Like, I go down to the hotel store. Which, for the record, is the size of closet. And there is a very skinny, kinda short, Christian Siriano (the latest winner of Project Runway) look-alike --crazy hair, skinny jeans and all (plus a unibrow). I needed shampoo. That was it. Given the incredibly small size of the store, it wasn't hard to find. So how the hell did I spend 30 minutes in that cubicle?
Yea, he started talking. It all began with asking me where I'm from, the U.S. or England (my eyes gave me away apparently)? Am I here for business? On vacation? When did I arrive? How long am I staying? Sidenote: this interrogation is standard here. There are so many people from all over the world that it's kind of a necessity to get the vital stats before continuing with the conversation (my waitress the other night gave me the same rundown, while I was eating). Suffice it to say that I'm not extremely happy with this arrangement, because I come from a place where looking someone in the eye on the subway is considered intrusive.
Meanwhile, he's from Iran, his name is Omid (which means "hope" in Persian) and we talked about everything from religion to family to cultural attitudes. Mind you, I did this more out of curiosity about Iran and his particular journey to Dubai than him, though this apparently was not his thought process, because as I finally was able to say "How much do I owe you for this?", he almost immediately replied: "So how do I contact and talk to you again? Friends, more than friends--your choice."
I'm sorry, what? Really? Really? Did you just ask me in one sentence whether I wanted to be "friends" or "more than friends"? What is this, practice for when you're trying to weed out the prostitutes at the mall? I then spent another 10 minutes letting him know that it was kind of weird that he asked me that, and if that was the way he asked girls in Iran or in Dubai if they wanted to be "friends" or "more than friends". The answer is no, by the way. Figures.
So, it was harmless--an eye opening conversation with a kind soul who was excited to talk to a New Yorker. Enough said. Only problem is, the store is right next to the gym, so now I have to slink inside so that a verbal onslaught from Omid is avoided. Ugh. That wouldn't be a problem except I'm going to be in this hotel for at least another 2 weeks.
After that episode, not that much else happened. I went to "brunch" at the hotel on Saturday-- not a piece of toast or a plate of eggs in sight. Lame. They didn't get the memo about what a real, delicious brunch is (I miss my Mom's cooking!). I went to the Mall of the Emirates soon after, the biggest mall here--the one with the ski slope in it, for all of you who have seen the pictures. The sight of snow made me giddy. I didn't go inside (it's freezing in there, but the air conditioning here definitely runs a close second) but seeing snow reminded me of home and how it will be cold and most likely snowing (or not: global warming) when I return to the States in November.
Funny things at the mall: groups of women in their black outfits (it makes them look ghostly--like spirits), men in their dishdashas (those are the traditional white dresses they wear) walking next to tourists in their khaki uniform, cameras, and fanny packs, and teenagers in their Forever 21 sparkly-tween attire. That's what Dubai really is--a huge melting pot of tons of cultures, ethnicities, languages, customs, etc. The mall itself is HUGE. They have EVERYTHING. Below are a couple of pictures from the outing.
For the record: Things are not cheaper here. My movie ticket was the equivalent of $10. My Starbucks tall frapp: $5. Two boxes of granola bars, 12 apples, a shower loofah, and a bag of mixed nuts at the store as big as 2 Walmarts: $25.
No, I'm not joking.
Geek is the same in every language, apparently:
Multilingual Mochas:
They looove their Sheikhs, as is evidenced by massive billboards on the side of the highway (more of these to come--they're EVERYWHERE):
The soon-to-be tallest building in the world, Burj Dubai:
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