Too Much Hot

A blast of thick, wet, heat met us as we de-planed; my glasses were instantly fogged, my mind too, 6:30 a.m. local time, not much sleep, and finally in a place that was utterly foreign. We found a hotel, near the Gold Souk; it was more than we wanted to pay, but the view ain’t bad:

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We closed the red curtains on the view, slept awhile, then awoke to the midday calls of the surrounding mosques and went out to look for food; I asked the guy at the front desk where we should go, a mix of sign language and isolated English words. He shook his head; “You call, food come, plenty good. Not go out, too much hot. You stay.”

But we were here to see this famous “Arabia of the 21st Century,” so we left. Now I sit in a free WiFi spot, a cafe near Jameira Beach, in a mall that could be back on Long Island, except for the guy sitting next to me, who is, I’m not making this up, shopping for rifle scopes on while sipping a latte:

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