012 Astonishment on the Twilight Beach

In Dubai, the weekend falls on Friday and Saturday. Remembering Musa’s words, I insisted on dragging Lianpian along to visit Jumeirah Beach.

The scorching sun of August in Dubai only allowed us to sneak out of the air-conditioned hotel close to evening. We took a bus to the beach.

It was my first time riding a bus in Dubai, and I was surprised to find that each bus stop was an enclosed, air-conditioned shelter. Waiting for the bus didn’t mean enduring the blazing sun; sitting inside the transparent, cooled waiting room, one could comfortably escape the summer heat. Of course, these air-conditioned waiting rooms were also segregated by gender.

Most Dubai residents own cars, so the bus system is not very developed. Yet, this attention to detail pleasantly surprised me. On the bus, the first three rows were reserved for women. After Lianpian and I sat down, I glanced at the men standing behind us—none dared to occupy the wide empty seats in front, something that would be unthinkable back home.

I tugged on Lianpian’s sleeve and said, “I think the Middle East might not be as discriminatory against women as the rumors suggest. In fact, they seem to respect women quite a bit...”

Lianpian nodded thoughtfully and speculated, “Xixi, do you think that all these gender-segregated public spaces might actually be intended as a form of respect? I heard that in Dubai, women can cut in line freely.”

I pondered but remained uncertain. For local women, men both respected and sought to control them. They claimed to provide women with private spaces, yet suppressed their independence at every turn. I couldn’t understand whether the solemn black robes they wore were a form of protection or imprisonment.

The atmosphere grew slightly tense. The women in the rows ahead and behind us wore black veils. Though we spoke in Chinese, it felt impolite to discuss others behind their backs. After a quiet moment, Lianpian suddenly seemed to recall something and chuckled, “My earlier comment was wrong. In Dubai, women definitely cannot cut in line because men and women simply cannot queue together!”

Her witty remark made me laugh, and we chatted idly as the bus soon arrived at Jumeirah Beach.

The sun was setting. The vast coastline stretched magnificently, and the Burj Al Arab, bathed in the crimson twilight, elevated this beach sunset scene to perfection. Even returning surfers paused to savor the beautiful moment.

More astonishingly, the beach was crowded with scantily clad Westerners—women in sexy bikinis, men shirtless. Not even at the busiest beaches in China would such carefree attire be so universal. In stark contrast, two Muslim women nearby were clad in full-body “sharkskin” swimsuits, covering every inch except their faces, with necks and hair fully concealed. We later learned that even this was considered quite liberal, as most women in black abayas would never swim publicly.

While I was stunned by the scene, my eyes caught the lookout tower not far off, manned by uniformed police intently watching the beachgoers. Scanning the area, I spotted several bearded Middle Eastern men, likely plainclothes officers discreetly monitoring the crowd, ready to arrest anyone caught in overly intimate acts.

A surge of emotion welled up in me, recalling British couples who faced imprisonment for beach misconduct. I wiped the sweat from my brow and murmured, “This is truly the most extraordinary beach I have ever seen.”

Lianpian, unfazed, gleamed with excitement as she admired the spectacle. “Not extraordinary—amazing! Sun, sand, scenery, handsome guys! Everything young people want.” She slipped off her shoes and socks, stepped barefoot on the soft sand, and eagerly dashed toward the sea.

Watching her joyful figure, I wanted to warn her. On her first day in Dubai, a man in a white robe had looked at her hostilely just for showing her bare shoulders. That man was undoubtedly a conservative Muslim. Where there is presence, there is conflict—just as behind the uninhibited Westerners on the beach lurked officers ready to arrest them, Dubai’s openness was not as simple as it appeared.

Now, I finally understood why Musa wanted me to see Jumeirah Beach. It was the best place to grasp Dubai’s complexity. Influenced by the Westerners’ freedom, even Muslim women shed their black robes for swimsuits to enjoy the sea. Yet, this influence bowed to environment and faith; even while experiencing freedom, they wrapped themselves tightly.

Dubai’s embrace of diverse peoples speaks to its tolerance and liberty. But this tolerance has limits—cross the line, and prison awaits.

What we saw and felt at Jumeirah Beach left Lianpian and me with profound insights, though they differed greatly. On the way back, I pondered how to report my findings to Musa. Then I wondered: why report at all?

I quickly found my reason. Since he suggested I go, I should show understanding and intelligence; otherwise, I’d be a laughingstock to the Middle Easterners. As a top student, that was unacceptable.

Before class on Sunday, I rehearsed my thoughts in my mind, planning to share them with Musa during the post-class group discussion and to ask a few other questions I was curious about. Talking to the man in the white robe still made me nervous, and I fussed over preparations until I nearly arrived late.

But when the class bell rang and I entered, I was surprised to find only Ayoub sitting in the last row, his seat empty beside him, and an emptiness within me as well.

Musa hadn’t come to class at all.