A blast of warmth from Dubai: On site report from a newly welcoming land 

Photos: Flash90, personal archives

As an Israeli journalist, I traveled to Dubai to get a sense of what Israelis and Jews can really expect after the two countries’ reconciliation, once the cameras are turned off and the top brass finish their peace dealing.

Emerging from the plane felt like entering a sauna. It was over 107 degrees when we landed in Dubai, following a flight from Israel to Kiev, a six-hour stopover that included a clash with Ukrainian soldiers who suspected I was a potential infiltrator to Uman, and another six-hour flight to Dubai — and here we were, at the destination many more Israelis will likely visit in the coming weeks.

Walking toward passport control, the anxiety mounted a bit. After all, peace treaty or not, this was still the United Arab Emirates. I pulled out my French passport, which stated “Israel” as my birthplace. It’s amazing how many scenarios can run though one’s head just while walking up to the passport counter.

On the way, I submitted my negative coronavirus test results to the clerk standing before the passport area. He was wearing a kondora and a kaffiyeh, the traditional garb specific to the Gulf State nations. (Until then, I just called lumped all those ankle-length clothes into one category: jalabiya.) The border officer didn’t even ask questions. He glanced at the passport, told me to lower my mask for a moment for identification, and let me go. At luggage control all went smoothly as well, which meant I could shelve my contingency plans in case I got stuck without my suitcase in a Muslim Gulf State.

Upon emerging from the terminal, the patrolmen enforced the coronavirus guidelines. It was mandatory to wear the mask even in the oppressive heat. Anyone violating the directive could be fined 3,000 dirham (about NIS 2,700). Armed with warnings not to get in trouble with the law, I straightened the mask over my nose and stepped out of the opulent terminal into a world of in-your-face wealth.

Dubai is one of the seven emirates that comprise the United Arab Emirates in the Persian Gulf. Its wealthy status is evident wherever you look, whether it is the Burj Khalifa, the world’s tallest structure, the Burj Al Arab, the fanciest hotel in the world and the only one with a seven-star rating (the hotel is currently closed), or the famous palm-shaped artificial islands, unlike any other in the world.

After a few days in this Gulf nation where a Jewish community is quietly putting down roots in the shadow of the skyscrapers, I came to one conclusion: If the rest of the Middle East were so willing to put a good business deal before ideology, peace would have broken out long ago.

Rags to Riches

The locals comprise about one tenth of the residents of the UAE, where the majority are foreigners from India, Pakistan, and many other nations. They come to serve the masters — a million wealthy natives — the clear minority in a population of around 10 million.

One of those “masters” is Salah Az a Din. Each evening, the Az a Din family sits down in the salon, sharing the events of their day and consulting each other on various matters, while the servant brings in a pitcher of tea and platters of cake and cookies. If a family member enters accompanied by a stranger, no one raises an eyebrow. On the contrary, they will offer him a place to sit, a cup of tea, and some cake.

This is called majilis, one of the longtime customs the locals still keep. Each home has a designated room for the majilis, with one of the servants being responsible for providing a steady stream of refreshments and hot drinks as long as someone is sitting there.

I meet Salah Az a Din on my first day here at the Dubai Mall — of course, the largest shopping mall in the world. It features more than 1,200 stores spanning a fantastical one million square meters. Aside for brand-name stores, the mall includes a gold market, artificial ice-skating, an artificial waterfall, a massive aquarium, and an amusement park. In order to move around throughout the complex, shoppers can use taxis to take them around the different zones for a nominal fee.

The locals don’t like to speak to the media. There are many reasons for that, but the main one is their traditional conservatism. For them, media outlets are not a positive thing. In the UAE, the media outlets are under some type of government control, so you will never hear a word of criticism against the authorities.

On the first day, I mentioned to a few people that I was touring the city on behalf of an Israeli newspaper, but on the subsequent days, I decided to bypass that fact. The minute they heard “media” and “Israel,” they’d inevitably retreat. One person even asked me to delete the photos I took.

But Salah agreed to sit down to chat in a little café. I asked him to tell me more about who the Emiratis are, what they do for a living, and how it is that so many of them are fabulously wealthy. Where does the money for the eye-popping sights Dubai is known for actually come from?