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'Largest, tallest, longest, highest - superlatives have become a bizarre obsession in this part of the world'

HIS Highness is a phrase that you hear often in Abu Dhabi. "His Highness built this," "His Highness built that," or in the case of the city's tourist attractions: "His Highness is planning to build that."

If you thought that tourism in the Gulf didn't extend much further than Dubai, then His Highness Mohammed bin Zayed al Nahyan, Abu Dhabi's crown prince, is planning to change that too.

Dubai's luxury economy may be in freefall, with expats dumping their cars at the airport before fleeing and the price of celebrity-owned properties on the artificially created Palm Island collapsing, but that has not deterred its often-overlooked big brother, Abu Dhabi, from wading into the tourism game. It's all part of a royal masterplan.

Only five years after launching its own airline, Etihad, to lure transiting passengers away from Dubai's Emirates, Abu Dhabi is going up against the "City of Gold" for its share of the upmarket tourist dollar.

Financial crisis be damned, Abu Dhabi's extraordinary multibillion-dollar makeover will go ahead as planned, complete with a vast new "cultural quarter" encompassing the world's biggest Guggenheim museum, designed by Frank Gehry, and a space-age performing arts centre by Zaha Hadid.

So off I went to have a look at this transformation, an experiment to be rolled out across the United Arab Emirates after testing in Abu Dhabi. His Highness has big plans for tourism in all the emirates - though it's hard to imagine nipping off to dry, veiled Sharjah for sun and shopping.

Abu Dhabi could certainly benefit from change. I arrived late on a Thursday evening, which meant that by the time I emerged the following morning the weekend was firmly under way and there was little left to do. I could have gone to the mall, but I went to the pool instead.

Dubai is my only reference point by which to judge Abu Dhabi - so forgive my repeated comparisons. But anyone who has holidayed in Dubai in recent years knows all about crane blight - the noise and ugliness of unbridled, around-the-clock construction. Then there is the problem of badly treated migrant workers, another unpalatable feature of life in Dubai that deters some visitors.

I could see none of that as I looked out over the glistening inlet. There were cranes, but these were in the distance and not intrusive. And while there have been warnings over abuse of migrant workers in Abu Dhabi, it is far less evident than in Dubai.

Right across the water, in all its completed glory, was an astonishing, hallucinatory piece of construction, the Sheikh Zayed Mosque, built by His Highness senior, the late father of His Highness. This imposing landmark looks like a cross between The Wizard of Oz and The Arabian Nights and by the time it was illuminated with purple floodlights that evening I knew I had to see it for myself.

But what was stunning at a distance became vulgar the closer I got. The mosque has the largest carpet in the world, woven in pieces in Thailand and assembled on the site, and the largest chandelier on the planet, the tackiness of which made me feel nauseous. Largest, tallest, longest, highest - superlatives have become the bizarre obsession in a part of the world that is still a bit chippy about coming late to construction and having almost nothing old to show off but a few bangles and camel bridles.

The clouds had gathered for a rare rain storm as we head towards the ferry to Sir Bani Yas Island. If you want to know how His Highness likes to spend his holidays, this is where you should come. Sir Bani Yas, two hours up the coast by car, was the private island of the Abu Dhabi Royal Family until a few years ago, when the Crown Prince decided to allow a resort to be built there.

But Sir Bani Yas is still exclusive, with the Anantara Desert Islands Resort the only place to stay. As we coast towards the island in a catamaran, our guide points out the royal estate, a good distance from the hotel itself, and various eco-quirks that the prince has added, such as a wind turbine (the only one in the UAE).

His Highness is the Gulf's own Prince of Wales, a bit of an eco-warrior and nature lover, and this wild, barren island is his favourite spot. He has a little lookout palace at the highest point so he can sit and survey his island kingdom.

What makes Sir Bani Yas so bizarre but lovely is its non-human population. The crown prince's father stocked the island with native Arabian animals, such as the endangered Arabian onyx, and turned it into a reserve. The prince has taken this a step further and introduced African animals - 36 giraffes and four former zoo cheetahs to add to the mix of peacocks and sand gazelles (described by our guide as "really cute but really stupid").

Our day starts early with a game drive amid the sand gazelles and scurrying peacocks. The giraffes are lugubrious but always happy to be fed. "Argh, it tickles!" a guest squeals as a giraffe nibbles her arm. The cheetahs are too lazy to entertain and so roll around in the sand showing off their full bellies.

As safaris go, Sir Bani Yas is hardly Tanzania, but leaving the beach for a game drive then returning for lunch or a massage is enjoyable. And, unlike the tourist islands of Dubai, this is real - even if several million gallons of water are needed to keep the imported trees growing. The water is desalinated on site, which somehow makes this Arabian zoological folly more tolerable, although its eco-credentials are, frankly, questionable.

I would like to come back to Abu Dhabi when all its extraordinary building endeavours are finished and the museums are full - including the intriguingly named Louvre Abu Dhabi, managed by a French consortium. This might soon be the only place in the world with money to buy fine art or to pay high-profile architects such as Gehry and Hadid. If only they had been called in before Abu Dhabi built its monstrous mosque.

There are plans to build more resorts on Sir Bani Yas, but I think His Highness has the right idea. Keep the island as it is - a charming but slightly bonkers retreat, and the sand gazelles will be happy.