054 – Heraklion, Crete via Athens to Dubai, United Arab Emirates to Mauritius – A Hop, Skip And A Jump

Despite Tasman tossing Ciel’s orange juice (at least it wasn’t vomit) all over her pants five minutes into our first flight, things went pretty smoothly for our two-hop (Crete-Athens-Dubai) trip to the UAE (United Arab Emirates).  Our six-hour layover in Athens was cushioned by a stint in the free “Children’s Play Area”,

Some peel-outs, donuts and fishtails in the trolley car,

And forty-seven trips to the washroom.

Things derailed a little when we arrived at the customs desk in Dubai and our response to the officer’s first question was, “What visa?”
Fortunately, they didn't give us the boot. Likely on account of our stunning good-looks... no?

It was close to midnight when we finally got out of the airport and arrived at our accommodations.  The two bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms gave us some welcome space to stretch our limbs.

Ciel quickly called dibs on the room with the king-sized bed, feeding us a line about a “falling off the bed buffer zone” that her mother took hook, line and sinker.

 

The two hours of jet lag, along with the timeout for Ciel to give Taz a crawling lesson,

("Like this, Taz!")

Made for a slow start to our first morning in Dubai.  But, we eventually got out of the apartment and down to the shores of the Dubai Creek for a little walking tour.

We started with the quiet streets and buildings of the historical Bastakiya Quarter,

Where Ciel and Taz used their celebrity status to pull in a few dirham posing for the paparazzi  (aka college photography class).

The narrow laneways were a bit of a maze, but with our Knossos experience under their belts, Ciel and Britt got us pointed in the right direction.

We continued on down the creek past the multitude of merchants, sheesha bars, and water taxis,

“Hey Sheik. For this year’s National Day, why don’t we get 50-storey photos of ourselves plastered on every skyscraper in town?”  

"Good idea."

And then on to the Bur Dubai Souq (street market).

Where everyone assumes that because you’re white your name is “John”, and that you are interested in buying:
“Pashmina? No? Real Deal! Silk? Eh! How about a Rolex? Bulgari? Shirts? Good price! Take a look! Shoes? Handbag? Coach? Louis Vutton? C’mon…!”

The high (?low) point was when Ciel briefly whined about being denied a cheap Barbie knock-off and the guy started urging, “Cry, baby, CRY!”. Classy.

We took five creek-side at Kan Zaman,

For some traditional Middle Eastern cuisine (Moutabel, Fattoush, Zaatar Salad), and then made our way back home for a sunset roof top splash.

 If day one was “historic middle eastern Dubai”, day two was definitely the other side of the coin.  We headed South into the forest of glistening skyscrapers,

To the epitome of western culture, “The Dubai Mall”. 

Not only is it the world’s largest shopping centre, but if you want the biggest, tallest, coldest,  hottest, newest, or most expensive of anything. You can buy/eat/do/see it at the Dubai Mall.

World’s largest aquarium window?

Check.

Worlds biggest dancing fountain?

Check.

Valet parking for your Bentley/Porsche/Aston Martin/Ferrari?

Check.

World’s tallest building?

(Burj Khalifa 829.8m – Massive.  Just massive)

Check.

Ice skating in the desert?

(With some gentle encouragement….and a promise of a trip to the candy store)

Check.

World’s longest continuous round of partial and largely incorrect verses of K’naan’s “Waving Flag” song after being given a free UAE Flag?

Check.

You want Gucci, Diesel, Dior? How about Baby Gucci, Baby Diesel and Baby Dior….?

Or maybe you just want a little something from Timmy’s.

It’s sorta like a middle-eastern Vegas…

 …But without the gambling and prostitutes…

It is also totally dry, and I’m not talking Humidex here.  Given that we failed to take the opportunity to stock up at duty free at the airport, the only thing we had to keep us going for three days was the lone bottle of Cretan dessert wine that we were supposed to share with G-Dad in Mauritius.  Desperate times… I’m sure he’ll understand…

Even more astonishing is that somebody (the Emirati?), has spent a tonne of money building this colossally opulent city (with sidewalks paved in the same marble tile we just chose for our master bathroom renovation), but aside from around the mall, and a smattering of passing Bentleys, there’s nobody bloody here!

Unfortunately, our glorified layover didn’t leave us enough time to do the wild dune-hopping 4x4 ride through the desert, or check out the remote-controlled-robot-jockey camel races (???). Next time.

Our flight out was delayed two-and–a-half hours by a massive thunderstorm (Really?! Rain?! In the desert?!?) that rolled in five minutes before our scheduled departure time.

Small consolation was the ongoing amount of paraphernalia that our kids keep accumulating every time they take an Air Emirates flight: colouring books, pencil crayons, stuffed monsters, backpacks, baby care kits, day planners, Dr. Seuss books... 

 The polaroid photos giving the kids their "Best Wishes", were a little over the top.

(We’re going to need to send a shipment home before our disintegrating $19 luggage bags from Singapore burst at the seams.  But, Taz has put in a strong bid to hang on to the sleep mask.)

Another bonus was that our late arrival in Mauritius coincided with Nana and G-Dad’s flight from South Africa.

Wooo-hooo...

…babysitters!