In search of the 'real' Dubai (and no, you won't find it on Instagram)
“People talk about all our riches,” said Ali, his turban ruffling as he shook his head, “but they never talk about what we could lose. It’s the price of Dubai’s progress.” He gestured towards our tent’s ochre canopy, woven who-knows-when from bristly goat hair, and the henna-dyed cushions that served as our seats – spun from softer wool, camel perhaps. “We are one of the wealthiest nations, but without all of this – our history – we are nothing.”
The wind nipped at the open doorway; outside, cloaked in darkness, lay the rippling sands of the Arabian Desert. The dunes would be shifting tonight, as they have done for millennia – like a sculpture that is never quite finished. But in our Bedouin camp, warmed by cardamom coffee and a glowing campfire, we settled in for a night of stories and stargazing.
With hindsight, the stars must have been aligned. How else to interpret the cheering news this week that Britons returning from Dubai no longer have to self-isolate for 14 days – even though that will not effectively come into force until the current restrictions on overseas travel are lifted on Dec 2.
I’d like to say I saw it in the stars that night. But to be honest, I was simply enjoying the moment, communing with a very different Dubai to the one we all know so well – the land of fly-and-flop getaways, boozy brunches and a penchant for all things superlative. Biggest, tallest, priciest: these are not words you could apply to our goat-hair hideaway.
When this sky-scraping, gold-loving emirate rose from the dunes on a wave of oil wealth, its humble history became a forgotten footnote. In just 60 years, locals like Ali Al Karam have swapped their wind-whipped camps for palatial villas and a passion for Rolexes, and who can blame them? This is the greatest rags-to-riches story on Earth.
I, like many people, thought Dubai had the depth of a gilded teaspoon. I joined its hordes of expats in 2012, in search of a tax-free salary and sunshine. During my two-year stay, I met no more than a dozen Emiratis: in a city of 3.2 million, only 255,000 are nationals – living in private communities and socialising in circles that most foreigners never enter. Occasionally, in designer shops and fancy restaurants, locals would materialise like sweet-scented spectres: the women in crystal-fringed black veils, the men in starched white kandoras perfumed with dusky oud. They accommodated our customs, opening Marks & Spencers and “Irish” pubs in which they would never set foot – but what of theirs? There were no Emirati restaurants, no overt traditions, no opportunities to mingle with our hosts. It was easy, then, to assume they had no -culture of their own – but I was swiftly realising my mistake.
“This camp started as a project to conserve wildlife,” Ali said proudly, pouring more coffee from a voluptuous, gold-spouted pot (where else but Dubai would Bedouins boast such bling?) “Our ruler is a nature-lover; he wanted to create a desert oasis for Arabian oryx, and somewhere the migrating birds could rest.” But the sheikh’s attention soon turned to the conservation of his people, too. “He saw that visitors weren’t experiencing the UAE’s real culture. They came for the Burj Khalifa, the beaches – but nobody understood our roots. And we, too, were forgetting them.”
The sheikh founded Al Marmoom Desert Conservation Reserve, a vast sanctuary just outside the city – a wildlife haven, yes, but also a place where you can ride pampered camels across the dunes, see the locals’ beloved falcons in flight, and visit a Bedouin camp for supper. It couldn’t be better suited to these socially distanced, crowd-averse times.
And remarkably, almost all of the guides are Emirati, taking time out from their day jobs – as dentists, students, managers – to reveal what life was like before the oil boom. It’s a far cry from the closed-off community I encountered originally. “I do this to keep my culture alive,” said Ali, who used to work as a sports television editor. “Otherwise, my children won’t know where they have come from.”
Next year, the UAE will celebrate 50 years of independence; so now, like anyone approaching a milestone birthday, it is taking stock of the past. New museums are putting local heritage in the spotlight – such as Al Shindagha, with its mind-boggling photos of Dubai’s sand-to-skyscrapers transformation; and the nearby Perfume House, which illustrates the nation’s fondness for fragrance. (If you’d had to travel by camel, you’d be pretty keen on it too.) Al Seef, a new shopping quarter, is modelled on an ancient Arabian town – complete with a “mud-brick” Starbucks.
Dubai has faced Covid-19 with its trademark optimism. In recent months the likes of Sofitel and IHG have opened fresh, luxurious hotels in the city, while new seafront promenade “Palm West Beach” promises glamorous brunch venues and watersports fun – with lashings of guaranteed winter sun.
Covid-19 cases in the UAE have stayed relatively low, with 146,000 infections recorded at the time of going to press – as have deaths, at 520. This is surely due, in part, to the young expatriate population, though strict border controls and rigorous testing for all international arrivals have certainly halted the spread too. This week’s announcement of a travel corridor between Britain and the UAE means that once lockdown restrictions have been lifted, we will be able to return to Dubai once more – without having to quarantine on return.
The emirate has certainly been busy while we have been gone. Returning visitors will spot a new addition to the city’s skyline: ICD Brookfield Place – so tall! so sparkly! – which holds the first international branch of London’s The Arts Club, due to open next month. In true Dubai style, there is the newly crowned “World’s Largest Fountains”, a spectacle the size of two football pitches – while winter will see yet more hotel openings, including an outpost of London’s The Langham.
But for all its new frivolities, some of Dubai’s greatest surprises still lie in its humblest corners – such as Al Fahidi, a century-old neighbourhood on the edge of the Creek. Here, in an old pearl trader’s house fashioned from palm wood and coral, you will find the Sheikh Mohammed Centre for Cultural Understanding, where I devoured sweet, saffron-laced dumplings as Emirati guides hosted a remarkably frank Q&A. Topics ranged from the Five Pillars of Islam, to how many wives a man can have (“as many as he can afford to take care of”).
“There is no such thing as a taboo question,” said our host Ruqaya. Why, someone asked, is Dubai so obsessed with gold? “Ours is a culture that had to wear its resources,” she replied gently. “People didn’t have bank accounts: you had gold jewellery, gold trinkets. That mindset doesn’t disappear in just one generation.”
Suddenly, the city’s lavish tastes – and Ali’s bling-tastic coffee pot – took on a new meaning. “We’re not as superficial as you might think,” said Ruqaya. “It’s just how we are wired up. But can you blame us? It looks pretty good, don’t you think?”
Bright, bold, and with ambition undimmed – surely there is no better cure for the pandemic blues than Dubai. Come and bask in its endless, glorious golden age.
How to do it
Emirates flies direct to Dubai from eight UK airports from ￡404 return (emirates.com). Al Marmoom Bedouin Experience from ￡105pp, including Emirati supper and traditional entertainment (bedouinexperience.com). Sheikh Mohammed Centre for Cultural Understand-ing “cultural lunch” from ￡27pp (cultures.ae). Hazel Plush stayed at Vida Creek Harbour, reopening on Dec 23; double rooms from ￡60 (vidahotels.com). Information: visitdubai.com.
For Covid-19 testing requirements for Dubai, see gov.uk/foreign-travel-advice/united-arab-emirates