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Abu Dhabi: Free ride for “friendship”
Posted by Squiffy on November 12th, 2008
Sometimes, whilst Dave is computing in Sarah’s air-conditioned flat, I like to go out exploring by myself. At the moment it’s too hot to walk more than a block, so I generally take a taxi. Whilst cabs here are cheap, when it comes to the standard of driver and driving, it’s definitely a case of you-get-what-you-pay-for.
One morning, after waiting for 15 minutes in the unbearable heat and humidity and waving my arms frantically at anything that looked remotely like a taxi, a cabbie picked me up. Thankful to be out of the heat I jumped in and greeted him. In broken English he returned my greeting and introduced himself as Ali from Pakistan, pointing at his ID badge so I could read his full name. It seemed that Ali was keen to talk and the conversation went something like this:
Ali: You have husband?
Me: Yes
Ali: Ah. You have beebies?
Me: No
Ali: Ah. You….(motions big belly)
Me: No, not pregnant (obviously I’d eaten too much at the Sheraton lunch that day)
Ali: Why no beebies? Problem?
Me: No, no problem
Ali: Husband a problem?
Me: No, husband very good.
Ali: Ah, very good. My madam finished. (FInsihed? Was he divorced or had he bumped off his wife, I wondered)
Pause
Ali: You give me mobile number
Me: I don’t have a mobile, I’m a visitor
Ali: You no number? You give me number
This went on for some time, until we arrived at my destination. I noted that the metre was at 3.50 DHS and took out a 5 DHS note to pay him. He pushed the note aside and took hold of my arm. ‘No, no’, he enthused, ‘no pay, we friends’, giving me a look that meant ‘you know what I mean’. I reclaimed my arm and pushed the note into his hands. ‘No thank you’, I said, firmly closing the car door. In a foreign city, you just never know what offers you’re going to get next. I just hope Dave isn’t going to trade me for a camel. Watch this space.
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Dubai: Chauffeur-driven whirlwind tour
Posted by daveb on November 11th, 2008
You can tell when my parents come to town. They’re past the dirty hotel, smelly backpacker stage (actually, I’m not even sure that they ever went there) so they hired us kids a driver for the day to take us around Dubai. We started at the Dubai Museum: the short film chronicalling the development of the emirate since the 1930’s was surprisingly interesting. After which we moved onto the old creek for a thirty minute Abra boat tour.
We scoffed some food at the excellent Lime Tree cafe (along with lots of other Westerners taking refuge from Ramadan) and headed for the Burj Al Arab, Dubai’s landmark feature, and the Madinat Jumeriah Souk (a modern market, made to look old-ish). Seeing as my brother likes cars, I couldn’t help but take him into some of the car showrooms. We also happened upon a shopping mall, which featured a scale-model of Tower Bridge in London (last photo).
This place is growing on me, you know. Having a competent driver to take us around saved us many a missed turning, no doubt!
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Abu Dhabi: What to order?
Posted by daveb on November 10th, 2008
Not everything’s been Westernised into the mainstream over here, you know. We found ourselves in an Iranium bakery just up the road from where we’re staying the other day. I had the chicken sharwarma and the falafels, obviously. Oh, and just make sure you’re reading right-to-left to work out the correct price
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Abu Dhabi: Doggy-bag madness
Posted by daveb on November 10th, 2008
My generous father treated us all to a delicious meal in one of the city’s premier restaurants, which sits on the 28th floor atop a hotel. Oh and being in the la-la land of the UAE, it revolves. Naturally.
As usual, Squiffy ordered the chocolate desert thingo. As it happens, so did I. The desert was really, really rich and impossible to finish in a single attempt, so we asked for a doggy-bag to take it away for future enjoyment — much to the embarrassment of my parents (they would never consider such a brilliant idea!).
Imagine our surprise, therefore, when our waiter returns with our boxed goodness in one hand and an indemnity waiver form in the other. I’m not joking, Squiffy was requested to sign the the contract to absolve the restaurant of any blame–and I quote–“as a result of or consequent upon death”.
It took a few moments for our British waiter to step back from his recently acquired la-la land mentality and understand our hilarity. “If you think that’s funny, have a look at this”, he said, producing another indemnity form, this time for customers bringing food and drink, “the Food”, into “the Premises”.
I’ve taken a photo of both forms and included them in the gallery below — you’ll likely have to click the “Full Size” link when viewing the photo to be able to read the small print.
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Missing galleries added
Posted by daveb on November 8th, 2008
I recently wrote published two posts (below) and forgot to include the associated photo galleries. I’ve now added the pictures, click the links below to see them:
Dubai: Hot, wet, can’t see a thing, can’t eat a thing either.
Dubai: The haves and the have-nots
Sorry for missing them out first time around!
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Abu Dhabi: Birthday Bash, Dune Bash
Posted by daveb on November 7th, 2008
My glorious family have descended upon Abu Dhabi to celebrate my father’s 60th birthday. We ate, we drank, we chatted, we shopped and then we ate some more.
And then we stepped into a seven-seater 4×4 and were whisked-off into the Arabian desert to give my dear Dad a birthday to remember. My poor Mum kept her eyes mostly closed for an hour as our expert driver bashed our way through the sand dunes, the rest of us criss-crossed between squeaks of silence and raucous laughter upon successfully ‘completing’ each dune without the vehicle turning upside-down. Our driver was excellent, knowing exactly how far he could safely push the car up the dunes before making everyone sick, or worse, rolling us over!
Eventually, but not soon enough for my poor Mum, we reached our desert camp and drank Arabic tea with the nomads, rode a camel and ate some phenomenally good food. It seems that even miles away from anywhere in the UAE desert, the chefs are five-star! (Rumour has it that the Hilton hotel provides the catering and the desert nomads reheat it on site.)
After the meal, we smoked shisha (hubbly-bubbly) and looked up at the stars.
Happy Birthday Dad — hope you enjoyed it!
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Abu Dhabi: Breakfast at dinner time
Posted by daveb on November 6th, 2008
This is a guest post from Sarah, David’s older and wiser sibling, who he and Claire have been scrounging a comfy bed and hot water off for a month (…only kidding, you two…)
Ramadan, the Muslim holy month, is best known for being the time when Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset. The times of fasting are predetermined and broadcast by the media, so Muslims know exactly when to break their fast and can prepare and time the dishing-up of their meals appropriately.
The meal that breaks the fast is known as ‘iftar’, which translates as ‘breakfast’ in Arabic and, make no mistake, it’s a big deal in the Muslim world. Everyone troops off to ‘all you can eat buffets’ across the city, often served in traditional tents erected for the purpose, or, more usually, take it at their or someone else’s home, surrounded by friends and family. Cooking before the nightly meal can take HOURS: it’s like preparing Christmas dinner every day for 30 days (without being able to get tipsy on sherry while making the gravy).
One of my colleagues and dear friends, Noura, generously invited the Bartletts and lone Nollett to experience a traditional iftar at her family home during their stay. The Sarraj family are an international bunch: Palestinian by heritage, with Noura and her four siblings brought up in Kuwait, Canada and Abu Dhabi. Noura’s parents are currently enjoying a break with their wider family at their house in Amman, Jordan, so Noura and her brother Dya, sister Dana and cousin Rula welcomed us into their home for what has to be one of the nicest evenings I have spent in Abu Dhabi to date.
True to form, Noura, Dana and the family’s maid had spent hours in the kitchen and prepared a veritable feast of traditional dishes, including lamb and rice, sambusas (Arabic samousas), fattoush (Arabic salad..with fried bread) and some vegetarian dishes for yours truly. We broke our ‘fast’ with the family with a date – gotta get the glucose levels up after a day of no liquids or solids – and then tucked into an endless array of tasty dishes that kept coming. Just when you thought you couldn’t eat a scrap more, ta-da, another dish! Dessert was what can only be described as the Arabic version of Scotch pancakes with sugar syrup and deep fried chocolate sweet samousas. Even Claire’s legendary ability to consume chocolate by the tonne was eventually beaten into submission. Dya demonstrated his bravery by trying out the Bara Brith (traditional welsh fruit loaf) that I had cooked that afternoon to take with us as a ‘gift’. (NB: if you have ever experienced my baking you will understand why ‘gift’ is in inverted commas here.)
My family all took the opportunity to quiz the Sarrajs on life in Abu Dhabi, Islam, Palestinian family traditions and the like. Rula and Dya provided much entertainment with their contrasting outlooks on life – an interesting glance into a world that is frankly radically different with the UK media’s representation of Islam. (Yes Daily Mail, I am referring to you.) At one point, all I could hear was Dad hooting with laughter from the end of the table as the two cousins passionately debated the finer points of daily Muslim life.
After a few hours, and at the risk of outstaying our welcome – and we were having such a good time that I think we could have chatted until sunrise – we disappeared into the night with full bellies, much laughter and warm memories. A BIG THANK YOU to the Sarraj family for making my family feel so welcome in their home and educating us all about a life which most non-Muslims never get to experience. We all agreed that our Sarraj Family Iftar was one of the highlights of everyone’s stay.
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Is world travel cheap?
Posted by daveb on November 5th, 2008
Before I started my adventure, a lot of people warned me that world travel was not cheap. I agreed. But now I’ve changed my mind, just a little bit.
From the sanctuary of my sister’s apartment in Abu Dhabi, I’ve plucked up the courage to check my finances and have come to the conclusion that by travelling for the last fifteen months, I’m probably somewhat better-off that I would have been had I continued to live in London, working my old job and living my old life. I’ve had no income to speak of during my journey and, whilst we’ve certainly tried to keep our main costs of accommodation, food and transport down to the ‘budget’ sections of the Lonely Planet, we’ve certainly not scrimped when it comes to the many activities that we’ve experienced. So how can I possibly claim that travelling is cheap?
It’s not. It’s just cheaper than the alternative: staying put. I’ll give you an example: After mortgage costs, maintenance and bills, our apartment in Crystal Palace cost me about £50/night for us to stay there. Contrast this with the Five Dollar Tent, which I reckon cost us on average less than a fiver. Food, both from a supermarket and in a restaurant, was cheaper too. Sometimes, way cheaper. Whilst we constantly bemoaned that all backpacker tourist activities start at $100 in Africa, my bet is that in Britain every one of these experiences would cost upwards of £100 — double at recent exchange rates. Generally, bus, taxi, hire-car and fuel costs less too (notwithstanding Zambia, in which petrol is even more expensive than in Britain!)
Yes, yes, of course the apartment gave us way more space, comfort and sanity than our compact and bijou tent, but cost-vs-cost you can’t argue that the tent was cheaper. And so too was every single hotel and hostel — even the relatively expensive ones. True, the quality of the food both at supermarkets and most–not all–restaurants we experienced was not up that which is widely available in Blightly. And most the public and private transport is mostly filthy, not to mention a tad (a tad!) dangerous at times. But it’s still a lot cheaper.
I’ve been following the recent global economic crisis and stock markets with horror (as have most, I’m sure) as they plunge lower and lower taking my property values, life’s savings, ISAs and pension with them. But I’ve realised this: had I continued to live my old life and work my old job to date, I’d have continued to “invest” a large proportion of my monthly income in the markets — and that money would be worth very little at today’s prices. In fact, the decrease in cash value of my investments since we started travel is over double the amount that Claire and I have jointly spent travelling thus far.
So it seems, using my admittedly “African Logic”, world travel is cheap*.
* Just so long as you don’t go to anywhere in Europe, United States or Japan. Or Iceland, for that matter.
PS: I really hope that all of you back home, whom I miss dearly, are keeping your heads above water in this recession — here’s hoping that some good comes of it eventually. I’d love to hear from you — leave a comment below and share what’s going on.
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Jodhpur: Diwali at the Blue City
Posted by daveb on November 5th, 2008
Across India, people are celebrating Diwali — the festival of light. Here in Jodhpur, the blue city, I gather that this has been translated over the years to mean that six year-old children let off impossibly loud firecrackers in the impossibly narrow streets; giggling in delight as tourists like me run for cover to lessen the risk of losing a much-needed leg. Or arm. The scalleywags kept me up all night with their booms and bangs, some of which were so loud that I thought the roof might fall-in on me. In fairness, my fear was somewhat justified as, whilst sat atop the hotel terrace, the staff had to throw buckets of water over the thatch roof to douse the flames of an incoming stray missile. (Sorry, the photo doesn’t really do the story justice as I only got to my camera after the flames had been put out.) I finally got to sleep at about 3am after the biggest of the booms had moved on.
Until 5am the next day, that is, at which point the morning matinée performance fired-up. Knowing I was beaten, I dragged myself out of bed and back up onto the roof terrace to take in the sunrise as it revealed the fort and the blue-wash walls of the city below. I watched monkeys skillfully parcour across the rooftops in search of tidbits left by the previous night’s diners on the city’s havali terraces. In a way, I’m grateful to the little firework-weilding mites for getting me out of bed to witness this amazing spectacle.
As a true Brit, I waited until the hottest part of the day to embark upon the twenty minute energy-sapping climb to the fort and take in the fine, blue cityscape. I didn’t venture into the museum for two reasons: (1) museums and temples aren’t really my thing and, (2) I discovered that I needed a ticket. (Cheapskate tip: I mistakenly thought that one only had to pay for the audio-tour and entrance to the museum. I later realised that I had walked through the exit gate and got a free gawp at the views from the fort walls; which was all I wanted really.)
Particularly amusing were the disaffected, traditional musicians who refused to play for tourists unless they were paid in advance. I’ll try to upload a video of them here — notice how their hands go up to a off-screen cameraman who tries to take a photo without first putting his hand in his pocket.
Jodhpur photo gallery:
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Dubai to Abu Dhabi: Taxi ride through the desert
Posted by daveb on November 4th, 2008
A big thanks here must go to Annie and Martin, our generous hosts in Dubai, for letting us stay with them and for taking us out to show us the city.
After wishing them farewell, we took off in a taxi across the desert from Dubai headed towards Abu Dhabi. The drive takes about an hour and a half and, whilst the road is almost perfectly straight, many people have warned us that the journey is fraught with danger. You see, most of the locals here (both native and expats) are really quite horrid drivers and think nothing of excessive speeding, overtaking, undertaking, anytaking, beeping, flashing lights, driving for hours without rest breaks, reading the newspaper at the wheel and talking and texting with their mobile phones. They all drive such big cars that we get the impression that people here feel somewhat invincible… until they wind-up in a high-speed accident, that is.
Our favourite (it’s true): A guy talks into one phone in his left hand, whilst texting on another in his right. While driving downtown on a six lane road…
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