Dune

Today, the rubber met the sand.  We hopped on a bus at 7AM and were whisked to a conference room in the Dubai International Finance Center.  There, we were given the chance to grill the head of the American Business Council in Dubai, the expat who heads Microsoft's Dubai regional office, and then bussed to the Dubai Internet City where we learned how cheap it was to start a new business here.  As exciting as all this must sound, I'll wait until we've visited Emirates Airlines and the Jumeirah Group tomorrow to comment on the virtues of Sheikh Mohammed's business acumen.  Instead, I'll focus on the biggest opportunity that Dubai's beloved monarch has identified to wean his kingdom from fossil fuels:  Tourism.  

Tax-free has its privileges!

It stands to reason that global corporations would set up shop in a relatively stable, tax-friendly local nation to do business across the Middle East.  But commerce alone doesn’t justify the massive investment that the monarchy has made in infrastructure.  The heart of the government’s intent is to grow the tourism trade to such a level that vacation-seekers, particularly from Europe, China and India and especially those in the upper net worth brackets, will find Dubai irresistible.

Low Rent

When Westerners think of Dubai, they think of oil barons wheeling around in Ferraris.  However, it is possible to enjoy the emirate without breaking the bank.  Bargain seekers can plumb the Gold Souk, comprised of hundreds of stores hawking jewelry, clothing and spices.  Although there are high-end shops to be found pretty much anywhere, one can just as easily pick up a knock-off Rolex or Ray Bans.  I did just that, and felt like a proper weekend millionaire.  

Entrance to the Souk

Nuts!

Spices Galore

We dropped our prizes at our hotel and ventured into the desert for some dune bashing.  What, you might wonder, is dune bashing?  A simple glance at a satellite photo of the Emirates will remind you that this place has as much sand as oxygen.  Dune bashing entails piloting a rugged SUV through the dunes as fast as possible.  Our hosts divided our group into teams of five, and we each climbed into a brand new Land Cruiser driven by a kandura-wearing local.  I wangled the shotgun seat and tried to strike up a conversation with our driver, but he seemed far more interested in fiddling with the music.  After about 30 minutes of driving southeast of the city, our line of Land Cruisers abruptly pulled off the highway and into a catchment area where the drivers got out to let air out of the tires.  Decreasing the air pressure increases the tire’s footprint on the sand, thus maximizing offroad traction on the dunes.  He instructed us to keep our hands at our sides and our fingers away from the roll cage that had been constructed inside the luxury vehicle.  This makes sense—if the car rolled, it would be easy to crush a finger or limb between the bar and the vehicle’s skin.

Land Cruiser convention?

Dune bashing may not sound like much fun, but there is something satisfying about powering sideways up a massive sand wall only to dive down the other side.  We bulled our way through the desert, stopping for a while to watch the sun setting over the massive sea of sand.  As night fell around us, our drivers used on-board compressors to re-inflate the tires.  We pulled into a makeshift oasis where aides-de-camp had set up low tables surrounding a raised platform.  We sipped sweet tea, nibbled on grape leaves and smelled the lamb and rice cooking as vendors hawked shishah and henna.  As we feasted, we were entertained by a belly dancer and whirling dervish.  Tomorrow, we'll hear from a Microsoft executive who expatriated from Seattle, then visit the Emirates Airlines training center.  In the mean time, see if you can watch this all the way through without getting dizzy.  

Dubai-ous honor

Bet you thought I'd forgotten about you!

Nope.  But when K and I kicked off this blog, one of our observations was that we simply didn't have anything of note to share.  Since our epic road adventure last year, that has largely been the case.  One could say that having our main floor flood with black water back in October would qualify as an event.  Or, my going back to school, a feat that amazed everyone (not least myself).  Or, our bringing home a delightful, if painfully high-maintenance, puppy, Pippa.

I don't look high-maintenance, do I?

All this is endlessly diverting to me and K, but they are events that very well could have taken place in one or many of your households.  I mean, whose house doesn't flood these days, right?  Given my crazy schedule, we haven't had much time for excursing ourselves somewhere nifty.  Until now.

Thanks to the forced-march curriculum of the Foster EMBA program, I am now spending the next few days in Dubai, UAE, then hopping down to Chennai, India for another five days.  All of this, I'm told, is intended to teach me that doing business in different cultures requires something called "cultural sensitivity" or the ability to "adapt".  I'm an American, however, and in my previous four years working overseas I've already learned that no matter how hard I try to blend, natives are going to follow me around trying to get me to buy worthless tchotchkes in the street.  I also know that I will be mocked (at least behind my back) for trying to speak the language no matter how many Rosetta Stone tapes through which I sleep.   No matter.  The trip is a program requirement, so here I am, endless hours of airplane food and subway stops later, ready to hit the ground running here in Dubai.

Now that I'm here, I've learned that Dubai is not a typical Arab country.  The mastermind behind Dubai's mushrooming success as a global financial and commercial hub is none other than its fearless leader, Sheikh Mohammed.  Unlike other emirs who used their vast oil resources to build themselves platinum-plated 747's or pave their palace grounds with diamonds, Sheikh Muhammad had a vision for turning Dubai into a "hub of hubs" under a policy of treating all economies equally.  Starting as head of security and police, he expanded his purview to become head of the Department of Oil.  He used his role, and his vast wealth, to grow his emirate.  Key in all Mohammed's investments was pulling Dubai away from oil dependency.  He established "free zones" where businesses could set up shop as 100% owners with 0% tax.  He established a real estate company to build man-made islands, expanding Dubai's "coastline" with over 600 miles of premium-priced real estate.  He funded the world's first "seven-star" hotel, the Burj al Arab.  And, as if that wasn't enough, he built the world's tallest building, the Burj Khalifa, connected to the world's biggest shopping mall.  Culturally, he extended his open philosophy to all cultures and beliefs, resulting in a population that is over 80% expatriate.

There's THIS much opportunity here!

Starting to get the picture?

The result is a shining, clean metropolis in the desert.  The metro runs everywhere, on time all the time.  Highways are Texas-caliber, all the better to let the glitterati cruise around in their silly-expensive cars.  I intend to learn, as best I can, whether this is truly a shining example of capitalism done well, or if there isn't some sort of seamy underbelly making the whole thing fly.  Was the Burj built with the tears of 9 year olds?  Does Emirates carry trafficked children in its holds?  I hope not, but I intend to learn as much as I can in my short time here.  In the mean time, Day One went pretty well.  Witness my relaxing post-prandial hookah.

Ringside for belly dancing

Once I charge my phone, I'll share my video of dune racing in a tricked out Land Cruiser through the desert.  In the mean time, I bid you:

"Leyla Saida!"

That means "Good Night" in Arabic!

Denouement

If you don't feel like reading through the maudlin close to our trip, you can skip straight to the photo journal here.

Our re-entry back to reality was a bit more painful than we'd expected.  Between two delightful house guests, my first full day of school, two packed weeks of work and a whirlwind evacuation to San Francisco, it has taken me longer to put a bow on our epic road trip.  

And epic it was.  We were both expecting to have a great time, or we wouldn't have gone in the first place.  We had no idea, however, that almost every day would be a completely different adventure.  From dipping ourselves into steamy hot springs to cooling ourselves in mountain streams, we sampled as much as we could without completely wearing out our respective hosts.  For this, we owe quite a few shout-outs:

Amara:  "Rest-stop rock star" sounded good in my brain, but saying that aloud makes me think of something nasty.  Let's just leave it at: thank you for meeting us at the "Good Foods Store", which really should be called "What Whole Foods Dreams It Could Be".

Meagan and Keith:  You have a great spot out there in Kelly.  Rockin' BBQ, and thank you for the almost skinny dip!

Melissa, Jason and Ella:  We decided that your back porch could easily be rented to summer punters for the price of a luxury suite.  Babbling brook indeed!  Oh, and we'll be back for you someday, Ella.

Rob, Aly and Bessie:  Two words:  soup dumpling.  Katelyn and I concluded that we don't think we've ever tasted anything better.  Ever.  And thank you again for the wine surprise in Walla Walla.

Tiff and Evan:  SUP!  Thank you for donating your gear room, and for showing us a month's worth of Crested Butte in four days.  Watch out for those bears!

To our families and bosses, thank you for looking the other way while we were out of commission for three weeks.  We'll make it up to you...someday.  

In the mean time, thank you for following along.  We'll continue to post every here or there just to keep you abreast of our far less interesting adventures.  Until the next big one, at least.

For those who missed the link above, you can look at the entire trip, with geotags, here:

https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=101997343857469889191&target=ALBUM&id=5781147559710978033&locked=true&authkey=Gv1sRgCPDx5OOZra2cSQ&feat=email

Greetings from the Land of Many Waters

Today finds us at our penultimate destination, one we've been eagerly anticipating notwithstanding all of our exciting adventures to date:  Walla Walla wine country!

When we were locking down our itinerary, which, in typical fashion, was roughly three weeks before our departure, K got a tip from a family friend concerning a bed and breakfast that looked too good to be true.  The Cameo Heights Mansion is situated roughly twenty miles west of Walla Walla proper, overlooking a massive apple orchard and not much else.  I'm not generally a B&B guy.  There are few homes where I feel comfortable spending a couple of nights other than my own, and those belong to my best friends and family.  Since B&B's are usually in some stranger's home, they are somewhat low on my list of preferred vacation spots.  

Our table for two, looking toward Walla Walla

Leave it to K, then, to lock in one of the plushest, most accommodating B&B's on the planet.  Want an en suite jetted tub, rain shower, in-wall flat-screen and fireplace?  You'll find one in every room.  Full pool area with hot tub, and they won't kick you out late at night (we tested this one!).  Cinema room with 100" projection TV and popcorn machine?  Done.  Last night we sampled The Vine, the Mansion's on-site chef's table dining room, and gorged ourselves silly.  I can't emphasize enough how much work and energy Alan and Deanne put into maintaining the facility.  From the homemade danish they present at your door alongside coffee or spiced cocoa first thing in the morning, to the box of housemade chocolates and handmade soap kit that comes gift-wrapped in every room, they missed no detail.  Best B&B ever!

Now THAT'S a burger!

Last night's dinner represented the tip of our gustatory iceberg.  We finished the evening by relaxing in the hot tub, sipping on a Carmenere and watching shooting stars zip through the Milky Way as coyotes howled in the distance.  This morning, we were greeted with a breakfast of hand-picked fruit salad, lemon curd French Toast draped with local peaches served alongside thick-sliced apple-smoked ham.  

We burped our way out the door, embarking on a full day of wine tasting up and down the valley.  For those not in the know, Walla Walla (aka Many Waters), renown for sweet onions, cherries and apples, has started to gain the world's attention when it comes to fermented grape juice.  Accustomed to the pomp and attitude that we often experience during our annual Thanksgiving trips to Napa, we were delighted with the friendly, down-to-earth reception we received at every single stop.  Where Napa tastings generally go for $20, you either pay $5 or not at all here.  While a few of the fancier bottles can command three-figure stickers, it's unusual to see most of the high-end stuff go for north of $50.  And let me tell you:  This juice is GOOD.  I get excited about these things, but K is generally harder to please.  I know when I see her swoon...and she swooned a lot...that we're striking gold.  

K is for...

From Woodward Canyon and K (special thanks to Rob and Aly of previous post's fame, for steering us toward these tastings and lavishing us with excellent surprise gifts!) to Dunham and Syzygy, we sipped our way through the dry, pleasant eastern Washington heat, thankful for the Breathalyzer in the truckster's glove box.  After a dynamite dinner at the Green Spoon, we retreated to our suite at the Mansion.  We are now trying to pretend we don't have to go back to the real world tomorrow and debating whether to pop some corn and watch a movie, roast S'Mores in the firepit outside, or soak in the enormous tub.  How much do you want to bet we'll do all three?  

With a nice glass of wine, of course.

Cheers!

Goin' Out West

Since we've just about run out of new outdoor activities to try (and, more importantly, I have pushed the limits of consecutive days-out-of-office/school), with no small measure of sadness, this morning we loaded up the doughty truckster and started our trek back to the Northwest.  Not before a little excitement of the Ursidae variety, however.   As you may recall from our Yellowstone exploits, everywhere we've gone in the Great Outdoors, we've been warned about large mammals that could very well tear us to shreds.  We missed a mama black bear and her two cubs in Jackson by mere minutes, according to fellow trekkers coming both up and down the trail.  

The most vicious beast we
encountered in Jackson

How ironic, then, that our closest encounter with something that might kill us (other than flaky mountain rocks and lake water) found us in our native habitat:  our friend's apartment.  We had originally planned on sleeping on the back porch, but had been warned that might not be such a great idea since bears had been spotted in the 'hood.  Last night, at around 3AM, K poked me vigorously.  "There's a bear out there!" she exclaimed.  I'm not usually at my most acute at that delicate hour, but I remember thinking, "So, what, exactly, do you want me to do about it?"  We didn't appear to be in imminent danger, so I decided the best course of action was to turn over and go back to sleep.

Later this morning, we discovered that our foolish next-door neighbor had left bags of garbage on the street for collection, despite a clear local ordinance requiring bear-proofed containers. I should note that this neighbor was undoubtedly an urbanite there on holiday, not one of the smarter locals.  In any case, the bear didn't climb the stairs to our back porch, and neither K nor I were eaten.

We did, however, witness one of the largest organisms in the world on our way out of town.  Would you believe, it wasn't a bear!  Believe it or not, Aspen tree forests are not groups of stand-alone trees, but clumps of trees all connected to a single root system.  The grove below is a smidge of what we drove through as we wound down Kepler Pass toward Delta.  

After a 750 mile cruise through Colorado, Utah and half of Idaho, we're holed up in the surprisingly cushy Boise Hampton Inn.  Tomorrow: Walla Walla!  

This must be where James Cameron picked up his Hometree inspiration for Avatar

Kiss my Butte

Two posts in one day?  I must really hate doing homework!  (Sorry, Professor Au)   But I couldn't resist chiming in, because we just returned from the top of Crested Butte.

Now, before I met K, my definition of a scramble was something that came from eggs, veggies and some sort of ground meat.  Hopefully bacon.  But now that I'm married to a former mountain girl, my world has been opened up to all sorts of new adventures.  Witness our route:  

Red line added to highlight danger

I should have thought to be nervous when Tiff offered me her extra helmet, then asked if I had a rope and harness.  I didn't, but my gearhead wife happened to have one in the truckster.  So, off we went.

Not much of a story here, but I wanted to share a few fun shots of our ascent. Oh...and we all made it down uninjured!

We're going that way!

Peak in sight!

Taking a breather

Diving Board!

Tree pose at the peak!

SUP, Crusty Butt!

After eating our way through Denver (think:  gorgeous leg of lamb Friday night, soup dumplings filled with Gruyere, Brussels with ground pork and mint Saturday night, and, to cap it all, TOMATOFEST on Sunday), we squeezed ourselves back into the doughty truckster and pointed toward Crested Butte.

Five minutes later, we were immersed in that enormous thunderstorm.  Gotta love brand new tires!

Chilling on a CB art bench

With apologies to those we visited in Jackson and Denver, Crested Butte finally fits my mental image of a "mountain town".  Although Jackson has the Tetons in the background, and Denver has a large range off to the west, CB is completely surrounded by towering peaks.  While Jackson may have an "Old West" feel to it, it also has more than its share of city amenities, like McDonalds, art associations and cultural centers.  CB, by contrast, can be walked from stem to stern in the space of an hour.  There's one bank (the Crested Butte Savings and Loan) and a smattering of restaurants, but the closest Mickey D's is in Gunnison about 30 minutes away.  Now we can truly say we've gotten away from it all!

SUP, yo!

Yesterday, K's rock-star friend Tiff taught us how to stand-up paddle on Lake Irwin.  For those who haven't yet tried to SUP (as those in the know call it), it's basically standing on a surfboard while trying not to flip it over, then using a paddle to avoid ski boats, sharks and other SUP'ers.  You do all this by using your 'core'.  I'd always thought a core was the center of an apple, or the thing that melts down in nuclear power plants.  Apparently, it's also what people in shape use to not make fools of themselves.  As athletes who bother to exercise on a regular basis, K and Tiff were happily paddling around the lake in no time at all.  I managed to stay on the board, but not without straining dozens of muscles that I hadn't used since my failed attempt at windsurfing roughly 20 years ago.  Never mind that...I exercised!  Mom would be so proud.

Today, we're headed up the Guide's Ridge on Mt. Crested Butte.  Let's see how many of those muscles are still operational.