Review: Jumeirah Marsa Al Arab, Dubai

At nearly 400 rooms, Jumeirah Marsa Al Arab is to luxury what herpes is to sexual intercourse.  It sounded about as appealing as attending Glastonbury, spending three days waist-deep in mud, sunburnt and unshowered, only to discover James Corden had launched a music career.  And then getting my teeth kicked in by the police on the way home.  It was never going to be my definition of true luxury.  I am never going to fall in love with something that large. Insert your own joke here.

But Marsa Al Arab might be about as good as you can hope for a property of this size. This might be the best it can ever get when there are 386 rooms all competing for attention, like toddlers clinging to their parents’ legs while they’re glued to their phones, desperately seeking some form of validation, only to eventually realise life isn’t fair and it’s a bitch.  And that can be their marketing campaign. You’re welcome.

Getting there

Just a 20 minute drive from the airport.  

There is something undeniably impressive about being this close to the Burj Al Arab and seeing it from every possible angle. And what a boom for Jumeriah, that their own property is the flagship view.  That’s like being able to murder someone, get away with it, and then write a book about how you might have murdered them and cash in.  Totally the same thing.

Setting

My last experience of a supposedly ultra-luxury Dubai hotel was Atlantis The Royal. What a shithole.  Atlantis is your UFC fight being held on the White House lawn. Marsa Al Arab is more like taking a dump during a classical music concert at the Royal Albert Hall and finding yourself unexpectedly impressed by the toilets.

Instead of being herded around like cattle, we were invited to sit down, handed drinks, and checked in. Someone offered us a seat and a drink rather than a wristband and a cavity search.  Even so, we did arrive stupidly early, so had to wait for our room, which is on me. We headed to the pool and commandeered a shaded cabana, which, to my surprise, didn’t result in being billed. But everything has a price. In this case, it was being repeatedly molested by mosquitos. It was also surprisingly quiet in the morning, but in what may be the least surprising plot twist in human history, that changed as the day went on, with 5pm feeling like someone had launched a rave in the middle of the pool area.

The location works well. Right by the marina, within easy walking distance of the Residences, straight down to the beach, and with enough curves and angles to make the whole place feel more interesting than another giant glass rectangle.

But this is still Dubai. Helicopters overhead, construction everywhere, complemented by a sewer scent drifting through the pool area one morning and a scattering of rat traps that inspire about as much confidence as a surgeon asking where your organs normally go, just before opening you up. Or a chef assuring you there’s absolutely nothing to worry about with the poo situation in the kitchen.

Facilities

Excuse the lack of photos. This is one of those places with one of those ultra vigilant policies against “professional” cameras, which I struggle to understand given that every guest is wandering around with an iPhone capable of filming a Netflix documentary.

Facilities follow the same pattern: scale, but executed thoughtfully.  Multiple pools, including Iliana Pool Club, which is only accessible to suite bookers, and a splash area with water features for kids elsewhere. Free buggy service to other Jumeriah properties, including the water park – which looks like it’s seen way too much urine and just given up with life.

There is so, so much going on here, and whilst it can get somewhat busy, the design, the space, and amount of staff around ensuring that non-residents kindly piss off, all make this a much more pleasant place to be than what you might expect.

The spa continues the modern luxury hotel trend of having rooms dedicated to things that science cannot justify, but your witch doctor can. There was a red heat bed, an oxygen chamber, a cryotherapy chamber, and another machine that appeared to require your head sticking out of the top while science happened around the rest of your body. I lost interest somewhere around that point.

The standout facility is on the fifth floor, where the indoor pool and gym are located. I also liked how the gym, pool and spa are connected by a central staircase whilst remaining on separate levels. It makes the entire wellness area feel cohesive rather than a collection of facilities awkwardly bolted together by an architect who last saw a gym in the 90s.

The pool is one of the most beautiful I’ve seen that doesn’t rely on some kinda views or floor-to-ceiling windows to do the heavy lifting. The curved design, the cabanas, the proportions of the space; gorgeous.  Unfortunately, around 7pm, tranquility starts packing its bags. The outdoor pools close, guests migrate upstairs, and the atmosphere changes to Instagram-lite. Nearly 400 rooms will always, eventually, remind you of their existence.

The spa facilities are standard, albeit I always dislike having separate men’s and women’s areas containing saunas, steam rooms and experience showers. But, we’re in Dubai, what’d ya gonna do?

The gym is impressive. Glass walls overlook the marina, natural light floods the space, and the equipment is exactly what you’d expect. It even has the same TechnoGym assessment machines found at places like Velaa, capable of producing a comprehensive score of your overall fitness. I can only assume the machine was broken because the results seemed unnecessarily personal. Every time I see that machine, I hear the Jaws music playing, reminding me of my uselessness.

At 4pm the gym was busy enough that I immediately lost interest. At 7am there were only a handful of people working out and a single person in the pool. As with most things at Marsa, timing is everything.

Room

The Grand Ocean Terrace Suite (#815) we stayed in, was absurd.  At 359 square metres, with another 188 square metres of terrace, it is probably the largest one-bedroom suite I’ve ever stayed in.  Three bathrooms; three showers; a nanny room.  Corridors that may be the inspiration for Backrooms.  That terrace could have hosted our entire wedding.

It genuinely took me four walk arounds just to understand the layout.  Which is either a sign of the size of the room, or the size of my small brain.  Yet somehow it never feels like an aircraft hangar.  The living room is large without becoming overwhelming and the bedroom feels substantial without becoming ridiculous.  The space comes from everything surrounding them: the dressing areas, the corridors, the extra bathrooms, the terrace, and the fact the suite sits on the edge of the building, allowing it to wrap around with sweeping 180-degree views.

The terrace is so large it’s essentially three separate areas.  An eight-seat dining area facing the Burj Al Arab, a sunken lounge outside the bedroom, and a separate sunbathing area around the corner overlooking the marina.

The reality, of course, is that no matter how enormous the suite becomes, children remain children.  Faced with 359 square metres of luxury accommodation, mine immediately commandeered the master bed, forcing me into the nanny room.

The design works for me.  It is unmistakably luxurious without feeling the need to constantly remind you. The design is restrained — almost suspiciously so for Dubai.  Queue the “it’s a trap” gif. Nothing feels particularly ostentatious, but it offers some really nice touches like the chandeliers and curved glass wrapping around the rooms.  Has Dubai finally learnt?  It’s not the most beautiful by any stretch, but I approve.

Technology is handled well too.  The touch controls for the lights and blinds remain hidden until your hand approaches them, illuminating to reveal their functions.  It’s better than the usual approach of requiring a degree in electrical engineering to turn off the bedside lamp.

The only baffling design decision is the lack of conveniently placed power sockets.  Beyond the desk, I found myself charging various devices in increasingly random locations around the suite.

There are a few disappointments.  Most notably, no Toto toilets.  A tragedy.  Progress as a species remains frustratingly slow.

The bathroom itself is otherwise excellent.  The shower is particularly impressive, with separate controls for a waterfall effect, a traditional shower head, and a mist setting that appeared to gently moisturise my soul.  Less successful are the taps, which sit so low over the basin that washing your hands becomes a miracle of dexterity. I dunno who designs these things?  It’s like they were designed for people with fins for hands.

Construction is taking place in front of part of the marina, because Dubai is contractually forbidden from ever finishing building itself, but there was no noise disturbance. Admittedly, nothing could be more disturbing than that wind.

The wind was a right pain in the arse.  It apparently peaked at around 31 km/h, but I refuse to accept this figure.  From inside the suite it sounded like death itself was arriving on a chariot powered by rockets.  From the bedroom, the noise sounded like the Big Bad Wolf had developed chronic asthma and just finished watching something unspeakable on OnlyFans.

Service

I could feel people actually give a shit here and want to give good service.  Even the WhatsApp butler service was decent.  It isn’t Bulgari Dubai or The Lana, but nor is it the indifference you can feel elsewhere.  Like Atlantis The Royal.  Did I mention I hated that place?  

Sure, scale interferes at times.  Soup can take 45 minutes.  Turndown showed up a mere three hours late.  But there is effort here.  I mean, the effort is often a check-in from the butler on WhatsApp, which is probably automated, but at least it’s something.  Basically, it’s about as pleasant as it can be at this size of property.

They also did a really nice job with the room setup.  Personalised slippers with initials for everyone; butler made sure to say “no dark chocolate” – nicely noted; come chocolates, savoury truffle snack, cake and macaroons.  No kids toys though, so obviously there were tears.

Food

I cannot even be bothered to list all the restaurants.  Let’s just work on the basis of “all of them” was in the brief.  A Pierre Herme patisserie, just to kick things off, and breakfast covers four entire restaurants, woven into one space.  Oysters, lobster Benedict, seared sushi, truffle scrambled eggs, make your own acae. There’s a lot taking place. Each restaurant has a cooking station and buffet.  And there’s an a la carte offering too.  

 In practice, it’s good, but not revolutionary.  Strip away the interiors and it’s still fruit stations, pastry sections, and regional counters like many other luxury hotels.  The brilliance is in presentation; the different interiors, the different places to eat, and how peaceful it is still at 9am. At 10am, it’s a different story, but we’re outta there by then, suckers.  The only disappointment would be that breakfast buffet is exactly the same every day. But it is so significant that I was finding new things even on the third day.

There are so many restaurants here, I felt thoroughly lost by it all.  But ultimately, so many not available to kids. Went to Ilian, Greek restaurant besides the beach, for lunch – started of Greek salad was, as you might hope, brilliant, but the chicken for a main was so damn dry.  Not sure how to review it after all that.  Went to Kinugawa, Japanese for lunch besides the beach – pretty good. The usual of being good without stand out at Japanese restaurants. I dunno why I keep going in fairness. I think seeing the menu gives me such joy, but the end result does not.

Kids Friendly

I did enjoy the positioning of the kids club. Tucked beside a high-end jewellery boutique.  Clearly trying to get the parents at their most joyous moment…when they’re free of their children.  Smart.

The kids club is surprisingly small given the scale of the property. It’s not bad, and it’s not amazing.  It is, however, open from 9am until 7pm, so let’s be thankful for their sacrifice.  Although they close for an hour at lunch time, so I take it all back. One nice touch was offering scooters and roller bikes that the kids can take out around the resort. Our children enjoyed it, although what struck me most was how empty it often was. On one evening, ours were literally the only children there. Either everyone else was having quality family time, or more likely, they were all in front of iPads somewhere.

You still have to complete the usual paperwork before abandoning your offspring, but thankfully without the endless restrictions and legal disclaimers that make places like Atlantis feel as though you’re handing your children over to a government agency.

The bigger issue is dining. For a hotel with an apparent dozen restaurant options, surprisingly few welcome children for dinner. During our stay, Madame Li, Mirabelle and Commodore Club were effectively the only choices. And Commodore Club isn’t even on the property itself, which feels a bit like claiming you’ve got a swimming pool because your neighbour does.

Marsa clearly wants families to come and stay, yet once dinner arrives, it suddenly feels like a hotel that wants children to exist, just preferably somewhere out of sight.

The Good

• Facilities

The Bad

• Still a massive property

The Luxurious

• Suite
• Spa
• Views

Conclusion

Marsa Al Arab is now the flagship of the Jumeirah properties in Dubai. The Burj Al Arab is closed until late 2027 for the first major refurbishment in its history, and is using the same interior designer as Marsa.  Marsa is simply a more sophisticated, beter product, even if I remain strangely susceptible to the glorious insanity of the Burj. If the Burj Al Arab is your Uncle Cletus suffering a ketamine-fuelled schizophrenic breakdown, Marsa is more your understated, elegant cousin who used to dress you, and you had weird feelings for her from a young age.

Obviously for a hotel of this size, it’s not perfect and is not deserving of Worlds 50 Best. All sane people agree on that.  But it is surprisingly good. Or at least, good compared to Atlantis. Or, more accurately, surprisingly good at making a hotel with 386 rooms feel luxurious.

I left thinking: I would actually go back.  I’m not going to suggest it over Bulgari, nor to go for the hotel itself, but I surprisingly liked it.  I’m never going to truly love a hotel with nearly 400 rooms. That’s not what luxury is about to me. But it is about as good as you can hope for in a hotel of that size.