Ramadan in Dubai...

is miserable. Probably any time of year, but especially in early September. Any city where the temperature reaches 89 degrees Farenheit by 8 in the morning with a gajillion percent humidity should not be inhabited by humans that are overly reliant on air conditioners. The picture above is the coolest thing (temperature-wise) I wore in the six wretched hours I actually attempted to explore the city. Allow me to rant some more:

Whomever invented the air conditioner was inspired by a merciful Allah, because Dubai in the summer gives new meaning to the word "hot." You will be drenched in your own sweat and fairly certain you have stepped into a sauna fully clothed, with no lake in sight to provide relief. African winter, in all its pleasantness, in no way prepared me for Arabian summer, especially not in the middle of Ramadan (I was obviously not paying attention to when the month of fasting fell when I decided a day wandering Dubai would be a fun stopover).

After arriving in Dubai's Emirates Air terminal, I started my excursion enthusiastically enough, armed with $60 worth of dirhams, Wikitravel suggestions on what to see and do, and no map. No map was a bad idea, because taxi drivers in Dubai generally do not know where anything is-- even the old stuff that has been of landmark quality for decades. However, taxis leaving the airport do offer women the convenient option of a "Ladies' Taxi". This little pink-highlighted number is metered (no arguing over price) and chauffeured by a headscarfed woman (no worries about getting hit on by your male cab driver from the Indian sub-continent--less than 30% of people in Dubai are UAE citizens).

As I learned throughout the day, irregardless of gender, your cab driver will probably not know where you want to go. I wanted to tour the Jumeirah Mosque (the only one in Dubai open to non-Muslims), but my driver not only had to call the mosque, but ask her friend for directions. Even then, she ended up driving past it and dropping me off a five-minute walk away. I made it in time for the 10 am tour, and donned a headscarf and long black robe, which smelled cleaner than I felt in the stifling humidity. Pretty enough from the outside, the 30-year old mosque inside was rather small and unimpressive, especially if you've seen the Blue Mosque or Hassan II, etc. But perhaps this is just me being snotty--a place of worship certainly doesn't have to be impressive to be functional. And it was much cooler inside than out!

Two British women, who had converted to Islam after marrying and lived in Dubai for many years, gave an hour-long talk on the mosque, the pillars of Islam, an explanation and demonstration of Muslim prayer, and UAE dress (those long black robes actually keep you cool!). It's rather amusing to hear a woman with a strong British accent describe Islam: "Now the first pillar of Islam, tha'd be the shahada: La ilaha illa Allah wa-Muhammad rasul Allah." At least every time they said Muhammed's name, they said "Peace Be Upon Him" in full, rather than abbreviating (PBUH) as in the information booklet they gave me.

Later in the day, I would recall one interesting comment the tour guide had made: that for women, the praying areas (which are quite small in mosques) are bigger than some mosques in the shopping malls. After cringing in materialistic disgust when the tour information lady at the airport suggested I visit Dubai's malls, I would soon realize why people opt not to be outside in the UAE.

After the tour, I shared a taxi to Kasara market with two German tourists, and proceeded to have every guy and his brother try to sell me knockoff handbags and watches. I would have bought ever-elusive good sunglasses from one guy, but the price was waaaay too high. I decided to leave the shopping mall and catch a cab to the old town of Dubai. Even though I was now armed with a map from the German tourists, the cab driver still didn't know where he was going and took me to the Gold Souq instead. This was (conveniently for him) farther away. If I didn't have flus for sunglasses, I certainly had no money for gold, but I wandered around anyway and found stamps for my postcards and (after several attempts) directions to the creek I had to cross to get to Old Dubai (which was apparently only a ten-minute walk away). Indeed, I could see the old fort across the construction and the creek, but not a boat to take me across in sight.

Sweating profusely, tired and miserable and thirsty, I decided to turn around and cave in on forgoing fluid intake. No restaurants in the entire city were open, but I had seen a grocery store! After enjoying the air conditioning and sticking my head in the freezer for a few minutes, I bought a bottle of water. The only issue now was deciding where to drink it...public consumption of food and beverage is forbidden during Ramadan, but I had nowhere private to go. I asked the store clerks if I could drink it in the back corner of their shop, but they assured me that I could drink it outside and it would be fine. However, when I stepped out on the street, bottle in hand but unopened, a man passing by snapped: "Don't drink that on the street. It is very hard for us."

I wanted to snap back: "No shit, and it's hard for me in your sauna of a city where no one can give me accurate directions to anything and I have to walk much further than necessary to get anywhere and by the way, I didn't get a sahoor, or have a big feast last night, nor have I had a good night's sleep in several days." But I restrained myself. Instead, I found an empty corridor behind some stores, and chugged as much water as I could until I saw some people coming. it was time to get out of Dubai.

I walked to the nearby bus station, which I then discovered was next to the pedestrian underpass for the creek that would have taken me to the old city. Why did no one I ask recommend this? Sigh. Too tired to care. I found a public toilet where I could finish my water in a stall, and the bathroom attendant let me sit in her chair and cool down by the fan, and gave me paper towels to wipe the dripping sweat off my brow...and arms...and neck. Then I tried to figure out which bus went to the airport, but those going to the Emirates terminal left from a different station--the stop for one of the buses though was 500 meters down the road, the information man told me. Well, he was wrong, and I was so miserable I caught a cab in all its air-conditoined glory in the end. What a resource-sucking superfluity of a city. It can't be good for residents to constantly go from extreme heat to extreme cold all the time, and I know it's not good to waste so much water and energy on A/C.

I changed into fresh clothes at the airport, had a juice and ice cream, and felt much better. Getting a whole row to myself on the plane felt even better. And as I gazed at the Bosphorus and the seven hills of Istanbul as the plane flew over the city, and watched "The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency" on the in-flight movies, I decided that next time I scheduled a layover, I should try and make it in Turkey or Botswana--two places I would much rather have been!

Some more Dubai shots: