The Lay of the Land

by Lucas Marquardt

Hey there, we’re back with another round of blogging/video blogging/etc., this time from Dubai. If you didn’t catch the first series from Hong Kong in December, the idea is to give folks who have never been an idea of the city’s culture, architecture, eateries and whatnot, in addition to covering this week’s buildup to Saturday’s Dubai World Cup. 

First, a quick refresher course on Dubai’s geography and history. If you picture the Arabian peninsula as a snow boot (seriously—look at a map), Dubai sits on a small horn that emerges from the toe, along the western banks of the Persian Gulf. Qatar is due west; Iran is a short distance across the Gulf. 

Though it was first mentioned in geographical literature almost a thousand years ago, Dubai wasn’t formally established until 1833, when Sheikh Maktoum bin Butti Al Maktoum, a member of the regional Bani Yas tribe, and 800 of his followers settled on Dubai Creek, a saltwater inlet that curves roughly nine miles behind what is today the city of Dubai. Its location made Dubai for a logical port of call for traders, and in the early 20th century it was known for its pearl exports. 

In 1966, oil was discovered here, and while the reserves weren’t of the scale of neighboring Abu Dhabi’s, they provide a huge influx of capital that has changed the face of Dubai. In 1971, Dubai joined with Abu Dhabi and five other emirates to form the United Arab Emirates. 

Today, Dubai is home to 2.1 million people, though only 17% of those are Emiratis. Indians actually comprise a slight majority (53%), with Pakistanis (13.3%) the only other group in double digits. The Maktoums are still the ruling family, of course, with Sheikh Mohammed succeeding the late Maktoum bin Rashid Al Maktoum (Gainsborough Farm) in 2006. Despite a setback from the 2008 financial crisis, Dubai has largely become what Sheikh Mohammed and his father, Sheikh Rashid bin Saeed Al Maktoum, dreamed it would: a world-class metropolis that, unlike many of its neighbors in the regions, isn’t dependent on oil. In 2011, oil made up just 7% of Dubai’s revenue. (Real estate and construction, by contrast, made up 22.6%.) 

Okay, back to the trip at hand. There are five or six major neighborhoods in Dubai (depending on your definition), and I’ve bedded down in Deira for the for few days of my trip. Deira, to the north of Dubai Creek, is one of the original neighborhoods of Dubai and its one-time commercial center, but these days I’d liken it to staying in Astoria, Queens if you were to visit NYC. Plenty to offer, but not necessarily what you think when you think of Dubai. The buildings are a bit older, some a drab yellow or beige, and rarely do they get above seven or eight stories. On Monday morning, I saw virtually no tourists, and probably 90% of the people on the street were men. 

The tip of Deira, at the mouth of Dubai Creek, is Al Ras, home to a vast array of souqs (markets) that sell gold, spices and perfumes. One estimate I read put the amount of gold on offer at the Dubai Gold Souk at any given time at 10 tons. Regardless, I decided to forgo the souks and instead caught an abra, or water taxi, across the Creek. The cost was a modest, 4 dirhams, or about a dollar. Abras are a terrific way to travel in Dubai, when possible. The low-slung wooden boats–just step on and go–take about 10 minutes to cross over to Bur Dubai, another neighborhood with a lot of local history. 

By 8 a.m. the sun had already burned through the morning cool, and so I started along the shaded narrow alleyways of Bur Dubai, looking to get some authentic local street meat (is that just an NYC term?) to start the day. I found a tiny “cafeteria”—it held maybe four or five people—and told the proprietor, who spoke little English, to give me whatever he wanted, so long as it didn’t contain fish. Five minutes later, he handed over a hamburger. Well played, sir. 

From there I wandered around Bur Dubai, then doubled back to the Creek, where ferries run to the Dubai Marina. The ride, which takes you out into the Gulf and runs a good 70 minutes, provides a good lay of the land. As you travel southwest down the coast, the massive skyscrapers of downtown Dubai spring into view. Dubai has 140 skyscrapers—only Hong Kong (295) and New York (231) have more—and the king among Dubai’s is Burj Khalifa. At 2,717 feet, the Burj Khalifa is the world’s tallest building, and not by a little bit. It’s over 700 feet taller than the second-highest, Shanghai Tower, and with 163 floors, has 61 more floors than the Empire State Building. It resembles a series of tubes and half-tubes springing out from one another, like a clutch of straws of varying lengths. 

The Ferry brings you under The World, the man-made collection of islands that shaped to resemble Earth’s continents, and then Palm Jumeirah, another made-made grouping of islands, this one shaped like palm tree. Docked on the south side of the latter is Sheikh Mohammed’s private yacht Dubai, a $300 million, 524-foot vessel that is the world’s third-largest. 

Back on the mainland, there is a broad expanse of residential housing to the south of downtown Dubai, and then a second group of skyscrapers rises around Dubai Marina, a man-made waterway that is flanked on all sides by an impressive collection of modern architecture that borders on futuristic. It’s safe to say that if breeders got weak at the knees when Sheikh Mohammed came to inspect their yearlings at September, architects and building contractors get downright giggly when he’s involved in one of their projects. My personal favorite was the Cayan Tower, an 80-story behemoth that twists a full 90 degrees. Walkways line both sides of the marina. 

This is the Dubai you imagine. Sleek glass and steel buildings, high-end shops and restaurants, and a well-heeled international crowd sipping cappuccinos in fashionable cafes. 

Later, back in Deira, I felt like I’d at least gotten a rough outline of what’s where, and tomorrow, after some rest, we head to the track.