Dubai was nothing like I thought it would be. It was fake as fuck and so fucking beautiful. Everywhere I looked up, I saw a man-made wonder. There was more bling and skyscrapers than Vegas and New York put together. On my first day there, I felt the power of humans. If I blinked, I might’ve even forgotten there is a God.
Of all the sights on Google maps, Dubai mall called my name. I needed a summer dress. What’s a better place to buy it than where all the who’s who shop? I walked in at Fashion avenue. Outside, Rolls Royces gathered and cars with 2 number-license plates flashed their tinted windows. I took my first steps inside and noticed a sacred hush permeating the halls.
High ceilings lent a solemn vibe. I stared into Versace and Balenciaga and a couple brands I couldn’t pronounce. I wondered who shops there, telling myself one day it’ll be me. Few people lingered in this hall. The music was set to sound like a meditative sound bath. It was peaceful. I wandered a bit and watched women browse, men hang back. No one caught my eye.
I turned the corner and there was Zara, H&M and other fast fashion. The sounds changed. The music competed with tourists and locals buying cheap clothes. I was tempted to buy something, but I didn’t come to Dubai for what I have at home.
The mall is split into sections. Cheap clothes, luxury brands, kids clothes and half a floor for just kids luxury too. There’s a whole perfume wing that somehow smells neutral. All the models, regardless of price, were more tame than what I’ve seen anywhere else. Zara models were covered. Mannequins with lace panties were propped up inside the stores. I thought for a moment that it was my internal bias seeing modesty. I kept looking for boobs or butts and didn’t find many.
I spent hours at the mall and wasn’t bored. There were countless subtleties to distract me. The kitchen shop advertised hummus classes by Vitamix. Signs flashed near the bathrooms check that your laces are tied. Prayer halls dotted spaces between the shops. I walked from one end to the other and found another mall within Dubai mall. That’s where I bought my dress. A beautiful and modest blue linen with big puffy sleeves. I wore it once and wonder if I’ll ever wear it again.
I called my sister as I considered where I should grab lunch. Everyone told me that Whatsapp was banned but I used it at least 13 times. Someone told me it’s because the government listens to every call. As a kid, I learned that the Rabbis said we will enter an era where every word is watched. If humans could listen in surely God must be too. For a moment, I considered using the free sim card they handed me at passport control. Why not give the regime something to listen to? I left it in my off-brand purse at home though. So I used Whatsapp again.
There were so many options for a meal or a bite. I could stick to something familiar and grab a sandwich at Starbucks on Fashion avenue. There were cafes selling Turkish food - yum! - and cafes selling Italian fusion. I walked past two women sipping on coffee discussing their lip fillers. It seemed like everywhere I looked, someone had their face redone. I don’t think anyone in Dubai believes that humans were made in the image of the divine.
I chose a restaurant with the most Hermes bags in sight and ordered a steak tartare. I eat a lot of steak tartare. This one was tiny but the best steak tartare I’ve ever had. Maybe because it was Hallal. I can’t remember what I had for dessert. The tables were so uncomfortable I got out of there within 25 minutes of sitting down. There was another lady sitting next to me, eating alone. I think she wanted to speak but I wasn’t in the mood.
As I searched for the Uber pickup zone, I noticed a very tall, broad woman sitting covered next to an Arab man. He was playing on his phone. She stared ahead. I couldn’t see any parts of her; her nose and mouth and arms were draped in black. I looked into her eyes, guessing her story. I wanted to feel her soul. I couldn’t understand it. I’m not used to only seeing peoples’ eyes.
In Dubai, God has almost been replaced with glitz and glam. But when you slow down and notice, there are blatant signs of Him everywhere. From the plaque above the pork butcher “for non muslims only” to the niqab security line at the airport, there’s no escaping His rules. I came for the man-made wonders and walked away feeling like maybe man couldn’t have done all this alone.
Man is never alone
It calls the phrase "man made" into question. As though anything can be created that isn't in actuality natural, in the sense that humans are just a manifestation of Source. Nothing is unnatural from that perspective.