I returned to Abu Dhabi two weeks ago after almost eight months abroad. As I saw the city glisten in the night sky from the airplane window, I realized how much I had missed the capital and its people. I told myself that this semester I was going to explore more, dig deeper, look further and sweat harder in Abu Dhabi.

A few days ago, I realized that in a week and a half I have already been to Yas Mall, Ikea, World Trade Centre and Al-Wahda Mall. But a part of me was uneasy as I admired new skyscrapers and shopping centers from the window of my cab. It felt as if I was still viewing the city from afar, yet to allow myself to fully sweat under the Abu Dhabi sun.

Apparently, I was not the only one. According to The National, 71 percent of Western expatriates said that the biggest threat to Emirati culture and identity is the country’s “highly materialistic and consumerist society.”

This obsession with consumerism isn’t exclusive to the UAE. Western countries, particularly the U.K. and U.S.A, have been the greatest partakers in the building blocks of consumerism. In the UAE, however, our entry into the world of glitter is made a little easier. With everyday air-conditioned shuttles running from an air-conditioned campus to an air-conditioned mall, we have little reason to be outside of our comfort zones. It is only a matter of time before all that will is left on the global leader agenda will be visiting every Starbucks and McDonald’s in the world.

I will not go into the problems of consumerism, but I will address the price of our indulgence in glitter on our conception of Abu Dhabi. While scrolling down my Instagram feed, I often browse through pictures of NYU Abu Dhabi students vacationing in beautiful beach resorts in the city. The problem with this lies not in the pictures or the weekend getaways, portrayed on social media, but instead begins when our perception of Abu Dhabi is confined to moments of immediate gratification received in the cyclical chain of consumerism: mall trips, coffee outings, yacht parties.

Yesterday, I decided to take an hour-long, solitary walk in the area around the World Trade Centre and discover another side of Abu Dhabi. I found myself walking on Hamdan Street and discovering dark alleys that bridged and offered short cuts in between the streets. I allowed myself to get lost, and instead of looking for a café with free Wi-Fi, I ended up in a small Lebanese cafeteria on the roadside to ask for directions. I went inside and the man behind the counter explained the way back to me. After seeing the beads of sweat on my face and my tired expression, he went to the kitchen and came back with two falafels. He offered them to me, and asked me to eat them as I walked back to Hamdan Street. I insisted on paying, but he refused.

This brief encounter with an old man in a Lebanese cafeteria reminded me what I like about this city. It’s the people with their hopes and aspirations who fight the battle of life every day alongside us. There are people beyond the malls whose primary aim isn’t to make you spend your money on another item that you don’t quite need. Maybe Abu Dhabi isn’t yet swallowed by the obsession with materialism, as long as there is someone willing to give out some free falafel to help a stranger find their way home.

There is an Abu Dhabi beyond the malls, and that part of the city doesn’t rest on the superficial fulfillment you receive from shopping in H&M and Forever 21, but instead makes a more lasting impression. It reminds us of how we can be vested in our self-interests in this city and still remain kind to each other. The human spirit to uplift one another still lives in those dark alleys in Abu Dhabi that bridge our hearts.