SpiceDisneyWorld

"They are building a roof," the stallholder explained, "to make nice for tourists."

Dubai's Old Spice Souq, one of the city's most traditional attractions, is getting Disneyfied.

And thank God.

It might seem strange to welcome the makeover and modernisation of a historic icon such as the Spice Souq, but the reality is that the souq faced a grim future. Spice sellers were losing out to bulk-selling hypermarkets located in more accessible areas. Gridlock and distance and the intense summer heat all keep residents away from the souqs. But for tourists they can still be a great attraction.

So what is actually happening there? Currently there is a ton of scaffolding up, much like everywhere in the sandlands, making it a bit less pretty but still accessible. One of the stalls has shut down, and been replaced by a fresh juice cafe. That and the increased shade will presumably benefit tourists and spice sellers alike. After all, they did a pretty good job refurbishing Bur Dubai souq. It was never going to be Khan El Khalili, but it feels traditional enough, and so will the Spice Souq. Plus you can buy herbal Viagra and Lady-A-Vergin there, so what's not to like?

Of gold and greed

Scene: the Old Gold Souq, darkest depths of Deira, inside one of a million identikit gold and jewellery shops. Haggling is taking place over some pearls, for which an extortionately high price has been quoted (twice the figure in shops previously visited).

"I'm afraid that price is very much beyond our budget, can you make a lower offer?"

"Where do you live, madam?"

"In Dubai."

"But where are you from?"

"Originally the UK, but I've lived in Dubai for several years."

"You see madam I am from the Netherlands." [This in a heavy, Arabic accent.] "In the Netherlands, like in the UK, we prefer fixed price. So I prefer to give you a fixed price."

"I'm quite sure you do, but this is Dubai, not Europe."

No sale. It's bad enough getting a "white price" in the first place, but this is just taking the piss. Note to souq traders: not all palefaces are as rich as Croesus, gullible and that desperate for your wares.

Spice up your life

On first coming to Dubai, there was just one must-see place on the list: the spice souq. The very name was redolent of Old Arabia - winding alleyways, exotically robed figures, and rare and exotic goods arriving from faraway places by dhow and camel caravan.

While the spice souq isn't quite the Arabian Nights fantasy of ones imagination, it is still a fascinating place. Exotic aromas may now be adulterated by traffic fumes. Weird and wonderful produce jostles uncomfortably for sack-space with mass-produced tourism trinkets.

But it is still the only place in Dubai to buy dark gold globules of frankincense and myrrh; handfuls of pink and red dried rosebuds; thick bundles of cinnamon bark. It has the cheapest vanilla pods, star anise and cardamom around; and mounds and jars and boxes and sacks of saffron of all qualities and varieties.

But the Spice Souq is dwindling. Another victim of the supermarkets, the traffic, and faux-heritage creations such as the Madinat souq.

How to save the Spice Souq? Recognise its tourism and heritage value, and slash rents - don't view the stall holders simply as commercial traders, but also as ambassadors of Arabian heritage. Clean up the surrounding area, and put in a couple of small, pleasantly-appointed cafes selling fresh fruit juices and traditional street food. Put in clear road signs to help tourists navigate on foot between the gold souq and the spice souq, and the dhow station and spice souq.

The cost will be minimal compared to the value for future generations: not just visitors, but also young emiratis who are otherwise fast losing all the symbols and traditions of their heritage. Anyone can create fake-Arabia, they can do it in Disneyland, in Siberia, on the moon - negating any need for people to actually travel to the sandlands. The real-life, genuine, historic stuff is the only unique selling point Dubai has over a myriad of themepark imitations.

What lies beneath

When you are digging up downtown Deira? Skeletons, apparently:

The men say they were asked by police to put any other bones they found into a garbage bag, which would be collected later.

A 7DAYS reporter saw several bones, including a human skull, lying in a bin bag. An official from Dubai Municipality confirmed the area was used as a cemetery as recently as 30 years ago.

Not the most dignified end for someone's mortal remains: dug up and shoved into a garbage bag by labourers.

But this is progress: develop, develop, develop.

Gilt, frankincense and myrrh

Forget mosque alarm clocks, this year's Arabian Christmas present-par-excellence is a portable electric incense burner that plugs into your car charger.

Never again suffer from charcoal burns on the fabric of your sheikhmobile! Smoulder your frankincense with the clean, mystical force of "electricity", and breathe in the sweet-scented resinous fumes as you rocket at 200kmph up the hard shoulder of Sheikh Zayed road, past the gridlock of slow, stupid people actually attempting to drive within the road rules.

Available in white, pale pink or green china, the electric burner features a beautifully machine-painted design of gilded roses. For maximum convenience, it also comes with its own adhesive footprint to quickly stick to any dashboard. Buy now while stocks last - in Deira souq, for fifteen dirhams.

This hot - literally! - item is sure to be rocketing off the shelves.

Deira speed freak

Here's one prosecution that will surely get laughed out of court.

What judge who has spent more than 30 seconds in the sandlands will believe it possible for anyone to reach 200kmph in Deira?

"Police arrested a reckless driver caught speeding at more than 200 kilometres per hour, Deira traffic department said yesterday.

"After he was spotted weaving in and out of traffic and making dangerous manouvres, police attempted to stop him but he escaped at high speed, Captain Omar Mossa Ashoour, of Deira traffic department, disclosed."

Narrow, double-parking-blocked roads, permanent gridlock, roadworks - if anyone can average 20kmph in Deira they deserve a bloody medal.

The Great Battle of Deira

A short history of Dubai, Vol I, for the many UAE residents and UAE-curious who are clueless about the history of the Emirates. Given that most history books take the form of a Sheikhly hagiography, glossing over details unpalatable to their subject, some ignorance is perhaps excuseable.

Deira, for example, never used to be part of Dubai. It was only acquired after decades of raids and cross-creek warfare, as Adam Smith's 1981 book Paper Money reveals. Excerpt part 1 and Excerpt part 2.

The scene: Deira - that nightmarish winding labyrinth of gridlocked single-lane streets between the Creek and Sharjah - in the dusty, desert days of the mid-1900s. The hero: the white-robed Sheikh Rashid, possibly by this time riding a motorised camel rather than an Arab thoroughbred, but valiant nonetheless.

"Before the oil - the first strike was not until 1957 - Sheikh Rashid feuded with Deira, the rival village across the creek. The weapons used in this feud were the cannons from old ships, some of them hundreds of years old. The cannons were stuffed with rags and pistons from hijacked cars, and since cannonballs were in short supply, a nightly truce after sunset prayers permitted the combatants to comb the battlefields and retrieve the cannonballs.

"One day, in the pre-oil era, Sheikh Rashid accepted a dinner invitation across the creek, and then had his men kill off his hosts. In the best Middle Eastern tradition - and not unlike Richard III - he consolidated this victory by marrying the thirteen-year-old daughter of the vanquished ruler of Deira to his brother."

The book goes on to describe Sheikha Sana as a "high-spirited woman who once shot her husband's fourth wife." She also built up a thriving taxi fleet.

The war torn depths of Deira

Sometimes, the most random things remind one why it is such a privilege to live in Dubai.

An unusual spot of "car washing" landed a Dh1,000 fine for an inebriated man who was beaten up by the vehicle's angry owner. The owner, a 28-year-old Pakistani hotel employee, came out of his hotel to see a man urinating on his car wheel.

Quickening his pace, he stepped up to the man and demanded to know what he was doing. But the Indian national didn't answer as he was engrossed in his task. The enraged owner punched him in the face and started cursing him.

Heartwarming.

Dressed to thrill in Deira

No one who can afford a 1,600 dirham handbag lives in Deira. Least of all Muraqqabat Road, well into the depths of the arse-end of Deira, if not bordering on Sharjah, at least in its non-location non-location non-location.

But this is what Time Out would have us believe about "Rita". Rita describes herself as "in advertising." Interesting that she admits her Gianfranco Ferre, Milan jacket was a gift, and that her dress was a gift, and that her shoes were several hundred dirhams too. It seems Rita has travelled to Lebanon at least once, as that is where her earrings apparently hail from. But again, questions must be asked.

* Would a Beirut princess live in Muraqqabat Road, Deira?
* Would a young, female, non-emirati working in advertising in Dubai earn even half as much as the average Pashtun roadworker?

I fear investigative journalism has failed the Time Out hacks. Someone is funding Rita's lifestyle, and it certainly isn't Saatchi.

The heartwarming thing about Time Out is its desperation to present Dubai as Lahndahn. Witness the endless listings for club DJs long ago fired from their UK weddings-and-discos gigs. Witness the saturation crime coverage: drugs, jail breaks, deaths, robberies. Witness the social pages crammed with orange-faced bleach-blonde Emirates hostesses and their shady-looking boyfriends.

No: Dubai isn't gritty, it isn't cool, it isn't dangerous, and it isn't street. It's a pleasant, business capital in the middle of a boiling hot desert.

On the subject of "party pics" - arguably the most unbearable concept beyond nightclub sinks crammed with tissues and vomit (caused by said pics) - a new website devoted to these photographic horrors has been set up, at mumtazz.com

I now realise why my Arabic colleagues have been laughing at me. They taught me that "mumtazz" was the Arabic for great/good. Evidently it's the Arabic for shit.

Jumeira Beach Hole

The world's dross, tack and riff-raff overrun the JBH - it must have the most downmarket clientele of any hotel in the Emirates. From shaven-headed British lobsters baking themselves on the crowded tiny beach - only a stage less appetising in appearance than the nightly buffet - to Eastern Europeans of questionable profession tottering around in bikinis and six-inch heels, hanging off the arms of their "grandfathers", this is a crucible of cringe.

Last night we fled this hell, escaping by abra over the creek just before sunset. Blustery winds drove huge flocks of gulls onto the water, the air was thick with white wings, we sailed past skyscrapers gleaming with reflected gold, big wooden dhows unloading dubious wares from Iran, all the way to Deira-side and a long trek on foot to Cucina at the Marriott.