13 Hour Days

Back on the road to Afghanistan, and of course all roads to Afghanistan go through Dubai.

The hotel I stayed in while passing through Dubai is really very nice. A lot of folks going through for the night stay there, as it is a stone's throw from the airport. I think it runs about $150 per night or so.

I was picked up at the airport by a hotel driver from Pakistan and what can best be described as a 'hostess' from the Philippines (a pretty woman in her 20s) in a huge Mercedes. While in the car, the hostess asks what I would like to have to drink (water) in my room when I get there, and when we pull into the hotel 5 minutes later she takes me to my room to check-in and the water is waiting.

All of this is dandy, and I enjoy being treated like a low-rung Sheikh as much as the next guy. But then I start talking to my 'hostess' on the way back to the airport this morning, and she tells me she works 13 hours a day, 6 days a week. She makes slightly over peanuts for the job, and sends most of it home. (I think the primary export of the Philippines is people, as they fill a tremendous number of jobs here and everywhere).

Dubai is called a miracle by many—the newest and latest of everything, though it might still prove to be a financial house of cards. But whether it is the Filipino hostesses or the Bangladeshi laborers, I get uncomfortable being treated like a mini-Sheikh when I know that so many are being exploited for my benefit.