Day Two
Dubai (3 of 3)
After our stroll around the Bastakia Quarter, I heard Hiromi's tummy squeal slightly and realized that I was hungry as well, owing to the fact that neither of us really had breakfast. After a little of the "deciding game"--
"What do you want?"
"Ida know, what do you want?"
"I'm really not sure, what do you feel like?"
"I'm up for anything, really..."
"Well, we could have pretty much anything...Indian, Japanese, or just have juice..."
"How about some nice Middle Eastern food?"
"Like what?"
"Ida know..."
--we opted to walk down to the Creek, wander about some of the souqs (markets) there, and perchance find something to eat.
Now before I continue, there's something I have to say about the souks: they are wonderful! Sure, random people will come up to you and ask if you want to buy fake watches or other things; but the phrasing of this--that the watches, etc. are fake--is something the likes of which I have never before heard admitted. (When I had went to China, people insisted that their Bolexes were real; in a sense, as they weren't being sold as "Rolexes", that much may have been true.) Aside from these shady individuals, shopkeepers will try to get you to pay a higher price than perhaps you should, at the souq stalls; but, on the other hand, I really didn't feel worried about whether things on my person were going to be stolen or gone through. And, lovely thing was: when you told people you weren't interested, they smiled and let you go. (This would be a rather large difference a day later and a two countries over.)
That said, wandering around the spice souqs and gold souqs, breathing in air laden with an intoxicating blend of exotic spices, made me oh-so-hungry. So, we stopped for juice. (This became something of a thing during my trip. While I was initially quite hesitant to drink juice--for health safety concerns, and remembering that the last time I had done that in a foreign country, I spent a day in the bog--I caved due to Hiromi's mouthwatering description of the assorted fresh blends. After experiencing no problems, I decided that, whenever I would get thirsty, I would opt either for water or the more refreshing juice.) I gulped down my glass of strawberry-melon and after one last wander about the spice stores, we headed down to the Creek.
As we got down to the turn stalls leading up to the docks bobbing up and down in the waters, I looked at all the passengers cramming onto these small ferryboats, saw each sinking lower and lower into the river, and started thinking: crap, do I really want to do this? Do I want to be one of those people we occasionally read about on the news, who in some country far far away drowned after a ferry boat sank? And what if we capsized, and I fell into the water, but was okay, but would my camera be okay?
I continued murmuring to myself silently as we and a few other boarded the ferry. And then a few more boarded. And a few more. And the boat began to list. And the driver-captain distributed people along the edge. And more people boarded. And the captain, feeling that the boat was sufficiently heavy within the water, decided to stop more people from coming on board. And then, like a great water buffalo laden with everything you can imagine, we began our bobbing waddle to the opposite shore.
And when we got there, I thought: hey, that wasn't bad. (And I recalled that I can swim.)
After having a late lunch on the other side, and shopping around at the local supermarket for some things for dinner, we went back to Hiromi's flat, exhausted. And looking forward to our flight to Cairo the next morning.
