I'm back.

Where am I? I find myself sitting at the desk of my Royal Falcon hotel room in Deira, Dubai. It is the Indian district - the long walk back from the post office was an opportunity to experience the old harrassment and leering of my days in Taiwan. A woman in this world needs protection. Just ask Margaret Attwood. Protection from harrassment. Protection from the stripping of dignity that seems to be the fate of a naive Western woman outside the safety of the Western world.

Dubai is peppered with large, blizzardy shopping malls with features such as ski fields, ice rinks and aquariums. The aquarium at Dubai Mall is surrounded by people who have never seen one before, while I stand there and remember the days I escorted my unimpressed-by-anything language students from Switzerland and Japan to the aged and humble Sydney Aquarium in Darling Harbour. Several times.

The scorching heat of summer in Dubai does not stop the locals from enjoying the hellfire experience of the middle eastern beaches here. Tourists come in winter - but that's too cold for the locals. The water is warm enough, and blue. The Gulf is 50m deep in the centre. (Let's swim to Iran, I suggest.) It is not salty, and for the first time, I experience staring from men that is friendly rather than hostile. Arab men, explains Mohamed, honour their women. My spirits are lifted, and I take one small step on the way to shedding the horrible misconceptions that have proved a curse on Australian society.

On the practical side of things, Emirate families pay excellent hourly rates for private English tutoring. It is also an excellent way to get to know people and expand one's network, etc etc. Dubai is a cultural gateway to the middle east, however Mohamed has already exposed me to the beauty of genuine Arab hospitality. Here is to Dubai.

xo  ¶ 23:27