Old and New
As I walk down the winding streets of old Dubai, I am acutely aware that I am the only “Western” face in this part of town. This is the second Dubai – the part of the city that inadvertently spawned the mega-structures, the mega-rich and the mega-gauche.
Old Dubai is clustered to the banks of the Dubai Creek as if hanging on for dear life. Twenty years ago, it was frequented by fisherman, tourists on a back-roads expeditions into some form of self-awareness, and semi-domesticated Bedouin families. As it grew, the shoddy concrete and brick shopfronts sprouted much like most towns of the Middle East and Asia – quickly erected using make-shift techniques by people with expert skill, but no money to build any bigger.
Then $ came to town and the new Dubai was born.
Bridging the gap between the old and the new, apartment complexes sprouted up with express production. Like some form of architectural Stepford Wife, these buildings appeared to symbolise prosperity and success – but the façade was a thin veneer. One glance longer than a few seconds showed that most of the rooms were empty (indeed, had never been filled); sand flooded unkempt porticos and foyers, paint faded under the relentless heat.
Then the Super $ came to town.
One Burj was built, followed by another and another and so on. The limit seemed only to be the number of people they could rope in from India, or the Philippines, or wherever to build these structures. A new world was started, but never finished. The world’s tallest tower sprouted out of the desert like a giant beanstalk grown from the magic bean of oil.
As the Maseratis and Ferraris purr along Sheik Zayed Road, I sit on an abra crossing Dubai Creek to visit the Souks on the other side. The sides of the old wooden Dhow are barely a foot above the water and the air fills with diesel fumes as the skipper backs it away from the dock and out across the creek.
On the other side there is the Gold Souk, the Spice Souk, and the Deira Old Souk, which offer a more traditional shopping experience to the mega-multiplex-malls further down the road. The Souks, devoid of arcade games for the kids and designer brands for the adults, offer the range of sensory overload that I had gone there to experience.
The Gold Souk shines with a radiance I’d only seen glowing from a suitcase in a Tarantino film. Spruikers with silver tongues touting for the shops attempt to lure me in – little do they know that despite my well-heeled and decadent Western appearance, I cannot afford even one cuff-link, let alone a pair of them.
I could smell the Spice Souk before I could see it – my mouth drooling at the expectation of aromatic bliss that awaits as I enter the market’s colourful bowels. Sacks of seeds, ground spices, leaves, pods and roots greet me like a long lost prodigal. I know I can’t bring any of it back with me and the photos don’t do it justice. This is not a bad thing. Although it’s nice to share one’s experiences, sometimes it’s comforting to know that this one is just for me and always would be.
The old Souk sells everything – nothing is sacred in here and, as the morning progresses and the sun bakes the ancient ground, the place fills up with tourists. I went from being the only Western face to one of hundreds in the space of an hour. As the mercury hits the 100 degree Fahrenheit mark and doesn’t look like abating, the people disappear – taxies are hailed and sent packing in a westerly direction towards the air-conditioned mega malls with more expensive, but more comfortable, shopping.
It’s easy to criticise the rapid growth of Dubai and decry the ostentatiousness of it all. In a place where even the police drive Lamborghinis, it’s hard to not feel some level of sorrow for the excess of bad taste and decadence that has gravitated here.
Yes – there many examples of good taste as well.
Yes – there are some wonderful people here doing amazing things with engineering.
But there is also such a huge disparity between the haves and have-nots that it’s not surprising a level of resentment of the so-called almighty dollar has crept into the entire region. The arrogance of indulgence and the hubris of excess are manifested here for everyone to see.
There is a tension about this growth that is tangible, like the pause in a room as someone over-inflates a balloon. We all know it’s going to pop and the world seems to stop – just waiting for it to happen. Hopefully, for the sake of this wonderfully diverse and culturally rich place, someone slowly leaks the air out instead – a squeaky whine preferable to the seemingly inevitable and devastating bang.
The cultural clash between West and Middle East, the hypnotic allure of decadence that comes with excess wealth, and the everyday workers who help make it all happen mix in a melting pot of society. A truly multi-cultural society where 80% + of the population are ex-patriots from somewhere and anywhere. Two people could have very different Dubai experiences depending upon which Dubai they choose to explore - each one interesting, unique and well-worth the visit.
