What do two kiwis, a South African, and a Pom have in common? Nothing when it comes to reading road signs and directions.
It all began with a proposed trip to Fujarah, an Emirate on the Omani side of the UAE (opposite Dubai on the map below).
Just as it was Queen's Birthday in NZ recently, we had a long weekend for the Prophet's Birthday. He seems to have a lot of birthdays but who am I to disagree? As long as we can travel the world and the seven seas?
So on Wednesday night I taxi out to Mussafah to Delma Mall to meet my friend who was driving in from the Western Region. We were to meet a fourth person there and leave from there. A central meeting point - yeah right! It's over an hour from here.
So anyway we meet up there. On the way my sunglasses broke completely so I spent a bit of time wandering around the huge mall to buy some more. Only got cheap ones, thankfully.
We head off around 6.30pm for the long drive. I'm unsure of the distance but hear it's a long way from Abu Dhabi. I know you go through Sharjah and I thought it was above that Emirate. Wrong! It's actually on the opposite coast, nestled in between Oman at the bottom and Oman at the top. It borders the Gulf of Oman rather than the Arabian Gulf. At the top of the peninsular is the Strait of Hormaz, often in the news due to conflict with the US and Iran. American warships cruise the waters and often choppers fly overhead. Iran sits very close by, to the top of the map above.
We're off to stay with friends of friends and I only know one person at this stage. We've been given clear written directions on how to get there while avoiding the worst of the insane holiday traffic. Sounds easy!
Well, we know that nothing here is ever easy. The Sth African assures me she knows the way as she's lived in Sharjah so she's in the passenger seat, navigating. I'm in the back seat with the Pom so we chat and share stories, enjoying the prospect of a weekend away from work. I'm keen to meet new people and to visit another Emirate (7 in all).
We head towards Dubai, a good start. Even I know this road and I hardly drive. We are due to turn off at Jebel Ali to take the back road. Now this back road just happens to be the same back road that I was lost on at Christmas when No2 son was out here and we headed to the Outlet Mall in Dubai. So I remember how to get onto it, or in my case, off it.
So Jebel Ali comes and goes! Oops! Missed the three turn-offs. How is that possible? Ummmmmm.
Road works don't help matters but when driving in this country you have to make decisions and follow through with them. So we carry on as there is nothing else to do under the circumstances. Finding the next exit and u-turning is discussed but nothing eventuates. Onwards. Now no-one knows where we are. It's dark outside and the roads are getting very busy. So we have no choice but to stick to the major road we are on, all the while debating whether to turn off somewhere. Eventually we pull over (OMG!) to put the GPS on to help us out. While we are nearly killed sitting on the edge of the busiest motorway I've ever seen with a non-stop lane of trucks hurtling along debate rages in the car.
After a few hair-raising attempts (and a lot of swearing from the backseat) we are back in the throng of it, sandwiched between trucks on four sides if that is at all possible. How to extradite ourselves from this situation? Tempers flare, tension increases, near-misses come and go and I wonder what I'm doing here on this trip from hell.
We continue along, as we have no choice, and after a few bungled attempts we finally pull over into a service station. Now tempers erupt with a full-scale shouting match between the driver and the back seat. Time for a bathroom break so I jump out. Taxis are ordered to take passengers back to Dubai and I'm thinking I'll join them and go home.
By the time I arrive back things have calmed down and we're all go again. We phone for clearer directions as we don't want to spend another minute on this road. With the Sth African taking the directions and writing them down we head off again and take the exit (as directed?)
But wait! I'm sure we are headed back to Abu Dhabi. Remember I've been lost on this road so it looks familiar. I mention it but am ignored. The back seat passenger and I discuss it quietly. I mention it again, stating that the exit numbers are getting smaller when we need bigger. No response. By now I've decided that it would be a good thing to go home and hop into my bed so decide to say nothing further.
A while later the front seat notice that the exit numbers are getting smaller and they begin to discuss this. Once again we pull over and make another phone call. Yes. We're going the wrong way. Apparently the navigator didn't follow the instructions at all. So we reverse up and head through a tunnel to come out on the other side of the road, going the right way.
I grab the directions and navigate from the backseat and finally we arrive in the mountains with only one further hesitation on when to exit the road. The kiwis laugh at what they are calling mountains. But it's dark so we can't really see much other than the road. Our final destination is Khor Fakken, just north of Fujarah.
Finally we arrive around midnight, have a few drinks then off to bed for me. Our host has our rooms well set up and has thought of everything to make our stay comfortable. Who needs a hotel?
Other house guests arrive next morning so we make up a jolly party of 7 (2 Kiwis, 1 Aussie, 3 Brits, 1 Sth African). But there was one unusual house guest lurking around. Salamanders are common here and you often see them in shops and at work.
I wake up to a view of surrounding mountains, or so they call them here. They are not like the mountains in NZ, but just the fact that they are there is refreshing. They appear to be mostly dry shale, all rocky so I don't know how you'd climb them. Still, they are a joy to look out at.
After a cooked breakfast (I'm feeling like I'm in one of my novels at an English weekend house party - minus the servants) we pack up a lunch and plenty of drinks for a day at the beach. After loading up the truck we head off towards Dibba to Aqqa and park up on the free beach next to the flash 5 star hotels, Meridian, Miramar, Rotana & Sandy Beach Motel.
We set up umbrellas and spend the day relaxing, reading, drinking beer and plenty of water, swimming in the ocean and just generally having a great day out. Luckily there was a nice sea breeze so this and the shade and constant dips kept the temperature manageable. This is one of the few beaches I've come across in UAE where you can walk along it from one end to the other so we wander along the various resort beaches. Usually beaches are segmented off so workers and hotel guests don't come face to face. No-one wants to pay to stay at a hotel then have hundreds of men ogling at them while they are in their bikini or speedos.
The sand itself is finely ground up shells and has a tendency to stick to your skin and out bathers are filled with sand. Once again I'm shocked by the rubbish on the beach. No clean, green image here.
We're joined by a couple of other 'locals', young guys working in the oil industry here. Most are from the UK and are here for the money. It seems to be easy come, easy go. Tourists and locals partake in the wide range of water sports on offer at the nearby hotel with banana boat, sky riding, donuts all busy. On the other side the hotel is doing a roaring trade with divers, either there for a weekend dive course or off out on a charter boat for a day's diving with nearby Snoopy Rock being very popular.
The only downside was just before leaving the two kiwis jumped in for a final swim. The beach had waves which is a first for us here as it's all so protected. And the waves were rough, dumping us in the water. Anyway we're just cooling off after a long walk and about to get out when a big wave dumps us both. I go under and the only thing I can think of is when I got dumped by a huge wave at Waiterere Beach many years ago and thought I was going to drown. But I know it's only shallow here so I tell myself I'll be okay. Trouble was we have constant reruns of Piha Rescue and Bondi Rescue on our tellie and I'd just watched an episode where this very thing happens. Shallow water, turn of the tide, waves dumping unsuspecting swimmers, etc, etc...
So I come up after face-planting in the sand, minus my sun-hat and new sun-glasses. Bugger! As I cast my eyes around and try to pick myself up I see my kiwi friend lying there also, still with her hat and glasses. Just then a second wave hits us both and I go under again. So much for standing up. My friend now loses her hat and expensive sunnies.
Getting to my feet I cast around frantically for my gear and see my hat floating a short distance away. Will I risk another dumping to get it? Maybe, so timing it to perfection I snatch and run to the shore. My friend wasn't so lucky and there is no sign of anything else. After a while I glimpse something in the waves along the beach by the rocks so doing my best Baywatch impersonation I 'run' down there and find my friends hat. Progress. While standing there I spot something back and run back down the beach to find my glasses have washed up. But still no luck with the other glasses and we had to finally admit defeat and leave.
In the late afternoon the locals begin to arrive and drive like maniacs, even doing wheelies around our group on the sand. Time to go. We'd laughed at several groups getting stuck in the soft sand and now it's our turn. Some handy locals rock up and deflate the tyres then after a quick ride up the road to the garage for air it's back on the road for us.
After a fantastic day (minus the losses) we head back to our villa for a much needed shower and a cold glass of wine. Fruit and vege markets line the road although I don't know how long the produce has sat there.
We kiwis whip up salads and garlic bread for a BBQ while sipping some nice wines then the music is turned up for a fun night of singing and dancing. At midnight several of us head over to the beach front for a walk along the Corniche. It's impossible to describe the atmosphere but here goes. It's midnight, sweat is dripping off my brown, coal BBQs are being lit, smell of lighter fluid pervades the air along with cooking meat. Large bottles of water or fizz sprawl beside workers and families. Discarded litter is everywhere. I'm amazed by the number of people out, many just setting up their charcoal BBQs at midnight. We're offered food several times by large groups of men. The groups vary, many Indian & Pakistani workers out BBQing after a long week with a holiday tomorrow, large groups of Abaya clad women with nannies and kids running amok, families eating takeaways, the place is just humming. Lights from Port are blazing away in the background. And the heat! Did I mention the heat. I'm dripping and tired so after 1/2 an hour I'm ready to head back home.
Getting across the road is an experience in itself. First the roads are all dug up with roadworks everywhere you turn. An OSH nightmare! Traffic is thick, you have to be quick to cross the road.
A well earned sleep then it's up for the next day's activities. Some decide to head back to where we were yesterday and pay for the hotel's facilities. Others decided to drive down into Fujarah itself. I take the car and we head into town, finding a beach with tables and umbrellas that is empty. Well it is Friday, holy day, so I suppose most locals will be waiting for church. We head to the nearby mall to get some lunch with the idea of eating at the beach then having a swim.
The mall is nearly deserted so we all decide to use the time and lack of people to go into our favourite clothes shop and try on swimwear. I purchase a two piece (green and white polka dot top) plus a bikini! Now don't fall off your chair laughing. I may need it on my summer holiday this year. I don't plan to be the only one on the beach in togs this year.
After a coffee and lunch we head back to the beach, much later than we'd anticipated. It is still nearly deserted so we park up under an umbrella and wander down. Did I mention the heat? It's so hot now and it's all we can do to walk the short distance to the water. Several cars are driving down the beach and we don't feel like stripping off here - it's not that sort of beach and it's a very conservative Emirate.
We walk back to the car and decide on some photos. But now we're attracting attention in our scantily clad outfits (shorts & tops) so when, after a few photos the cars begin to circle us, we jump back into the car and drive down the Corniche for a look at the luxury yachts.
A decision is made to head back to Khor Fakken so off we go. No wrong turns this time or getting lost as I'm driving!
A lovely evening meal at the Miramar Hotel in the Thai restaurant ends a fabulous relaxing weekend away. Washed down by a tasty French rose. What more could you ask for?
On the way home we stop off at the oldest mosque in the UAE. (See the separate entry for photos of this.)
The roadside stalls are still open. It's 32 degrees outside, 'fresh' fish still sits on the stalls at midnight!
Next morning we head off around lunch time for the drive back. I'm navigating this time but after a request from the Pom I offer to drive as I know my way out of town. So we only have one missed turn which meant that I got to go through Sharjah (another Emirate off my list) but I won't be going back. It's a dry Emirate and the roads are crazy mad! Still I've been and I've seen. I arrived home without mishap, having made some new friends and experienced more of life here in the UAE.
It all began with a proposed trip to Fujarah, an Emirate on the Omani side of the UAE (opposite Dubai on the map below).
Just as it was Queen's Birthday in NZ recently, we had a long weekend for the Prophet's Birthday. He seems to have a lot of birthdays but who am I to disagree? As long as we can travel the world and the seven seas?
So on Wednesday night I taxi out to Mussafah to Delma Mall to meet my friend who was driving in from the Western Region. We were to meet a fourth person there and leave from there. A central meeting point - yeah right! It's over an hour from here.
So anyway we meet up there. On the way my sunglasses broke completely so I spent a bit of time wandering around the huge mall to buy some more. Only got cheap ones, thankfully.
We head off around 6.30pm for the long drive. I'm unsure of the distance but hear it's a long way from Abu Dhabi. I know you go through Sharjah and I thought it was above that Emirate. Wrong! It's actually on the opposite coast, nestled in between Oman at the bottom and Oman at the top. It borders the Gulf of Oman rather than the Arabian Gulf. At the top of the peninsular is the Strait of Hormaz, often in the news due to conflict with the US and Iran. American warships cruise the waters and often choppers fly overhead. Iran sits very close by, to the top of the map above.
We're off to stay with friends of friends and I only know one person at this stage. We've been given clear written directions on how to get there while avoiding the worst of the insane holiday traffic. Sounds easy!
Well, we know that nothing here is ever easy. The Sth African assures me she knows the way as she's lived in Sharjah so she's in the passenger seat, navigating. I'm in the back seat with the Pom so we chat and share stories, enjoying the prospect of a weekend away from work. I'm keen to meet new people and to visit another Emirate (7 in all).
We head towards Dubai, a good start. Even I know this road and I hardly drive. We are due to turn off at Jebel Ali to take the back road. Now this back road just happens to be the same back road that I was lost on at Christmas when No2 son was out here and we headed to the Outlet Mall in Dubai. So I remember how to get onto it, or in my case, off it.
So Jebel Ali comes and goes! Oops! Missed the three turn-offs. How is that possible? Ummmmmm.
Road works don't help matters but when driving in this country you have to make decisions and follow through with them. So we carry on as there is nothing else to do under the circumstances. Finding the next exit and u-turning is discussed but nothing eventuates. Onwards. Now no-one knows where we are. It's dark outside and the roads are getting very busy. So we have no choice but to stick to the major road we are on, all the while debating whether to turn off somewhere. Eventually we pull over (OMG!) to put the GPS on to help us out. While we are nearly killed sitting on the edge of the busiest motorway I've ever seen with a non-stop lane of trucks hurtling along debate rages in the car.
After a few hair-raising attempts (and a lot of swearing from the backseat) we are back in the throng of it, sandwiched between trucks on four sides if that is at all possible. How to extradite ourselves from this situation? Tempers flare, tension increases, near-misses come and go and I wonder what I'm doing here on this trip from hell.
We continue along, as we have no choice, and after a few bungled attempts we finally pull over into a service station. Now tempers erupt with a full-scale shouting match between the driver and the back seat. Time for a bathroom break so I jump out. Taxis are ordered to take passengers back to Dubai and I'm thinking I'll join them and go home.
By the time I arrive back things have calmed down and we're all go again. We phone for clearer directions as we don't want to spend another minute on this road. With the Sth African taking the directions and writing them down we head off again and take the exit (as directed?)
But wait! I'm sure we are headed back to Abu Dhabi. Remember I've been lost on this road so it looks familiar. I mention it but am ignored. The back seat passenger and I discuss it quietly. I mention it again, stating that the exit numbers are getting smaller when we need bigger. No response. By now I've decided that it would be a good thing to go home and hop into my bed so decide to say nothing further.
A while later the front seat notice that the exit numbers are getting smaller and they begin to discuss this. Once again we pull over and make another phone call. Yes. We're going the wrong way. Apparently the navigator didn't follow the instructions at all. So we reverse up and head through a tunnel to come out on the other side of the road, going the right way.
I grab the directions and navigate from the backseat and finally we arrive in the mountains with only one further hesitation on when to exit the road. The kiwis laugh at what they are calling mountains. But it's dark so we can't really see much other than the road. Our final destination is Khor Fakken, just north of Fujarah.
Finally we arrive around midnight, have a few drinks then off to bed for me. Our host has our rooms well set up and has thought of everything to make our stay comfortable. Who needs a hotel?
Other house guests arrive next morning so we make up a jolly party of 7 (2 Kiwis, 1 Aussie, 3 Brits, 1 Sth African). But there was one unusual house guest lurking around. Salamanders are common here and you often see them in shops and at work.
I wake up to a view of surrounding mountains, or so they call them here. They are not like the mountains in NZ, but just the fact that they are there is refreshing. They appear to be mostly dry shale, all rocky so I don't know how you'd climb them. Still, they are a joy to look out at.
After a cooked breakfast (I'm feeling like I'm in one of my novels at an English weekend house party - minus the servants) we pack up a lunch and plenty of drinks for a day at the beach. After loading up the truck we head off towards Dibba to Aqqa and park up on the free beach next to the flash 5 star hotels, Meridian, Miramar, Rotana & Sandy Beach Motel.
The sand itself is finely ground up shells and has a tendency to stick to your skin and out bathers are filled with sand. Once again I'm shocked by the rubbish on the beach. No clean, green image here.
We're joined by a couple of other 'locals', young guys working in the oil industry here. Most are from the UK and are here for the money. It seems to be easy come, easy go. Tourists and locals partake in the wide range of water sports on offer at the nearby hotel with banana boat, sky riding, donuts all busy. On the other side the hotel is doing a roaring trade with divers, either there for a weekend dive course or off out on a charter boat for a day's diving with nearby Snoopy Rock being very popular.
The only downside was just before leaving the two kiwis jumped in for a final swim. The beach had waves which is a first for us here as it's all so protected. And the waves were rough, dumping us in the water. Anyway we're just cooling off after a long walk and about to get out when a big wave dumps us both. I go under and the only thing I can think of is when I got dumped by a huge wave at Waiterere Beach many years ago and thought I was going to drown. But I know it's only shallow here so I tell myself I'll be okay. Trouble was we have constant reruns of Piha Rescue and Bondi Rescue on our tellie and I'd just watched an episode where this very thing happens. Shallow water, turn of the tide, waves dumping unsuspecting swimmers, etc, etc...
So I come up after face-planting in the sand, minus my sun-hat and new sun-glasses. Bugger! As I cast my eyes around and try to pick myself up I see my kiwi friend lying there also, still with her hat and glasses. Just then a second wave hits us both and I go under again. So much for standing up. My friend now loses her hat and expensive sunnies.
Getting to my feet I cast around frantically for my gear and see my hat floating a short distance away. Will I risk another dumping to get it? Maybe, so timing it to perfection I snatch and run to the shore. My friend wasn't so lucky and there is no sign of anything else. After a while I glimpse something in the waves along the beach by the rocks so doing my best Baywatch impersonation I 'run' down there and find my friends hat. Progress. While standing there I spot something back and run back down the beach to find my glasses have washed up. But still no luck with the other glasses and we had to finally admit defeat and leave.
In the late afternoon the locals begin to arrive and drive like maniacs, even doing wheelies around our group on the sand. Time to go. We'd laughed at several groups getting stuck in the soft sand and now it's our turn. Some handy locals rock up and deflate the tyres then after a quick ride up the road to the garage for air it's back on the road for us.
After a fantastic day (minus the losses) we head back to our villa for a much needed shower and a cold glass of wine. Fruit and vege markets line the road although I don't know how long the produce has sat there.
We kiwis whip up salads and garlic bread for a BBQ while sipping some nice wines then the music is turned up for a fun night of singing and dancing. At midnight several of us head over to the beach front for a walk along the Corniche. It's impossible to describe the atmosphere but here goes. It's midnight, sweat is dripping off my brown, coal BBQs are being lit, smell of lighter fluid pervades the air along with cooking meat. Large bottles of water or fizz sprawl beside workers and families. Discarded litter is everywhere. I'm amazed by the number of people out, many just setting up their charcoal BBQs at midnight. We're offered food several times by large groups of men. The groups vary, many Indian & Pakistani workers out BBQing after a long week with a holiday tomorrow, large groups of Abaya clad women with nannies and kids running amok, families eating takeaways, the place is just humming. Lights from Port are blazing away in the background. And the heat! Did I mention the heat. I'm dripping and tired so after 1/2 an hour I'm ready to head back home.
Getting across the road is an experience in itself. First the roads are all dug up with roadworks everywhere you turn. An OSH nightmare! Traffic is thick, you have to be quick to cross the road.
The shops were mostly open with this store and the phone shops doing a roaring trade. This is after midnight!
Charcoal BBQs are provided on the beach for public use. Many people take their own portable BBQs and throw them away afterwards.
Looking across the water back to the busy Port. There is a line of ships twinkling on the horizon as we are close to the Strait of Hormuz. Many ships wait in bunker for commodity price to rise or a buyer to buy the load already onboard. A charity has been set up for sailors onboard who have no food or clothing as company is broke so they don't get paid or fed. And they can't leave the ship as it's anchored out at sea.
A well earned sleep then it's up for the next day's activities. Some decide to head back to where we were yesterday and pay for the hotel's facilities. Others decided to drive down into Fujarah itself. I take the car and we head into town, finding a beach with tables and umbrellas that is empty. Well it is Friday, holy day, so I suppose most locals will be waiting for church. We head to the nearby mall to get some lunch with the idea of eating at the beach then having a swim.
The mall is nearly deserted so we all decide to use the time and lack of people to go into our favourite clothes shop and try on swimwear. I purchase a two piece (green and white polka dot top) plus a bikini! Now don't fall off your chair laughing. I may need it on my summer holiday this year. I don't plan to be the only one on the beach in togs this year.
After a coffee and lunch we head back to the beach, much later than we'd anticipated. It is still nearly deserted so we park up under an umbrella and wander down. Did I mention the heat? It's so hot now and it's all we can do to walk the short distance to the water. Several cars are driving down the beach and we don't feel like stripping off here - it's not that sort of beach and it's a very conservative Emirate.
The scenery reminded me of Kaikoura, NZ with the mountainous backdrop to the sea. Until you got out of the car and the heat enveloped you.
Picnic tables and umbrellas are provided on this public beach. Pity about all the leftover rubbish from the night before, takeaway rubbish everywhere. And yes, that is a rubbish bin you see there, several in fact, including a mini skip.
Looking back towards the Fujarah mountains.
We walk back to the car and decide on some photos. But now we're attracting attention in our scantily clad outfits (shorts & tops) so when, after a few photos the cars begin to circle us, we jump back into the car and drive down the Corniche for a look at the luxury yachts.
A lovely evening meal at the Miramar Hotel in the Thai restaurant ends a fabulous relaxing weekend away. Washed down by a tasty French rose. What more could you ask for?
On the way home we stop off at the oldest mosque in the UAE. (See the separate entry for photos of this.)
The roadside stalls are still open. It's 32 degrees outside, 'fresh' fish still sits on the stalls at midnight!
Next morning we head off around lunch time for the drive back. I'm navigating this time but after a request from the Pom I offer to drive as I know my way out of town. So we only have one missed turn which meant that I got to go through Sharjah (another Emirate off my list) but I won't be going back. It's a dry Emirate and the roads are crazy mad! Still I've been and I've seen. I arrived home without mishap, having made some new friends and experienced more of life here in the UAE.
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