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01/05/2004: "Kandahar Chronicles #48 - 27/12/2003"

“Dubaidubaidubaidubaidubai!, car Dubai, good car Dubai, you mister go Dubai then coming please.”

The end of a holiday. Good food, lots of scuba diving and a beautiful Norwegian lady already being dragged kicking and screaming out of the present and into my memory bank. I left Korfakkan, a lovely little town on the east coast of the United Arab Emirates, and was heading to Dubai International for the flight to Islamabad and eventually Afghanistan. Ten of the best days of my life behind me and now an old Arab trying to pull my rucksack away to throw in his taxi. I climbed aboard and settled in for the ride.

We pulled into a shiny petrol station to fill up behind an old Sikh driving one of the many late model truck Mercedes trucks that roam the wide roads of the Emirates.

“Sikh, ahh! Sikh no good. Saddam good.” The driver said spotting the now famous photo of Saddam after his capture on a magazine cover. “Iraqi people no good, where is your country?” I told him and where I was working. “Canada good. Afghanistan no good. Dubai good, Mercedes good, India no good.”
“Why do you say Saddam is good? I thought that he was an evil dictator.” I asked as we pulled out of the station, risking a barrage of further judgements on the world.

“Saddam good, Iraqi people no good, no fighting, like Egyptians, Omani people good, like Britain. Iran no good.” He laughed at this, taking his eyes off the road for a little too long for comfort to see if I was following his logic. I wasn’t.

“People who fight believe in their country and people and make good things like Mercedes.” He stated with a conspiratorial wink. “What about Afghans, they fight and Oman doesn’t make cars?” I asked to take my mind off his driving. “You see exactly, Filipino no good.” I gave up and tried to sleep.

We weaved through the petro-glitter of metropolitan Dubai and arrived at the airport with an hour to kill before check in. Airports are always a good indicator of their cities and the gold leaf statues, kiosks selling Rolex watches and an indoor avenue of date palms confirmed this. I settled in with an overpriced coffee and The Times and watched the long lines of migrant workers lining up for their flights to take them and their hard earned wages home. I can’t really say that I experienced Dubai culture as I spent too much time underwater but it’s a friendly place and relaxing after the chaos of Kandahar. For a break, Emirates good.