Wanted: outside airconditioner with variable icicle control

With all the sabre rattling and ructions that have been happening in the middle east lately, you could be forgiven for thinking that it's a dangerous place to live. In fact, the millions living in South Korea for the last few decades in, technically a war can testify that it's not all gun toting, raping and pillaging.

The same goes for Dubai. In fact, the KLM flight to the city, where you can still sweat your balls off at 11pm at night in a wife beater singlet, passed over Baghdad. During that time, I had glanced at the TV screen for the compass direction toward Mecca and surruptitiously placed the complimentary Dutch blanket on the floor and recited the best of the Koran I knew (i.e. nothing). I think that got us through unscathed at 38,000 feet. The United Arab Emirates is a conglomeration of seven emirates; a couple of these in Dubai and one surrounding the captial - Abu Dhabi, where I'm staying at the moment.

Every national demographic has some sort of witty intro conversation that when they meet a fellow stranger. For England, it's the romantic and magical grey drizzly skies and the country's penchant for little sunshine during the winter months. For the Australians, it's their stirling effort in the cricket against the English and Bangladeshies. For New Zealand, it was who's going to fill the hole that Graham Capill left in the Cristian Heritage party, at least that was when I headed back to Europe - poor Gazza. Anyhow, here in Dubai it's the creepy temperature. You'd probably wonder if anyone goes outside when it's about 35 degrees and 80% humidity by 8 o'clock in the morning, and creeps up to around 42 and lingers there till around 7pm. It then plunges to back down to 35 for a few minutes, then hurtles back up to the high heavens. No prizes for guessing that for the summer months, it's indoors time. It's pretty weather for me - the closest I can remember was when I disembarked an Air New Guinea flight in Lae for the first time in mid summer. At 10 years of age, I wouldn't say I was donning the wife beater and sweating myself silly, but whatever the equivalent at 10 was, I would have been doing it.

Still, I've spent a couple of days in Dubai and a few in Abu Dabi (all work stuff) and I can sense that I've grown more tolerant of new places. For example, you can jump in a taxi and it seems that learning English was a distant memory at University for the driver, while instead they were squandering someone's money in bars (or juice bars, depending on your religious flavour). Now don't mind that asking them:

"Do you accept credit card?", is responded with a quick: "Yes".

In fact, every question is responded to in this manner, followed by a glance in my direction for guidance on the appropriate body language to display, and I'd grow progressively suspicious. Whereupon my arrival (after two detours to "here you want to go") I'd show them my credit card and just get a blank stare and rapant hand waving that indicates:

"No, I don't take credit card. Don't you understand 'No' you simple foreigner tourist? Now what are you going to do?".

The weekend starts on Thursday, so I'll have a chance to go walkabout and grab some photos and hunt down a beer. I'll be here for a couple of months, at least, so I'll be having plenty of time to see if I can do some real gun toting in the desert.

Stick 'em up!