Sheikhs, Lies and Real Estate: The Untold Story of Dubai (3 page)

‘Cannes, Ibiza, St Tropez...’

‘You know me well!’ he laughed. ‘But you’re
wrong. I’ve actually been somewhere quite different this time. I spent last week
in a crazy little place called Dubai.’

‘Doo-buy?’

‘Yes, Dubai. The world’s fastest-growing city.
Surely you’ve heard of it?’

I vaguely recalled one of the sheikhs mentioning
he was from Dubai once at the end of a night as I ushered him into a taxi with
a Romanian blonde, but I didn’t know much else about the place. ‘Isn’t it
somewhere in the Middle East?’

‘Spot on, mate!’ He sat back and lit a
cigarette. ‘It’s a city in the United Arab Emirates in the Persian Gulf. Dude,
believe me, it’s going places. Think of Ibiza, Monaco and Vegas combined.
That’s what Dubai will be in a few years. It’s the city of the future. I was
completely blown away!’

‘Really? As far as I know the Middle East is
shepherds, camels and terrorists. That’s why the Arabs are always in London,
isn’t it?’

Cameron’s demeanour changed suddenly. ‘Mate, do
you know the world is changing? The days of the West’s dominance are coming to
an end! Countries like India and China are booming. A new world order is
emerging. Mark my words, Western civilisation will soon be eclipsed by the
emerging East.’

‘Okay, Cam, thanks for the lesson in
international politics,’ I laughed. ‘But what has this got to do with thinking
outside the box?’

He didn’t look amused. ‘Think logically for a
second, man! India and the Far East are the new manufacturing hubs of the
world, and there’s one natural resource they need more than any other to
sustain their industry.’

‘And what is that?’ I asked.

‘Take a wild guess!’

‘Oil?’

‘Exactly!’ he said, as he pointed at me with
his smouldering cigarette. ‘Black gold, my friend. It’s the life blood of the
global economy. And where does most of it come from?’

‘The Middle East...’

‘Bingo!’ I was finally beginning to understand
where he was going with this. ‘The problem is they can’t keep pumping it for ever,
it’s running out. And so oil prices are only going one way: up. The higher they
go, the more money flows into Gulf countries like Qatar, Saudi, Kuwait and the
UAE.’

‘Okay, Cam, I understand that, but these guys
have been raking in the petrodollars for years. This is nothing new. The
problem is they spend it all on Ferraris, weapons and whores. Even I’ve lived
pretty well on squandered oil money. I really can’t see that changing any time
soon.’

‘You’re right. And that’s where Dubai comes in.
The ruler of Dubai, Sheikh Mohammed, is not like the others. He has seen an
opportunity and has started a revolution. He knows the oil-rich countries can’t
keep wasting their limited resources for much longer. They need to reinvest in
themselves, build a real economy and a future beyond oil. So he’s constructing a
new city with a bloody great big pile of petrodollars. And let me tell you, the
plans this guy has got will blow you away!’

‘What kind of plans?’ I asked curiously.

‘Where do I start? The sheikh is planning to
build the world’s tallest buildings, the biggest malls and the most incredible
skyscrapers. Think of the finest restaurants, best golf courses and most
luxurious hotels; they are all being built right now. Dubai is the home of the
Burj Al Arab, the planet’s only seven-star hotel. Yes, seven stars! But that is
nothing compared to the most outrageous project of all; they are actually
creating a giant manmade island shaped like a palm tree in the middle of the
freaking ocean! When it’s finished you will be able to see it from space. Can
you believe it? There are just no limits in this place!’

I had never seen Cameron speak so passionately.
But as fascinating as it sounded, it also seemed too good to be true. What
could these backward Bedouins possibly know about building a great city? As I
struggled to get my head around it all, Cameron continued.

‘The sheikh has recently allowed foreigners to
own freehold property for the first time in designated areas across Dubai, and
the smart money is going in now. People are literally flocking to Dubai with
suitcases of cash. Mark my words, it’s the beginning of a modern-day gold rush.
Anybody who wants to make serious money should be in Dubai property right now.’

‘I hear you, but if this place is really the
city of the future as you say, how come you’re not over there now? I thought
Cameron always followed the money?’

He sat back and smiled. ‘Trust me, if I could
be I would, but I have too many business commitments over here right now. Besides,
I did the next best thing. I just bought a five-bedroom villa in Dubai.’

I almost choked on my drink. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Yep. It’s in a project called the Emirates
Hills, which is going to be like the Beverly Hills of Dubai. It’s a beautiful property
surrounded by palm trees, lakes and a world-class golf course designed by Colin
Montgomerie himself.’

‘Wow, congratulations! So when are you moving
in?’

‘Well, it’s not even built yet,’ he smiled. I
bought the villa off-plan. I just put down a deposit of 10 per cent and I pay
another 10 per cent every six months until it’s complete. Simple. There’s no
mortgage debt or interest owed.’

‘Wait, you’re telling me that you bought
something that’s not even built yet in a new market with no track record? That
sounds pretty risky to me, Cam!’

‘Not at all. It’s being built by a developer
called Emaar, which is practically government owned, so they can only go bust
if the Dubai government goes bust, and I can’t really see that happening with
all the bloody cash they have. There’s virtually no risk! But do you want to
know the best bit? If I want, I can sell it tomorrow for a profit of around 20 per
cent without a single brick being laid.’

‘How?’

‘I just flip it to the next investor. And he
will probably flip it again, and maybe again after that. I don’t really care,
as long as I get my profit. The demand is there, believe me. A 20 per cent
return on investment in less than a month. Easy money, mate! Don’t think your
hedge funds can get you that kind of return.’ It was certainly a phenomenal
return by any measure. ‘Listen, we have known each other for a while and I
consider you a good friend. If there is any advice I can give you it’s this:
opportunity waits for no man. “Someday” is a disease that will rob you of your
dreams. You have to act now if you want to make some serious money! I suggest
you get over there as soon as you can. Life’s short, take a gamble! Besides you
look like one of them, so you’ll fit right in.’

And so the ‘Oracle’ Cameron had spoken and
bestowed his pearls of wisdom, and I left lunch feeling enlightened.

From that day on, I couldn’t escape Dubai.
Newspapers, magazines and television shows swooned over the emerging desert
paradise. Dubai was where celebrities vacationed, supermodels partied and
sports stars trained. Legendary performers like Tom Jones, Elton John and Tina
Turner had all played to sold-out audiences in Dubai. Celebrity icons like
David Beckham, Michael Schumacher and Michael Jackson had all reportedly
purchased luxury villas, and Michelin-starred chef Gordon Ramsay had chosen
Dubai to open his first international restaurant. The Emirate was hosting its
own golf tournament, ATP tennis championship and horse-racing event. It seemed
everybody who was anybody was either talking about Dubai or was already on
their way there.

And as I waited on the wet platform for my late-running
train home from work in the bitterly cold British winter, I was at my wits’
end. This dead end reality was a far cry from the life I had envisioned for myself.
Surely, I was worth more than this. I was a thinker, an intellectual, an
entrepreneur. The choice was clear: either I accepted this trivial and
insignificant existence for the rest of my life, or I took a chance, here and
now. At that very moment, I made a decision. This was an opportunity I was not
going to miss. I had to act now.

As soon as I got home that evening, I dropped
my bags and soaking umbrella and rushed over to my computer. I looked up every
Dubai-based recruitment company’s website I could find. One by one I went
through them all, noting down any vacancy that was vaguely relevant and
emailing my CV across by the dozen. I didn’t even think about sleeping, instead
I worked industriously into the night. By the time I had finished it was almost
3am. I was completely exhausted and finally surrendered to my fatigue. There
was nothing more I could do now but wait.

A week passed with no replies. And then
another, and another. I sent a few follow-up messages, but nobody came back and
I began to lose hope. As much as I refused to believe it, in the back of my
mind I knew the reason why. Employers in Dubai were looking for specific skills
and work experience to fill the massive talent gap in the region, and for that
they were willing to pay handsomely. A young upstart like me offered little
value to a skill-deficient economy and few companies were willing to take such
a gamble. And so a month after my résumé blitz, I resigned myself to the fact
that nobody wanted me and abandoned my silly pipe dream. I obediently slipped
back into my daily routine and never spoke of Dubai again.

***

 ‘Hi, mate! Long time...’

‘Anthony, how are you?’ 

‘I'm great! Sorry I haven’t been in touch
lately, work’s been a killer.’

My old friend Anthony had lived on my street as
a child and we had been inseparable best friends since the age of 6. Although
we had gone off to different universities, we had kept in touch until recently,
when Anthony had started working at a large American law firm. These days he
was regularly in the office up to sixteen hours a day and I was surprised to
hear from him at all.

‘Listen, dude, I can’t talk for too long, but I
need a big favour...’ 

‘Sure, what do you need?’ I asked.

‘Well, my first cousin has recently moved to
London from Canada. He’s working for a bank close to where you are in the City.
He doesn’t know many people and I was wondering if you could maybe take him to
lunch and show him where to get good coffee and sandwiches. You know what I
mean?’

With the way my luck had been going I wasn’t
exactly in the most charitable mood, but I was willing to make an exception for
old times’ sake. ‘Sure, dude. No problem, I would be happy to.’

‘Thanks, I knew I could count on my old bud!
His name is Chad. I’ll drop him your number. Listen, I gotta go, things are
pretty busy, but I appreciate it, man. Let’s catch up soon, okay?’ He hung up
before I could even say goodbye.

Anthony’s cousin Chad called me a day later and
we agreed a time to meet for lunch. Chad was a tall and well-built man in his
early thirties, with curly hair and a messy stubble. I took him to a great
little burger joint in Farringdon that in my opinion did the best milkshakes in
London. After devouring his cheeseburger and chocolate milkshake, we sat and
chatted for almost two hours. Chad explained how he was born and raised in
Toronto and had recently moved to London with Imperial Bank to trade corporate
bonds. It had always been his dream to work in the City and he was clearly excited
about his new job. I instantly took a liking to him. His calm and measured
manner was endearing and I somehow felt like I could trust him.

Our conversation moved on to my frustration
with my job and how I was possibly looking to move, although I was careful not
to mention the ‘D’ word.

‘Well, if you are willing to look at
opportunities internationally, we have just opened an office in Dubai,’ Chad
said. I sat up eagerly at the news. ‘Our bank has very big plans for the Middle
East and Dubai is going to be our regional hub. I would be happy to make some
calls to see if we’re recruiting if you like.’

After all the recent disappointment I wasn’t
exactly hopeful, but I had nothing to lose. ‘That would be great, Chad, if you
don’t mind.’

‘No. Of course not. I would be happy to!’

After taking care of the bill, we exchanged
numbers and I rushed back to work expecting never to see him again.

A week later, Chad called me at the office.

‘Listen, Adam, I made some calls for you, and
it turns out that Imperial Bank is looking for a guy at your level to go out to
Dubai to work in the Institutional Sales team. Would you be interested?’

I was struggling to contain my excitement. ‘Yes,
absolutely!’

‘Perfect. I’ll set up a time for you to speak
with the head of sales over there. His name is Asim Ali. He will be expecting
your call.’

I was astounded that Chad had called me back at
all. Clearly something about my dire situation had struck a chord with him, and
I was overwhelmed that he had made the effort for me.

‘Thank you, Chad. I really appreciate this.’

‘Hey, don’t mention it. Good luck!’

Within a day, he emailed me with a time for a
phone interview with Asim Ali, the Regional Director of Sales for Imperial Bank
in Dubai.

Asim didn’t waste much time on formalities and
cut straight to the point. ‘So tell me, why do you want to leave a global
financial centre like London to come to Dubai?’ he asked in a strong Asian
accent.

‘Well, as I said, I want to get some
international exposure on my CV, and with my current experience I think I can
add a lot of value to your team in Dubai,’ I replied, trying my best to sound confident
despite the butterflies swirling in my belly.

‘But don’t you think it is a bit early in your
career to be making the transition?’

‘No, not at all. I think it’s important to take
risks early on in one’s career. I also want to be part of the growth of Dubai
as one of the world’s leading financial centres, which I’m very confident it
will become.’

I couldn’t exactly tell him the truth. It
wasn’t my intention to come to Dubai to develop a conventional career at all.
If I had wanted that, I would have stayed in London. I was looking for a way
into the world’s fastest-growing city and a position with Imperial Bank would
be my Trojan horse. Once inside, I planned to do whatever it took to make my
fortune.