After 11 hours of flying and 9311kms away from home I find myself sitting at Gate 224 in Dubai International Airport. It’s not my gate, but after my desperate attempt to reduce my baggage weight by wearing all my heaviest items of clothing I am far too hot and exhausted to actually find my real gate (I think it’s about Gate 500). It’s about 5am, it’s already 32C and the humidity is so thick you can barely make out the outlines of the infamous Dubai Skyscrapers in the distance. We took a seriously long 15-20minute bus ride from where our plane landed at one end of the airport to the passenger terminal at the other. This airport is bigger than Sydney CBD, men in Turbans span the streets, palm trees sway in the warm air and the architecture is uniquely ‘Dubai’ (i.e. extravagant). The Arabic spoken here is quite soft, and almost sings. Dubai is certainly living up to its reputation, and instead of cafes throughout the airport there are ‘Gold Shops’ and intense consumerism. I do find it interesting, though, that women in black hijabs run the security screening. I brought a scarf myself to try and show some modesty, but I’m not sure if it’s more or less culturally insensitive to actually wear it. I feel I would look foolish merely draping a scarf across my head in no particular way, shape or form. I’m sweltering in my ski jacket, but I am only wearing a singlet underneath and I know my bare arms won’t be looked upon too kindly. I’m too buggered to figure out how the wireless works here, so I can’t even research whether it’s okay to take photos or not.
I made a friend on the plane, Mark, an Irishman who works in Offshore Drilling. Interestingly, he lived in Rio de Janiero for 10 years and he and his Brazilian wife just moved to Australia. He was certainly giving me a reality check about Brazil. Don’t get me wrong, he loves the place, but his little advices about which ATMs to use and not use, personal security and the importance of your parents (particularly your father) on any legal documentation were quite eye-opening. I can’t really comprehend how different it’s going to be yet. Learning about the role of women in Brazil is going to be an interesting aspect of this journey too. I’m waiting for Mark to come back after he’s explored the airport (although I have a feeling he’s lost and/or not coming back), so he can tell me where and how I can buy some water and aspirin. I still have 3 hours until I leave for Frankfurt.
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Mark came back and very graciously helped me sort myself out and walked me to my gate. Inside the Dubai terminal feels like the centre of the World. There are people flying to and from South America, Africa, Europe, the Middle East and Asia and the Pacific, and there are airlines like Iran Air and Ghana Airways. I have never seen such diversity in one place. But outside the terminal is a reality check. Battling the sweltering heat and harsh wind, the thick, brown, dusty air and the consequent low visibility of old Arabic Sultan-eqsue architecture and modern monstrosities situated in clumps throughout vast open spaces, makes you realise you are literally in the middle of an Arabic dessert. It scares and excites me at the same time. My excitement peaked when we flew over Baghdad. The clear air exposed the dusty, grey-brown, baron Iraqi landscape. The city is densely populated around a river. There are few sealed roads anywhere in the country, and very sparse groupings of settlements throughout the countryside. After chatting with my German neighbour on the Frankfurt flight about politics in the Middle East, and having my first taster of this part of the World, my passion to travel and explore this region from the ground has certainly been ignited. As the Turkish mountains with old, dried snow start to appear, the landscape changes, becoming greener, and I can feel Europe approaching.
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