Over the next few months, you are going to read a lot about the Emirates
Palace. In a region renowned for excess, tales of the money-no-object
extravagances involved in its construction have amazed even the most jaded
of travel-industry observers.
Its owner, the government of Abu Dhabi, knows that the Palace will never make
a profit. That doesn’t matter. The intention was to impress the world by
creating the most lavish seven-star experience imaginable. Costing a
rumoured £2 billion, the Emirates Palace is the most expensive hotel ever
built and officially opens on March 7. So, last weekend, I checked in to
discover just what all that money can buy.
The bare statistics certainly whetted my curiosity: an entrance arch 40 metres
high and 36 metres wide, just a shade smaller than the Arc de Triomphe; a
lobby-atrium with a dome larger than St Paul’s Cathedral, topped by a
two-metre finial made of solid gold — 20kg of it. Just to walk around the
place would take almost an hour.
Even so, when I caught my first glimpse of the hotel, I was taken aback by its
scale. It is a colossus: the architects describe it as the Taj Mahal of the
Middle East, though its dusky-pink granite and rose-coloured marble facade,
delicate Arabic carvings, endless domes and scalloped arches are much more
in keeping with Granada’s magnificent Alhambra. I hardly noticed its beauty,
though — I was too preoccupied with its size.
A few minutes later, it was showtime. As my car pulled up alongside the
hotel’s fleet of white Rolls-Royces, a guard of honour of 25 white-shirted
bellboys flashed Colgate smiles right on cue.
Meanwhile, four enormous Kenyan doormen, in uniforms created by a former
Versace designer, helped me from the car, magicking away my bag and ushering
me towards reception.
Inside, an entourage of “international ambassadors” pounced, offering a choice
of Arabic kahwa (coffee), German hot chocolate or Moroccan or Asian tea. I
opted for coffee. One sip, and my guest ambassador guided me through to the
Grand Atrium, the pièce de résistance, where the orgy of excess continued in
earnest.
The Emirates Palace has so many biggest and best boasts, it could have its own
chapter in the Guinness Book of Records, but the atrium is the whistles and
bells, the jaw-dropping big daddy of them all — 60 metres high, 42 metres
wide and topped with the largest dome in the world. Staff need golf carts to
negotiate their way around it. It is decorated with 13 colours of marble,
ranging from sunrise yellow to sunset red (to reflect the many hues of the
desert), and lots and lots and lots of gold: 6,040 square metres of gold
leaf cover the largest gilded expanse ever created in one building. It’s
even in the food. I ate gold leaf on my chocolate cake. Apparently, it aids
digestion.
Further into the introductory tour, my ambassador pointed out the highest
floor. It houses six Rulers’ Suites, strictly out of bounds unless you are
part of a ruling family from one of the Gulf Co-operation Council members:
Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, of
which Abu Dhabi is the capital.
The next two floors are occupied by 16 Palace Suites, among the most expensive
in the world at £8,000 a night. These rooms are accessed by individual
private lifts, and are so huge that when I took a peek inside one, I needed
help to find my way out again. How would I describe them? The word gold
comes to mind. The hotel, somewhat loftily, expects them to be taken
primarily by royalty.
That’s the VVIPs taken care of, so what about the mere VIPs? That’s you. You
get to stay in either the east or the west wing, both of which lead directly
from the Grand Atrium. There are 40 Khaleej Suites and 302 Grand Rooms to
choose from — yours from £950pp a week. Positively reasonable, especially
when you consider the maintenance involved in such eye-popping opulence: the
annual flower bill, for example, is calculated to come in at £1.25m, and a
10-strong team is employed solely to clean the 1,002 custom-made
Swarovski-crystal chandeliers. There’s an army of 2,600 employees in total:
that’s four for every guest.Even the cheapest rooms have 125cm plasma
televisions, butler service and a bath concierge to prepare a flower-strewn,
oil-scented bath for you on arrival.
Every evening, a maid will place a “bouquet” of chocolates on your bedside
table and tuck your choice of a lavender- or rose-scented liner inside your
Italian-linen pillow case to ensure a restful night’s sleep. What a shame
they didn’t think to soundproof the place as well. On my first night, the
adjoining room was occupied by a couple whom I’ll describe as honeymooners —
you get the idea. On the second, they were replaced by an American who
really, really enjoyed the sound of his own voice. I almost pined for the
honeymooners.
How on earth can the Abu Dhabi government have spent billions on a hotel and
overlooked something as fundamental as cancelling out the next-door
bedroom’s noise? Kempinski, the hotel chain that manages the property for
the government, admits that there are “sound issues” and says they are being
discussed with contractors. I bet they are.
Soundproofing aside, the Emirates Palace is incredibly impressive at doing
what it says on the tin. And I was relieved to find that, after the initial
dazzle, the interior is not nearly as lurid as the Burj Al Arab’s. The
exterior of Dubai’s premier tourist address is breathtakingly elegant;
inside, it divides opinion sharply. You either think it’s a Carol Smillie
horror of glinting golds and swirling blues and reds that could have been
designed by a five-year-old on a chocolate-button binge; or that it is
amusingly sheikh, rattle and roll, and deeply ironic. I’m with the former.
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Page 3: five more seven-star wonders
()No doubt the Emirates Palace will inspire equally opposing and
strongly held views. Of course, it is a blatant display of its owner’s
wealth, but there is evidence of restraint as well. Yes, there is gold just
about everywhere — in soap dish-shaped ceiling recesses, mosaic tiles and
any number of Arabic-influenced mouldings. But it’s not just gold. Sometimes
they downgrade to silver, and to those acres of creamy marbles from Italy
(as well as from Spain, China and India — 110,000 cubic metres in total).
And the polished surfaces are tempered by a muted palette for furnishings
that rarely strays from neutral, buttermilk-coloured leathers, old-gold
Regency stripes and burnt-bronze velvets.
Arguably, the Emirates Palace is just too vast to provide a relaxing
experience: the Al Majlis, for example, the public lounge, is 175 metres
long. That’s almost two football pitches — totally impersonal and terribly
imposing. And it is too conspicuous in its consumption: an anticipated 10
tonnes of laundry a day, for example; soap bars replaced though used only
once; 8,000 palms, destined for the 100 hectares of surrounding parkland,
rejected because they were a bit too tall. Still, I can’t help being
shamefully impressed by the gobsmacking absurdity of it all. I know, I
deserve to be beaten soundly with a copy of the Kyoto protocol.
If all you want is a break in the sunshine — and judging by Dubai’s phenomenal
success, a considerable number of us do — the Emirates Palace is streets
ahead of its neighbour. The Burj doesn’t even have an easily accessible
beach, while the palace has a pretty, private, 1.3km sweep of white sand
that overlooks its own marina, as well as an exclusive villa and mall
development (albeit rather devalued by a prominently displayed sign for
Ikea).
If you don’t want the bother of sand, each wing also has its own enormous pool
(by the summer, each will have a spa complex, too). The pool in the east
wing is big enough to incorporate four large Jacuzzis and a swim-up bar; the
west wing’s is a mini Wild Wadi theme park, complete with a current that
sweeps you down the slides and under the bridges.
Both wings have leisure concierges who patrol hourly, offering complimentary
fruit ice cubes, refreshing teas and soft drinks, sunscreen, foot massages
and laptops for accessing an online library of books, complete with speech
technology in case you can’t be bothered to keep your eyes open to read. You
can even reserve a sun lounger: an innovation suggested by Willy Optekamp,
the general manager. Mr Optekamp is German.
The food promises to be equally impressive, though as I visited during the
pre-opening stage, I had to be content with Le Vendome, an all-day oriental
buffet, and the Viennese-style cafe. By the end of the year, there will be
another 18 options, two opening each month. At Sayad, which will specialise
in seafood, I’d be far too squeamish to choose my supper as it swims around
the aquariums that line the walls, but I like the idea that it will have no
menu. Instead, the chef comes to your table to discuss how you’d like your
fish served. At Mezzaluna, the Italian restaurant, an opera singer will
perform every evening.
The ingredients will also be suitably OTT. Each year, only about 6kg of albino
caviar is harvested, but the palace has snapped up two of them for £60,000.
The Japanese restaurant, Mizona, will use the extra- ordinarily expensive
Kobe beef, from cattle fed with beer and massaged daily to ensure the
tenderest of rumps; and fish will be jetted in from around the world four
times a week to guarantee freshness. If you bear in mind the time
difference, technically speaking, barramundi imported from Australia could
be pan-fried in Abu Dhabi before it has even been caught off the coast of
northern Queensland. Everything is the best available.
BACK TO the bedroom, which is obviously quite important for a hotel. As with
many properties that concentrate on public statements, the private quarters
were less impressive. An ugly black plasma television dominated one
wood-panelled wall, while the gold tasselled curtains and cushions, and the
oversized wooden bedhead, were oppressive. The hotel portentously refers to
its 22nd-century technology (it even has its own IT hotline), and I did
enjoy this, once I got the hang of it.
Everything is controlled by a small touch-screen panel. By tapping through the
menu, I could fiddle with the air conditioning or dim the lights. I could
also organise my wake- up call or check on the status of my bill. But only
mine. Out of idle curiosity, I tried another room number, but to no avail. A
shame: Prince Andrew is due to stay next month, and his expenses are always
a source of civic interest.
I could also access 40 latest-release movies, as well as a huge bank of
classic films, 120 television channels, thousands of music albums and the
internet, all for free.
Through genuine incompetence rather than journalistic endeavour, I managed to
test the system and, therefore, the standard of service, close to
destruction. But no matter how many times I inadvertently recalled my butler
for further instruction, the training by his boss — he was formerly in the
employ of the King of Jordan — proved remarkably robust. I swear that his
smile never faltered.
It was just as well my tech- nical inadequacies kept me occupied, because Abu
Dhabi has little to distract the visitor. You can take a trip into the
desert for some wadi-bashing — though the appeal of scaring yourself stupid
hurtling over dunes in a 4WD escapes me. My guide asked if I would like to
see the old souk. I said I would. We pulled up next to something that
resembled a condemned 1970s concrete multistorey. One stall had a pile of
old television sets outside, another dresses made from fabrics that clearly
presented a fire risk. Other options? He suggested a visit to the petroleum
museum or a round of golf ...
THROUGHOUT my stay, the service was faultless, but the staff were never at
ease. That might come with time, but I somehow doubt it. Service in the
Middle East tends to be demonstrably fawning. I was wished a “majestic
palace experience” (the palace ver-sion of “Have a nice day”) just a little
too often for comfort.
There was only one area where staff were unhelpful: no matter how many times I
asked, nobody would divulge the precise cost of this mammoth feat of
engineering. Unlike more vulgar (unnamed) destinations, I was told, Abu
Dhabi is modest about financial matters. (Surely they can’t be referring to
Dubai? It has never confirmed the cost of the Burj, thought to be £1.1
billion.) Finally, someone cracked enough to confirm that the palace is the
most expensive hotel ever built, adding that it would be tacky to release
the actual figure. Tacky? When there’s 6,040 square metres of gold on the
walls? Never.
Susan d’Arcy travelled as a guest of Emirates Palace and Etihad Airways
Tour operators: a week at the hotel starts at £950pp, B&B,
with ITC Classics (01244 355527, www.itcclassics.co.uk), including flights
from London with Etihad. Connections from Manchester, Newcastle or
Southampton start at £98pp.
Other tour operators include Best at Travel (0870 709 3000,
www.bestattravel.co.uk); Bridge the World (0870 814 4400,
www.bridgetheworld.com); Emirates Tours (0870 128 6000,
www.emiratestours.co.uk); Gold Medal (01772 835158, www.goldmedal.co.uk);
Sunset Faraway Holidays (020 7498 9922, www.sunset.co.uk); Travelbag (0870
814 4441, www.travelbag.co.uk); and Tropical Locations (020 7229 9199,
www.tropical-locations.com).
The Emirates Palace (00 971 2 690 9000, www.kempinski.com) discourages direct
bookings, and so charges from £428 for a double.
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Page 3: five more seven-star wonders
()How very OTT: five more seven-star wonders
BURJ AL ARAB, DUBAI
The original seven-star hotel doesn’t have rooms: it only has two-storey
suites, where you will be served by white-gloved butlers. You don’t even
have to raise yourself to let Jeeves in, just hit the button on your control
pad to release the lock on the door. There’s positively no skimping: even
the wall-mounted televisions have frames covered in gold leaf. The Burj also
has its own “submarine” ride to an underwater restaurant complete with
shark-infested aquarium.
How OTT? Each bathroom comes with £200 worth of Hermès
goodies, which guests are encouraged to take home.
Book it: Elegant Resorts (01244 897522,
www.elegantresorts.co.uk) has a week, B&B, from £2,270pp, flying with
Emirates from Heathrow, Gatwick, Manchester or Glasgow.
WYNN LAS VEGAS, USA
The city of fear, loathing and lost wages is nothing if not excessive. Steve
Wynn, the king of the casinos who is behind such high-octane mega-resorts as
the Bellagio, promises that his newest property, Wynn, due to open on May
13, will be his most OTT yet. It will have 2,700 rooms, an art gallery with
works by Picasso and Van Gogh, and even in-house Ferrari and Maserati
showrooms in case you get lucky at the tables.
How OTT? The hotel is rumoured to have a 2,000-seat theatre
shaped like a globe, and water, representing the world’s oceans, will flow
above, below and around the audience.
Book it: with Trailfinders (020 7938 3939,
www.trailfinders.com), three nights, room-only, start at £749pp, including
flights with Virgin Atlantic.
HUVAFEN FUSHI, MALDIVES
You can choose a room with indulgences such as an outdoor infinity pool with
swim-throughs into the lounge areas; and there are speakers for the Bose
surround-sound music system on the split-level decks, so you can watch the
fish while listening to your favourite tunes. For a memorable dinner, book
into the underground wine cellar, where images of the vineyard that produced
your choice of wine are projected onto a screen while you sip.
How OTT? Huvafen has the world’s first underwater spa, which
has been sunk 10 metres under the sea at a cost of $1m. An underwater bar is
under construction.
Book it: Essential Escapes (020 7284 3344,
www.essentialescapes.com) has a week from £1,715pp, B&B, flying
with Emirates from Heathrow or Gatwick.
THE POINT, USA
The former summer camp of William Avery Rockefeller, hidden away in the
Adirondack Mountains, recaptures the gracious lifestyle of a bygone era. It
is every bit as luxurious as the home of one of the world’s richest families
ought to be, and the location, on 4 hectares of peninsula stretching into
Upper Saranac Lake, is utterly magical and totally private.
How OTT? The hotel doesn’t want hoi polloi coming to gawp.
You are only given its precise location once you have paid, which you must
do in full, in advance.
Book it: The Point (00 1 518 891 5674,
www.thepointresort.com) has suites from £863, including all meals, drinks
and activities. Opodo (0870 241 7056, www.opodo.co.uk) has flights with
Continental Airlines from several UK airports; from £255.
ISLA DE SA FERRADURA, IBIZA
This hacienda, on a private islet just off the party island, must be hired in
its entirety. It is bling central (even the tiles in the bathrooms glint)
and a pampering paradise, with a spa built into a cave. It even has a
solarium, if the sun proves too strong to work on that tan outdoors after a
big night out.
How OTT? The property has a secret bedroom, accessed by
pressing a button behind a picture in the library. Okay, so it’s not much of
a secret any more.
Book it: Vladi Island Travel (00 49 40 338989, www.vladi.de)
has a week for up to 14 for £66,500, which includes everything but flights.
