Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Back in the UAE

So I am (back) in Abu Dhabi for a week. It's summer (although not the hottest part) and the temperature hovers in the low 40's (C) during the day. Everyone retreats to the air-conditioned comfort of some luxury hotel, their luxury car, or a luxury shopping mall. Everyone that is, except for the migrant construction workers who are still being bused* to and from their non air-conditioned quarters (which, complete with corrugated iron roofs, make ideal saunas) in non air-conditioned buses. At least the bus windows open.

I am inside all day since I'm working. I don't venture outside until the late afternoon, when the sun's direct heat has retreated and I only have the 40 degree heat to deal with. I want to cross the road outside the hotel but it's turned into something like a ten-lane divided freeway since the opening of the Salam Street tunnel. Luckily I remember how Abu Dhabi has a network of pedestrian subways (rarely used, since there are relatively few pedestrians, and apart from the subways, not much pedestrian-friendly ground to walk on). These are grandly built with walls of tiled artwork. Like much of the infrastructure, maintenance and longevity are less of a concern, so things degrade quickly. Paving and brickwork is cracked and broken, drains, when there are any, are blocked or broken (or uncovered). A pity.
Pedestrian underpass - desert camel racing scenes in this one

* Annoying, isn't it? When you write an apparently simple word and all of a sudden your thought flow comes to a crashing stop when you can't convince yourself whether you've spelled (or spelt) it correctly! Being transported by a bus (of which more than one would be buses, while 'busses' is tempting) is being bused. But that looks a lot like 'abused' without the 'a', so can it be correct? A quick search digs up 'buss', which is a form of oral communication, so being 'bussed' is definitely something different to being transported mechanically. So 'bused' it is then.

Dubai police car - if you can't beat them, join them!
Here the people's car is a Toyota Landcruiser - the most expensive V8 model of course. In white. Given that there's so many BMW X5 and X6s and Range Rovers on the roads they are now a bit passé. The Porsche Cayenne is still popular, although you'll definitely not stand out in the crowd driving one of those. Having a Porsche is not something particularly special here. Something more exotic (and expensive) is required. Perhaps an Audi R8, or why not a Bugatti Veyron or Lamborghini?

In a country where the police (in Dubai) have cars like a BMW M6, Mercedes AMG SLS, and Lamborghini Aventador, you need to make the effort to stand out from the crowd with your car.

I am staying in one of the luxury hotels on the island. Actually "luxury hotel" is almost a tautology here; every hotel is "luxury" by the standards of any other place. The forecourt is - as is the norm - crowded with valet-parked fancy cars: from BMW and Mercedes to Porsches, Bentleys, the odd Aston Martin and Ferrari. Footpaths are for cars, not people and to get to the front door you have to negotiate this parking lot. I meet up with some old colleagues. One arrives in his Porsche and the other turns up in his Aston Martin DB9. And there I am thinking that when I had a car here I was driving a Nissan Tiida....
A novel use of 4WD to get over the traffic?

The class I am teaching is almost monochrome. I look out at a sea of white on one side and black on the other. Boys on one side in their white dishdashes (traditional male dress) and the girls on the other side in their black abayas. An occasional splash of colour is provided by the few expatriates in the class. Coffee breaks inevitably turn into very  lengthy affairs. Speaking of coffee, one morning one of the girls pulls out a Harrods bag and from it produces a large decorated ceramic coffee pot (with gilded decoration), a doily, and a set of ceramic coffee cups. I'm impressed. When I question her about it, she explains: "It's local coffee - I couldn't live without my coffee". She proceeds to offer coffee to others and the coffee break turns into a long local social event. The room is always fragrant, smelling of the typical woody local perfumes of oud and bukhoor, which are worn liberally by the men.

At dinner at one of the restaurants I am, as usual, dining alone. So I engage myself in some people watching which waiting for my meal. There's a young Emirati couple. He's in his sparkling white dishdash; she's in her black abaya, carrying the de rigueur large and obviously expensive handbag (with a large gold chain) and large sunglasses. It always impresses me when people wear sunglasses indoors. The couple arrives, are seated, and proceed to extract their smartphones (she from her handbag, he from the specially-designed pocket in his dishdash). I briefly reflect on whether traditionally, when people were still riding camels and living a nomadic life in the desert,  the dishdashes had phone-pockets. The restaurants "no shorts or slippers" dress policy clearly doesn't apply to the sandals traditionally worn by the local men.

Neither has said a word to each other; they are engrossed by their smartphones. They are briefly interrupted by the waitress - who, of course, is Filipino, like virtually all hospitality staff in the UAE - and then revert back to their phones. Throughout the entire meal they are engaged with their phones, but not each other. And while I eat my meal I'm wondering how it is that Emirati men manage to keep their dishdashes so brilliantly white and free of creases.





Sunday, August 24, 2014

You call this summer?

Before you point it out, I realise that two months is a long time between posts. And a lot of post-able things have been happening in my travelling life so no excuses there (except perhaps the fact that, with all the travelling, there's been little time for posting). So much for preamble.

When we last met, I was taking a decidedly long time to cover little ground - pedalling my way across northern Spain. Since then I've added several thousand more kilometres at a more rapid pace - by car. Including, coincidentally in fact, quite a few thousand kilometres back in Spain. But more on that in another post.

My most recent journey took me even further in even less time, travelling this time by air for something like six and a half hours and covering 5,300km. And this exercise nicely highlighted how summer in one place can mean something entirely different to summer in another. In my case, leaving France on a decidedly fresh "summer" morning of 10 degrees (C) and arriving at ten o'clock in the evening in Abu Dhabi in the "cool" evening of 39 degrees. (Daytime temperatures at the moment in Abu Dhabi are in the low to mid 40's).

I would have arrived in Abu Dhabi earlier, but the flight left almost an hour late. "Of course it did" you will be quick to point out, given that I departed from one of the world's more unpleasant and disorganised airports, Charles de Gaulle in Paris. To be fair, there are plenty of worse airports in the world: Murtala Muhammed airport in Lagos and Jacksons International airport in Port Moresby come to mind for example. But in some places your expectations are low to begin with, so when they are met you are not too upset. In Paris one has - you would like to think justifiably - high expectations. But in the case of CDG these are most definitely not met.

I'd been to Abu Dhabi before - in fact lived there - so I knew that it was hot in summer. But that still didn't prepare me for the slap-in-the-face feeling as you step off the plane into 39 degrees in the middle of the night. Of course, the fact that France was unseasonably cold for summer (or at least, they try to convince each other that it's unusual) only served to amplify the difference.

A lightly-loaded trolley at Abu Dhabi airport
Abu Dhabi airport was unusually busy; end of holidays, families getting back before the school year starts, local families laden with Hermès and Louis Vuitton bags (de rigueur in this part of the world) and so forth. The normally well-run airport was showing signs of strain and the arrivals area was bordering on pandemonium. I couldn't help taking a picture of a trolley loaded with what seemed a typical load for one person. The woman who had been pushing it - invariably it is the women who are tasked with pushing luggage trolleys, the men presumably having more important duties to attend to - was taking a break. Or perhaps she was waiting for the next bag to come off the belt.

And then I thought back to my bike ride and how little luggage I managed with for three weeks and it put things in perspective. How much stuff do we really need?

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Off to the south of Spain (again)

And now it's a year later and another road trip to the south of Spain in July/August 2014.

In Spain. Might be forgiven for thinking I'm still in Spain, but in fact since that trip I've been to France, Belgium, Netherlands. Bit difficult to get to Holland from France without going through Belgium, although it doesn't take long and apart from the naked cyclops along the motorway there's not a lot to say about Belgium. Perhaps more on that later.


28-July-2014

Getaria, Spain

29-July-2014
Bibao, Spain
Guggenheim museum, finally get to see it. Definitely worth a trip though!


30-July-2014

Burgos
Stayed here to re-live a little bit my bicycle journey along the Camino de Santiago, during which I also stayed at Burgos.

31-July-2014

Merida
01-August-2014 to 14-August-2014
Jimena de la Frontera

With a trip to Malaga and some other local trips including to Ronda







14-August-2014

Olvera: Narrow streets, had to reverse back down one. Parked and asked a woman for directions to plaza where the bar I wanted to go to was, she started to explain, then said "It's too complicated, I'll take you there" and walked with us all the way to the top of the village, up steps, around the church, delivered us there. So many friendly people.


15-August-2014
Wake up late (almost 9 am) buffet breakfast, all Spanish except for us. Leave at 10. Quiet since it turns out to be a public holiday.

Roads are great.

Terrific road from the A5 to Alvira, over the mountains. A bit of everything from long straights, twisty mountain bends, sweeping curves, etc. lots of bikes on the mountain section.


Alvira walled city, intact walls. Walk around, choose a small local bar with outdoor tables and chairs for morning coffee. Order. Nothing happens. Go inside, the guy had obviously for gotten all about us; he says 'won't be long' I say 'we're leaving' he says 'ok'. Just as well since later we find a place that unusually, sells nice pastries so we can have a pastry and coffee. Much better than the almost certainly unpleasant bocadillo we would have had. Cathedral in granite. Wooden huts like a Christmas market set up as drinking stalls with music. Detracts from the whole experience.

Segovia larger. Roman aqueduct, impressively long and high. Fancy cathedral. Coffee and a coke and toilet stop. Some but not many foreign tourists. Many French cars on the road though.

Santo Domingo de Silos
Driving along small country road, see something in the distance on my side of the road. Coming towards me. Bigger than a pedestrian, smaller than a horse or vehicle. Slow down, get closer, then realise it's an old woman pushing an even older man in a wheelchair along the road.

Dinner at hotel after waiting in vain at chosen bar/restaurant to be served

Monks chanting Gregorian chants. Baby behind us is unimpressed and voices its dislike.




Notes from along the way:



Tolls in Spain. Great example of bureaucratic idiocy. Tolls are, for example 2.19 euros, or 3.29 euros. And the attendant gives you the one cent change. He must have an enormous pile of one cent coins (which can't be used to actually pay anything, including the toll machines which don't accept 1,2,5 cent coins...

Great roads again. Lovely twisty small roads to and from Santi Domingo. The AP1 to the border from San Sebastián is absolutely marvellous, although many of those bends are impressive at the 120k limit!

16-August-2014
Crossing into France, suddenly everyone is driving at almost exactly the 110k limit, whereas a few km previously they'd still be driving at 140k in the apparently poorly monitored 120k Spanish roads.

Notice many - many - Swiss cars on the road from Burgos to the border. Most of them expensive. Odd. You almost never see Swiss cars in Europe (except in Switzerland). Then I see one with pink ribbons tied to the door handles, and I begin noticing that many of them have similar ribbons tied to rear wipers. A Wedding between rich Swiss and Spanish families?

Got stopped twice in the one day by Police. Odd. First time by Guardian civil, who when he found I didn't speak Spanish, and after checking the French plate on the front of the car waved me on with an air of 'I can't be bothered dealing with you'. Then again later in France at a standard roundabout check for papers. Oncoming cars were furiously flashing their lights and everyone miraculously driving at exactly the limit.

Spent a while in Limoges, buying crockery, as one does.

Dinner 43 euros, Brasserie du Commerce Miramont-de-Guyenne

17-August-2014


Stay at Chateau de la Cazine, Noth. An anniversary to celebrate!