Long before Burj Khalifa reared its glitzy, Armani-studded tower, Dubai was a regional trade hub. (For a sickeningly pretentious account of Dubai's current status as a global hub, see this op-ed.) In the 19th century, the British Empire regarded Dubai as the lynchpin for its middle eastern trade, and entered into an agreement to protect it from other imperial interests. Dhows from all over the region wound up in Dubai Creek, a salt-water meander that splits the city in two (it meanders at such a leisurely pace that Dubai's name, most people agree, derives from words meaning "to creep" or "locust").
Welcome to the Dubai Creek area circa 2013. (Some things have changed.)
The area remains a hub of sorts - certainly the hub of Dubai's hubbub, which is no mean feat. We were reminded of our fond encounters with Nepali traffic.
Others haven't changed much at all. Dhows still line the creek, and the sidewalks nearby are inundated with boxes - of vacuum cleaners, bicycles, flatscreen TVs, and other staples.
...some souqs about which guidebooks are curiously silent.....
....and (yes, really) a gold souq. Margaret's ring didn't quite fit in.
There was so much gold.
Window after window crammed with the yellow stuff.
We found specialty shops for every taste, filled (for example) with massive, unwearable rings shaped into frogs, snakes, and even (ugh) skulls.
Can't find the skull? Here he is, enjoying his Death Metal.
The glare out on the water was much more bearable (it was just the sun). We took a ride on an abra across the creek. (There are two prices for these rides. One, aimed at tourists, is priced at 120 AED. The other, for people who just want to cross the creek, is only one dirham). Nick sniffed out the deal immediately.
The creek is full of boats, all making similar journeys.
And not to worry - crossing the creek does not necessitate saying goodbye to the souqs! On the other side of the creek is a textile souq, with the most aggressive vendors yet.
We emerged unscathed, and (remarkably) without any pashminas to show for our travails. Back on the water, Dubai was at its most peaceful.
The area remains a hub of sorts - certainly the hub of Dubai's hubbub, which is no mean feat. We were reminded of our fond encounters with Nepali traffic.
Others haven't changed much at all. Dhows still line the creek, and the sidewalks nearby are inundated with boxes - of vacuum cleaners, bicycles, flatscreen TVs, and other staples.
From the waterfront, Dubai's newer developments are just barely visible.
Near the banks of the creek on the Deira side you'll find a spice souq....
...some souqs about which guidebooks are curiously silent.....
....and (yes, really) a gold souq. Margaret's ring didn't quite fit in.
There was so much gold.
Window after window crammed with the yellow stuff.
We found specialty shops for every taste, filled (for example) with massive, unwearable rings shaped into frogs, snakes, and even (ugh) skulls.
Can't find the skull? Here he is, enjoying his Death Metal.
The glare out on the water was much more bearable (it was just the sun). We took a ride on an abra across the creek. (There are two prices for these rides. One, aimed at tourists, is priced at 120 AED. The other, for people who just want to cross the creek, is only one dirham). Nick sniffed out the deal immediately.
And not to worry - crossing the creek does not necessitate saying goodbye to the souqs! On the other side of the creek is a textile souq, with the most aggressive vendors yet.
We emerged unscathed, and (remarkably) without any pashminas to show for our travails. Back on the water, Dubai was at its most peaceful.
But only for the length of the trip.
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