Stopping over in Dubai

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On my way to Bangladesh me and some other girl who took part at the volunteering job had a 19 hour lay over in dusty Dubai to check out its flair, spices and the obvious contrasts between modernism and tradition. My first impression at the airport: it’s crowded like if there was a free beer party. Awesome.

Taking the bus to town, strolling through the old market and senting all the alien flavours, smells and voices around me made it possible for me to suck in the oriental atmosphere. I actually bought some weird ass shoes and tried on a burkha that made me look very fat. After a little boat trip and some more walking around – in my jeans and hoodie while carrying my handluggage, a coat and a pillow in 30°C /90°F – we got sick of the heat, dust and sweat and made our way to the famous Burj al Arab, or more like the beach next to it since common, dusty folks like us in trainers wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near it.

Anyway, beachtime was fun as always, and then we went back to get some food by bus. Well, we wanted to. Unluckly each bus only reserves like 5 seats for women – if they are occupied the driver won’t stop for you worth- and dickless human. So we ended up standing there at the main road in what seemed to be like an upcoming sandstorm and watched empty busses pass by for an hour until we decided to take a frigging cab.

Needless to say that me and Dubai never really became friends, but it was well worth checking it out on a Non-All-Inclusve-based vacation. A pair of shoes, lots of experiences richer and with tons of sandgrains stuck to our bodies and hair we joined the endless queue at the local bus stop to get back to the International, not without thinking: Man, one day when I’m big and rich I’ll come back and bathe in luxury… maybe! But only if I end up growing some balls and a penis.

 

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