Scene I: I'm at an international humanitarian conference and standing in the middle of a crowded and vast exhibition hall in the famed International Convention Centre, Dubai, United Arab Emirates. I'm overwhelmed, wishing I was wearing more clothes, and marveling at how beautiful burqas could be, some with tiny rhinestones dotted at the sleeves or along the seams. My boss is talking to the head of the police; they all drive mercedes. I'm half-listening to a gregarious and lively gentleman from Oman, whose occupation I will not divulge, and who is charmingly telling me about his three wives, their latest bickering, and their separate houses. "Tell me, do you love one more than the other?" I ask, and he replies disarmingly, "I'd love you the best; would you be the fourth?"
Scene II: I've heard one of the most beautiful and luminous things. At the opening address, a young boy sang the Qur'an -- in the most pristine and perfect of pitches -- and soared.
Scene III: My hotel room, like most things Dubai, was excessive. It had 3 bedrooms/3 bathrooms.
One of the bedrooms
Scene IV: This was neither a trip of leisure nor absorption of culture. It was work, work, and remember in
Return of the Jedi when Princess Leia was chained to Jabba the Hutt? Mmm, hmm. That's me minus the gold-plated bikini.
OK, so perhaps Dubai's ratings were low and earned a spot on Sharon's Lonely Planet, but that was 2009, and my travelogue only gets better, just you wait!
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