describe this moment. For the next 30 minutes, we were treated to dolphins playing joyfully in the waters around our boat – dashing under the hull, swimming along the prow, jumping out of the water in pairs – all as if to say “we KNOW you’re here!” It was one of the top-ten experiences of my life. We ran from side to side of the boat, hanging on for dear life, searching out the playful dolphins with a mixture of admiration and awe. It was simply unbelievable.

Soon the sun was about to dip below the mountains, and we knew it was time to head back to the Emirates. We hit the road with big dolphiny smiles and soon rounded a corner to a beautiful sight: a 4-star hotel situated on a rocky overlook here at the edge of the world. It was so incongruous, we simply had to stop in for a look. The Golden Tulip Resort had a handful of customers, a lovely pool, and a million dollar view. This was the ultimate place to rejuvenate and get away from it all. And I mean, from IT ALL. Something told me that I would be back someday…

A few hours later we rolled back into Ras el Khaimah and stopped off at the brand new Manar Mall for something to eat. Lo and behold… Starbucks! Chili’s !! The western world had invaded. We savored each bite of “Quesadilla Explosion”, then I headed out to the main hall where a rug seller proudly displayed his wide assortment of wares. Soenke patiently waited as I measured, pondered, wavered, discussed, bargained…. and soon I was the proud owner of a giant Persian rug as well as a smaller Indian kilim rug for a mere EUR 275 in total. Smug with my deal, Soenke agonized as how we would get them back home (no problem, babe…)

After paying the bellhop at the hotel a sizeable tip to drag the wrapped-up carpet bundles into our room, we fell into our bed feeling exhilarated and on top of the world.

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While lost in the streets of Ras el Khaimah, we came across this gorgeous mosque:

This sign was just sooooo helpful:

The flags of the Emirates were everywhere in the small towns:

Finally, we reach the border of Oman and a sign we can read!

Our first vision of the gorgeous Omani coastline:

Oman’s mountains are stark and impressive:

A beautiful entrance door to a local Arab villa:

We were impressed that Omani goats cross the streets in the zebra stripes:

A beached dhow on the mud flats near Khasab:

A delicious to-go lunch was specially prepared for me here:

But not before I encountered an authentic Arab toilet:

Our very own dhow!

I learn to eat Omani-style… no utensils!

Soenke soaks up the adventure (even if he doesn’t want to admit he LOVED it!)

Beautiful views along the islands in the strait:

Another dhow is heading back to shore:

We are delighted to meet some dolphins!

At the end of the day, the fisherman check their catches:

Back in Ras el Khaimah, we are stunned to find Mexican food!

No trip to the Middle East is complete without carpet shopping (I bought that very model):

And here is my kilim purchase:

And finally, a little video from our Oman boating excursion! (sorry, no dolphins on the video.. they were fast critters and impossible to capture on film!)