It is supposed to be happening, but difficult to prove. If I were an investigative journo I could probably find out.
Expat airwaves dominated by Fiji v NZ in the finals of the Rugby 7s right now...
and the Kiwis have won!!
I wrote a whole lot and it disappeared before my very eyes; the new tab system I suspect, which I've had on my Mac but seems different here on Windows. Anyway it doesn't seem as though anyone is reading this so it will have to serve as my travel diary.
Rustom's office party last night, loads of exotic canapes and weird cocktails in a swish bar, I love being the Token Mother, people are kind to me and make sure I have enough to eat and drink, as well as talking to me on purpose!
I did something amazing today, which may not sound scary to you guys, but was to me. I picked up a lefthand drive, automatic car (of course I drive a righthand manual) at a very busy downtown location, and negotiated a nexus of slipways and one-way streets and a 12-lane highway positively bristling with Hummers and roadhogs, none of whom give the slightest quarter to a newbie on the roads, one small infraction of lane discipline, or a dither or a slowth, and you can hear the honking from here to Haifa. I was very proud of myself getting only slightly lost and finding our road and house, and then setting out again for the mall to shop for our long-promised camping trip which starts tomorrow, inch'Allah.
The mall was, like most of Dubai, in the style of something else, this time Venice. It even had a Ponte Vecchio spanning the Starbucks, and Palladian mansions painted on the walls.
I was told that the Sheikh had decided to have 'the best of all the world' in his emirate, which is why everything looks like somewhere else.
A previous mall I had gawped at was being Egypt, covered in gold.
I assume we leave at sparrowfart tomorrow so I won't be updating this for a while.
Reading along, Clary. Have fun..
I'm reading, with much pleasure Clary, and when I talk to you in times yet to come, may it always be "on purpose"!
RE: the car adventure -- I am very, very impressed! (Enjoying your posts, Clary.)
LOL@McT!
Thank you kind readers, it doesn't half encourage me!
Even this 'hardened drinker' (
) is enjoying your jottings, you are a brave woman. Are there any special dress modes for women where you intend to travel?
another listener and lurker.
Impressed with the car bit! I was too chicken to drive a manual left-hand drive car in Italy!
Margo, great to see you!
I don't need special clothes for Oman, apparently, but I have bought a floor length shapeless black robe for Iran. Being a Dubai one, it has a snazzy dark red strip down the front and lots of beads! Also a large and modest headscarf. Actually they are rather fetching, I shan't mind wearing them at all.
I'd forgotten, sparrowfart for Rustom and Lucie is 10 a m. Ah, the young!
You have to post a photo of yourself dressed in that snazzy shapeless black robe with headscarf on this thread Clary, everybody would love to see that, isn't that right ladies and gentlemen?
Why you wouldn't think we'd be reading, Clary, I don't know. You have a lot of us interested here, however lame we may be at immediate response.
Please do go on, and not only go on, but elaborate, elaborate.
Jo
Back from Oman now, it has been a while..
The first encounter with Oman was with Rustom and Lucie, the promised camping trip to Musandam, which is a little bit of Oman cut off by the Emirates, on the Straits of Hormuz, just opposite Iran. Living an urban life, the young things wanted to camp in the wild, so we drove into the mountains, eschewing the more drivable beach road as 'other people might be camping there'. It was getting dark, and the road was getting very steep and the surface stonier and dustier by the minute. "Should we turn back, and go to the beach?" None of us wished to be chicken - so I said "just see what's round the next corner, and if there's no place to camp, we can go back". There was an amazingly flat bit there, a large oval, and in fact it had a large H painted on it in white paint. We deduced after due deliberation that it was a helipad, an observation reinfored by the fact that there was a military installation marked further along the dirt track on the rather inadequate map. Well, it was flat and it was dusk so we drove to the centre, parked, and camped. Great things had been bought, BBQ sausages and steaks, campingaz stove, virgin frying pan, bread rolls to feed an army, lettuce likewise. However we hadn't really coordinated our zealous input and nobody had thought of plates or cutlery or indeed a bottle opener (and there were frosty beers illegally imported into this dry, barren land just crying out to be drunk; as we were, too).
But the boy scout spirit prevailed, Lucie used the BBQ pincers to prise open the beers, we fried the tough steaks and hot Arabic beef sausages and put them in the extremely friable rolls, and a good time was had as the sun went down behind the uniformly biscuit coloured mountains, and miraculous stars appeared.
I realise to those of you who are used to camping alfresco in the Aussie desert or wilds of Arizona, this little adventure is tame, but to a British urbanite it was quite different.
I was given the tent, and a rather poor imitation of a blowup bed, while the Young had the jeep and a much better bed. However I slept fine and there were no insects nor wolves nor soldiers, so that was good. I woke at dawn to see the darkly etched mountains all around, and one goat silhouetted against the rising sun, motionless. I liked that. By the time the Young had woken, there were 23 goats, however, and I was having to protect the tent, campingaz, and everything else from their marauding jaws. Illicitly, I cooked PORK SAUSAGES and BACON in the frying pan, and made '3-in-1' coffee, stirred with a thorn twig. As I was thus engaged, a young shepherd, Biblically attired, approached with determined stride across the helipad, salaam alaikum'd and stared intently into the sinful frying pan. He put out his hand in greeting, but not to be shaken, of course, by a woman, it was more of a blessing. I offered him one of the coffees but he started back as if shot and hared off up the mountain. I looked around at the empty beer bottles, and felt as though I had shown him a naughty world.
We descended to civilisation, and got ourselves a tour of the main fjord on a dhow. We lay back on carpeted seats with comfy cushions, and as we left port (Khasab, the capital of the province) dolphins came and tried to race the boat. Magic.
The fjords have fishing villages accessible only by boat, some white and reminiscent of Greek island villages, some mountain-coloured for camouflage. We were encouraged to snorkel off one island, but only sea urchins and jellyfish caught my eye, so I soon gave up on that. The island, called Telegraph Island, had been used by the British in 1864 as a staging post in the telegraph system between Bombay and Basra, amazingly, and had been manned for 10 years, history did not relate who manned it but it was a barren spot and I hope they were good fishermen because nothing grows in that inhospitable terrain.
And so back to Dubai and 'civilisation'. I will continue the saga tomorrow, but I feel tiredness overwhelming me, and also the bacardi in my mojito, so cheerio and good reading, chaps!!
That was extremely interesting reading Clary, my only concern is being in possession of alcohol in that part of the world, are you looking for 100 lashes of the cane?
Blind eyes are ritually turned, Dutchy.
I won't be ritually closing my eyes when you publish that photo of yourself in that snazzy shapeless black robe with headscarf. :wink:
One track mind, remember this is a travel blog...
Remember a good travel dialogue is always well illustrated, I'm sure McTag, would agree with me.
Clary wrote:... I slept fine and there were no insects nor wolves nor soldiers, so that was good. I woke at dawn to see the darkly etched mountains all around, and one goat silhouetted against the rising sun, motionless. I liked that. ...
Lovely, Clary!
It is an absolute pleasure to read this tale of your latest escapde.
More please!
ps .... go easy on those pork sausages! :wink:
Clary wrote:... I slept fine and there were no insects nor wolves nor soldiers, so that was good. I woke at dawn to see the darkly etched mountains all around, and one goat silhouetted against the rising sun, motionless. I liked that. ...
Lovely, Clary!
It is an absolute pleasure to read this tale of your latest escapade.
More please!
ps .... go easy on those pork sausages! :wink:
