Dubai, 9.00am of a Saturday. To market, to market, to market: the morning agenda involves textiles, spices and jewellery. If the construction of the souks themselves looks just a little too rigid, too clean, too straight to be authentic (or at least old), the kiosks at least have hints of individuality.

Finally, though: throngs! I never thought I’d miss people at their most swarming, and these markets are definitely abuzz. Such a welcome change from the comparably deserted super-malls.

Sure, it’s a little surprising to spot Spider-Man and Ben 10 t-shirts displayed alongside pashminas; then again, the sight feels, strangely, like home. While spice merchant Ali Akbar Zamani’s booth is legit enough (so legit that his sign bears an L.L.C.), directly across the way is the incongruous pricing  at the “Oriental Stores,” vendor of Tissot, Rado Switzerland and various high-end tech bits. The Gold Souk is perhaps the busiest of the pedestrian markets — tourists will have their precious metals, after all — and, parading from alley to alley, we can practically set our watches by the regular approach of far too many friendly entrepreneurs offering “good copies” of anything, “free to look.”

Stepping off-map, just beyond the gold market, we experience a brief Oz “not in Kansas anymore” moment — Kansas meaning Dubai, and sure, it’s technically still Dubai, it’s just that suddenly, it looks like a real Middle Eastern city. The last five years of messaging about this Emirate has been placing the emphasis on the new. Fair enough. But when we discover the old does exist to be found, here and there — beyond the veil of all that’s glittering — well, it’s almost a relief.

(And file this under relief-comma-comic-comma-kinda: In a passing comment, our guide informs us that the first colour TV arrived in Dubai in 1979. Which just seems bizarre.)

Another pool excursion: the underwater camera that I’m test-driving demands to know what the hotel looks like by day:

The late afternoon shows us another little-seen part of Dubai: a 50-km cross-desert romp on modern-day camels (one-humpers, these Toyota Land Cruisers, and pretty sturdy) followed by rides on actual dromedaries. It’s a Desert Safari so recklessly fun that it deserves the proper-name title.

The site of the final festivities for day 3 is a “traditional” Bedouin barbeque camp-out. I use scare quotes on the qualifier because the equally officially titled Desert Camp resembles a pretty sturdy, sprawling fort (the picture below is taken inside its walls).

Granted, it’s a pretty neat fort. And if the buffet-dinner spread feels just a little broader than one would think the Bedouins experienced — spaghetti, eh? — still, it’s more than accurate enough for a bunch of high-lifers little-accustomed to hardship (and in fact, let’s not kid ourselves, not wanting it rough).

There is no doubt that a great time is had by all in this day of ostensible city escape. And on the way home this night, no one minds the fact that we smell like the camels we rode around on, even if we only got three minutes per. So, score a point for sharing.