Today I...heard the call to prayer

And when I did it just happened to be on the Muslim holy day and I just happened to be in the oldest building that exists in Dubai. It was built in 1896 and inhabited by the al-Maktoum family, the ruling family in Dubai, until 1958.

Dubai is like Calgary in one significant way; it bulldozes and demolishes its historical buildings to make room for bigger, taller, shinier with no regard for history or culture. There is evidence of human settlement in the area as far back as 8000 BC, yet this is a city without history. Its people have history, but the place does not.

It was a scorching hot desert day. There was no one there except for one woman and one man in full traditional dress. I was standing in a sandy courtyard, surrounded by buildings the colour of the sand. The sun was so intense I had to stand still just to be able to breath. And looking around I could not see a single sky scraper. Or grand hotel. Or luxury condo tower. Or high end car. Or shopping centre. All I could see was desert, and sky.

And then I heard a voice that stopped me in my tracks. It sounded ancient and mournful and fervent. And while it did not help me understand a culture that I continue to be baffled by, I did in that moment feel and understand the power of ancient devotion to an ancient religion.

However, I have to say, why one would subscribe to what (in my very biased very Western view) is a punishing faith in an already punishing climate and a punishing existance I cannot comprehend.

Dubai is to the Middle East what Singapore is to Asia. It is the "light" version. The Coles Notes. There are amazing buildings designed by amazing architects. Soon enough "The World's Largest..." everything will be here. It is brighter and bigger and newer and more expensive and more outlandish than anything you could possibly imagine emerging from the Middle East.

But then I get on the elevator with 5 or 6 men in traditional Dish-dash and it feels like I am so foreign in such a foreign land.

Or I walk along Dubai Creek in Bastakiya - just a tourist doing the tourist thing - and I am not only the only caucasian amoung thousands and thousands of people. I am the only woman.

And no one harrassed me. I was grateful for my mirrored shades so I could let my gaze travel where it would without worrying about making eye contact. But I could see how they looked at me - many amused, some clearly affronted by my brazeness, some I just don't want to think about what thoughts lay behind their eyes. And some spoke loudly in my direction. But having no idea what they'd said I just carried on. Shoulders back, head high, walking with purpose like I knew exactly where I was going.

And even though that was uncomfortable and disconcerting I cannot wrap my mind around the alternative. When I see a woman in full Abaya and Hijab I have a very strong reaction emotionally. And when I see a woman in full burkah it is even stronger. It is amazing how it feels like a physical barrier. Like I can't look them in the eye or speak to them. Which isn't the case at all.

I feel afronted by it though. I feel indignant and rebellious and angry on behalf of these women who are forced into darkness and silence and invisibility. But I know that is my Western perspective and while many of them merely accept it, apparently many of them prefer it.

I am grateful to have had this gentle introduction given that I am going to be in Cairo during Ramadan and - given the development possibilities in the works - I could be working in much more stringent and intense cultures very soon.

Today I...am more grateful than ever to have been born when I was, where I was.