Monday, March 19, 2007
1001 Arabian Nights: The Night Watchman's Tale
This is a strange one, because this post covers three nights and three different venues. I thought the nightlife deserved a bit of a mention because otherwise I would just tack on "...and we went clubbing" at the end of what are already pretty long winded posts.
The Skyview Bar, Burj al Arab
...yikes.
First, the most disappointing and tacky one of them all, the Skyview only merits a mention because it is the little projecting structure that sits at the very top of the Burj hotel. We were allowed entry to the "seven star hotel" and, to be honest, I was completely disappointed. A billionaire's idea of luxury, perhaps. Definitely not understated, the hotel was covered in dark marble and gold, with neon lights cascading and a musical fountain in the center courtyard. Up the elevator to the Skyview, and it was more of the same. We couldn't even look out at the water that night (there were few lights, and the floor to ceiling glass was reflective and threw back only reflections of our fellow poseurs). We swigged our overpriced chocolate martini and got out off there double quick.
The Apartment, Jumeirah Beach Hotel
This was the venue for the company drinks, right after the company meeting day. I came late thanks to my dalliance with the Skyview, and was dismayed to find a cover charge even though we had booked the VIP room. Luckily I was able to blag my way past the clipboard lady from Tondo, and into... a mass exodus of consultants. Turns out plenty of our number decided that sweaty, crowded teenagers pulsating to (not very good) R&B and hiphop was Just Not Their Thing. I left with the crowd, and came back here after we were kicked out at closing by the fat bouncer at 360. Had enough time for a couple of drinks and a smoke, then, amazingly, got kicked out at 3 by the same fat bouncer. Serendipity, Randel and I agreed. Rather pleasingly, he recognized us from earlier. The Apartment was meant to be one of Dubai's hottest night spots. To be honest, it wasn't as bad as they said it was, but inside I could have been in any anonymous club in central London. I'm sure the old BBC crowd would have loved it - shame about the closing time.
360, Jumeirah Beach
Ahh, 360. The vibe was Ibiza's, the view was 100% Dubai. A golf cart takes you across a slender ribbon of concrete to the entrance queue. Flash your best smile at security (or grab a random partner if it's couple's night), and waltz right in. Inside you'll find extremely danceable tunes pumping from the mezzanine, couches and bean bags to welcome your tired ass and buckets of champagne. Of course, the omnipresent shisha pipes are there as well. You can either sit and chill or take your chances at the upper level bar; either way you'll be glad you ditched the tired pretentiousness of the other clubs. I know we were. Over the course of our stay I managed to come to 360 three nights in a row (sad but true - I failed to score a bean bag on any of those nights). Each time all I had to do was look out over the water back to the lights of Jumeirah, lift my glass, and be thankful I was there.
the view from the upper bar @ 360
Almost as good as being there, was walking home. Invariably we'd stay until fat bouncers asked us to leave, then we would take the slow way home; the sea on either side of us, yachts and lights and luxury, and we were there, in the center of it all, slightly drunk and footsore. Nights like this, well.
regular service re-commences tomorrow. Dubai can wait; I've had enough travelogging for now.
The Skyview Bar, Burj al Arab
...yikes. First, the most disappointing and tacky one of them all, the Skyview only merits a mention because it is the little projecting structure that sits at the very top of the Burj hotel. We were allowed entry to the "seven star hotel" and, to be honest, I was completely disappointed. A billionaire's idea of luxury, perhaps. Definitely not understated, the hotel was covered in dark marble and gold, with neon lights cascading and a musical fountain in the center courtyard. Up the elevator to the Skyview, and it was more of the same. We couldn't even look out at the water that night (there were few lights, and the floor to ceiling glass was reflective and threw back only reflections of our fellow poseurs). We swigged our overpriced chocolate martini and got out off there double quick.
The Apartment, Jumeirah Beach Hotel
This was the venue for the company drinks, right after the company meeting day. I came late thanks to my dalliance with the Skyview, and was dismayed to find a cover charge even though we had booked the VIP room. Luckily I was able to blag my way past the clipboard lady from Tondo, and into... a mass exodus of consultants. Turns out plenty of our number decided that sweaty, crowded teenagers pulsating to (not very good) R&B and hiphop was Just Not Their Thing. I left with the crowd, and came back here after we were kicked out at closing by the fat bouncer at 360. Had enough time for a couple of drinks and a smoke, then, amazingly, got kicked out at 3 by the same fat bouncer. Serendipity, Randel and I agreed. Rather pleasingly, he recognized us from earlier. The Apartment was meant to be one of Dubai's hottest night spots. To be honest, it wasn't as bad as they said it was, but inside I could have been in any anonymous club in central London. I'm sure the old BBC crowd would have loved it - shame about the closing time.
360, Jumeirah Beach
Ahh, 360. The vibe was Ibiza's, the view was 100% Dubai. A golf cart takes you across a slender ribbon of concrete to the entrance queue. Flash your best smile at security (or grab a random partner if it's couple's night), and waltz right in. Inside you'll find extremely danceable tunes pumping from the mezzanine, couches and bean bags to welcome your tired ass and buckets of champagne. Of course, the omnipresent shisha pipes are there as well. You can either sit and chill or take your chances at the upper level bar; either way you'll be glad you ditched the tired pretentiousness of the other clubs. I know we were. Over the course of our stay I managed to come to 360 three nights in a row (sad but true - I failed to score a bean bag on any of those nights). Each time all I had to do was look out over the water back to the lights of Jumeirah, lift my glass, and be thankful I was there.
the view from the upper bar @ 360Almost as good as being there, was walking home. Invariably we'd stay until fat bouncers asked us to leave, then we would take the slow way home; the sea on either side of us, yachts and lights and luxury, and we were there, in the center of it all, slightly drunk and footsore. Nights like this, well.
* * *
regular service re-commences tomorrow. Dubai can wait; I've had enough travelogging for now.
Friday, March 16, 2007
1001 Arabian Nights: the Adrenalin Junkie's Tale
I stumbled home at some time past 3. It was generally accepted that missing the 9:15am start time for the next day's conference was the kiss of death for any consultant's prospects. Thankfully, the two alarms and the hotel wake up call I set proved to be (just) enough. I staggered out of bed and into the shower at 5 to 9, jumped into the nearest pair of trousers and ran to the conference venue.
There were many, many casualties. Some managed to sneak their way in during the half time coffee break. Those who didn't were named and shamed at the end of the half day affair by Dora, a fierce firebrand of a lady who had put the whole trip together. The conference itself was interesting, full of announcements and presentations that would change quite a bit about the company's direction. I can't say more than that, obviously, but even the hung over amongst us were paying attention.
The view of the hotel, from the hotel.
At lunch, many of us flinched at the sunlight, but still managed to wolf down quite the treats at the buffet. It was then time to retire until 4pm, when the company-sponsored safari would begin. I found myself a nice beach towel in the shape of a beach chair, and sat in that and read Reggie Nadelson and drank iced tea by the growing shadow of the Tower of Araby. People like me, conference rats, would walk by and say hi. I was in a perfect environment to reflect on life, my career, my future with the company. So instead I slept.
At 4pm Zahir, the nice man from Arabian Adventures, came to take us to the Dubai Desert Conservation Area in a nice 4x4 Toyota, to do some very unsafe things at high speed over the rolling dunes. The area was not quite the deep Sahara – you could even get decent cellphone reception – but it was as close as we would get to the real thing. Zahir took us over ridges, plunged us down steep tracts of soft sand, and bounced over the hard compressed wakes of the other 4x4s. It was all too much for Andy P, and while we got some fresh air I took photos of the others launching themselves into obscene angles at the dunes.
Scarier than it looks.
Our 4pm start was because others had gone earlier to try a bit of dune driving. I deeply regretted not having the international license to join in, but nevermind. We rejoined the main group at the bottom of a very steep dune indeed. The second life and limb activity involved strapping yourself to a board and sliding down this dune at high speed. It sounds easy – especially as we had done some snowboarding just the day before – but it was nothing of the sort. Combrink, one of our Tech Ops guys, broke a collarbone going down. That sobered up the atmosphere, though not really by much (less catcalls, same number of incriminating photos). I learned later he was airlifted to the best hospital in the city and subsequently flown back to London.
We piled back into our Toyotas and drove to a “sunset watching area” with cushions and champagne and salted nuts. I made small talk with the Filipino waiters and drank and watched the sun fade into the distant haze.
That done, we were taken to another reserved area (I get it, the desert is big enough, but why have all this driving about? Why have a “not really important but let’s just drive you here to look at the camels area”?) where the evening program would be. I managed to catch a 5-minute camel ride before catching dinner and getting a henna tattoo done (a crappy one of a scorpion, my star sign).
Post sunset, pre-shisha.
We tucked into yet another buffet (good one this time – lamb with rice ftw), watched a belly dancer drag fat consultants onto the stage, and sat around smoking shisha and watching the stars. Although the lights were on the whole time, I cupped my hands and watched for shooting stars. I spotted two before realizing I had lost my camera in all my wanders round the desert. I managed to find it wedged under one of the shisha cushions, so All Was Well.
It was very quiet outside the camp. The desert seemed as romantic and eerie as all the desert literature promised it would be. Too bad it was all a bit - artificial and soulless. After close to 800 words, I still have an ocean of them inside, so... to be continued.
There were many, many casualties. Some managed to sneak their way in during the half time coffee break. Those who didn't were named and shamed at the end of the half day affair by Dora, a fierce firebrand of a lady who had put the whole trip together. The conference itself was interesting, full of announcements and presentations that would change quite a bit about the company's direction. I can't say more than that, obviously, but even the hung over amongst us were paying attention.
The view of the hotel, from the hotel.At lunch, many of us flinched at the sunlight, but still managed to wolf down quite the treats at the buffet. It was then time to retire until 4pm, when the company-sponsored safari would begin. I found myself a nice beach towel in the shape of a beach chair, and sat in that and read Reggie Nadelson and drank iced tea by the growing shadow of the Tower of Araby. People like me, conference rats, would walk by and say hi. I was in a perfect environment to reflect on life, my career, my future with the company. So instead I slept.
* * *
At 4pm Zahir, the nice man from Arabian Adventures, came to take us to the Dubai Desert Conservation Area in a nice 4x4 Toyota, to do some very unsafe things at high speed over the rolling dunes. The area was not quite the deep Sahara – you could even get decent cellphone reception – but it was as close as we would get to the real thing. Zahir took us over ridges, plunged us down steep tracts of soft sand, and bounced over the hard compressed wakes of the other 4x4s. It was all too much for Andy P, and while we got some fresh air I took photos of the others launching themselves into obscene angles at the dunes.
Scarier than it looks.Our 4pm start was because others had gone earlier to try a bit of dune driving. I deeply regretted not having the international license to join in, but nevermind. We rejoined the main group at the bottom of a very steep dune indeed. The second life and limb activity involved strapping yourself to a board and sliding down this dune at high speed. It sounds easy – especially as we had done some snowboarding just the day before – but it was nothing of the sort. Combrink, one of our Tech Ops guys, broke a collarbone going down. That sobered up the atmosphere, though not really by much (less catcalls, same number of incriminating photos). I learned later he was airlifted to the best hospital in the city and subsequently flown back to London.
* * *
We piled back into our Toyotas and drove to a “sunset watching area” with cushions and champagne and salted nuts. I made small talk with the Filipino waiters and drank and watched the sun fade into the distant haze.
That done, we were taken to another reserved area (I get it, the desert is big enough, but why have all this driving about? Why have a “not really important but let’s just drive you here to look at the camels area”?) where the evening program would be. I managed to catch a 5-minute camel ride before catching dinner and getting a henna tattoo done (a crappy one of a scorpion, my star sign).
Post sunset, pre-shisha.It was very quiet outside the camp. The desert seemed as romantic and eerie as all the desert literature promised it would be. Too bad it was all a bit - artificial and soulless. After close to 800 words, I still have an ocean of them inside, so... to be continued.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
1001 Arabian Nights - The Cigar-smoker's Tale
Note: I'll never be able to blog my entire Dubai stay. Past travelogues have shown that I usually fizzle out at day 3, after an excited binge of photo posting and commentary. Fingers crossed though...
Things never seem good after a 7 hour flight. After some confusion with phones getting lost and people randomly leaving behind bags, we were out of Dubai airport and into a coach which crawled into the traffic. On the horizon we evenntually saw the outlines of the Burj al Arab come into view, and then our own hotel - the Jumeirah Beach. Looking like a frozen wave facing the sea. We had arrived early which meant bags on the patio and breakfast in the back. Only the patio was an enormous star shaped verandah overlooking the beachfront; and breakfast was at a restaurant that served over 140 dishes and ranged from Sushi to stew, smoked salmon to cereal.
We had to leg it to catch the next shuttle to the Mall of the Emirates, so that we could make our 12pm snow boarding discovery lesson on the artificial ski slope. What I discovered about snowboarding: turning around is very hard. Removing your board when you've face planted is very hard. Everything else was quite easy. Lunch followed, a brief stroll round the mall then it was back to the hotel to (finally) check in.
The view from the 20th floor. 360 is the little round building at the top. Yeah baby.
What can I say - the rooms were fantastic. All sea-facing, all huge (though the low ceilings made them a bit less so), opulent and very comfortable. The biggest kick for me was being 20 floors up and watching the tiny people move about on the beach and pool area. After a brief swim, a drink, and a game of dama with Randel, we all retired for a rest before dinner on the North Beach. Our outdoor buffet had welcome cocktails, was lit by torchlight, and featured a Pinoy band.
Oh yes, the entire hotel was nearly 100% staffed by Filipinos. It was nice to see their pleasantly surprised reactions when I met them with a "kumusta?" and to chat with them about Dubai. But more on this later. I sat at a table with the HR girls and with Andy B. (who was determined to out eat me at the buffet table) and shivered in my inadequate beach wear against the wind.
Sand, sea and Seventies music - a recipe for disaster.
By the end of dinner we had red wined and rum and coked sufficiently to warm us against the chill. By this time, as well, Steve T and the other senior managers had thrown away all semblance of shame and danced to old AC/DC and Pink Floyd standards the band was playing. A few of us sat on cushions and smoked cigars (Jamie magically produced them just as the night was winding down). Someone jokingly suggested we proceed to a club. I thought longingly of my warm bed, and was on my way there when I was intercepted by Lyna and others who hijacked me onto a waiting golf cart that whisked us out to 360.
360 was - is - a club which deserves a post of its very own. (And will get one, I promise) The Dubai experience had only just begun, and already I'd done more in one day than I have in weeks.
to be continued.
* * *
Things never seem good after a 7 hour flight. After some confusion with phones getting lost and people randomly leaving behind bags, we were out of Dubai airport and into a coach which crawled into the traffic. On the horizon we evenntually saw the outlines of the Burj al Arab come into view, and then our own hotel - the Jumeirah Beach. Looking like a frozen wave facing the sea. We had arrived early which meant bags on the patio and breakfast in the back. Only the patio was an enormous star shaped verandah overlooking the beachfront; and breakfast was at a restaurant that served over 140 dishes and ranged from Sushi to stew, smoked salmon to cereal.
We had to leg it to catch the next shuttle to the Mall of the Emirates, so that we could make our 12pm snow boarding discovery lesson on the artificial ski slope. What I discovered about snowboarding: turning around is very hard. Removing your board when you've face planted is very hard. Everything else was quite easy. Lunch followed, a brief stroll round the mall then it was back to the hotel to (finally) check in.
The view from the 20th floor. 360 is the little round building at the top. Yeah baby.What can I say - the rooms were fantastic. All sea-facing, all huge (though the low ceilings made them a bit less so), opulent and very comfortable. The biggest kick for me was being 20 floors up and watching the tiny people move about on the beach and pool area. After a brief swim, a drink, and a game of dama with Randel, we all retired for a rest before dinner on the North Beach. Our outdoor buffet had welcome cocktails, was lit by torchlight, and featured a Pinoy band.
Oh yes, the entire hotel was nearly 100% staffed by Filipinos. It was nice to see their pleasantly surprised reactions when I met them with a "kumusta?" and to chat with them about Dubai. But more on this later. I sat at a table with the HR girls and with Andy B. (who was determined to out eat me at the buffet table) and shivered in my inadequate beach wear against the wind.
Sand, sea and Seventies music - a recipe for disaster.By the end of dinner we had red wined and rum and coked sufficiently to warm us against the chill. By this time, as well, Steve T and the other senior managers had thrown away all semblance of shame and danced to old AC/DC and Pink Floyd standards the band was playing. A few of us sat on cushions and smoked cigars (Jamie magically produced them just as the night was winding down). Someone jokingly suggested we proceed to a club. I thought longingly of my warm bed, and was on my way there when I was intercepted by Lyna and others who hijacked me onto a waiting golf cart that whisked us out to 360.
360 was - is - a club which deserves a post of its very own. (And will get one, I promise) The Dubai experience had only just begun, and already I'd done more in one day than I have in weeks.
to be continued.
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