Dubai , Unexpected Arabian Night

Only crazy people visit Dubai in the summer. Around 10pm it was still so swelteringly hot, water condensed on the sunglasses atop my head. Throngs of racially ambiguous bronze skinned and dark-haired people swarmed around me in scarves and wide-bottomed dresses. Mostly men. Dubai’s population is 80% foreign born according to our guide who is obviously obsessed with 5 star hotels. “This hotel shaped like an open hand is owned by Thailand; this one shaped like a sail is owned by our vice president; this one takes the form of a crashing wave; this one could be a hotel but is actually the pink palace of the chairman of Emirates Airlines.” Apparently Dubai made a successful shift to high-end tourism because the oil money was running low. I looked up at a shard-shaped black shimmering tower, Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world, as water danced to a rhythmic drumbeat. I stroked my new miniature bejeweled camel between my fingers and sighed deep—their consumerism got me.