Exiting the shiny metro terminal at Abu Baker Al Siddique I was first struck by the heavy smell of rain. A pungent bloom of oil, dirt and dust coated my nostrils so thick that for a moment I had trouble breathing in the dense air. Fortunately, the Traders Hotel Dubai was only a block from the Abu Baker Al Siddique station at the corner of Salah Al Din Road and I made my best efforts jumping puddles along the way.

With the rare rain my journey into Dubai International Airport was the roughest of my trip. The plane bounced on the tarmac before parking into the modern airport, said to be one of the busiest international cargo hubs in the world. The immigration and customs hall was massive, with dozens of white custom control booths below large LCD displays marketing the wonders of Dubai. Even with the number of immigration officers, the line for passport control was long and full of wide eyed foreigners clutching work visas, their knuckles pressed white against their dark skin. Most where from the Philippines and India but I instantly thought back to Sarah's story of the beheaded Sri Lankan housemaid. What future or fates would be bestowed on those eager workers around me?

The city is run on immigrants. The staff at the modern Traders Hotel Dubai was a mix of Asian and Indians in smartly tailored uniforms. The hotel itself was a bit indulgent in comparison to my previous accommodations but I felt that it was my last night in a foreign bed and I would pay extra for a quality shower. It turned out to be a pretty good deal as well. I upgraded to the "Trader's Club" which gave me access to the Traders lounge, which gave me access to free breakfast, a complimentary cocktail hour and a 24 hour fridge stocked with free beverages, including bottled water, a high commodity in this desert town. I took advantage.