When one is a Lady Who Lunches on vegetarian thali at the mall food court

The last time I was in town, it was in the throes of ramadan and everything was closed, everyone was sleepy with fasting, and nothing happened until after the sunset ezzan. This time, the city is quite mad, with glitzy abaya'd Emirati mall rats filling the boutiques and cafes, tinted-window'd fast cars honking their way at full tilt into traffic jams, and construction crews tearing down and rebuilding larger versions of what they tore down and rebuilt a few months ago. Everything exists within private cars and shopping malls. Everything else is peripheral and irrelevant. I tend to dwell in that realm, much to the horror of my sense of self preservation.

Yesterday I decided to walk to yoga, to get a dose of hot, wet air flavoured with lung clearing oils, and to ensure the flexibility and strength of my body in a city where no one actually moves. The walk is a simple one, following the curves of a few main roads for about 45 minutes- still less than half of my daily commute in Istanbul and 98% flatter. However, unlike Istanbul, one is never guaranteed a sidewalk in Dubai. They just disappear into huge walls of construction sites, or into cordoned off holes that force you out into the 6 lanes of traffic, or into sand dune empty lots where shards of glass and stones work their way into your shoes. Sometimes there are traffic lights when you want to cross; more often than not, there aren't. And when there are, there is no guarantee that the tinted late-model car driven by the woman clad head to toe (including eyes and nose) in black will actually slow down or stop or not put palm to horn in a non-stop warning to you to get out of their way. Apparently it isn't actually illegal for the locals to mow down foreigners.

I made it intact to the yoga, did my poses, cleared my lungs, and made the return trip back. At many points, I was progressing faster than those in cars.

I really really really don't know how people can bear it.