Day Three
Cairo
(Work in progress--please check back soon!)
- The splendid palace that is Terminal 3, Dubai (which Hiromi had never been to)
- Taking off; alcohol preconceptions; movies!
- Landing; "Where the hell's the visa?!"; "local humor"
- Getting the bus downtown--whoops, I mean, there is no bus. Wading through the taxi drivers and negotiating. ("20 pounds each-->25 pounds?!")
- Finding I hadn't wasted my time learning nihongo
- Getting to the hotel, and reservation confusion
- schedule tour to pyramids; the elevator, and quick stroll around
- sleep!
Apr 8, 2009
Apr 7, 2009
Middle East Trip: Day Two: Dubai (3 of 3)
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.
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.
Middle East Trip: Day Two: Dubai (2 of 3)
Day Two
Dubai (cont'd, 2 of 3)
After enjoying the wonderful breeze near the Burj, we ventured into the city of Dubai to have a look around. In knowing that Hiromi is a tour guide, I really didn't want to bore her by doing things that she had already done--but she insisted that we see a few of the things that she knows well about before venturing out and exploring around together.
I nodded in agreement, and with that, off we went to the history museum located on the grounds of Al Fahidi Fort (circa 1787). After paying the 5dhs entry fee, we had a look around at the different weapons and other artifacts found on the fort's grounds and in the surrounding area from way back when. While not particularly exciting, they did provide a glimpse into the sort of technology that had existed in the period. Below the fort, though, is a decent-sized museum (in English and Arabic) showing a good sample of how Dubai grew through the ages, and what sort of culture, flora and fauna had come to inhabit the area. As I meandered through the exhibits, I caught Hiromi's patient expression--and while she had insisted that she was okay, I nevertheless felt inclined to hurry onward.
After the museum, we walked around for a little bit and caught a glimpse of some interesting-looking buildings (which we would later find out to be the old Bastakia Quarter) and headed off in that direction. I asked Hiromi what the sort of clay-like structures were; she said that, actually, she had never before walked around that area. Happy that we had discovered something new for her, I took out my camera in anticipation of finding something neat.
Strolling around the maze of cream-colored buildings (said by a sign to be constructed in traditional fashion--using gypsum and coral stone), we soon came across a spice shop, art café, and quite a few other gallery spaces/areas catered to artists and artisans. Trees with beautiful pink-velvet flowers (unfortunately I know not their name) were planted in strategic areas to offer a bit of relief from the sun.
Dubai (cont'd, 2 of 3)
After enjoying the wonderful breeze near the Burj, we ventured into the city of Dubai to have a look around. In knowing that Hiromi is a tour guide, I really didn't want to bore her by doing things that she had already done--but she insisted that we see a few of the things that she knows well about before venturing out and exploring around together.
I nodded in agreement, and with that, off we went to the history museum located on the grounds of Al Fahidi Fort (circa 1787). After paying the 5dhs entry fee, we had a look around at the different weapons and other artifacts found on the fort's grounds and in the surrounding area from way back when. While not particularly exciting, they did provide a glimpse into the sort of technology that had existed in the period. Below the fort, though, is a decent-sized museum (in English and Arabic) showing a good sample of how Dubai grew through the ages, and what sort of culture, flora and fauna had come to inhabit the area. As I meandered through the exhibits, I caught Hiromi's patient expression--and while she had insisted that she was okay, I nevertheless felt inclined to hurry onward.
After the museum, we walked around for a little bit and caught a glimpse of some interesting-looking buildings (which we would later find out to be the old Bastakia Quarter) and headed off in that direction. I asked Hiromi what the sort of clay-like structures were; she said that, actually, she had never before walked around that area. Happy that we had discovered something new for her, I took out my camera in anticipation of finding something neat.
Strolling around the maze of cream-colored buildings (said by a sign to be constructed in traditional fashion--using gypsum and coral stone), we soon came across a spice shop, art café, and quite a few other gallery spaces/areas catered to artists and artisans. Trees with beautiful pink-velvet flowers (unfortunately I know not their name) were planted in strategic areas to offer a bit of relief from the sun.
Apr 4, 2009
Apr 3, 2009
Middle East Trip: Day Two: Dubai (1 of 3)
Day Two
Dubai (1 of 3)
"Emirates." That single word never really meant much to me; in the cobwebs of ignorance I had the vague notion that an emirate was analogous to an American state, Canadian province or something similar--but I hadn't realized that an emirate was a political body headed by a Sheikh, nor was I aware that Dubai was not just a city, but one of seven such bodies. As I am keenly interested in law, questions on the legal logistics of how the separately-governed emirates are woven together under common laws started forming in my mind, and this is still a topic I have to consider--particularly as each emirate has rather different approaches to balance religion and law.
While this thought dances about my head for a little while, Hiromi quickly makes me shift gears: "So, what would you like to do today?"
My knee-jerk reaction: "I'd love to see the Burj."
She rolls her eyes slightly, in that way people do when they know the other person's intentionally being tough. "Which one? The Burj Al Arab or the Burj Dubai?"
"Yes," I chuckle as I wrap a handkerchief around my shaved head (the SPF50 gives me stomach cramps) and greet the morning. Hiromi raises an eyebrow at my smartass response, and before she can say anything I continue, "I'd be keen to see both." She smiles, and we drive.
As we drive along the highways, I become entranced (in that wide-eyed tourist way) by how beautiful everything is--the way the roads are set up, the way the sky has a dusty tinge against the pure blueness beyond, the row-after-rows of power lines undulating out toward the horizon, and the way everyone drives (fast-fast-go and ignoring the turn signal) make everything seem oddly reminiscent of Phoenix, AZ.
And then I see it--the shadow of a needle piercing the sky: the Burj Dubai. For a few moments I am dumbstruck by its height. Childhood memories come to mind: the first, when I gazed up, up, and up even more--craning my head back until my balance unsettles--at the foot of the World Trade Centers in NYC. The second, of me on a floor high in WTC-1, where, after having been ushered into a conference room by my father (and waiting for his meeting to finish), I ran up to the window and gazed out at the city expanding out from under my feet.
I close my eyes and imagine myself high in this Burj, gazing out at twilight as it rushes toward the horizon. Hiromi's voice interjects. "It's nice, eh?" I nod, almost unconsciously.
We curve away from that Burj to the next ("burj" simply means "tower" in Arabic). As I lower my window, I grin at Hiromi and mutter something like, "Sorry for being such a tourist," then snap a few frames--none of which turn out to be anything remarkable. I stick my hand out the window and try to grasp the balmy air, try to capture and hold it within my palm. (Which, merely for the pure sensation of it, is a favorite pastime of mine.)
Soon we arrive near the Burj Al Arab, park parallel to a beach glittering brightly with tiny diamonds, open the doors, and are greeted by a breeze known only in paradise. As Hiromi takes off her sandals and lets her toes sink into the pillows of sand, I find myself growing increasingly envious--I had only brought a pair of shoes, and I didn't wish to walk around all day with sand in my socks (soft as though it may be). I splashed my fingers around in the bathwater, gazed out at the horizon, and for the first time in a long while, feel at peace.
Dubai (1 of 3)
"Emirates." That single word never really meant much to me; in the cobwebs of ignorance I had the vague notion that an emirate was analogous to an American state, Canadian province or something similar--but I hadn't realized that an emirate was a political body headed by a Sheikh, nor was I aware that Dubai was not just a city, but one of seven such bodies. As I am keenly interested in law, questions on the legal logistics of how the separately-governed emirates are woven together under common laws started forming in my mind, and this is still a topic I have to consider--particularly as each emirate has rather different approaches to balance religion and law.
While this thought dances about my head for a little while, Hiromi quickly makes me shift gears: "So, what would you like to do today?"
My knee-jerk reaction: "I'd love to see the Burj."
She rolls her eyes slightly, in that way people do when they know the other person's intentionally being tough. "Which one? The Burj Al Arab or the Burj Dubai?"
"Yes," I chuckle as I wrap a handkerchief around my shaved head (the SPF50 gives me stomach cramps) and greet the morning. Hiromi raises an eyebrow at my smartass response, and before she can say anything I continue, "I'd be keen to see both." She smiles, and we drive.
As we drive along the highways, I become entranced (in that wide-eyed tourist way) by how beautiful everything is--the way the roads are set up, the way the sky has a dusty tinge against the pure blueness beyond, the row-after-rows of power lines undulating out toward the horizon, and the way everyone drives (fast-fast-go and ignoring the turn signal) make everything seem oddly reminiscent of Phoenix, AZ.
And then I see it--the shadow of a needle piercing the sky: the Burj Dubai. For a few moments I am dumbstruck by its height. Childhood memories come to mind: the first, when I gazed up, up, and up even more--craning my head back until my balance unsettles--at the foot of the World Trade Centers in NYC. The second, of me on a floor high in WTC-1, where, after having been ushered into a conference room by my father (and waiting for his meeting to finish), I ran up to the window and gazed out at the city expanding out from under my feet.
I close my eyes and imagine myself high in this Burj, gazing out at twilight as it rushes toward the horizon. Hiromi's voice interjects. "It's nice, eh?" I nod, almost unconsciously.
We curve away from that Burj to the next ("burj" simply means "tower" in Arabic). As I lower my window, I grin at Hiromi and mutter something like, "Sorry for being such a tourist," then snap a few frames--none of which turn out to be anything remarkable. I stick my hand out the window and try to grasp the balmy air, try to capture and hold it within my palm. (Which, merely for the pure sensation of it, is a favorite pastime of mine.)
Soon we arrive near the Burj Al Arab, park parallel to a beach glittering brightly with tiny diamonds, open the doors, and are greeted by a breeze known only in paradise. As Hiromi takes off her sandals and lets her toes sink into the pillows of sand, I find myself growing increasingly envious--I had only brought a pair of shoes, and I didn't wish to walk around all day with sand in my socks (soft as though it may be). I splashed my fingers around in the bathwater, gazed out at the horizon, and for the first time in a long while, feel at peace.
Apr 2, 2009
Middle East Trip: Day One
Day One
Osaka; Dubai
Dressing for Dubai was a bit difficult, given that I had desired to pack as lightly as possible--and as I would be going from the chilly 9 degrees of wintry Japan to the pleasant 27 degrees of wintery UAE, I debated for quite a while over whether to wear a jacket (and later stash it into my suitcase, meaning less room for souvenirs) or try to gut it out and dress with long-sleeved shirt and my signature suit jacket. Opting for the latter proved to be a brilliant choice. The Emirates flight from Kansai Airport ended up being pretty great--despite the cabin air being a little nippy (I had decided this was to acclimate everyone to the temperature difference--first start cool in Japan, and then gradually increase the temperature to meet that of Dubai. Turns out, though, they just wanted to keep everyone cool.) and the seats being a tad narrow. Nevertheless, I found the food and overall atmosphere of the plane to be quite wonderful, and from the selection of over 50, I happily caught up on my movies before falling asleep.
As we descended into Dubai right around midnight, I turned on the plane's downward camera feed, alternating between that and the view ahead. Gradually the flecks of light scattered what I later found out to be desert sand turned into more organized patterns; these came to be connected to lines of streetlights, which like streams flowing into rivers grew into grids--and then the heart of Dubai, glowing with the amber light of streetlamps and dotted with the pure white spotlights of hundreds of ongoing construction projects came into view.
And then we landed, taxied around for a short while, and nestled up to the giant curving cocoon of DXB's sparkly-new Terminal 3. What I saw within truly gave me pause: dozens upon dozens of shops, sculpted gardens, and acres of breezy airspace meeting the glass high above.
So, I kind of blame the same sort of awe for my having gotten lost after I cleared customs and changed some yen to dirhams. In typical Tim-adventure fashion, I went left instead of following the large exit signs "right", and went instead right into the employees' exit. The type that you need some sort of badge, identification, and access clearance for. The kind that when you enter, all sorts of people look at you a little strangely for carrying a backpack and trailing a suitcase behind. Yes, I was a bit surprised that there didn't seem to be any other passengers (I blame fatigue for this one), but I reckoned that maybe the 200-something others on my flight were perusing duty-free.
It was only when I started running into steam and plumbing pipes and Indian work crews pointing at me with grins that transcend all languages (of the "hey guys--look at where this guy's going!" variety) that I decided to retrace my steps and see if I couldn't find the real exit.
Eventually I did, and I think I gave a good share of people some fine entertainment (namely some of the duty free staff, who, without speaking and with a chuckle in their eyes, pointed me in the right direction)--and finally met up with my friend.
"I was getting a bit worried about you--did you get lost in the terminal or something?" Hiromi asked as we headed to her car. I chuckled and said, "yeah--something like that."
Osaka; Dubai
Dressing for Dubai was a bit difficult, given that I had desired to pack as lightly as possible--and as I would be going from the chilly 9 degrees of wintry Japan to the pleasant 27 degrees of wintery UAE, I debated for quite a while over whether to wear a jacket (and later stash it into my suitcase, meaning less room for souvenirs) or try to gut it out and dress with long-sleeved shirt and my signature suit jacket. Opting for the latter proved to be a brilliant choice. The Emirates flight from Kansai Airport ended up being pretty great--despite the cabin air being a little nippy (I had decided this was to acclimate everyone to the temperature difference--first start cool in Japan, and then gradually increase the temperature to meet that of Dubai. Turns out, though, they just wanted to keep everyone cool.) and the seats being a tad narrow. Nevertheless, I found the food and overall atmosphere of the plane to be quite wonderful, and from the selection of over 50, I happily caught up on my movies before falling asleep.
As we descended into Dubai right around midnight, I turned on the plane's downward camera feed, alternating between that and the view ahead. Gradually the flecks of light scattered what I later found out to be desert sand turned into more organized patterns; these came to be connected to lines of streetlights, which like streams flowing into rivers grew into grids--and then the heart of Dubai, glowing with the amber light of streetlamps and dotted with the pure white spotlights of hundreds of ongoing construction projects came into view.
And then we landed, taxied around for a short while, and nestled up to the giant curving cocoon of DXB's sparkly-new Terminal 3. What I saw within truly gave me pause: dozens upon dozens of shops, sculpted gardens, and acres of breezy airspace meeting the glass high above.
So, I kind of blame the same sort of awe for my having gotten lost after I cleared customs and changed some yen to dirhams. In typical Tim-adventure fashion, I went left instead of following the large exit signs "right", and went instead right into the employees' exit. The type that you need some sort of badge, identification, and access clearance for. The kind that when you enter, all sorts of people look at you a little strangely for carrying a backpack and trailing a suitcase behind. Yes, I was a bit surprised that there didn't seem to be any other passengers (I blame fatigue for this one), but I reckoned that maybe the 200-something others on my flight were perusing duty-free.
It was only when I started running into steam and plumbing pipes and Indian work crews pointing at me with grins that transcend all languages (of the "hey guys--look at where this guy's going!" variety) that I decided to retrace my steps and see if I couldn't find the real exit.
Eventually I did, and I think I gave a good share of people some fine entertainment (namely some of the duty free staff, who, without speaking and with a chuckle in their eyes, pointed me in the right direction)--and finally met up with my friend.
"I was getting a bit worried about you--did you get lost in the terminal or something?" Hiromi asked as we headed to her car. I chuckled and said, "yeah--something like that."
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