Global Bites: A Journey Through a Unique Village

The Middle East has long been a melting pot, drawing people and cultures from all corners of the globe. Whether it's tourism, work, or sports, the region continues to celebrate its ever-growing diversity. One shining example of this cultural fusion is Global Village—a place where food, shopping, and entertainment come together in the most delightful (and occasionally chaotic) ways. This attraction is more than just a food market; it's a whirlwind of flavours, unique shopping experiences, and cultural performances that’ll have you dancing—whether you planned to or not. It’s where you can savour sushi from Japan, haggle over handcrafted goods from Morocco, and catch a spontaneous dance act from... well, pretty much everywhere.

As we approached the entrance to the attraction, the dazzling purple lights illuminated its grandeur, making it hard to miss. Exiting the taxi and strolling up to the ticket counter, we confidently requested two tickets—only to be met with the words, "Women only." The confusion was real. We were both flummoxed, trying to understand what the woman meant. We could clearly see men walking in and out without issue. Had we misunderstood something? Did we make a cultural faux pas? I couldn’t help but burst into laughter at our blunder. My cousin, ever the vocal one, repeated “No way is this happening!” countless times, his disbelief echoing in the air, until we finally noticed a digital ticket counter nearby. We bought our tickets there and marched in, convinced that the woman had given us some kind of mistake. But a few hours later, it dawned on me—she didn’t say “women only” as in “only women can buy tickets here.” No, she meant the counter was designated for women only. At that moment, the memory of our exaggerated reactions made me cringe. My cousin’s loud confusion and my laughter now felt entirely misplaced. Looking back, I get secondhand embarrassment just thinking about it—but in our defense, a little more clarity wouldn’t have hurt!

As we entered, the first thing that caught our eye was a beautifully constructed mini "Big Ben," with the front of a famous London red bus parked right underneath it. The place was bustling with people, but thanks to the vast size of the attraction, it never felt cramped or claustrophobic. As we ventured deeper, the space opened up even further, stretching into the distance on both our left and right. To the left, I spotted "Türkiye" in bold red letters, and further on, "Sri Lanka" beckoned from the distance. On the right, there were signs for 'Egypt', 'Kuwait', and 'Yemen.' The lights were nothing short of spectacular—bright, colourful, and alive with energy. You could sense the collective joy of the crowd, not only from the sheer size of Global Village but also from the excitement of tasting cuisines from so many far-flung corners of the globe. It was clear: people were hungry for both the food and the experience.

My cousin, being the food enthusiast that he is, had a list of restaurants he was determined to try, and as much as I love food, he’s on a whole different level. So, like a puppy I followed him around eagerly awaiting to eat. Our first stop was tacos—specifically from a well-known place called "La Birria." Unfortunately, with so many eateries scattered throughout the Village, the maps didn’t do a great job of guiding us to all of them. After wandering past various sections representing different countries, we finally spotted "Afghanistan" and decided to step in, knowing it would offer some souvenirs and food that our parents would love—from fur coats to traditional hats. But the real gem for me was the pomegranate juice stand. The man was juicing giant, vibrant red pomegranates using a simple juicer. He handed me a glass, and I indulged in the most refreshing, sweet, and cold drink I’d had in a while. It was the perfect start to the day.

Assuming La Birria had rebranded, we stumbled upon "Taco Taco Shop" next. After ordering our tacos, my cousin took one look at them and said, "This isn't La Birria." Say what you will, but that’s a strange—and oddly impressive—talent to have. Regardless of the taco identity crisis, we dove in with enthusiasm, savoring each bite loaded with chicken, tomatoes, cheese, and the usual mix of taco veggies. As we finished, he asked, "What’s next?" While he was ready to tackle every food stall in sight, I was already mentally preparing for a food coma. My body was craving a nap, but my stomach knew the show had to go on.

We wandered over to a truck called 'Mango Tango Cafe' where my cousin immediately ordered an ice-cold mango drink. I, on the other hand, decided to explore a section called "Railway Market," which was lined with various food trucks offering a sweet array of desserts. From coconut to chocolate to cookies, they had it all. But what caught my eye was an ice cream truck featuring a photo of a little cone with mango-flavored ice cream poking out. Intrigued, I ordered one, expecting a modest scoop. Instead, the woman handed me a massive, sweet waffle cone, piled high with the creamiest mango ice cream. Despite the mountain of food I’d already indulged in and the very real lack of space in my stomach, I devoured the ice cream with absolute joy. It was every bit as delicious as it looked. But after that, I knew I was done for the day—I wasn’t eating anything else. Of course, my cousin had other plans. He continued his food journey, on a quest for a new form of... well, let's call it delightful obesity.

Our next stop was Tantuni, a Turkish street food joint. My cousin ordered a kebab wrapped in bread and topped with yogurt. As he devoured it with the enthusiasm, I looked around and realised that a number of other restaurants on his must-try list were right there, within reach. Next up was a deep-dish, ultra-cheesy pepperoni pizza. Now, I’m still not entirely sure how he managed to eat it given the sheer amount of cheese that practically oozed off the crust. Was it healthy? Absolutely not. Did he care? Maybe—in a few hours, once the food coma set in. Did he enjoy it? It was hard to tell, but his happy food-induced trance suggested he was in pure bliss. He did offer me a bite, but I was already mentally calculating the cholesterol levels for the next 40 years. In all my 24 years of knowing him, I had never seen him so... happy.

We strolled through an Asian-inspired "Floating Market," which was mostly dedicated to Oriental seafood. It was an eye-opening experience, watching people bravely attempt to eat fish I didn’t even know came in edible sizes or those shapes - I swear I saw an octopus on the grill the size of my palm. There were fish so big I wondered if they were meant to be eaten or displayed in an aquarium. We made our way back to the "Railway Market," where my cousin, naturally, bought a second mango slushie. Meanwhile, I couldn’t take my eyes off the carnival ride that towered above the market, swinging people high into the air. Like a five-year-old, I asked, "Can we go on that?" Without missing a beat, he replied, “Wait for the food to digest.” And just like that, my dreams of soaring through the air were put on pause for the sake of digestion.

As we wandered through the different markets, we explored "Japan," "Road of Asia," and "China." By this point, the sweetness of the mango ice cream was starting to overwhelm me, and I was craving something savory and spicy. So, I grabbed a potato swirl, generously topped with a mix of flavorful spices. It was a familiar taste from my childhood, instantly bringing back nostalgic memories, and I relished every bite. With our cravings somewhat satisfied, we made our way toward the carnival ride. Now, I’m pretty sure this was the most I’ve ever spent on a single ride—around £10-12. As I stood in line, my only thought was, “This thing only goes high, it doesn’t get you high—what’s with the inflated price?” That said, once the ride took off, it was totally worth it. The wind rushed past me as I soared high, with a breathtaking view of the entire Global Village, lit up in all its vibrant colors. It was an experience I won’t soon forget—well, until the next overpriced ride, of course.

One more stop before we left: "Meltz." I still couldn’t quite figure out what my cousin was so excited about, but his enthusiasm was palpable. The man behind the counter took an ice cream bar with some kind of Kunafa base flavour, slathered it in chocolate sauce, and topped it off with a generous sprinkle of pistachios. At this point, I was convinced my cousin’s plan for the night was to leave with a serious risk of diabetes—because, for whatever reason, he was going all in. I took one bite of his creation and immediately knew that was enough sugar consumption for the rest of the week. Done. Meanwhile, my cousin finished his treat without hesitation and washed it down with yet another cold, refreshing lemonade... in a bag, because why not? It was at this moment I started questioning whether food was his talent or his addiction. Either way, I think I gained a couple of kilos just watching him indulge in food from all over the world that night. I did really want to try out 'Croffee', but I completely forgot.