The Mall

Many come to Dubai just for the beaches, and shop at “The Mall,” the world’s largest. I didn’t bring a suit and neither Pa nor I are shoppers. But I need hiking shorts for Nepal so we decide to go.

We take the Metro, state of the art, and just look.

Somehow we miss our stop.

Overhead is a map and five stops down the “Mall of the Emirates.” We go with second best.

Not having had coffee, the line too long at breakfast, we stop at the first possibility - the Carrefour city+.

Sarah is out front. “Do you sell coffee,” I inquire. “Of course, sir. Starbucks.” Not my favorite, but we start to enter. “I’m sorry, sir, but you must stop here first”.

Sarah explains that I must enter my name, email address, and swipe a credit card. I comply.

“You’re all done, sir. After you finish, your receipt will be emailed.” “Nothing else?” I ask. “Nothing else, sir.”

They do have Starbucks, and a dozen other brands. We choose a knockoff at half the price. Exiting, we stop to thank Sarah. She’s from Thailand, manages the shop, and is very proud of the technology. “It’s the future, sir. Good for everyone.” We thank her and promise to return.

The Mall is amazing,

if you can suspend all judgment.

There are no Targets or Old Navy’s, but if money is of no concern it can be Paris for a day.

Most of the offerings are for women,

or for men buying gifts.

Lunch hour arrives and we choose an inviting place with “outdoor seating.”

Offered the table of our choice, we’re greeted by Jeffrey, the head waiter. I tell him I want to go lite.

”What do you suggest?” “The chicken avocado on a warm croissant is a favorite.” I trust Jeffrey and order it with water and a side of fruit.

Every five minutes or so Jeffrey stops by, just to visit it seems. He arrived in Dubai from the Philippines at 17 with his family. It’s been twenty years and he’s never left. “I have a wife and three children. We’re treated very well here.”

I ask Jeffrey about Dubai customs.

“Never approach a woman without invitation. Public displays of affection are frowned upon. Profanity isn’t tolerated.”

“Pretty simple,” I tell him. “Pretty simple,” he says. “Otherwise, Dubai is very welcoming, very tolerant.”

We meet Jonathan. He fills our water glass. Also from the Philippines, he left 15 years ago and now has a family.” “My wife and I may go back when we’re old,” he says. “But not before. We have 4 children to raise.” Exiting, both men offer their thanks for our patronage.

We wander, stopping at a small jewelry store at the far end of the mall. Two young women greet us, one from Kazakhstan, the other Vietnam. We talk about their homes. “You would love Vietnam.” “You would love Kazakhstan.” They’ll both return someday, but only after they’ve saved a lot.

We’re greeted by a young woman from Syria. She works for DAMAC selling “luxury apartments across Dubai.” Describing the possibilities,

she explains, “You can have a mid-level, 3 bedrooms with private swimming pool. Just 4 million in US dollars.” I tell her that if I win the lottery, I’ll be back. She smiles.

Next door is a young man from Algeria. He works for a real estate company owned by the government. “For 1 million US dollars you can a have 1 bedroom - elite location- with 1100 sq feet.” He points out what’s possible.

“Swimming pool?” I ask. “No, but there’s a sizable reflecting pool on the roof.”

We talk about Algeria. He says I should visit. I tell him I’d like to but the Visa requirements are too difficult. He shakes his head. “Other countries make it difficult for us, so we do the same. Our laws are based on that.” Shaking hands, I thank him for the conversation. “I’ll be back if I win the lottery.” He smiles.

We meet a most pleasant young woman. She sells socks

and there’s a sale. “10 pair for 100.” I tell her I’m traveling light. “1 pair is 24,” she says. I say I’ve never spent that much on a pair of socks. But she has a beautiful smile and we allow here to show us the many possibilities. Relenting, we buy a pair of “Popeyes.”

I inform he about Popeye the Sailor, that he had a cartoon show when I was a kid and ate spinach to stay strong. She loves the story, then shows me a pair of “Olive Oils.” I tell her I can’t spend 48 but thank her anyway.

A text arrives from CapitolOne. The foreign transaction was 6.41 in US currency. I return, apologize, and buy the “Olive Oils.”

We talk about Syria. She’ll go back after she travels. “I have a boyfriend there. I love him so much. He honors my dream to travel and need to gain confidence. He tells me all the time that when I’m done, and I’m confident, he will be there for me.” “I know he will,” she says, and gets a little teary. I do too.

It’s time to leave, but without the shorts. But just then is an American Eagle store. We take the chance and are greeted by a young woman. “I need shorts,” I tell her. “For hiking in Nepal.” She escorts me to the Men’s Dept. and explains my need to a young man. He promises to help as soon as he finishes with his customer.

A second man approaches. “Sir, how can I assist you?” I tell him I need shorts. He shows me one pair after another. I finally settle on a lightweight pair of khakis. They’re perfect.

I tell him my name. “What’s yours?” I ask. “Hari,” he says, showing his name tag.

Shaking his hand, “I’m from the United States.” “I’m from Nepal,” shaking mine. I tell him I’m flying there on Saturday. “You must visit my hometown - Bhedetar. It’s very beautiful.” And he writes it down.

At the checkout, Hari needs assistance and calls for his supervisor. Van is from Myanmar. I tell him my name is Van Liew. He smiles. “My name is Van Lal.”

We move on, the mall so extensive, we look for a landmark. A few steps and there it is.

Almost out, we stop by Sarah’s place,

but she’s not in.

We talk with the security guard - Kennedy from Uganda.

“Like President Kennedy?”

He smiles.

Finally we’re out

and begin to sing, in a most affectionate way, an old Simon and Garfunkel song:

Someone told me

it's all happening at the zoo,

I do believe it,

I do believe it’s true . . .

Back on the Metro every seat is taken, and just as many are standing.

It’s a sea of brown faces. Every shade imaginable. I had no idea. We begin to see nationalities. Rich diversity. Incredible beauty.

Half way home there’s an announcement:

“We are experiencing technical problems. Please be patient.”

In no hurry, we decide to exit at the Emirate Towers. The train stops. It’s rush hour.

“The gentleman wants to get off,” says one near me.

“Please let the man off,” says another.

And from the other side, “Please let him off.”

“Please be careful, sir.”

We’re now in a different land.

Around the corner the towers,

and just opposite, the “Museum of the Future.”

It’s closed for a special event, so we speak with Raffi,

a young security guard from Bangladesh. I ask if he knows the famous singer. He’s puzzled. I show him a photo.

“Yes, yes. Very famous. I like him.” And he beams.

Tomorrow we’ll go to “The Mall.” It has the world’s largest aquarium.