Much like the West Wing episodes 20 Hours in America and 20 Hours in L.A., we’ve just spent 20 hours in Dubai. And wow. This is a mega-city built on the edge of a desert, a place that feels as though it has been fast-forwarded into the future.
Dubai began life as a small fishing and pearling settlement in the early 1800s, quietly trading along the Gulf for more than a century. Everything changed in the late 1960s with the discovery of oil. From that moment on, the trajectory shifted dramatically. What we experienced today is the other side of that success. The same resource that brought extraordinary wealth has also fuelled explosive growth, and with it, congestion and pressure on infrastructure.
This isn’t a complaint. It’s simply an observation. Dubai is a city moving at full throttle.
Three- and six-lane freeways are clogged with four-wheel drives, supercars and taxis inching their way through traffic. Getting anywhere takes time. Distances are deceptive. What looks close on a map rarely is. Dubai stretches wide and long, and everything is built on scale.
Like New York, London or Sydney, Dubai is in constant renewal. Cranes dominate the skyline in every direction. Skyscrapers rise from the desert floor with unapologetic ambition. At the centre of it all is the Burj Khalifa, an 828-metre statement of intent that anchors the city both physically and symbolically. Our driver for the day, Sunny, mentioned plans for towers reaching one kilometre and beyond. Ambition clearly has no ceiling here, though one hopes the road network eventually catches up.
After checking in late the night before, we allowed ourselves a slow morning. Bags were packed and stored, checkout planned for later in the day. Mardi was keen to explore fabrics, so we headed out to Meena Bazaar.
The hotel quickly arranged a car and Sunny reappeared. He estimated a 40-minute drive. Google optimistically suggested 16. Reality landed somewhere in between.
The bazaar area is unapologetically tourist-focused. Middle-aged men whispered offers of Rolexes and Omegas for fifty dollars as we walked past. Mardi, undeterred, found a large fabric store and stepped inside. Shelves were stacked floor to ceiling with cottons, linens, rayons and silks. Bolts were pulled down with enthusiasm. Prices were good. Quality looked promising. Mardi knows fabric, and she was confident in her choices.
We wandered further, past spices, scarves, tailors, jewellery and souvenirs. It felt familiar after Egypt. Persistent, energetic, relentless selling. Eventually we left the tourist strip and walked a few blocks away, finding smaller fabric shops on quieter streets. Nothing quite matched what she’d already bought, so we called Sunny and headed back.
For months, we’d had lunch planned with David and Kerrie.
Back at the hotel around midday, we changed, stored our bags, and headed out again. Lunch today was at Trèsind, the renowned restaurant in Dubai Marina that reimagines Indian cuisine. (Its sister venue, Trèsind Studio, was closed for lunch, which briefly caused some confusion.)
The setting was refined and calm. Large square tables, crisp black linen, fine flatware. We ordered cocktails and committed to the chef’s tasting menu. Thirteen courses, each building on the last. Familiar flavours presented in unexpected ways. Precise. Balanced. Thoughtful.
One dish was prepared tableside, the chef talking us through the technique, the spices, the intent. It was theatre without pretence. Every course surprised. Every course worked.
The menu unfolded beautifully:
- Amuse bouche & snacks:
Aam ras pani puri, Sindhi dal pakwan, bun kebab, lamb mutton tartlet, chicken baida roti, and prawn pakoda with lime-wasabi mayo and nori podi. - Palate cleanser:
White chocolate and black lime bon bon. - Mains:
Traditional butter chicken, a deeply flavoured black mutton dish, motia pulao, dum aloo salad, and Indian breads and pav. - Dessert:
Filter-coffee cornetto with miso and salted caramel ice-cream, followed by paan-flavoured cotton candy.
We lingered for two hours, eating slowly, talking, laughing, reflecting on three weeks together. Ancient wonders. Long bus rides. Dust, heat, history, and the quiet privilege of sharing it all as family.
After lunch, Sunny dropped us at Dubai Mall. The scale is staggering. Corridors stretch endlessly. Stores repeat across levels. Luxury brands, sportswear, electronics, food courts, aquariums. We walked close to 10,000 steps in three hours without buying much at all. It was more anthropology than shopping.
We said our farewells to David and Kerrie here. They had a few more days in Dubai. We had a flight to catch. A final long walk back through the mall, past children’s versions of luxury brands, before meeting Sunny one last time.
Within half an hour, we were back at the hotel. Soon after, an Emirates-arranged car took us to the airport.
Twenty hours in Dubai. Fast. Overwhelming. Impressive.
And as we sat waiting to board, it struck me how much ground we’d covered.
Over 21 nights, we’d slept in eleven different beds, boarded ten flights, visited seven cities across three countries, and spent a week drifting along one river that has sustained civilisation for millennia. More than 200,000 steps later, we were heading home carrying a lifetime of memories.
Dubai was the exhale at the end of it all.
