Back at the Jumeriah Emirates Towers in Dubai again. This time, in a cupboard, I find slippers in a can. Why?
Isn’t this a bit forced “high-design”? Or is it cute?
Hotel oddity #23
In the most staid of Dubai’s many elegant hotels, the most conservative and sedate, the Jumeriah Emirates Towers, provokes a little smile.
This after the awe of seeing Burj Kalifa right out our window, within waking distance. Unfortunately, Dubai is not a walking city. A long, convoluted taxi ride involving on-ramps, cloverleafs, and off-ramps was required to reach the block-away tower.
My favorite thing about Dubai: fabulous South Indian food. Second favorite thing: stunning architecture, fascinating by day, spectacularly lit by night. May as well mention my least favorite thing: giant malls. I don’t like any malls. The bigger the worse.
As we stood at our window wall gaping at the nearby Burj Kalifa, it slowly disappeared before our eyes. It was a dust storm, the likes of which I’ve never seen. The desert’s great magic trick.
A cultural gaffe
I’m a world traveler, right? A “jet-setter,” some say. No arrogance here — just a fact. So how did I make such a cultural goof?
Here’s a typical work week: New York City, Connecticut for a family visit, Kansas, home for 24 hours, then off to Dubai. That was an actual week in January.
Other weeks might include Italy, Singapore, Australia, Peru, England… and I pride myself on having some awareness of basic cultural expectations. I bring gifts to Japan, dine late in Spain, offer and accept things with two hands all over Asia, eat with my right in India, and understand that “just now,” in South Africa, means later. As in, “I’ll call you just now.”
In Connecticut, I burned my right hand when the lid fell off my sister’s faulty tea kettle. Okay, there’s nothing wrong with the tea kettle. I just didn’t put the lid on tightly. Next day at a meeting in NYC, I nearly fell to my knees when a handshake reminded me of the scorch. There were lots of handshakes that day, and I quickly got into the habit of using an upside down left with “sorry, burned my hand.” This continued as blisters popped in Kansas.
By the time we got to Dubai, soft scabs were forming and my lefty handshake was second nature. I realized the gaffe in the midst of committing it in that muslim nation. Meeting the owner of one of Dubai’s spectacular hotels, he was gracious while I was a blubbering, blundering idiot with a mouthful of apologies.
