The Dubai Creek is precious for many reasons.
It's a direct link to the city's pearl fishing past.
It waves a wonderful flag of Dubai's urban identity: iconic structures and heritage buildings hug the water's edge, while abras and dinner barges bob gently in the foreground.
And it's one place where socioeconomic hierarchies dissolve as people get together just to enjoy the stunning views and fresh air. No longer colonised by the rich.
Unlike the rarefied environs of the Marina, or the largely desolate folly at Mamzar, the Bur Dubai side of the Creek has groups of workers, picnicking families and perspiring joggers, all coexisting peacefully in ozone-induced harmony. (At least I've yet to read an angry letter in 7 Days about some "you-know-who-you-are" at the Creekside.)
It's beautifully landscaped and lit, and other cities can learn how to successfully democratise their public recreation spaces, and make them truly public.
It's a direct link to the city's pearl fishing past.
It waves a wonderful flag of Dubai's urban identity: iconic structures and heritage buildings hug the water's edge, while abras and dinner barges bob gently in the foreground.
And it's one place where socioeconomic hierarchies dissolve as people get together just to enjoy the stunning views and fresh air. No longer colonised by the rich.
Unlike the rarefied environs of the Marina, or the largely desolate folly at Mamzar, the Bur Dubai side of the Creek has groups of workers, picnicking families and perspiring joggers, all coexisting peacefully in ozone-induced harmony. (At least I've yet to read an angry letter in 7 Days about some "you-know-who-you-are" at the Creekside.)
It's beautifully landscaped and lit, and other cities can learn how to successfully democratise their public recreation spaces, and make them truly public.
