Dubai Part One: A City in Pictures

This morning something was different. I stretched my toes down to the cold end of the duvet and, instead of sliding through Egyptian cotton sheets, my toes encountered polyester and the weight of a half-unpacked suitcase. Instead of the muted sound of the beach or a faint call to prayer, all I could hear was someone stomping around in heels and the slamming of the latch door downstairs.

Opening my eyes I realised that instead of a cavernous, marble-lined space between me and the edge of the room, I was practically kissing my enthusiastically but unskillfully painted wall; I would have to walk upstairs to get to my small bathroom instead of rolling into a bottomless jacuzzi tub by the bed; there was no one about to ring the bell and present me with champagne or a slate of perfectly executed pre-breakfast nibbles and said suitcase had spilled its fabric guts across what was left of my tiny floor space. I was not in Dubai any more and the only person unpacking, ironing and laundering those clothes would be me.

The moment I levered myself reluctantly out of the business class plane seat and wandered out and into Heathrow immigration, the Dubai bubble was irretrievably burst. After five days of being ferried, ushered, welcomed, waited on, doted upon, pampered, preened, fed and luxur-ied to within an inch of our lives I was very much back to looking after myself. Dragging a suitcase across south London on the tube will always be a guaranteed bump back down to earth.

Dubai was an experience. It was a revelation, one I was not entirely looking forward to and not in the least expecting. I certainly didn’t expect to be charmed by it, to be wooed by it, to even be seduced by it and I certainly didn’t expect to like it. But I was almost handed Dubai on a platter, its gilded, impossibly international, impossibly polite, impossibly lavish, impossibly impressive heart bared and surrendered and I was, against my best judgement and my own reasoning, utterly smitten.

While I am trying to organise the last few heady and highly hedonistic days in my addled mind and sort out the endless (and occasionally mindless) procession of food, wealth, cocktails and world-record toting wonder into coherent posts and features that don’t just say “oooooooo,” here’s a snapshot into my time in this behemoth of an Emirate city.

It’s a tale of camel polo elbow, glimpses into the old city and, in contrast, how the other half lives with ridiculous fountains, revolving mirrored beds, miniature food, monstrous architecture, dream scape hotel rooms and a childlike sense of anything’s possible that looks like this.

Boats along the creek

Art in the Bastakiya, Old Town, Dubai

Anyone for Polo?

A very Dubai sort of camel train

A thoroughly modern skyline

Inside the Burj Al Arab from emma sleight on Vimeo.

The entrance to The Burj Al Arab Hotel

Al Mahara aquarium restaurant at the Burj Al Arab

The revolving bed in the Royal Suit, Burj Al Arab

The view to the top floor at the Burj Al Arab

View from the Presidential Suite at the Burj Al Arab

The metropolis view from the balcony at Fairmont The Palm

Afternoon tea, Raffles Dubai style

What is, for now, the world’s tallest building – The Buj Khalifa

A room with a ski slope view at The Kempinski

Reaching sushi nirvana at TOMO, Raffles Dubai

Dubai makes beds so big people have to text each other across them. The Air Suite, Raffles Dubai

A moment of calm crossing the creek in the old town

IFLY Dubai from emma sleight on Vimeo.

In Dubai, you can even Ifly


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