Dubai International Financial Centre, fondly known as DIFC, is a financial hub for the Middle East, proudly placed to fill the gap between the financial markets of London and New York in the west, and Hong Kong and Tokyo in the east.
Curiously, and in contrast to Canary Wharf, it’s one of the few places in Dubai that doesn’t sport a skyscraper. Instead, the centre piece of DIFC is The Gate which, true to Dubai form, can only be described as iconic. Modelled on the Arc de Triomphe, the immense yet elegant cube with an equally enormous archway through the middle is described as ‘a gateway to a new financial district in Dubai’ – the architect’s words, not mine! I’ve actually tried walking under the arch while looking up to the ceiling with dizzying and near-disastrous consequences.
A friend of mine reckons DIFC is the place where it all goes on; the place where the deals are sealed, the money is made and the cogs of the financial world never cease turning. Granted he does work, sleep, eat and party within a 500 metre radius of DIFC but I think he’s probably right. As financial centres go, this place is pretty damn impressive. Apparently, its offices are the workplace of more than 11,500 employees, 97% of whom are expatriates and 35% of whom are women, working for over 1000 different banks, asset management firms, insurance companies, law firms and host of others. It has its own legal and regulatory framework and it’s very own courts to ensure that those laws and regulations are upheld. It also has its own underground shopping precinct, a gym, dry cleaners, hairdresser, a collection of modern art galleries and some of Dubai’s finest restaurants and hippest after-work hangouts. It would be entirely possible to live your life in DIFC and never have to go elsewhere.
Now, I have to confess that I am not fortunate enough (or misfortunate enough, depending on your point of view) to be employed by any of the firms that operate out of DIFC, so I can’t vouch for what goes on within the offices of some of the world’s most prestigious firms. But I have spent sufficient time in DIFC, in search of coffee and Wi-Fi, to notice that daily life in the public areas has a rhythm all of its own.
The day kicks off around 7am as the cafe staff and shop attendants, the early birds, and gym goers arrive. For the maintenance and cleaning staff, almost all of whom are from the Sub-Continent, the day started much earlier and initially the telescopic cleaning brushes, mops and dusters far outnumber the suits and laptops. By 8.30am the umbrellas on the balcony are up and the cleaning staff have faded away. Prime commuting time has commenced and judging by the queues at Caffe Nero and Caribou Coffee, one can only assume that a considerable number of the morning’s financial transactions will be fuelled by a quantity of caffeine in a take-away cup. You see the odd person wander past with a Bluetooth ear piece – because that early call just can’t wait – and there seems to be a trend among the women for bringing their lunch to work in a mini cool bag. It goes without saying that there are no men sporting cool bags.
By 9.30 most of the DIFC community are tucked safely away in their offices, save for the canny few who managed to pass off coffee and a cigarette as an important morning meeting. Around 11am a small crocodile of tiny children with attendant day-care nannies wind their way round the balcony on their morning walk. They smile and wave, the cafe staff smile and wave back, and if you look carefully you will notice macho bankers wearing the kind of slushy grin that is most carefully concealed from broody girlfriends.
Until next time dear readers, TTFN xxx
Curiously, and in contrast to Canary Wharf, it’s one of the few places in Dubai that doesn’t sport a skyscraper. Instead, the centre piece of DIFC is The Gate which, true to Dubai form, can only be described as iconic. Modelled on the Arc de Triomphe, the immense yet elegant cube with an equally enormous archway through the middle is described as ‘a gateway to a new financial district in Dubai’ – the architect’s words, not mine! I’ve actually tried walking under the arch while looking up to the ceiling with dizzying and near-disastrous consequences.
A friend of mine reckons DIFC is the place where it all goes on; the place where the deals are sealed, the money is made and the cogs of the financial world never cease turning. Granted he does work, sleep, eat and party within a 500 metre radius of DIFC but I think he’s probably right. As financial centres go, this place is pretty damn impressive. Apparently, its offices are the workplace of more than 11,500 employees, 97% of whom are expatriates and 35% of whom are women, working for over 1000 different banks, asset management firms, insurance companies, law firms and host of others. It has its own legal and regulatory framework and it’s very own courts to ensure that those laws and regulations are upheld. It also has its own underground shopping precinct, a gym, dry cleaners, hairdresser, a collection of modern art galleries and some of Dubai’s finest restaurants and hippest after-work hangouts. It would be entirely possible to live your life in DIFC and never have to go elsewhere.
Now, I have to confess that I am not fortunate enough (or misfortunate enough, depending on your point of view) to be employed by any of the firms that operate out of DIFC, so I can’t vouch for what goes on within the offices of some of the world’s most prestigious firms. But I have spent sufficient time in DIFC, in search of coffee and Wi-Fi, to notice that daily life in the public areas has a rhythm all of its own.
The day kicks off around 7am as the cafe staff and shop attendants, the early birds, and gym goers arrive. For the maintenance and cleaning staff, almost all of whom are from the Sub-Continent, the day started much earlier and initially the telescopic cleaning brushes, mops and dusters far outnumber the suits and laptops. By 8.30am the umbrellas on the balcony are up and the cleaning staff have faded away. Prime commuting time has commenced and judging by the queues at Caffe Nero and Caribou Coffee, one can only assume that a considerable number of the morning’s financial transactions will be fuelled by a quantity of caffeine in a take-away cup. You see the odd person wander past with a Bluetooth ear piece – because that early call just can’t wait – and there seems to be a trend among the women for bringing their lunch to work in a mini cool bag. It goes without saying that there are no men sporting cool bags.
By 9.30 most of the DIFC community are tucked safely away in their offices, save for the canny few who managed to pass off coffee and a cigarette as an important morning meeting. Around 11am a small crocodile of tiny children with attendant day-care nannies wind their way round the balcony on their morning walk. They smile and wave, the cafe staff smile and wave back, and if you look carefully you will notice macho bankers wearing the kind of slushy grin that is most carefully concealed from broody girlfriends.
Things begin to hot up on the balcony around 12pm, as people emerge from their offices to ‘do lunch’ and by 1pm the place is buzzing. Tune into any of the conversations around you you’ll hear such classic lines as, ’We need to figure out how to monetise that.’ Meanwhile downstairs in the Marble Walk the queue at Subway extends around the cafe and out the door. I was under the impression that no self-respecting professional should ever actually be seen buying food in Subway but this clearly isn’t the case in DIFC.
Back on the balcony the lunch rush is over by 2.30 but the cafes continue to hum. Visiting friends and proud parents who dropped by for lunch mill around, reluctant to return to where ever they came from. I’ve also become aware that there is a significant and rather sneaky contingent of people who arrive for a working lunch with a collegue or client and manage to eek out their lunch with puddings and several coffees until well into the afternoon...
Going-home time starts about 6 and runs right through to 8 or 9 in the evening. 10pm and place is virtually deserted, save for Zuma, hottest spot in town, which I’m reliably informed is always busy.
And so another day has passed in the desert and somewhere in the bowels of the building a small army has arrived for another night of cleaning. In just nine hours the financial market will re-open and another working day will kick off all over again but for now it’s time for your correspondent to sign off and head home.
Until next time dear readers, TTFN xxx
