Every picture tells a story but, for me, maps are even more eloquent. Whether it's a glossy chart of international airways such as you find towards the back of High Life, or a scruffy hand-drawn representation of a remote corner of Africa, maps weave intriguing tales about how humankind moves around the globe. I am particularly taken with the chart in Lonely Planet's Dubai City Guide; on a strange blob that initially resembles a giant jellyfish in the Gulf, the cartographer has inscribed 'The World (under construction)'.
Closer inspection reveals that this entity is a roughly circular collection of islands that projects a map of the world onto the water that laps Dubai's western shores. The latest conceit in the Emirates is to create an entire offshore world, where 'high-net-worth individuals' - from footballers to financiers - are invited to buy up individual countries for their private paradise-on-ersatz-Earth.
Yet the reason I adore Dubai is that the world has already arrived in the UAE, a place that borrows from everywhere to fuel its remarkable growth - not just economic (an average 13.4 per cent annually in the first five years of the 21st century) but upwards. Each time I come here the skyline has been redrawn on an ever-more-ambitious scale. This year, I was just in time to see the Burj Dubai tower reach 141 storeys and overtake its rival, Taipei 101, as the tallest building in the world, on its way to an extraordinary 2,300ft: that's what I call a castle in the sand. And with each visit I find yet more ethnic dimensions to Dubai, the place where you can walk your way around the world. Almost.
Walk/Don't Walk is a favourite sign in New York City, where the skyscrapers crowd in on the avenues. Dubai has its own Manhattan, genetically modified for the Gulf, with Sheikh Zayed Road as its artery. To ride in a taxi along this avenue of aspiration is to star in your own widescreen urban movie. As you roll down one of the highway's dozen lanes, glass and steel high-rises shimmer through your field of vision, looking curiously as though they are standing around gossiping. A succession of shrines to success or sheer speculation? Only the future will tell, and Sheikh Zayed Road provides the fast track to destiny: from zero to infinity, courtesy of unconstrained capitalism. Just don't be in a hurry to cross it: 'Don't Walk' applies permanently on this artery.
I was staying in Shangri-La (+971 4 343 8888), the luxury tower hotel, not the fabled Utopian valley in China. This is the only building I know where you can tantalise your tastebuds with the delicate flavours of Vietnam, in the Hoi An restaurant, then drift across the mezzanine to Marrakech - or at least a creditable Moroccan restaurant to gorge on Couscous Royale. Hunger sated, I set off for the British Airways office, no more than 300 yards away as the flamingo flies. Ten minutes, three miles and 15 dirhams (£2) later, the taxi dropped me off at this fragment of the UK. But such an unwanted diversion is rare in Dubai. Mostly, my meanders around the globe are as relaxed as they are rewarding - starting with a perfect Persian breakfast.
The overnight flight from Heathrow touches down in good time to reach the Basta Art Café (+971 4 353 5071). Hidden in a courtyard on the Bur Dubai (west) side of the Creek, this shady garden offers fresh bread with mango, banana and pineapple, drenched first in yoghurt then in honey, and the Emirate's top latte to give the day a surge.
The café is on the edge of the Bastakiya Heritage quarter, originally settled by merchants from Persia. I have not yet had the privilege of visiting present-day Iran, but I sense its towns will feel familiar. Sunlight and breezes spill through the narrow alleys, amid clusters of human-scale structures, offering the stranger both shade and tranquility.
Hospitality, too, in the shape of another favourite Dubai hotel. While one property (the Burj Al Arab) sports seven stars and another (Mina A'Salam) merges Imperial Morocco with Venice, the Orient Guest House on Al Fahidi Street (+971 4 351 9111, orientguesthouse.com) quietly exudes class beyond the stars. In a restored villa within the Bastakia quarter, ten impeccably furnished rooms are ranged around a courtyard so pretty it looks straight from a Hollywood representation of the Middle East. Reality offers three improvements on celluloid: the air conditioning is industrial-strength, WiFi connects you with the planet in nanoseconds and India is just around the corner.
Hindi Lane transports you direct to Mumbai. This narrow passage is full of the clamour of good-natured commerce that is so inherently Indian. Yet it also speaks volumes about the openness of Dubai. Follow red and white signs to Shiva Temple and you find yourself greeted in a Hindu place of worship. Four out of five residents of Dubai are from elsewhere, with large numbers from the Indian subcontinent. Devotion here seems an affable affair, and as you watch the colourful ceremony, you may be handed a slice of fresh coconut.
