"Dubai?" The camel farmer plumps his cushions, shifts on to the other buttock and takes another sip of coffee. "Dubai is not Arab. There's nothing there." He pauses and a cool breath of evening wind brings us a whiff of the desert – subtle and serious, reminding me of a foxed paperback. We sit with our backs to the Empty Quarter, picking at the remains of dinner as the twilight gathers. "The only place where you can find Arab culture now," he continues, "is in the small villages and oases."...