Burj Khalifa dominates Dubai's skyline, writes Pamela Wade
It's the tallest thing on the planet, and I can't see it. Admittedly, I'm bamboozled by the 1200 shops I've just negotiated in the Dubai Mall behind me, including a walk-through aquarium with sharks, an ice-rink populated by small boys in robes pushing plastic penguins, and a four-storey waterfall complete with bronze divers - but still.
I look across the wide aqua sparkle of the man-made lake, ignore the prancing fountains, and tilt my head back further. And further. And further still, until my sunhat falls off.
Finally, there it is: the Burj Khalifa in its entirety. At 828m high, 160 storeys, it's almost three times the height of the Eiffel Tower, and twice the Empire State. It's also a vision in shiny steel and glass, attractively rounded and stepped, tapering upward to its unfeasibly distant tip. All around me, people with cameras are walking backwards, trying to fit it on to their screens, while others simply gaze at this audaciously tall building, silver and slender and beautiful.
Of course I go to the top, congratulating myself on having bought my ticket online at a quarter of the price of one from the entrance desk. Let through in half-hourly batches, we walk along corridors lined with photos and facts and figures - the concrete used weighs the same as 100,000 elephants; 12,000 workers were employed at the height of construction; the tower's tip can be seen from a distance of 95km; a team of 36 takes three months to clean the 2600 windows - to the lift, which rises so smoothly and swiftly, at 10m a second, that I count only six ear-pops to the observation deck on the 124th floor.