Day 20 - Dubai
(Sorry for the delay - I've not been near a hotspot until now.)
I landed in Dubai last night shortly after 9:00pm local time. Passport Control here in Dubai is much different than it is in Kuwait. In Kuwait I had to go upstairs, fill out a form and pay 3 KD only to wait for them to process my visa. In Dubai, I simply walk up to the Passport Control counter and, as a Westerner, have my passport scanned and stamped. No forms, no fees, no fuss - just the way it should be. After collecting my suitcase from the carousel I walked out of the airport, across a skybridge, through a parking lot and down the street to my brother's house. I know how strange that last sentence sounds, but that 10 minute walk is true. Dubai is a modern city, and its airport can (and does) accommodate the Airbus A380, the most modern passenger plane in the world today. When the airport was first built on the outskirts of the city, nobody back then foresaw the urban sprawl that would bring entire neighborhoods and developments to the front door of the airport. You can find old pictures of the Dubai airport showing it in the middle of the sand as recently as 20 years ago. Since then the building boom has swallowed up entire swaths of desert.
I got to my brother's house and rang the doorbell, only to hear him open the car door behind me. Apparently he was timing my arrival and was about to meet me at the end of the street. Instead, we jumped into the car for a sandwich run at Al Hallab, a simply wonderful Lebanese restaurant around the block. And although I was tired and still somewhat full from the snack I ate in the Kuwait airport, I magically managed to put down a lamb kabob sandwich, a chicken kabob (tawook) sandwich, half a meat shawarma, half a chicken shawarma, a kifta sandwich and a glass of pomegranate juice. So much for losing weight out here. All the progress I was making in Kuwait just flew out the window on that midnight snack. I had plans for those calories, but I first had to sleep on them.
This morning I was awakened by the sound of my brother's voice encouraging his daughter to say, "Hi!" She did, and I returned the smile. A few more awkward moments and she began to feel more comfortable around me. She hasn't seen me much, and as such she gets a little performance anxiety whenever her daddy wants to show off her achievements. At age 15 months she is quite an assertive little bundle of joy. For me the best part is seeing my brother be a father. The big tough guy, the successful businessman simply turns into a happy daddy when holding her or feeding her breakfast.
Now breakfast was quite the production. My brother has the system down perfectly. He makes her a melted cheese sandwich and feeds it to her with a sippy cup of water. After she finishes her sandwich she starts into a banana. I haven't seen my own 6-year old take the size of bites that this little one did. After half the banana disappeared, my brother then gave her a bottle of milk. She knew exactly what to do with it.
After breakfast I went with my brother to his office, as he had some work to do and errands to run. By then it was lunchtime, and for that we went to an Italian restaurant at the Mall of the Emirates with some of his friends. You may have heard of this mall. It is the largest mall in Dubai and home to Ski Dubai, the world-famous indoor ski slope. I decided to hold off on my first time skiing until later. Instead, we took in a rather delightful movie (Hancock). A cup of Haagen-Dasz sorbet later and we headed back home, but not before a quick shoe-shopping trip where I replaced my basketball/painting shoes with lighter New Balance shoes. (Perhaps this is the missing piece of my tennis game.)
But I wore the other pair I bought - cleats - to rugby practice. That's right, I went to rugby practice. Remember all those sandwiches from yesterday? Well they had to go. And I wasn't willing to wait to see whether they wanted to stick around. On the way my brother was hydrating me ("Make sure you drink this bottle before we get there…") and coaching me ("Khalaf, when we do contact drills, be careful - I don't want you to get hurt…"). Good advice, but I was already thirsty and averse to personal damage. Nevertheless the warnings did not fall on deaf ears. I'd only been once to rugby practice and my presence then (5 years ago) was largely ornamental. But I was determined to keep up with them as best as I could.
It was a surprisingly cooler night - 35 degrees Celsius (95 F) - with a gentle breeze. We began with stretching and light running and worked our way up to passing drills. Then the coach separated the forwards from the backs. In rugby, the forwards are the larger, front line men who are called upon to do the type of work that linemen do in American Football, whereas the backs have a similar function to their American counterparts - run fast and score. I fell in with the forwards and joined in the contact drills. Since my brother is a forward several of the other forwards took it upon themselves to look out for me, shouting instructions and encouragement. Slowly I got the idea of the contact drills and participated with enthusiasm, dampened only by my lack of conditioning.
At the end of practice I was still breathing, albeit heavily, and I had this terrible feeling of nausea. My brother got me a sports drink and, on his orders, I chugged it. Much to my delight the nausea went away. I had been hydrating all night, but I forgot all about the minerals and salts that I lost in my sweat as well. I got home, showered and put on my pajamas - a perfect ending to a great day with my brother.
I landed in Dubai last night shortly after 9:00pm local time. Passport Control here in Dubai is much different than it is in Kuwait. In Kuwait I had to go upstairs, fill out a form and pay 3 KD only to wait for them to process my visa. In Dubai, I simply walk up to the Passport Control counter and, as a Westerner, have my passport scanned and stamped. No forms, no fees, no fuss - just the way it should be. After collecting my suitcase from the carousel I walked out of the airport, across a skybridge, through a parking lot and down the street to my brother's house. I know how strange that last sentence sounds, but that 10 minute walk is true. Dubai is a modern city, and its airport can (and does) accommodate the Airbus A380, the most modern passenger plane in the world today. When the airport was first built on the outskirts of the city, nobody back then foresaw the urban sprawl that would bring entire neighborhoods and developments to the front door of the airport. You can find old pictures of the Dubai airport showing it in the middle of the sand as recently as 20 years ago. Since then the building boom has swallowed up entire swaths of desert.
I got to my brother's house and rang the doorbell, only to hear him open the car door behind me. Apparently he was timing my arrival and was about to meet me at the end of the street. Instead, we jumped into the car for a sandwich run at Al Hallab, a simply wonderful Lebanese restaurant around the block. And although I was tired and still somewhat full from the snack I ate in the Kuwait airport, I magically managed to put down a lamb kabob sandwich, a chicken kabob (tawook) sandwich, half a meat shawarma, half a chicken shawarma, a kifta sandwich and a glass of pomegranate juice. So much for losing weight out here. All the progress I was making in Kuwait just flew out the window on that midnight snack. I had plans for those calories, but I first had to sleep on them.
This morning I was awakened by the sound of my brother's voice encouraging his daughter to say, "Hi!" She did, and I returned the smile. A few more awkward moments and she began to feel more comfortable around me. She hasn't seen me much, and as such she gets a little performance anxiety whenever her daddy wants to show off her achievements. At age 15 months she is quite an assertive little bundle of joy. For me the best part is seeing my brother be a father. The big tough guy, the successful businessman simply turns into a happy daddy when holding her or feeding her breakfast.
Now breakfast was quite the production. My brother has the system down perfectly. He makes her a melted cheese sandwich and feeds it to her with a sippy cup of water. After she finishes her sandwich she starts into a banana. I haven't seen my own 6-year old take the size of bites that this little one did. After half the banana disappeared, my brother then gave her a bottle of milk. She knew exactly what to do with it.
After breakfast I went with my brother to his office, as he had some work to do and errands to run. By then it was lunchtime, and for that we went to an Italian restaurant at the Mall of the Emirates with some of his friends. You may have heard of this mall. It is the largest mall in Dubai and home to Ski Dubai, the world-famous indoor ski slope. I decided to hold off on my first time skiing until later. Instead, we took in a rather delightful movie (Hancock). A cup of Haagen-Dasz sorbet later and we headed back home, but not before a quick shoe-shopping trip where I replaced my basketball/painting shoes with lighter New Balance shoes. (Perhaps this is the missing piece of my tennis game.)
But I wore the other pair I bought - cleats - to rugby practice. That's right, I went to rugby practice. Remember all those sandwiches from yesterday? Well they had to go. And I wasn't willing to wait to see whether they wanted to stick around. On the way my brother was hydrating me ("Make sure you drink this bottle before we get there…") and coaching me ("Khalaf, when we do contact drills, be careful - I don't want you to get hurt…"). Good advice, but I was already thirsty and averse to personal damage. Nevertheless the warnings did not fall on deaf ears. I'd only been once to rugby practice and my presence then (5 years ago) was largely ornamental. But I was determined to keep up with them as best as I could.
It was a surprisingly cooler night - 35 degrees Celsius (95 F) - with a gentle breeze. We began with stretching and light running and worked our way up to passing drills. Then the coach separated the forwards from the backs. In rugby, the forwards are the larger, front line men who are called upon to do the type of work that linemen do in American Football, whereas the backs have a similar function to their American counterparts - run fast and score. I fell in with the forwards and joined in the contact drills. Since my brother is a forward several of the other forwards took it upon themselves to look out for me, shouting instructions and encouragement. Slowly I got the idea of the contact drills and participated with enthusiasm, dampened only by my lack of conditioning.
At the end of practice I was still breathing, albeit heavily, and I had this terrible feeling of nausea. My brother got me a sports drink and, on his orders, I chugged it. Much to my delight the nausea went away. I had been hydrating all night, but I forgot all about the minerals and salts that I lost in my sweat as well. I got home, showered and put on my pajamas - a perfect ending to a great day with my brother.
