A whirlwind work trip unveils the complexities of a city caught between tradition and modernity, challenging perceptions and forging unexpected bonds.
By James C. Hawkins | September 13, 2024 | 6-minute read
In May of this year, I had the opportunity to travel to Dubai for work. I was there to provide training on Microgrids to new coworkers from across the Middle East and Africa. Initially, I was very excited about the trip, but a part of me was also apprehensive. I had heard stories about anti-LGBT sentiment in the area, which made me nervous. For the first time in a long while, I felt the need to tone down my colorful personality. While I don’t judge other cultures for their belief systems, even if I disagree with them, I believe a healthy sense of caution is always important. Little did I know that this trip would challenge many of my preconceptions about the region and its people.
What I Thought I Knew About Dubai Before Going
- Large city with futuristic skyscrapers
- Diverse population, but mostly conservative
- A lot of wealth (exuberant wealth)
- Desert landscape
- Strict social norms and limited personal freedoms
I flew in the weekend before the training to explore the city a bit. As we descended, I could see how flat everything was, with skyscrapers jutting out from the desert like steel and glass cacti reaching for the sky. When I landed, the airport was unsettlingly quiet, contrasting with my expectation of a bustling hub. All the male airport staff were dressed in white kanduras. Immigration quickly rushed me through and offered me a free SIM card for my phone. I was extremely suspicious of this and decided not to put it anywhere near my electronic devices, treating it like a digital Trojan horse.
My hotel was in Silicon Oasis, extremely far from the city center. When I arrived, it was eerily quiet. I could hear the wind whipping through the gaps between the buildings. They had built the infrastructure for Silicon Oasis, but there were no businesses or people to occupy it. It seemed that my hotel was the only ‘oasis’ where people and sounds could be found, a lone lighthouse in a sea of concrete and sand. I had thought Dubai was a city constantly moving and an overcrowded metropolis, but here I found no evidence of that.
Interestingly, bars don’t exist in Dubai, so the rooftop bar at my hotel was the central place to get alcohol, even for locals. To my surprise, it was also an undercover gay bar. All the bartenders seemed to be gay, and there were no women to be found. The air was thick with whispered secrets and hidden glances, a silent symphony of recognition playing out beneath the starlit sky. I never expected to find such a vibrant, albeit hidden, LGBT scene in Dubai.
Desert Adventure
The next day, I had booked a day trip through the desert. My group and I took a small van to different locations in the Arabian desert:
- Riding ATVs over sand dunes, feeling like Mad Max characters racing across a golden sea
- Sandboarding down slopes
- Visiting a small, recreated traditional Emirati village (think Plymouth village with actors)
At the village, we participated in some “traditional” activities – I use the word “traditional” as loosely as a magician uses the term “magic.” We tasted different types of teas and food, watched entertainment, and hung out with camels. These are things that the citizens of the UAE don’t typically do, but tourists think they do. While I was smoking Shisha with a 54 year old divorced father from Winnipeg, Canada, he and I questioned the authenticity of this entire experience.
I rode a camel. I wouldn’t do that again and I regret it now. The camels didn’t seem to be treated well, appearing underfed and dehydrated. Their eyes held the weariness of a thousand desert crossings, their spirits as parched as the surrounding sands. I found myself wondering about the line between cultural preservation and tourist entertainment.
An Unexpected Connection
The next day, realizing I needed a haircut before the work week, I tried to find a barber near my hotel. “Near” turned into a three-mile walk due to the lack of pedestrian infrastructure in Silicon Oasis. The sun beat down mercilessly, turning the concrete into a shimmering mirage of urban desolation.
My barber was named Abdel, from Syria. He didn’t speak English well, which, contrary to popular belief, is uncommon in Dubai. The only other person in the shop was a woman from the Philippines named Mari, who spoke perfect English. She was transgender, and I was immediately curious about her story and experiences, but I didn’t dare ask while Abdel was around.
As Abdel and I tried to communicate, we both gradually realized that we were gay. So there we were, three foreign queer people in the middle of the Dubai desert, like rare, colorful flowers blooming in the most unexpected place. I never imagined I’d find such kinship in a place I’d been so nervous about visiting.
Eventually, we all started laughing and joking. They asked me about the dating scene in Madrid and the USA. Mari and I talked about the latest Drag Race season from the Philippines and our favorite contestants, our words flying back and forth like sequins at a drag show. After the haircut, they offered me a cigarette and freshly made karak tea. The warmth of the cup seeped into my hands, a small comfort in this strange land that was becoming less strange by the minute.
I showed them on my phone where Kentucky was in relation to New York City, but they had never heard of it. Abdel showed me what his hometown looked like ten years ago and what it looks like now – in rubble. As an American, the issues of conflicts in the Middle East had always seemed distant. Meeting someone who had escaped the horrors of a country in disarray gave me a deeper level of appreciation and understanding. His broken words painted a picture of loss and resilience, each syllable a brushstroke of memory on the canvas of our shared humanity. Suddenly, the conflicts I’d read about in the news had a face and a story.
Work and Cultural Observations
The training sessions I conducted for work went well. There were engineers from Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Lebanon, Morocco, and Algeria. Both men and women attended, but there were no middle-aged women – only younger women who had been part of a cultural revolution in those countries to increase diversity in typically male-dominated professions. I was surprised to see so many young women in technical roles. Interestingly, the two genders did not sit together, separated like oil and water in the same container, a reminder that some cultural norms persisted even as others were changing.
As an American, I realized I had a very warped opinion of Saudi Arabia. It’s a very wealthy country, and to my surprise, the people I met at this work event were extremely open to other cultural practices. Their curiosity unfurled like a desert flower after a rare rain, eager to absorb new ideas and perspectives. I found myself reevaluating my assumptions about Saudi culture with each conversation.
One night, our group ventured into Al Souk Al Kabeer, a bazaar near the city center. We took a boat across the water. We toured shops containing ornately designed gold pieces, curated fragrances that danced in the air like invisible genies, and meticulously woven tapestries. However, most of the workers in these shops were not from Dubai – they were refugees from Afghanistan and immigrants from Iran. This made me wonder: What is Dubai’s culture? Does it even have one? The city felt like a grand theater stage, with actors from all over the world playing their parts.
In places like New York and Berlin, you find cultures clashing, mixing, and borrowing from each other. But here, all the different cultures seemed to glaze over themselves to appeal to tourists. The authenticity of individual identities faded like footprints in shifting sands, leaving behind a polished veneer of what visitors expect to see.
Final Thoughts
Overall, I wouldn’t travel back to Dubai for pleasure, and I wouldn’t recommend it to others looking for an authentic cultural experience. However, I fell in love with the people I met. They are warm and friendly, and they love learning about the rest of the world, their curiosity as boundless as the sky above the dunes.
The city of Dubai, with its gleaming facades and carefully curated experiences, is a paradox. It’s a place where the ancient and the ultramodern collide, where the desert’s timeless whisper competes with the clamor of progress. As I left, I carried with me a kaleidoscope of memories – each one a shard of light, reflecting the complexity of a place caught between tradition and ambition, between the weight of history and the pull of the future.
Most importantly, this journey taught me the value of challenging my own preconceptions. Every assumption I had about Dubai, its people, and the surrounding region was tested, and some were even proved wrong. It reminded me that the world is far more complex and nuanced than we often give it credit for, and that true understanding comes not from what we think we know, but from what we’re willing to learn.
