U.A.E.: The Other Dubai
By Jonathan S. Kallmer

I was not expecting Dubai to be like this.  I had heard, of course, about the ski slope, the seven-star hotel and the manufactured islands the shapes of palm fronds and continents.  I knew about the world-record skyscrapers and fashion shows, Tiger on the fairways, the music and shopping and film festivals, and all the rest of it.  But I was not expecting what lay in Dubai’s core, the reminders of its past as a fishing and pearling village, a Bedouin destination, a trading center long at the crossroads of western Europe and the Indian subcontinent.

I took the bus up the coast from Abu Dhabi and arrived at the station in Bur Dubai, one of the two central districts straddling the Dubai Creek.  It is a short walk from the bus station to the waterfront.  I got there in the middle of the morning.  The atmosphere by the water is serene, the sun rising quietly over the modern office towers to the east.  I walk along the dockside and step into a water taxi, or abra, to ride across the creek.  The boats leave every few minutes, as soon as they fill up, and the ride across costs half a dirham (about 14 U.S. cents) and takes about five minutes.

The northwest tip of Deira, the district on the other side of Dubai Creek, is the historic home of most of Dubai’s souqs.  Deira has been a trading center for ages, and its markets still pulse.  From creekside I can smell the fragrances of the Spice Souq slipping out between the narrow blocks, scents of cardamom, paprika, and saffron.  The insides of the stalls burst forward, encroaching on the narrow passageways with nuts and dried fruits, fabrics, sheeshas, and cheap plastic toys from Southeast Asia.  Sunlight pours into a courtyard.  Men in white robes sit on the ground, offering greetings.

Further on in Deira is the Gold Souq.  Penned in by lattice wooden archways, it is two blocks of shops stacked with bracelets, necklaces, pendants, and other gold jewelry.  The shopkeepers are by turns solicitous or bored.  Men sell mango juice from silver trays as groups of women in burqas shuffle past.  It is common to bargain in the Gold Souq, but it is more a science than an art.  Local newspapers give the world price per gram, and locals suggest adding 10 to 15 percent for the seller’s profit.  It pays marginally to flit back and forth between shops.  The prices are decent, but they are not much of a surprise.  In any event, inside or outside the souqs, Deira delights. 

I come back across the water to Bur Dubai.  It is now one in the afternoon, and the midday heat is overwhelming.  The streets have emptied.  Many of the businesses are closed for the afternoon.  It is time to get indoors.

The Dubai Museum is housed in the Al-Fahidi Fort, an early 19th century structure that is one of the oldest buildings in the city.  The museum uses a variety of media to tell the story of the emirate.  Aerial photographs record Dubai’s growth in recent decades.  Small vessels in the museum courtyard describe its maritime history.  There are customary daggers and other weapons, a recreation of a traditional souq, and impressive exhibits of the biology and archaeology of the territory of what is now the United Arab Emirates. 

Past the Dubai Museum to the east is the Bastakia Quarter.  The neighborhood is named after Bastak in southern Iran, from where wealthy Persian merchants came a century ago to enhance their fortunes.  The houses they built here relied on wind towers, or barjeel, to control the summer heat.  These distinctive thin towers, which still operate, use a simple convection process to turn warm outdoor air into cooler indoor air. 

The lanes of the Bastakia Quarter are tight and clean, the buildings the color of desert sand.  Some of the houses have their original carved wooden doors.  In the middle of the quarter are boutique hotels converted from traditional residences, adorned with lovely courtyards and art galleries in the rooms surrounding them.  One can sit under the low hanging trees of Cafés, which often inhabit traditional Bastakia houses, and drink blended juice drinks in the shade on rattan chairs.  Nearby are galleries featuring the works of local painters and regional handicrafts.  To the west by the creek looms the Diwan, Dubai’s majestic, wind-towered government building. 

Then there are Dubai’s mosques.  They are peppered throughout the city, squeezed into narrow spaces between office buildings and markets and long boulevards.  The Grand Mosque, across from Dubai Museum, is deceptively new, completed only in the 1990s to replace an earlier version that had been demolished decades ago.  It is sandy and simple like the rest of the district, but it is powerful.  There are mosques like the Ali Bin Abi Taleb Mosque, which sits romantically and colorfully off the water in the Bur Dubai souq area near the creek.  Dubai’s mosques run the gamut, evoking Anatolia and Persia and Central Asia, and the muezzin’s chant creates a brief scatter throughout the city as locals respond to the call to prayer.

The Other Dubai sits proudly amidst the screaming modern development of the rest of the city.  It is mosques and wind towers, gold and cinnamon, feverish talk and contemplative thought and generous smiles.  The Dubai of the real estate moguls is impressive, to be sure.  But the Other Dubai is enchanting.

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