India Trip: The Marigolds are Abloom in Dubai

FROM 1/4/08:

art of the reason I have essentially never traveled by myself abroad is simply because I have never desired to do so. Truthfully, I do not even desire to do so now. I would prefer the company of friends and loved ones, but, in light of the fact that these same people often do not have the same interests or opportunities that I do, I will have to make do. The reason for this feeling, I believe, is because of how profoundly isolating foreign travel is. A different language, a different culture, a different people, and a different location thousands of miles from home force the idea of separation on you. In small quantities this feeling is not bad, and can even be enjoyable in a way, but I have generally felt it to be a downside when it comes to international travel. Not that it'd prevent me from doing it, but I certainly don't like traveling far far away *because* it makes me feel different than other people.

To drag this thought on a bit longer, I think this sense of "aloneness" is only exacerbated by the fact that foreign travel is usually accompanied by a feeling, at least for myself, of adventurism -- a form of romanticism. It is exciting, new, and adventurous -- even if in a relatively controlled and unadventurous sort of way -- and it generally serves to both increase your basal adrenalin secretions and awaken your senses ever so slightly. How could you not want to share this experience with someone then? Certainly words will never suffice and pictures, though lovely, are only pictures. It is because of this romantic adventuristic spirit that I feel the sense of isolation has been only all the more prominent for me. Not that I feel lonely -- that is certainly not the case -- and not that I am unhappy with my experiences so far -- by and large these first few days are going great -- it is just that I acutely feel the desire to be sharing in my travels with others. I've noticed that marigolds seem to be the flower du jure in Dubai as they are planted in great beautiful numbers all along the city's main thoroughfares, but no matter how much detail I may go into explaining this fact and no matter how great my photos of these long, stretching lanes of flowers may be, the image I create and the image I am experiencing will never match. A shame.

All that ho hum aside, life in Dubai is good. The trip did not start off entirely well as my first flight from San Antonio to Houston was almost subverted by my own silliness as I tried to check in at the Southwestern kiosks for a Continental flight, but after some gentle correction I was on my way. The Emirates flight was packed and the 777 we flew on was huge. I found my way to my economy class seat, dutifuly put up my luggage, and then did not move for 13 hours. For all the restrictions in movement, though, the individual television screens just about made up for it. I watched some Simpsons, some Scrubs, some Transformers and Balls of Fury (both fairly terrible movies), and played a variety of video games so that, despite not really sleeping at all, the flight went by relatively quickly. This was even with the extra hour added on to defrost the pooper which had apparently somehow frozen over (in Houston of all places.) The highlight of the trip, however, was the food. Perhaps because it is generally never served on domestic flights anymore, or perhaps I just get excited about stupid things, but in-flight meals have always made me happy. It is almost kind of like eating around a campfire. The food is not usually anything great, but the experience is.

My night in Dubai was uneventful as it was late, I had already eaten, and so simply checked into my room and went to bed, but the following day, today, has been busy. After giving myself a brief pep talk to get myself out of the hotel room and into the world, I left the hotel and immediately went to the small neighborhood market across the street. Breakfast today would be a box of fig newtons -- or the Arab equivalent at least -- some water and a granola bar. Not terribly satisfying to say the least, but not knowing what was safe to eat of the local fare I was generally terrified of the local restaurants. Not terrified so much as generally completely unwilling to eat there. I will have to ease into that.

My travel strategy, when it comes to places I am unfamiliar with, is generally a goal directed wandering. I pick some places I want to go, figure out a basic route, and head in that direction. As I frequently am unable to figure out road signs very well -- in foreign places or at home -- I am usually content with simply heading in the right direction. As such I wandered completely past my first destination, the Dubai Museum, and instead into one of the local souks which, for today's culture fact #1, are Arabic open air markets specializing in one particular class of goods. Dubai is known primarily for its gold and spice souks, but I stumbled upon its silk and cloth souk. Being as Friday is a weekend day and apparently the weekend day of prominence (kind of like Sunday in the US) most the market was closed. Oh wells, it just so turns out I have all the silk and cloth I needed anyway. Myeh.

After traversing the silk souk for a brief while, I continued along the shoreline of the Dubai Creek passing what was possibly a hundred different empty tourist dhows which I had heard are a fairly popular means of getting across the creek, but as they were all universally empty I decided to defer a leisurely river cruise till a later date. Now particularly hungry and not finding many in the way of appealing looking restaurants I ventured into a nearby Carrefour hoping to find a food court. It turned out not to be an Arabic minimall, though, but an Arabic Walmart complete with a thumping electronics department, cheap hair salons, a handy optometrist, and a one hour photo. After briefly watching some foreign gentleman play some sort of race car game on a Playstation 3 for a minute I got myself a sandwich and moved on.

My last destination, really the only intended one I have actually made it to so far, was the Grand Jumeirah Mosque. I made it there right as the imams were calling for prayer, and not knowing how they would react to a foreign gawker with a camera, I decided to wait across the street till it was all over. I'd like to say it was a remarkable experience watching hundreds of men in unison bow to pray while the speakers blared overhead, but it wasn't. Perhaps because I am familiar enough with what they were doing to be indifferent, or maybe because I had seen it on television so many times before, but for whatever reason I sat down and lost myself in thought while they continued to lose themselves in prayer.

Well in the interests of time, both for the reader and my internet cafe bill, I will bring this to a close. I am not entirely sure how interesting or entertaining this entry is as it has mostly been mildly edited stream of conscious, but hopefully with more time in Vellore I can edit things down a bit. Or at the very least learn to write less.

Now for a two hour walk back to the hotel!