That Time in the United Arab Emirates…

Writing Life: 2

I can’t quite recall how it happened, but somehow, my enterprising literary agent, Beverley Slopen, finagled an invitation for me on behalf of the Ruler of Sharjah in the United Arab Emirates (UAE) no less, to participate in the 2016 Sharjah International Book Fair. I was an unlikely candidate for his auspicious honour. My novels were certainly not available for purchase in the UAE, my grasp of Arabic was limited (read non-existent), and my international profile as a writer (or as anything else) was negligible (again, read non-existent). It seemed the organizers were interested in expanding the complement of international writers at the event, and since I was a Canadian writer, that made me, in their eyes, an international writer… perhaps even exotic.

I said “yes” before finishing the invitation letter. When, in my lifetime, would I ever have the opportunity to visit Dubai and neighbouring Sharjah, all expenses paid, including a Business Class flight on the UAE’s national airline, Emirates? Even though the adventure would not likely have many (or any) direct domestic beneficial effects on my writing career, it was still a chance to visit a part of the world I’d never seen before. So… “yes!”

Sharjah is a short drive up the coast northeast of Dubai, where our flight would land.

We’d arranged to ship to the book fair organizers a supply of my then current novel and my backlist, to sell during the event, because outside of Canada, my novels are hard to come by—you know, back to my negligible international reputation etc., etc. I’d been scheduled to do a number of events at the book fair (that number was two if you don’t count various receptions) including a panel discussion with other writers and a talk at the American University of Sharjah.

When you fly Business Class, your adventure begins when you get to the airport, not when you land at your destination. The Emirates lounge was lovely, and I decided I would try my best to make the transition from traditional cattle-car economy-class passenger to luxury Business Class international jetsetter. I survived the ordeal. We were flying on the then new Airbus A380 double-decker jumbo jet. It was enormous and likely created its own gravitational field. Because I was in Business Class (for once in my life), we had a separate skyway entrance directly into the upper deck of the plane, so we didn’t have to mingle with the great unwashed in steerage below. In fact, we never laid eyes on them. It did take a while to walk all the way back to the bar in the aft section of the plane (sigh). (See how well I made the transition to Business Class?)

My seat and the bar (yes, the bar) on the Airbus A380.

My seat was just about as large as my first bachelor apartment in Ottawa when I worked on Parliament Hill all those years ago. And man do they take care of you. Drinks, gourmet meals, drinks, after dinner chocolate, drinks, large screen for movies, drinks, snacks, drinks, and turn-down service. You think I’m kidding about the turn-down service, don’t you? Nope. At the appointed hour, the flight attendant asked me to stand in the aisle briefly while she turned my plush, cushy, luxury seat into a fully horizontal single bed with a thick memory foam mattress. I’d never seen anything like it. I crawled in under the covers, donned my complimentary Emirates noise-cancelling headphones and slept better than I usually do in my own bed.

On Air Canada you pay for those little plastic earbuds. But on Emirates, they give you these babies to keep.

Then it was time for breakfast. The meals served on this flight were amazing. The dinner was as good as any high-end restaurant’s fare. And the breakfast the next morning was also memorable. If for some reason I was unable to set foot on UAE soil and had to turnaround and fly directly back to Toronto from the Dubai airport, I’d have still considered the trip a great experience.

Dinner. Breakfast.

I should also mention that I was flying with a fellow Canadian writer who was also attending the Book Fair. Rupi Kaur had taken the world by storm with her first poetry collection milk and honey. She was already a literary rockstar drawing huge sellout crowds in the U.S. and other countries. She’s continued her ascent since. It was fun to meet her and hang out a bit during our travels.

When we arrived in Dubai, we were met and whisked through Customs in the express lane. Then limos drove us to Sharjah a half-hour up the road from Dubai. I wondered if the hotel they were putting us up in could match the luxury I’d enjoyed for the 13-hour flight. I need not have worried. The hotel was wonderful.

The view from my hotel room.

The glorious hotel pool overlooking the Arabian Gulf.

In Sharjah—or I’m told anywhere in the UAE—cultures collide. This played out before my eyes while lounging by the pool one day. Sitting next to me was a German woman in a string bikini. On the chaise lounge on the other side of me was a Muslim woman wearing what I’m told is called a “burkini”—a bathing suit that covered everything except for her face, hands, and feet. There are countless examples of this kind of cultural juxtaposition everywhere you go in the UAE. Fascinating.

The day after I arrived, I gave a talk at the American University of Sharjah. I was accompanied by my minder, a young woman who’d been assigned to escort me to my events and ensure I didn’t stumble into any mishaps—a tendency with which I’ve lived for most of my life.

The building in which I spoke at the American University of Sharjah.

The talk seemed to go well, though it was slightly delayed while they rounded up unsuspecting faculty members and perhaps some of the janitorial staff to join the audience (or more accurately be the audience). We Canadian novelists are quite accustomed to speaking in front of small crowds so I was right at home. We sold a few books afterwards and I signed them. They were all very warm and welcoming.

The next day was my panel discussion. I hadn’t really understood the format until I arrived at the venue. I’d be participating in a moderated discussion with two other writers.

The panel would be conducted in Arabic. I already mentioned the only Arabic words I know are for different foods I’d eaten in the previous day or so. Needless to say, the panel was not about the cuisine of Sharjah. It was on the life of the professional writer. When I arrived, I was promptly given a headset to wear so I could hear the Arabic to English simultaneous translation and have some sense of what I was to talk about.

My panel discussion and my minder who traveled with me most of the time.

It was a little odd to be making sustained eye contact with the youngish Egyptian (as I recall) woman, a respected television presenter, a she asked my questions, and then hear the voice of an older man in my earbuds translating her words into English. I got the hang of it and we proceeded without incident. I learned to speak more slowly and pause now and then to let the translator catch up. It all seemed to go well and there was lots of discussion afterwards, too.

I flew home a couple of days later understanding more about the Middle East and still marvelling at how Dubai, Sharjah, and other cities in the UAE literally rose out of the desert in a very short span of time. Where there was once nothing but sand, there are now bustling, modern, cosmopolitan cities. That took vision, ingenuity, commitment, and endless effort. The results are impressive.

I doubt I sold any more books in Canada because of my UAE adventure. But I certainly learned a lot and it did lead directly to including a pivotal scene in my seventh novel, Albatross, in Dubai. I had no idea when I penned my first novel that it might one day lead to five days in the UAE. Who knew?

Stay tuned. More to come.