Dubai
I departed London on the 18th of October and after a change of planes in Frankurt arrived at the "Gateway to the Middle East" following a journey of about 14 hours. The plane touched down in Dubai, United Arab Emirates at about 10:30 PM local time. My onward flight for Kabul did not depart until the following morning so my dear friend Yuri got a great deal on a room for me at the Hyatt Regency Dubai for about $100 less than the government per diem. The room was still almost $200 for the night, but less than per diem, which is the key here.
My only experience in the Middle East was a week in Cairo, Egypt about two years ago. Now if you ask anyone from the Middle East, they will tell you that Cairo is not the Middle East its North Africa but Egyptians consider themselves to be Middle Eastern. Another story completely but I thought I'd mention it. I arrive in Dubai and already the heat is almost overwhelming - and this is at 10:30 at night. I process through immigration and on to collect my two suitcases and then to customs. There is a great story here but I'll leave it to tell over a beer since only those that have ever attended the Joint Military Attache School (where I was most recently an instructor) will understand (and possibly my father-in-law). Right outside of customs there is a wall on the far side of the arrivals hall with little kiosks set up with every single 5-star hotel in Dubai above them. I immediately proceded to the Hyatt kiosk and asked the young lady how I can get to the Hyatt Regency. She tells me that I'll have to wait about an hour for the Hyatt driver or take a local cab. Dubai, being pretty close to first world and my lack of sleep encourages me to take a local cab. As she walks me out of the arrival hall to the taxi rank we leave the airport and I'm hit square in the face with the heat and then with misting water that is launched from what looks like spray guns attached to fans that form a 250% humitdy rate - if that's possible.
I get into a nice Toyota Camry with Abdul the carpet man who asks me every question under the book - Where are you from my friend? Have you ever been to the Middle East my friend? Do you want to buy some gold my friend? (next visit Emma I promise) How about a carpet my friend? On and on this goes for the entire 12KM taxi ride that takes about 40 minutes. Did I mention that its Ramadan? If you don't know what Ramadan is, please "google" it since it would take too long to explain here. I continually tell Abdul that I'm off to Kabul and have a very limited amout of time in Dubai. "Oh sir" he says - "the markets are open all night". Again a polite La Shokran (no thank you) and after much pressure, I arrive at the Hyatt.
To say this place is stunning would seriously be an understatement. The hotel is beautiful and everyone is so helpful and friendly. I'm escorted to my room, following check-in, by the duty manager (nice touch Yuri) and she explains how happy they are to have someone as important as me staying at their hotel (Yuri has come through again) and I tell her - no problem it was the least I could do before heading to the tropical paradise of Kabul. I ask her the dumb American question and say - "is it possible to get a beer in the hotel even though its Ramadan?" She says not in the lobby bar but there is a club near the ice skating rink (a skating rink in the hoetl - is that cool or what) that will gladly serve me a beer. She drops me off, shows me how to hook-up my laptop and leaves me in peace.
I drop my bags, call Emma and head for the beer. Not only does the Premier Club have beer, they have "Sol" one of my favorite Mexican additions to the world's beer market. So I proceed to have 4 or 5 - who knows after the day I had, and then go back to my room. By this time its about 1:30 and I decide that if I go to sleep, I may not get up since my wake-up call is for 4:00. I order a $12.00 club sandwhich and drink every packet of instant coffee I can find. I watch a little football and eat my sandwhich and jump in the shower. I repack my toilitries (god forbid I have shampoo on a plane) and head for check-out. A different Abdul takes me to the terminal for my 7:00 AM flight to Kabul but still insists on selling me a carpet. I'm wise to the ways of a Middle Eastern Shark (if you remember my Egyptian Pyramids story) so make it to the airport with my wallet in tact.
The aiport is pure chaos and I couldn't even find where I'm supposed to be. I don't have a ticket since it was purchased for me by the Embassy in Kabul and I'm only supposed to "show up" and show my passport to be given my "ride" to Kabul. The journey is booked on Kam Air - I'm sure you've never heard of it but it flies from Kabul to lovely places like Almaty, Kazahkistan. I finally found where I was supposed to be and was told by the Kam Air rep that my bags were overweight and I had to pay. I said "not a problem" and asked how much. She said that I had to go to a different desk - pay the 180 Diram fee and the clerk would then give me my boarding pass. The other desk had at least 20 Arab gentlemen waiting (which is a very mild way of saying pushing each other to get to the front) in line to do, I assume, the same thing I needed to do. Then came the 5:00 AM call to prayer which I thought for sure would leave me in-line alone, possibly with no cashier, but at least at the front of the line, but no luck to be had in Dubai. I was told later than there's a prayer wavier for travelers. I pushed with these rather foul smelling gents for the better part of an hour and finally made it to the front to pay my money, receive my boarding card and be on my way.
Terminal 2 at Dubai International is nothing more than a staging area for flights to Kabul and Baghdad. No Soldiers heading out but tons and tons of contractors that are used to support the U.S. efforts in both locations. These guys are some real mercenaries and believe it or not - I saw Willie Nelson heading to Baghdad and he was being closely followed by Eddie Rabbitt. I thought it was the USO Soldier show. Anyways - I digress. Once I passed through my 3rd or 4th security check-point I was allowed into the gate area. I was warned earlier that despite having a seat number most travelers treated the first empty seat as their own since most can't read. I'm not joking on that part. The flight attendant has to literally read nearly every boarding card and direct the traveler to his seat. I say "his" since 80% of those heading this way were male and the plane sat about 200. I was seated in seat 7B. When I saw my boarding card I of course thought that I was going to be squished between two of the aforementioned stinky locals but was pleasantly surprised to park myself between a Filipina heading to Kabul to work in a restaurant and a South African gun-for-hire.
To be continued.....
My only experience in the Middle East was a week in Cairo, Egypt about two years ago. Now if you ask anyone from the Middle East, they will tell you that Cairo is not the Middle East its North Africa but Egyptians consider themselves to be Middle Eastern. Another story completely but I thought I'd mention it. I arrive in Dubai and already the heat is almost overwhelming - and this is at 10:30 at night. I process through immigration and on to collect my two suitcases and then to customs. There is a great story here but I'll leave it to tell over a beer since only those that have ever attended the Joint Military Attache School (where I was most recently an instructor) will understand (and possibly my father-in-law). Right outside of customs there is a wall on the far side of the arrivals hall with little kiosks set up with every single 5-star hotel in Dubai above them. I immediately proceded to the Hyatt kiosk and asked the young lady how I can get to the Hyatt Regency. She tells me that I'll have to wait about an hour for the Hyatt driver or take a local cab. Dubai, being pretty close to first world and my lack of sleep encourages me to take a local cab. As she walks me out of the arrival hall to the taxi rank we leave the airport and I'm hit square in the face with the heat and then with misting water that is launched from what looks like spray guns attached to fans that form a 250% humitdy rate - if that's possible.
I get into a nice Toyota Camry with Abdul the carpet man who asks me every question under the book - Where are you from my friend? Have you ever been to the Middle East my friend? Do you want to buy some gold my friend? (next visit Emma I promise) How about a carpet my friend? On and on this goes for the entire 12KM taxi ride that takes about 40 minutes. Did I mention that its Ramadan? If you don't know what Ramadan is, please "google" it since it would take too long to explain here. I continually tell Abdul that I'm off to Kabul and have a very limited amout of time in Dubai. "Oh sir" he says - "the markets are open all night". Again a polite La Shokran (no thank you) and after much pressure, I arrive at the Hyatt.
To say this place is stunning would seriously be an understatement. The hotel is beautiful and everyone is so helpful and friendly. I'm escorted to my room, following check-in, by the duty manager (nice touch Yuri) and she explains how happy they are to have someone as important as me staying at their hotel (Yuri has come through again) and I tell her - no problem it was the least I could do before heading to the tropical paradise of Kabul. I ask her the dumb American question and say - "is it possible to get a beer in the hotel even though its Ramadan?" She says not in the lobby bar but there is a club near the ice skating rink (a skating rink in the hoetl - is that cool or what) that will gladly serve me a beer. She drops me off, shows me how to hook-up my laptop and leaves me in peace.
I drop my bags, call Emma and head for the beer. Not only does the Premier Club have beer, they have "Sol" one of my favorite Mexican additions to the world's beer market. So I proceed to have 4 or 5 - who knows after the day I had, and then go back to my room. By this time its about 1:30 and I decide that if I go to sleep, I may not get up since my wake-up call is for 4:00. I order a $12.00 club sandwhich and drink every packet of instant coffee I can find. I watch a little football and eat my sandwhich and jump in the shower. I repack my toilitries (god forbid I have shampoo on a plane) and head for check-out. A different Abdul takes me to the terminal for my 7:00 AM flight to Kabul but still insists on selling me a carpet. I'm wise to the ways of a Middle Eastern Shark (if you remember my Egyptian Pyramids story) so make it to the airport with my wallet in tact.
The aiport is pure chaos and I couldn't even find where I'm supposed to be. I don't have a ticket since it was purchased for me by the Embassy in Kabul and I'm only supposed to "show up" and show my passport to be given my "ride" to Kabul. The journey is booked on Kam Air - I'm sure you've never heard of it but it flies from Kabul to lovely places like Almaty, Kazahkistan. I finally found where I was supposed to be and was told by the Kam Air rep that my bags were overweight and I had to pay. I said "not a problem" and asked how much. She said that I had to go to a different desk - pay the 180 Diram fee and the clerk would then give me my boarding pass. The other desk had at least 20 Arab gentlemen waiting (which is a very mild way of saying pushing each other to get to the front) in line to do, I assume, the same thing I needed to do. Then came the 5:00 AM call to prayer which I thought for sure would leave me in-line alone, possibly with no cashier, but at least at the front of the line, but no luck to be had in Dubai. I was told later than there's a prayer wavier for travelers. I pushed with these rather foul smelling gents for the better part of an hour and finally made it to the front to pay my money, receive my boarding card and be on my way.
Terminal 2 at Dubai International is nothing more than a staging area for flights to Kabul and Baghdad. No Soldiers heading out but tons and tons of contractors that are used to support the U.S. efforts in both locations. These guys are some real mercenaries and believe it or not - I saw Willie Nelson heading to Baghdad and he was being closely followed by Eddie Rabbitt. I thought it was the USO Soldier show. Anyways - I digress. Once I passed through my 3rd or 4th security check-point I was allowed into the gate area. I was warned earlier that despite having a seat number most travelers treated the first empty seat as their own since most can't read. I'm not joking on that part. The flight attendant has to literally read nearly every boarding card and direct the traveler to his seat. I say "his" since 80% of those heading this way were male and the plane sat about 200. I was seated in seat 7B. When I saw my boarding card I of course thought that I was going to be squished between two of the aforementioned stinky locals but was pleasantly surprised to park myself between a Filipina heading to Kabul to work in a restaurant and a South African gun-for-hire.
To be continued.....
posted by Jamie at 5:29 AM
1 Comments:
excellent post
a good storyteller makes u forget he is telling the story
keep it up, a week of these and its part of the daily routine!
No one who knows you believes it was only 4 or Sol's
alex
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