Sleep deprivation was certainly something we didn't suffer from on this trip. After a good rest in a comfy bed in a huge bedroom, we were ready for the desert safari and some dune bashing. 
All 4WD's were lined up, engines revving . . . 
Ready or not, we're in for a roller coaster ride . . .
Our driver took vicarious pleasure in seeking out the steepest slopes, flooring the gas pedal giving it his all, to the thrill of screamers and moaners. 
You've heard of Tokyo Drift, the movie about illegal street drift racing, well this was Dubai Drift, skidding on 60-degree dune slopes and spewing sand. 
When we reached the middle of nowhere all the 4WD's halted almost in unison, perched up high on dune ridges as far as the eye could see.
These two kutus added to the entertainment by pushing unsuspecting tourists, most of whom were still gaping at the expanse of desert before them, tumbling down slopes and scaring the girls with a desert snake that was of course a rubber toy.
The sand was cool to the touch and ever so fine. One can understand why the traditional robes are the most practical for this terrain - keeps the sand out in sand storms and allows easy shaking out of grating sand if you happen to get your knickers in a twist. 
Overwhelmed, an over exuberant tourist came running barefoot down the dune, much to the consternation of her grown children. "Mother behave!"
We met a couple of Malaysian youngsters, chefs in fact, who were working at Atlantis, The Palm. They had just graduated from chef school, the guy a pastry chef trained in Switzerland, the girl trained in Malaysia, bagged their first jobs at this recently opened resort. 
They were obviously enjoying their life in Dubai and were on leave for Chinese New Year. They proudly informed us that their hotel was having a buffet promotion for 160 AED (cheap by Dubai standards) at the Saffron Restaurant. Not to be missed as nasi lemak and laksa were on the menu.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the wind chill factor stiffened our joints, the allure of a warm desert dinner beckoned. 
At the camp a barbecue, hot coffee and tea were ready to be served. The PA system crackled a welcome and invited guests to enjoy the dinner. It was requested, however that men and women use separate serving stations. There was some confusion at first, as most were from the secular world, not minding to elbow in with the opposite sex. In the interim, the men had filled their bellies, while the women were still queueing! Didn't it occur to the women to move to the empty station when the men were done? Go figure! 
The most adroit were the Koreans. I spied with my little eye, a group slurping on their cup noodles well before any food station was opened or any queue was formed. No worries about unisex queues mate, we invented food on-the-go! 
When comely belly dancer, Mona, appeared in her titillating tasseled pink gear strutting her stuff, the crowd were enthralled. She manoeuvred across the floor like a desert snake and gave meaning to the term 'table top dancing'. 
The men were jumping onto the stage without hesitation. Well they had been well fed, while the women were still queueing.
. . . this time with a horse, who showed a keen interest in her belly as she worked it in a shimmering gold translucent gown. 
Camel was not amused by all this fanfare and was ready to go back to his tent after a long photo shoot.
Passing the blur of city lights, joints stiffened not only by the desert wind but also by sitting on the carpeted floor for 2 hours eating and watching Mona do her thing, we were ready for bed like the camel. 
In contrast, downtown living for migrant workers goes by bed space, not sq ft. So roomies it is for about 6000 AED! If you thought that was expensive, this is where it gets really surreal . . . shared bed space is also an option, ie. shift workers have a choice of am or pm! I wonder, do they change bedsheets when they take over the bed? Where do they keep their stuff? Our young Malaysians don't realise what a cushy life they lead. Its so much easier being a Mat Rempit isnt it?
