first glimpse of al ain

Imane, our local facilitator, directed us toward the entrance of the hotel as she rapid-fired instructions for retrieving her car and obtaining taxis for the 10 minute ride to Al Ain Mall for lunch.  After a morning of meetings in a small conference room in the hotel that would be our workspace for the month, we were eager to get out.  We would eventually arrive at a lavish curtained cafe with low tables surrounded by couches and regular tables with mismatched wooden chairs.  Glass-doored refrigerators filled with pasteries, cakes, petit fours lined the rose wallpapered walls around gleaming glass cases filled with additional confections.  A riot of rose, lavender and mint-green lights filled the ceiling.  The overall effect was a Shabby Chic meets Lawrence of Arabia style made disconcerting by the Shakespeare & Co name on the sign.  At a back table, three abaya-clad women huddled around a young boy.  Two men in Western clothes sat at the opposite end of their table.  Another pair of men slouched on couches near the entrance, folds of white fabric spilling around them, talking over coffee and a small white plate of cookies.

We would learn that Imane is from Morocco, obtained her MBA in Washington DC and now lives in Dubai.  She spoke rapidly, her voice rising and falling with emphasis as her hands wound circles to emphasize her points.  She talked of trips to Morocco, Paris, London, Nepal; friends who worked for fine hotels and World Bank; her young marriage of 4 years; and her love of classical music and Vienna.  She emphasized that the real speed limit on the road between Dubai and Al Ain is 140, not the 120 posted on signs.  And yet, her smooth olive skin, brown curls down her back and chocolate eyes suggested she had scarcely had enough time to obtain her vast worldly experience.

When we eventually strolled back into the gleaming mall, it had become far more crowded than when we had arrived.  The bleached white fabrics of men and black shrouds of women drifted around our group in every direction, like ghosts swirling through an otherwise colorful retail scene.  Flat moving sidewalks glided their passengers diagonally across space toward the second and third floors.  Even among the all-black women's clothes, there was startling variety:  intricate flowered beading, lace, black sequins, fully covered faces, a small rectangle of eyes and skin or faces showing.  Occasionally, I would spy a shoe:  black stillettos, sneakers, plastic flip flops.  The team met back at a small indoor ice skating rink where Emirate children griped walkers to stay upright under the watchful eye of their parents.

We decided to visit the Palace of Sheikh Zayed, the first President of UAE and beloved ruler who united the Emirates into today's federation.  He was born in Al Ain and his former home is now a museum that opened in 2001.  As he wished, the Sheikh Zayed Palace is maintained as he lived in it during 1937 to 1966, as a reflection of the culture prior to the boom of oil wealth.  Today, prolific construction expands Al Ain across the sand, not into the sky, because the Sheikh decreed that no buildings could be taller than the palace.

The simple, austere concrete structure included a dispersed set of rooms, most without furniture, around a large central courtyard with a well and low desert flowers and succulents.

Courtyard from inside facing main gate

Palace tower from outside

Internal courtyard

In some rooms, large pillows were set around the perimeter of the room or a woven grass floor covering was adorned with carpets. Upstairs bedrooms for the Sheikh, Sheikha Fatima and children included only a small bed.  As the sun set over the palace, the sun gleamed cast shadows through wooden railings and the burnt orange painted concrete began to glow.  #ibmcsc uae

Coffee room

Receiving room for guests

Setting sun pattern through railing on upper banister