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Truth and trickery in Dubai |
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11/20/2008 10:02:40 AM |
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The belly dancer's stomach is writhing about as though she's swallowed a bunch of snakes. She's an exotic apparition in a sequin-studded brassiere and diaphanous harem pants.
She not only seems exotic, she turns out to be Egyptian - and no more a Dubai native than I am.
It shouldn't come as a surprise to learn that belly dancing is not indigenous to Dubai. One is lucky to see an ankle belonging to a local woman, let alone an exposed navel.
Our Arabian Adventures guide Ahmed, a pock-marked Bangladesh-born wide-boy, explains belly-dancers "make tourists happy" - that is, they pander to Westerners' romantic vision of the Middle East.
"But this one, she is not so young," he says with a dismissive gesture toward the somewhat matronly dancer. She has managed to lure on stage one hapless male whose game attempts to mimic her pelvic thrusts are slightly impeded by his fluorescent bumbag and complete lack of coordination.
"At another camp I saw a young belly dancer, maybe 19 years old, very beautiful," the guide reminisces, his beringed hands describing voluptuous curves.
"I felt bad because why would a beautiful girl dance like that in front of men she doesn't know when she could have a rich husband?"
"Maybe she doesn't want to get married," an American fellow traveller suggests, at which Ahmed laughs and slaps his thigh as if it's the best joke ever.
As well as belly dancing, our Desert Safari includes such authentic cultural experiences as a spine-jolting four-wheel-drive expedition over dunes, a 10-metre camel ride to pose for photographs, traditional henna painting for the women (by an elderly Indian woman) and a sit-down banquet under the stars at the "desert camp".
The encampment is furnished with modern flush loos, which is fortunate considering the amount of cask wine being imbibed. Though alcohol is officially frowned upon in Muslim culture, it is available anywhere tourists congregate. Locals in traditional white dishsasha robes and headdress are commonly seen getting happily loaded on alcopops in hotel bars.
Men from neighbouring Saudi Arabia, which has a much more hard-line approach to liquor, frequently slip over the border for a quaff before driving home.
Like our "desert experience", much of Dubai is essentially fake. Forty years ago, Dubai was a dusty fishing village on the banks of Dubai Creek.
The inhabitants of the former British protectorate eked out a humble living from fishing, pearl diving and trading. Today, Dubai rises like a mirage out of the desert, a fantasy vision of skyscrapers, ornate hotels, manicured gardens and massive construction sites girded by superhighways jammed with luxury cars.
This miraculous growth has been fuelled by the discovery of oil in the 1960s.
Dubai's ruler, Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, who is also prime minister, and vice-president of the United Arab Emirates, is estimated to have a personal wealth of US$16 billion. Yet he apparently has the common touch: his FaceBook site has 6995 registered fans.
The sheikh has bankrolled some of the city's more fantastic constructions, such as the Burj Al Arab hotel - the only six-star hotel in the world - and the world's tallest building, the Burj Dubai, which is under construction.
Also under construction - but already included on tourist maps - are the Palm Trilogy of artificial islands, which the sheikh dreamed up while doodling a sketch of a palm tree. Its fronds will create more beach frontage than a traditional circular island.
Another fake archipelago, The World, is a re-creation of well, the world. Once completed, the islands will be linked to the mainland by bridges and the Dubai metro train system (also under construction). |
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Source: Theage.com.au |
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