Halloween in Dubai

The Dubai International Financial Center is a combination of glass, lights and expats. It is defined by a structure which looks like the arch of the business district of Paris and creates a New York-like microcosm in the middle of what only a decade ago was an indistinguishable patch of desert. Inside this desert financial center hide fast food joints, snazzy restaurants, contemporary art galleries, chic hotels and everything else that makes it an antithesis for what you would one expect to find in the relatively conservative Emirates.

Western culture and habits, for better or worse, seem to have defined, permeated and invaded everything. British accents are ricocheting off the glass walls, containing the odors of fried chicken, and escalators rushing expats from all over the world up to the their exaggerated paychecks and dreams to making it big if not at in their own countries, than here, in the Gulf. If it sounds like the American dream, it is. To be fair, let's call it the Dubai dream.

With only ten percent local Emirati population, it is no wonder that Western customs and habits did not take long to transform Dubai and its financial center in a very much occidental construct. While the local stock markets operate with respect to Ramadan, Eid and other Muslim holidays, they don't skip an opportunity to celebrate Halloween, which in the neighbouring Saudi Arabia would be considered witchcraft, in some cases punishable by death penalty.

It's 31 October and downstairs of the DIFC, Halloween celebrations are in full swing. Upstairs, some British or French expat is probably still crunching their spreadsheets, praying that the numbers will add up and liberate them to the bliss of the sleek lounge to find their pumpkin. Here, at Zumba lounge, Halloween is taken with all the seriousness it deserves. All the waiters and bartenders have their faces painted and are going about their business with the some serious energy. A middle aged chinese waitress looks somewhat curious with sparkles all over her face, like a ten old who has outgrown her party outfit a few years ago.

At the bar, overmaked-up women of all ages are shaking their - either very well supported or outright remodeled breasts - to the sound of the tam-tam, played by an afroboy or an afroboy-wanna-be. Gold visas are being swiped with the speed of lightening. Packs of cigarettes are disappearing in their own smoke. Blackberries are buzzing distracting their owners from their cigarettes. The bar is moving to the noise of cocktail shakers, tunes of the DJ and echoes of conversations.

A half-moon is hanging over a nearby skyscraper as if to prove that there are no limits to to verticality. Surely, Sheikh Mohammed will shortly announce something taller, wider, louder, more grandiose than all the preceding towers. That one will surely reach the moon. If only the fourteen billion of Dubai Holding debt maturing next year were a mirage. Was Burj Al Khalifa worth it? History will show us, though research already shows that considering its construction costs, the break-even point for the tower is also somewhat of a mirage.

Halloween has drowned out the Dubai crisis, the global financial crisis, the Greek debt crisis. Here, at the Dubai Financial Center, there is no crisis, just a party. And the party is clearly on, here, at least as much if not more than, in Paris or New York. Are a bunch of skyscrapers, bedouins, expats and a half moon enough to light up the night? Are they genuinely happy to be there or is being out and seen an obligation as much as social receptions were the duty of the British and the French nobility? What do these people do during the day that makes them so alive at night?

The financial crisis, the Palestinian -Israeli conflict, the real estate meltdown are mixing in their glasses and seem to be going down rather well. Is it possible that all these drinks are meant to drown out their solitude on the other side of planet earth than where they really want to be? Are they trying to prove to themselves that life goes on even in the desert, that we can all hide behind a halloween mask and return to the careless lightness of our childhood?

But, that is precisely the question. Can we drown out the feeling of not being in the right place at the right time? That same evening, walking back from the party, I cut myself which would be no big deal in Paris, London or New York or even in some less glamorous places. In Dubai though, some hotels are owned by pious Emiratis are dry, devoid even of rubbing alcohol. No vodka, no gin, no wine and no rubbing alcohol. And then it occurred to me that no efforts to remake the desert into something it is not can be full proof. Here in Dubai, even on Halloween Occident and Orient can only co-exist to an extent. Trick or teat anybody?