I woke up on my second day in Dubai with Liam handing out grapes and bread to everyone in bed - good morning!
Leaving my dormmates behind I set out into the sun to go climb the Burj Khalifa. Yoann and I had talked about climbing the highest peak in each region we travel to, but unfortunately Dubai is in the middle of a huge, flat desert. We joked about me climbing the stairs Burj Khalifa, but the place was completely locked down by guards and so I quickly forfeited that idea.
I did however pay to go up as far as they would let me by elevator - about halfway up, to the 152nd floor at 450ish meters (1440 feet!). The way up was a sensory overload of praise and celebration for the construction.
The view was spectacular, but honestly a little underwhelming. The city looked like a tiny model with nice little pieces set specifically in a nice arrangement. I had two nagging, completely warranted feelings. First, the city seems synthetic and out of place; an elaborate series of too-beautiful-to-be-real buildings surrounded by absolutely nothing. It doesn't feel like humans should be living there, which I suppose is one of the goals (and appeals) of Dubai.
The second feeling was of impermanence, like a sadness that this impressive feat of human engineering is a lost cause as the desert will inevitably swallow it back up. I have come to learn that not nearly as much of the Emirates' wealth comes from oil as I thought (someone said only 10%!), but either way the city is anything but sustainable. Beside tourism, what will keep the place profitable? I may be wrong, and I hope so, but with Ferrari police cars, cloud-piercing skyscrapers, 7-star hotels and no actual city to speak of other than rich people's second homes and Indian slums, I just don't see it becoming a lasting bastion of third-millennium history.
My head spinning from dystopic thoughts and from being so high above the sand and sea, I went back down to the first floor on the 10m/sec elevator (3 stories per second!) and wandered the mall for a bit. Quite the place. I was hungry, and even though I passed maybe 100 restaurants it was still Ramadan, so I eventually got tired of all of the unnecessary decadence and headed back to the "hostel". On the way I stopped at an Indian market and picked up some fruit, naan, coffee and cheese. My first groceries!
Later some of the guys wanted to walk around "old" Dubai (1900-1950, prior to mega-Dubai) so we walked up toward the creekside. The place was cool but empty.
We continued on to the docks and while we were there the sun was officially down and the moongazers declared Ramadan over. It was cool to see everyone come out of hiding and start eating and smiling and laughing. Also a considerable amount of the people on the streets all of a sudden started smoking cigarettes. How sweet that must have been after so long, cancerous or not.
We eventually got hot and tired of waking around so we decided to go back to the hostel and meet up with the rest of the guys. We decided to go out for drinks, and went to a British-ish pub where we were definitely the most exciting thing going on. We had a good time considering, and had several rounds of drinks. Soon enough the conversation turned to politics and social discourse, some anger and overly-friendly recompense, and then the cheerful wandering walk back home.
Two hours later: a taxi to the airport, painless customs process and then I was boarding for Japan.
Farewell, Dubai!
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