Dubai airport had my head swimming. This was my first visit. The lavishness of space and grand abandon of the decor was stunning – in fact, I would come across it again and again elsewhere in Dubai. We had to take an elevator from the first floor to the ground floor of the airport where the disembarking formalities were to be completed. The elevator was the roomiest I’ve seen so far – could easily carry 50 people at a time, I guess. And there were several of them in a row. Whew.
Why would one need to see a roaring waterfall streaming on the way down from the first floor to the ground floor? Was it to signify that the Dubai feast was beginning right at the airport? For that’s what one sees from inside the transparent elevator. I would have missed it but for a few Europeans whose cameras flashed non-stop all the way down the elevator.
One could easily get lost for days in the Dubai airport but I don’t suppose the friendly and helpful ground staff would allow that. Most of them were Asians, many Indians, who helped us through the different procedures. Interestingly the men [and the occasional woman] at the counters were locals, or nationals as they are called. The counters being the Passport Control, Immigration, Customs, Eyescan etc. So you know where the controls are, I told myself.
I haven’t seen Eyescan anywhere in India. I don’t know about the rest of the world. Here in Dubai all incoming travellers go through a scan of the iris which is imprinted instantly on their visas as identity. If I die on the roads of Dubai tomorrow, the authorities will, I suppose, scan my iris and check against their records to find out who I am. Interesting.
Some Indians queuing up with me at Eyescan thought the airport authorities are doing an eye test before sending them into the country!
Work here is slow and steady, with emphasis on slow. I must have stood in a queue at Passport Control for about an hour before my passport was stamped with the entry visa – and this with just 20 people before me. Everything is in slow motion – when they are done with one passenger and look up to wave the next to the counter, even the wave of the Arab officers in their pristine white robes is languid and slow. Reminded me of Tennyson’s Lotos Eaters. Back in India they would have polished off at least ten more entries in the time these people took for 20.
Out at last. Sudhakar had been waiting for two hours. We drove home in a taxi. I won’t mention the clean broad streets, the elegant metered taxis where no haggling is necessary or the discipline of traffic. Everyone knows that out there in the rest of the world people follow rules and maintain order and cleanliness. One day, one day, one hopes, we in India would do this too. Sigh.
After lunch which was delivered home from the Kamat restaurant nearby – we decided to start the Dubai darshan that very day. Fridays and Saturdays are weekends in Dubai and Sudhakar did not want his weekend going waste. So off we went to Deira City Centre in the evening.
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