Dubai - Peti's Perspective
Our friend Peti joined us on Bali for a bit. She set off from Slovakia shortly after we did, and we invited her to share her own travel stories and impressions here.
How it All Began (Or: The Price of Not Planning)
You know the drill: you book your dream tickets to some exotic destination six months out, and then you just count down the days, daydreaming and planning every detail… honestly, I’m jealous. My experience was the polar opposite. But hey, that’s not what this blog is about.
Somehow, departure day finally rolled around. The morning started exactly like the last few—a massive meltdown over what was for breakfast. Not mine, mind you, but my 5-year-old son Samko’s. He’s the one brave soul joining me on this month-long… let’s call it a “vacation” (for lack of a better word to describe trekking into the unknown with a preschooler).
After the mandatory “must-have” tantrum and a few other minor catastrophes, we finally managed to lug our suitcases into my dad’s car, and he dropped us off at the Nivy bus station. We decided to roll the dice with Slovak Lines—even though our national carriers haven’t exactly been winning any awards lately—and it actually turned out great. The driver was super nice, the ticket girl was lovely, the bus was clean, and we arrived right on time. A perfect start. Since we were rushing, we ended up with about three hours to kill at the airport, but it flew by. I still remember the days of those super strict security checks where you had to strip your backpack of every single liquid and electronic device, but if you’re a “better safe than sorry” type, you can relax now. I didn’t take a single thing out. We had bags full of food, fruit, and gadgets in our carry-ons, and nobody batted an eye. Just remember: no batteries, power banks, or vapes in your checked luggage!
The first leg of the journey ended in Dubai. Samko basically spent the entire flight glued to cartoons (thanks, Emirates) and refused to eat anything provided except for the cakes. Fantastic combo. But for the sake of my own sanity, I decided to save the “real food” battles for later.
We touched down in Dubai around midnight. The whole thing would have been way smoother if I’d actually been prepared. Specifically, I hadn’t figured out my internet situation. I’ve made this mistake so many times and apparently never learn… well, he who fails to plan, pays the price. Today, I just settled a beautiful €100 bill from my carrier. Ouch. So, pro tip: set up international roaming ahead of time. For €10, you can get 4GB and call a Bolt just like you’re at home. Those few MBs cost me €50. Total fail. They were even handing out free SIM cards with data at the airport, but for some reason, I decided that texting them my birth date to activate it was “too dangerous” (it never occurred to me to just use a fake date, oh my sweet innocent soul… especially since my Chinese phone is totally “safe,” right?). The Seyds used them and said they were fine, so there’s that. I wouldn’t 100% count on the locals being that generous every day, though. Seriously, just spend the €10 upfront rather than €50+ later. Plus, that roaming worked for Bali too.
We had one full day in Dubai before our 9 AM flight to Bali the following morning.
In hindsight, here’s how I should have done it: book a nice hotel with a pool and just spend the day lounging. Maybe take a quick trip to the Burj Khalifa to see the fountain, snap my first 100 photos, and head back. End of story. Shukran. Ma’a salama. (Thank you. Goodbye.)
But no. I had to be “adventurous” from day one. Without a plan. Naturally.
We wandered out of the hotel around noon. Side note: we missed breakfast, so we hadn’t eaten in about 14 hours. We were hit with a lovely 104°F (40°C) heatwave. Just yesterday, we were in 41°F weather, so the difference was… tangible. Literally. And for reasons I still don’t understand, I still hadn’t activated my roaming, so we hit the streets without internet. Looking back, I really don’t get it. I think my brain stayed in a different time zone. The combination of jet lag and the heat just fried my hardware.
So, here I am, roaming the streets of Dubai with a 5-year-old, no internet, and absolutely starving. At least I had the foresight to exchange some cash at the airport. Small wins! I started hunting for a grocery store, but our hotel was in Deira. It’s near the airport, but it feels more like an industrial district. It’s packed with wholesalers where you can buy a ton of coffee or spices, but not exactly a buttered roll. There aren’t many tourists in this part of town either, so we definitely stood out. It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling. This isn’t my first time in a Muslim country, but I always feel a little out of place. Big smiles for Samko, mixed expressions for me. I low-key wanted to use Samko as a human shield and just hide behind him. But walking in a crouch all day wasn’t going to get us anywhere. I told myself to toughen up and find food before we both had a meltdown.
I eventually found a tiny… let’s call it a bistro. Two guys were eating something with their hands that I wouldn’t have dared touch for at least two more hours—maybe three if we didn’t find anything else. I ordered two mango lassis. The entire place just stared at us. The guy serving us started getting some “advice” from his friend—I’m guessing he was telling him to charge us double. I didn’t even care. I just smiled and prayed my stomach would stop doing somersaults soon. Samko was totally fine. He was already making friends with one of the guys. The fact that everyone was eating with their hands didn’t faze him at all. He was more concerned with whether he could salt the man’s lunch. For the sake of the guy’s meal, I suggested he probably wouldn’t appreciate that. Luckily, the lassis arrived, and we headed back out into the “pleasantly” heated streets.
Now what? I remembered there was a harbor near the hotel, and Samko had mentioned wanting to go on a boat. We ended up at Souq Ramadan—a little square where the tourists actually hang out. There’s this one alley with about 30 stalls, and every single one sells the exact same thing: spices and useless trinkets. Unfortunately, my brain still hadn’t caught up to reality, so I decided to walk through it, which cost me 30 “no thank yous.” By the time we made it through, I was done. There were a few benches in the shade at the end, so it was almost worth it. The boats were just across the street. But to make things interesting, Samko informs me he’s had a “shart” situation. I have zero change of clothes. “No biggie,” I think, “he can just go commando.” Except he refuses to undress in public. He’s actually offended I even suggested it. A deserted underpass saved the day.
Two hours later, we finally made it to the harbor we’d seen from our hotel window. I was a bit confused. There were all these boats coming and going—some full, some empty. I couldn’t tell who was a local, who was a tourist, or how any of it worked. But before I could even get my bearings, a nice guy approached us, and next thing I knew, we were on a boat cruising down the creek. Okay, look, it was my fault for not planning, but I really hate this kind of “hustle.” The guy asked if we wanted a “family boat,” I said “sure, we’re a family,” and he didn’t even give me a second to think. We ended up paying 120 AED (about $35) for a 40-minute ride through a part of the canal where there honestly wasn’t much to see. Other options were taking a boat for 5-10 AED to another part of the city or doing a loop on a “bus boat” for a fraction of the cost. Like I said—being prepared is cheaper. But Samko was thrilled to be on the water, so I’ll take the win.
Once we were back on solid ground, I decided it was time to head back to the hotel. After three hours, I was pretty much tapped out. We finally got in touch with the family (the Seyds) and they gave us a great tip. I finally fired up the internet and took a 40-minute taxi to Kite Beach. We got there just in time for a quick 30-minute swim before the lifeguard kicked everyone out of the water. But for those 30 minutes, I finally relaxed and actually felt like I was on vacation. Spoiler alert: it didn’t last long. Still, you’ve gotta enjoy it while it lasts. We finally got some real food! There’s this cluster of food trucks—fancy trailers and containers—serving everything from churros and donuts to Häagen-Dazs. I grabbed some shrimp tempura, and since the kid refused anything “normal,” I decided to pick my battles. We ended the day with three donuts and playing in the sand. Both happy, we took a taxi back (the round trip cost about $35, but it was a long haul). We took a route that gave us a great view of the Burj Khalifa—it really is a stunning building. If I’d planned better, I definitely would have taken Samko to see it up close.
I barely slept that night. Not only was there a club on the ground floor, but at 4:30 AM, the morning prayer call started and lasted for about an hour (pro tip: bring high-quality earplugs). It was so loud it felt like someone had parked a radio right under my window. Then I woke up in a panic thinking someone was breaking into the room. Turns out it was just a neighbor coming home from the club, and the paper-thin walls made it sound like they were unlocking our door. With my adrenaline through the roof, there was no going back to sleep. The morning was… fantastic. And we still had the airport, a 10-hour flight, and the trek to our accommodation ahead of us.
Here we go!
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