I Had A Dream I Was Your Hero

Tuesday 14th February 2006

I love getting lost alone.

It allows me to get lost with and within myself. Especially in the later hours of the night, when the husband's away and the friends are asleep, I turn the music up high and turn the speed down low and caress the smooth black roads of Dubai with my four fat wheels. I let myself get taken by the underrated beauty of Dubai late nights. Windows rolled down and sunroof up, I let the cool winter night breeze play tricksy flicks with my cheeks and mess up my hair and when it's just me on the road, the soothing purr of my Murano is as hypnotic as Frank Sinatra's crooning vocals on my stereo. Though I was constantly in motion, I was at peace.

The best place to get lost in was the beautifully serene Al Mamzar area. I wished I lived in Al Mamzar but to do that, I'd have to marry a UAE Arab local as Al Mamzar is another quiet residential area of Dubai, dotted only with big gorgeous vintage villas that have belonged to the rich local UAE Arab owners since their great-grandfathers' time. Sturdy, well-maintained and luxuriously spacious, the villas were constructed like Arabian villas were supposed to be constructed and were lined along the Al-Mamzar beach, where the dead baby whale was found last month on the shores with harpoon wounds on its fins. On one side of the beach, fishing abras were docked, most of them weathered and worn but obviously unmoved since time immemorial.

As I cruised by the dark sillhouetes of the boats, I remembered what I was told. He told me his grandfather was a pearl diver in the old days, when Dubai was still a quiet Arab settlement, lost in time. And so was his great-grandfather. And all the men before that. But not his late father. By the time his father's time came, Dubai was waking up from its deep slumber and was finding the world too modern for pearl diving. It was time for Dubai to get up and come out and play.

I found it sad that the modern world interfered with such a cherished traditional timeline. The UAE's Arab past is so rich with old family values and traditions that if the world we live in now got its way all the time, another page in the world's history is torn to shreds. To the rest of the world, the media portrays the developing, commercial, style-savvy, high-tech, steel and concrete side of Dubai and now everyone believes that is what Dubai is made of or is going to be made up of. I take pleasure in knowing the aforementioned villas owned by the original residents of UAE and the ones on other beach-front plots of locally-owned lands,like Jumeira and Umm Suqeim, are not liable to be touched by over-ambitious real estate corporate pushovers. Offers have been made, I'm sure, but the rich Dubai dudes who have precious old family stories where they live don't need the money. A tradition-rich history is priceless, no?

Personally, I think, of all the different types of Arabs I've met, the Dubai Arabs were the most elegant, the most respectful and the most cultured. Evident in the way they wear their abayas, khonduras, gutras and egaals, I have almost mastered the art of differentiating a local UAE Arab just by taking one glance. Even their Arabic is almost melodic to the ears and sounds pleasingly formal. The vulgar words I know in Arabic were taught to me by my other non-local Arab friends. The Dubai Arabs don't have vulgarities in their local Arab vocabulary, though I'm sure they don't lack the knowledge of such words by now as Dubai's Arabs takes on a generic identity.

The influence of the influx of Arab expatriates from other Arab countries and non-Arabic foreigners is beginning to show prevalence. Other cultures can be seen everywhere. Certain city areas of Dubai are even singled out to be predominantly inhabited by certain people from certain countries and would be unofficially, their territory, with dedicated restaurants, shops and grocery stores. Some expatriate businessmen are just as rich or richer than some of the locals. Land ownership and expatriate real estate is only limited to certain areas that are located very far away from the main city area and certainly a significant distance from the plots of lands only owned by the locals but it is still a booming business as people come from all over to want to stay in Dubai for good. Naturalization, though not awarded by mere migration, is forged by dedicated immersion.

Yet, all in all, with everything Dubai offers the expatriate, tourist or business visitor, it offers its locals so much more that each individual original Arab local carries with him a silent pride that his history can never be tarnished and his value to his country can never be compromised, no matter how much he can lose himself to the modern world with its beach-front condos, its gray suits and its turn from tradition.

As I lose myself in Al Mamzar, I can see that unwavering pride in the old villas that will stand for another hundred years. I stopped my car by one part of the beach for awhile. As I stared out into the black water, I wondered how I would feel if, in another life or in another time, I was to live in one of those villas and be known as a local.

The progression of this post might be surprising to some as I know I might not sound like myself here. I'm sorry, I really did lose myself when I got lost with my Murano. I'll find myself back again soon, I hope. I think I need to sleep now.

I think I might be in love.







(It's no joke, however, two days ago, when the getting lost part involved missing the crucial turn to the Mall of The Emirates while I was on the Shk. Zayed Road highway and found myself, from late afternoon till dusk, circling massive construction sites and once, almost turning into the road that would lead to the main strip of The Palm Jumeira. It could have been quite an experience, finding myself amongst the Palm's massive new villas and trying to figure out which ones belonged to The Beckhams, The Schumachers and The Azims. Ahem. But I couldn't afford to waste time getting more lost than I was as my RedHat Camp gurlies were waiting, and have been waiting for the past two hours, at the Mall. Thanks gurls for not kicking my posterior. But that's another story.)