Dubai in 2008:

The sweltering heat was getting to me and the sharp glare of the afternoon sun seemed to pierce right through my shades. After waiting impatiently for nearly 20 minutes for a cab just one signal after the Burjuman Centre, I finally spotted an empty one. “Taxi! Taxi!” I hollered. The driver got closer to where I was standing, and I was finally about to heave a sigh of relief when, to my utmost horror, he simply whizzed past a frantically waving yours’ truly.

Fast forward to September 2010:

The weather has begun to cool down and I am walking across to the park located near my home. I am ambling along at a leisurely pace, pushing the kids’ double-carriage stroller, taking in the sights and sounds around me. Not one, but two taxi drivers slow down in front of me – and hey, I haven’t even waved at them! I sheepishly indicate that I would like to walk and they finally drive off, as though they were hoping to lure me into a taxi ride. I’m sure any of the five empty cabs (apart from these two) that I saw during my walk to the park would have been happy to take me anywhere, had I but asked.

These incidents can give you a fair idea of how much life has changed in the Emirate over the past couple of years or so. While the recession has definitely played its part, I am sure the launch of ‘Red Line’ of the Dubai Metro adds to the woes of the cabbies. I distinctly remember how people would often dismiss the metro (before it opened) as a possible way of conveyance only for the labourers who needed to get around the city. However, ever since the metro became operational in 2009, it has surpassed all expectations.

It is extremely punctual, hassle-free and economical, especially when compared to taxis. Additionally, one is spared of the taxi drivers’ curiosity too, for some of them tend to interview you without inhibition during the taxi ride. In fact, according to one report, the metro carried up to 3,193,087 passengers in May 2010. The monorails are so full after work hours and in the mornings that you can barely get a place. I once had the (ahem!) honour of sitting next to young man whose hair was spiked so high it was reminiscent of a fortress. The top part was tinged with blue in true rock-star style. That, however, was not the notable thing about him. It was his black T-shirt, which audaciously proclaimed in white letters: ‘They call it PMS because Mad Cow Disease was already taken.” Honestly, it takes all kinds to make a world!

But the question still remains: Has the Metro eased the problem of nightmarish traffic congestion that has dogged the metropolis in recent years? Purely from the perspective of a resident of Dubai, I feel the rush hours, while still frustrating and time-consuming, are not quite so bad as before.

The public buses are another cheap alternative, but I don’t fancy being packed like a sardine in a tin-can because generally, the buses are too full. Imagine, a whopping 250,000 use them in a day! Passengers must wait for a long time at the bus stands, some of which are air-conditioned. Sometimes, though, you just stand in the scorching heat and almost melt in the process. And while we’re talking about buses, I regret to inform that bus-drivers drive like maniacs no matter which part of the world they’re in.

Dubai is basically dissected into two parts, Deira and Bur Dubai by the Dubai Creek. That means in order to get virtually anywhere you must cross the creek. You can cross it by the four bridges that serve the city, or you could get over to the other side by a Water-Taxi, or the older and inexpensive, abra. The abra is an old-fashioned open wooden boat that ferries passengers to and fro Deira and Bur Dubai for AED 1. The Waterbus is an expensive air-conditioned alternative which costs AED 50 for a round-trip. I’ve never been on the abra or the Water-Taxi – they say Dubai gives you the car-habit.

While driving in Dubai, the gleaming tarmac runs impeccably for miles ahead in front of you and the public buses, the street lights, everything – is just as it should be. Yet I think of the roads sprawling across the city of Karachi with certain wistfulness. I don’t know what I miss more – the roadside hawker selling freshly-roasted makai-channa with lemon juice and chaat masala, or that my driver (I miss being driven around too!) could afford to miss a turn and he wouldn’t have to drive for a long time to get back on the right track. There's just something about Karachi – you end up missing the little things no matter where you are.

Mehmudah Rehman is a freelance writer based in Dubai.

The views expressed by this blogger and in the following reader comments do not necessarily represent the views and policies of the Dawn Media Group.