Dubai is missing its tourists – so am I

“Isn’t this great!” my neighbour said, sweeping an arm across the store theatrically. We were standing in the Dubai Marina branch of Spinneys, usually a bustling marketplace of residents and visitors from the surrounding towers.

In normal times, this place is thick with Airbnb tourists stocking up on water, fruit, sunscreen and ready-made lunches. On Thursday evening, it becomes a provisioning hub for boat parties heading out from the Marina docks: crates of soft drinks, bags of ice, disposable barbecues, and all the essentials for a sunset cruise.

But these times are still far from normal, and the Spinneys clientele is sparse. The only shoppers are the residents who have stayed put throughout the current crisis – smug heroes all.

I agreed with my companion – there is something seductive about a quieter Dubai, minus tourists.

We compared notes: road journeys that used to take 40 minutes now take 20.

The Marina Walk, often a slow-moving human tide during peak season, is suddenly navigable, even pleasant. You can stroll and you can cycle without weaving through distracted pedestrians.

Restaurants? Take your pick. Tables are available at the drop of a hat, even at places that not long ago required weeks – sometimes months – of forward planning.

We concluded in a neighbourly way that we’d reclaimed the city, and parted.

But later, on reflection, I realised I was wrong. I actually miss the tourists.

Not in some abstract, economic sense – though that’s important – but in a more human way. I miss the buzz and the sense of movement they bring – the idea of Dubai as a place people want to come to, not just a place we happen to live in.

The numbers suggest this is not just a feeling – it’s a statistical fact. 

Further reading:

• Dubai scraps property visa minimum for investor residency
• Dubai property can bounce back but prepare for a tough summer
• Dubai: standing still – but still standing

In peak season, Dubai would typically welcome between 1.5 and 1.7 million international visitors a month, according to data from the Dubai Department of Economy and Tourism – something like 17 to 18 million tourists passing through the city each year.

In the current post-war downturn, industry estimates suggest a decline of roughly 25 to 35 percent – meaning that at any given moment, several hundred thousand visitors who would normally be here simply aren’t.

Once you notice it, that gap is everywhere – and more visible in tourist areas such as Marina, Jumeirah and Downtown.

Tourism contributes roughly 10 to 12 percent of Dubai’s GDP directly, according to a conservative estimate by the World Travel & Tourism Council.

But the real impact is larger than that headline number. Tourism is at the heart of the economic model. Hotels, obviously – but also restaurants, retail, taxis, beach clubs, entertainment venues and, crucially, aviation.

The ecosystem built around Emirates Airline depends on a constant inflow of visitors.

Take away the tourists and the multiplier effect begins to unwind. Hotel occupancy drops and restaurant covers fall, while mall footfall thins out and air passenger numbers dwindle.

The system does not collapse, because Dubai is more resilient than that, but the energy drains out of the city. That’s what I am really missing: the energy.

The sunburned visitors wandering the malls in skimpy shorts and flip-flops, tired and overwhelmed but determined to see everything.

The children staring in disbelief at a real camel on the wide white stretch of Jumeirah beach, as if it has stepped out of a storybook and into their holiday.

The late-night revellers thinking they can skip the line into Zuma by telling the security guy they came all the way from Blackburn. 

All these are not inconveniences – they are signs of life.

Dubai without tourists is a more efficient city, but it is also a quieter, flatter version of itself, with less colour and fewer surprises.

I gave up my own status as a tourist many years ago and, like most long-term residents, I slipped into routine: work, home, family and familiarity. But one of the quiet triumphs of Dubai is that it never quite lets you forget why you liked it in the first place.

It has a way of making you feel like a visitor, even after two decades – a place where you are, in a sense, perpetually on holiday. Take away the tourists, and that illusion fades.

Which is why, despite the shorter journeys, the empty walkways and the effortless restaurant bookings, I do hope they come back soon.

Dubai without its tourists may be easier, but it is not, quite, Dubai.

Frank Kane is Editor-at-Large of AGBI and an award-winning business journalist. He acts as a consultant to the Ministry of Energy of Saudi Arabia