An Irishman's Diary

A little over 30 years ago, Dubai was a humble pearling settlement on the Persian Gulf, a place struggling to find its identity…

A little over 30 years ago, Dubai was a humble pearling settlement on the Persian Gulf, a place struggling to find its identity within the newly constructed, post-British federation of the United Arab Emirates. Today, Dubai has become the thriving financial centre of the area, striving hard to be a mini-Chicago or Pittsburgh. Evidence of the recent little fishing port is hard to find among the forests of cranes that work around the clock. Development is relentless. Not even Ali Baba when he cried "Open Sesame!" could have dreamed of the riches of modern Dubai.

This is a city-state straining under superlatives. The world's tallest building is currently under construction here; the world's tallest and most luxurious hotel (or so it is claimed) can be found here; Dubai hosts the world's richest horse race, which this year was won by a horse owned by Dubai's Sheikh Maktoum, one of the world's richest men. Three gigantic land-masses in the shape of palms have been or are being constructed off the shore of this tax-free emirate. They can, one is told, be seen properly only from space. A further development of 300 man-made islands, each one representing a different country, and which can be reached only by water, is also under way. This development is known simply as The World.

At a recent road show in Dublin, Dubai properties were bought eagerly off the plans by Irish investors, one reason for the new direct Aer Lingus scheduled flights to Dubai from Dublin. Irish people love the sun and Dubai, being on the edge of a desert, is very hot and sunny all the year round.

At most times of day Dubai is caught in the grip of a giant traffic jam. When you're sitting on a five-lane highway surrounded by SUVs belching fumes from exhaust outlets the size of drainpipes, the fact that petrol in Dubai retails for 22 cents a litre suddenly does not seem such a blessing. Residents park their jeeps outside gigantic shopping malls and leave the engines running so that the vehicle will be nicely air conditioned when they return an hour or so later.

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Eighty per cent of the people who live and work in Dubai are non-residents. Immigrants from India, China and the Philippines man the construction sites. Work permits are given and taken away at the pleasure of the government - i.e., the sheikh. Although modern hospital care is available, residents with serious illnesses travel to Europe or the United States.

Ski Dubai, the third largest indoor snow dome in the world, is located at the Mall of the Emirates, a vast shopping temple on the edge of town. Boasting a 400-metre ski run with a 62-metre vertical drop, it is hard to imagine, as one sits on a chair lift at minus 40 C that outside the temperature is over 300 C. Booking is essential. People from all over the Gulf area throng here to wade about in snow that they have hitherto seen only on TV.

Beaches do exist in Dubai, out there somewhere beyond the building sites. The Burj al Arab hotel, a home from home for conspicuous wealth, lies beyond the beaches, on a man-made island connected by an isthmus to the shore. Unlike some luxury hotels - the Ritz in Paris, the Plaza in New York come to mind - you can't just amble into the Burj al Arab for a cup of tea and a slice of Black Forest gateaux. At the land side of the bridge to the hotel, tourists cluster behind security barriers, angling to get a snap. Personnel with clipboards scrutinise drivers and their passengers. Like nipping into the old Shelbourne for a quick g and t, this is not.

Built to resemble the sail of an Arab dhow, the atrium of the Burj Al Arab is, well, the daddy of all atria. Visitors who have made it through the security procedure just stand there, gawking up. Staff members dressed vaguely like Aladdin circulate offering complimentary trays of de-stoned figs. Since there is a "dress code", those who take it seriously arrive in suits and smart frocks, whereas the people who can afford to stay here are togged out in shorts and distressed jeans.

Dubai is one of seven emirates making up the United Arab Emirates, of which His Highness, Sheikh Maktoum Bin Rashid Al Maktoum is prime minister, as well as being absolute ruler of Dubai. The sheikh is easily recognisable to punters, since his horses race in Ireland and England under the Godolphin ownership and are usually ridden by Frankie Dettori. In Dubai Sheikh Maktoum lives in a palace complete with peacocks and reached by its own road just outside the downtown area. Colour photographs of the sheikh enlarged to billboard size appear randomly around the city. He looks like a man not to be meddled with. He, or his family, own just about everything in Dubai, including The Palms, the Burj al Arab hotel, The World, and, for all I know, the Starbucks franchise.

Ali Baba, by the way, was by all accounts a sensible man. Legend has it that when he discovered the secret to making money, he went home and lived quietly ever after. So did his successors. They "used their good fortune with moderation, and lived in great honour and splendour till they were visited by the terminator of delights and the separator of companions."