The water is sloshing in my ears. I just saw a translucent little swordfish and for a moment a “JAWS” type panic gripped me. I wanted to run out of the water for the safety of the burning sand but decided it was too much effort.

Every once in awhile a lazy wave splashes my face and my eyes sting from the salt water. I stop floating and rub my eyes. The beach is full of Westerners. Judging from the Speedos and thongs – most of them are European. They are languishing on towels and rented beach chairs mostly in the shade of the palm trees because the heat is oppressive.

Two Muslim men dressed in kanduras (white full length shirt dresses) are wandering around the beach. I am not in Hawaii after all. They are carrying a digital camera and stop to take photos of the women in bikinis. I decide to watch from the water while they pass. A security guard approaches and after an argument, the men are escorted off the beach.

These men are the exception in the United Arab Emirates. I continue floating. The Arabian Gulf seems to a have high salt content because I am practically hovering over the water. The ocean is turquoise and lukewarm. Apparently the water is home to tropical fish, jellyfish, coral, sea cows, sharks, turtles, and whales. Don’t eat me.

Jumeira Beach Park is a public spot with a cheap admission fee. It’s a one-kilometre stretch of golden sand complete with palm trees. It’s beautiful.

I can hear the call to prayer in the distance. It’s transmitted through loudspeakers on the minarets of each mosque – ensuring that everyone knows it’s time to pray. In Dubai, the plan is to build enough mosques so people don’t have to walk more than 500 metres to pray.

I drip my way back to my beach towel, hopping from one shady spot to the next - a futile attempt to keep the sand from burning my feet. Should’ve bought flip flops…