During those years a Goan family living in Dubai had developed a small ritual of their own. The father, who worked as a Project Manager in the Petroleum sector, would take the family out in his Mitsubishi Lancer just after noon time on Fridays.
The destination was rarely fixed. Sometimes the journey would lead to the limestone mountains of Ras Al Khaimah, sometimes to the coastline of Fujairah, and sometimes simply to the neighbouring emirate of Sharjah, which acted as the gateway to the northern emirates.
Sharjah: Familiar
halt for expats
Sharjah occupied a special place in the weekend itinerary of many expatriates. Entering the emirate through Al Qusais, which connects Dubai to Sharjah, one immediately sensed a change in pace. The emirate was quieter than Dubai, yet full of the energy of migrant communities who had made the Gulf their temporary home.
The first halt of the journey was almost always a Lebanese bakery. Fresh Arabic bread would emerge from the furnace, topped with za'atar, a fragrant blend of sesame, herbs, and olive oil. Another variety carried melted cheese across the surface of the warm bread. These simple dishes were often the most comforting food one could find on a sunny Gulf afternoon.
The next stop was usually among the bustling Iranian-owned gift shops that dotted the streets. Stores such as Day-to-Day, Gift Land, and Gift Village were known across the expatriate community for selling affordable goods imported from China. For families planning their next trip back to Goa, these shops were treasure troves. Every purchase carried the quiet anticipation of gifts for relatives waiting at home.
The Sharjah Souq
The journey would then continue toward one of Sharjah’s most recognisable landmarks - the Sharjah Souq, where entire sections were dedicated to the sale of Arabian dates. Visitors would often be invited to sample different varieties before making a purchase.
The vendors frequently happened to be Indians, and the hospitality felt instantly familiar. Dates of every colour and texture were offered to passing customers. By the time one had sampled them all, choosing a favourite became almost impossible.
By mid-afternoon the Gulf sun would begin to weigh heavily, and refreshment became necessary. Across the UAE, the most common remedy for the heat were the small roadside tea stalls run by Malabari vendors. These humble cafeterias served a simple but beloved drink known as “Lipton chai”. Prepared with Lipton teabags, Rainbow evaporated milk, sugar, and boiling water, the tea cost no more than fifty fils. Yet on a warm afternoon it felt priceless.
Nearby stood another small indulgence that marked the rhythm of those Fridays. A Dunkin’ Donuts outlet along the ring road of Rolla Square sold tiny doughnuts known as munchkins. Each family member received exactly four.
While the family walked through the shops browsing for gifts, the father would often remain in the car, reclining the seat and allowing the air conditioner to run while he took a short nap. That brief pause restored enough energy for the long drive that would eventually continue toward the northern emirates and end late at night back in Dubai.
The Gulf was never a place defined by a single culture. Instead it functioned as a crossroads where communities from across Asia and the Middle East interacted in everyday life. For many expatriates this blending of cultures was what made the region feel welcoming despite being far from home.
Goans and Gulf connection
For Goans in particular the Gulf has long represented opportunity. Over the decades thousands of Goans have travelled to countries such as the UAE, Qatar, Oman, and Bahrain in search of a better lifestyle. The short flight between Goa and Dubai made these migrations possible without severing ties with home.
This closeness created a unique pattern of life. Families could work abroad yet remain emotionally rooted in Goa. Visits during Christmas, Easter, or summer holidays ensured that the connection to home remained strong.
Time for reflection
Recent tensions in the region inevitably raise concern among expatriate communities. News of missile exchanges and regional conflict can create anxiety among families who have loved ones working in the Gulf.
Yet it is important to remember that the everyday reality of life in places such as the United Arab Emirates has long been defined by cooperation between communities rather than conflict between them. Iranian traders, Indian workers, Arab hosts, and expatriate families have together built the social fabric of these cities.
The relationship between Goa and the Gulf therefore deserves to be understood not only through economics but through human experience. They remind us that migration does not simply create distance. In many cases it builds bridges between societies.
For Goans living abroad and for those waiting at home, that bridge across the Arabian Sea may no longer continue to shape lives, memories, and futures.
