The first time I visited Dubai was in March 1968. I was on my way to Abu Dhabi where I had managed to land a lucrative four-month assignment, operating an NCR computer the size of a room, with 10 % of the memory capacity of my current laptop.
The trip from Beirut to Abu Dhabi was not a simple affair. One had to board a Middle East Airlines (MEA) jet to Bahrain and wait two days before embarking on a Douglas Dakota DC-3 operated by B.E.A.

This beautiful airplane was the largest which could land on Dubai's tiny airstrip at that time. The rest of the trip to Abu Dhabi was by road; mostly a desert track, as both the new paved road and Abu Dhabi's airport were being built that year.
To enter Dubai - or the Trucial States of Oman - as the United Arab Emirates were called at the time - I had to apply for a visa at the British Consulate in Beirut. The historical stamp is in an old passport I've kept since. Entry formalities were quickly processed in a hangar at the end of the runway and a few minutes later, I was welcomed by Dalichau - a german fellow who was NCR's local employee - who informed me that we were to meet the company's agent that night.
The Dubai of those days was a buzzing trading post with all activities centered around the creek and port. Boats of all sizes - including typical Dhows - carried refrigerators, hi-fi equipment, TV sets, machinery, canned food and office furniture and headed to ports of the Indian sub-continent, Iran and East Africa. The highest building was a mere four-storey dwelling and most homes had two floors with air cooling towers at each corner.

At around 8:00 P.M., Dalichau picked me up from the company's flat and we crossed the creek on a crowded boat - called Abra - to the Bastakia market on the other side of the creek.
A short walk across the narrow alleys brought us to the company's agent store. The trader was sitting on the floor, running his business in five languages, selling cash registers and other office equipment by the dozen, collecting bundles of banknotes of various currencies which he would hand over to an indian employee. This fellow, sitting next to his boss, would count the bills faster than a machine before throwing them in an open safe. While we sat on the floor sipping tea next to the businessman, he continued his wheeling and dealing while entertaining us with a multitude of stories on the market, the competition, the late shipments and the lack of reliable technical personnel!

It has been almost forty years since this first visit. But it is this Dubai I still like the most. And on every trip to this new Hong Kong, I make it a point to walk down the narrow alleys of the Bastakia district, away from the hype of the new city and into the buzzing market where business is still carried out as it was in days gone by.
