I didn't trust London Public transport to get me to Heathrow for five in the morning so I caught the last Piccadilly tube and set myself up in a quiet place for a few hours sleep. It seems A quiet place at midnight is a major thoroughfare at 5am so I woke to find hundreds of people walking past my head.
I flew to Sana'a via Frankfurt and Riad with Lufthansa. After flying with Singapore Airlines and Emirates Lufthansa was a bit of a let down. Coach seats, average food and no personal entertainment system, just a less than inspiring movie with Catherine Zeta Jones which couldn't have been more predictable to me than had I written it myself. I was however treated to one of the joys of flying, a sunset from 35000ft, watching the colours change as the sun disappears below the cloud, then silhouetted a dull orange for a few minutes before disappearing below the horizon. I managed to sleep through the brief Riad Stopover and only woke when the plain hit the tarmac at Sana'a International. My heart skipped a few beats when the ATM wouldn't accept my card. Half expected this so brought more US dollars than I usually would. Getting my entry visa was easy enough though my passport will fill up fast if every Arab country I go to insists on taking up a whole page with a sticker relaying all my personal details in Arabic.
My bag was in Arrivals which was a relief give that it had been through four countries (and Heathrow Airport no less) to get there. I was worried that after ten hours in transit and largely sleepless night at the airport and arriving at 10pm how I would get on with the taxi drivers which were a constant source of conflict during my last trip to the Middle East. Turns out it was a fixed price of 2000 riyals to the city which sounded pretty reasonable. I might have got it cheaper had I bargained with the drivers outside but looking at the state of their taxis in various states of decay thought against it. The other problem you face is me knowing little Arabic trying to explain to someone who knows little English where your hotel is when the hotel will have different names in each language and is on street which doesn't have a name in either. Anyway after a few 'life flash before your eyes as you watch imminent death unfold before you until the driver takes evasive action and you miss the other car by the coating of paint that would have been their had it not rusted away' moments and a few stops to ask for directions I made to my hotel in one piece.
Wadood, the hotel manager recognising that 'just spent 10 hours in transit after a largely sleepless night in an airport' look on my face just gave me the keys to my room and said I could fill out the paperwork in the morning when I've had some rest. Legend.
My hotel was in one of those 8 story tower houses that put Old Sana'a on the UNESCO Heritage list. It was pretty basic but the rooms were clean, well decorated, had views over the old town, hot water and western toilets. The latter two luxuries I'm not expecting to see much of over the coming months.
As I lay awake looking up at the rug oddly hanging from the ceiling and listening to the Arabic music playing loudly from a car in the street it hit for the first time that I was traveling again and I was excited for the New Day.
The new day started how I forgot it would, been woken up by the call to prayer blaring from the mosques of Old Town. I only realised it was noon when Wadood gave me a bemused look when I asked for some breakfast. "You sleep very well yes".
He cooked me up an omelet just the same.
After this I went about learning my way around, relearning how to cross the road without breaking a leg, getting a general idea for how much things cost and trying to remember the basic Arabic that makes it just that little bit easier to go about your day. And remembering those things you loved about the Middle East. The souqs selling sweets, nuts, grains, gold, silver, tourist silver, linen, fruit, perfumes and almost anything you could practically need to get by. The juice bars where almost any juice you could possible want is squeezed in front of you. And the hospitality of the people inviting you into their store for tea or just a chat.
I expected Sana'a to be similar to say Damascus and to an extent it was, there were just a few things which I'm new to. Almost every man you see carries a dagger with a hook at the end. Sometimes there is a plastic bag full of qat hanging from it and with that a bulge in the side of the cheek where the qat is slowly chewed. (FYI qat is a narcotic leaf grown in Yemen and parts of East Africa). Spitting in the street is common in the Middle East the only difference here been that the streets are covered in a pattern of green saliva. The most obvious difference and what brings most people to Sana'a are the beautiful tower houses of the old town.
The Next day I spent my time walking around the old town. No set route as I don't really think their is anything specific to see. Just letting my curiosity get the best of me. Follow that path, walk towards that minaret just to see where it takes you. All the while taking in what is happening around you. Children playing football or doing chores for their parents. Always the same conversation,
"Hello"
"How are you?"
"Whats is your name?"
"Where are you from?"
"How are you?"
"What is your name?" etc etc.
Adults, well men at least, asking where I was from and before saying "Welcome to Yemen" (I don't know what they would have said if my reply was anything but Australia). Women all in Black or occasionally with a coloured scarf walking with their children while defying the laws of physics by balancing loads of water or whatever on their heads. Men haggling around a pile of qat or just going about their business in the souqs. Every now and then passing another westerner sharing a nod and a smile acknowledging the fact you're one of a handful of tourists either of you see will see for the day.
Finally finishing the day watching the sunset over the mountains from the roof my hotel listening to the sounds of the city winding down only broken by the dusk call to prayer, echoing from each mosque around you, like a choir, each with its own voice, some better than others.
Up until now the most constructive thing I would get done in a day is finding the least seediest place to get a juice and lunch. Trying to do anything more constructive than that and you almost forget all the shit I've just spun about the joys of traveling in Arab countries. I set myself the task of organising flights and guide for Socotra and buying some sunscreen to protect my now pasty white spent too much time in England skin. The sunscreen wasn't too hard, it just involved going to about two dozen pharmacies before finding a solitary bottle of spf70. With the guide and flights I made the mistake of referring to my guide book. Trying to find anything is nigh impossible with no street signs to speak of and the only map you is the monochrome thing you have in your guide book which is by no means to scale or complete. It may as well have been a map of Adelaide. When I found where I was looking for if it was highly recommended it was highly non existent, if it was English speaking it was nothing of the sort even if it had a website in perfect English. By this time it was mid afternoon so the last place I went to which was a bit of a trek to get to had just closed for the afternoon.
On the bright side in my day of roaming I did see somethings I mightn't have seen otherwise. A bloke approached me, speaking quite good English if you got passed the missing teeth, got me to read to him a brochure on fruit juice. He thanked me and went on his way. A bit random but fair enough.
I saw a butcher, everywhere so not special buy itself, it's just a little harder to stomach when the live calf's are in a yard just next door. And I saw a shepherd herd his goats (successfully credit to him) across a ten lane high way. So on a day of great effort on my part I achieved nothing more than a mango juice, a chip sandwich and the beginnings of a cold.
I woke a 5am the next morning wishing I was dead. It was another 4 hours before I was ready to face the world. After telling Wadood about the day before he suggested I just book the flights myself. So I went to the Yemenia office and booked a flight. I'll be on Socotra Island for a week and even though I have no way to prepare for it Wadood reckons it'll be easy. I'm not so sure but I guess he who dares my son, he who dares.
Feeling better with myself I set about finding a juice and grilled chicken for lunch and spent the rest of my day wandering around the souqs, taking a few photos and mingling a bit with anyone who spoke English. Generally I had a pleasant day but seriously the kids here need an xbox or something. In the few days I've been here I have seen kids set their (pretty vicious) dog against a stray dog, later on beating that dog to near death with a stick and as I was walking back to my hotel after sunset I saw some kids kill a kitten by crushing its skull with rather largish rock. I started yelling abuse at them and they just laughed and ran of into the alleys. Not the nicest way to finish the day and not the lasting memory I want of my time i Sana'a.
This morning I went to the Tourist Police to get my permits. This was much easier than expected though they did tell me I would need at least 30 copies to hand to police as requested which was no surprise as bloke at my hotel went through over 70 copies in three weeks. Tomorrow I head to Shibam.
Cheers,
scott.
I flew to Sana'a via Frankfurt and Riad with Lufthansa. After flying with Singapore Airlines and Emirates Lufthansa was a bit of a let down. Coach seats, average food and no personal entertainment system, just a less than inspiring movie with Catherine Zeta Jones which couldn't have been more predictable to me than had I written it myself. I was however treated to one of the joys of flying, a sunset from 35000ft, watching the colours change as the sun disappears below the cloud, then silhouetted a dull orange for a few minutes before disappearing below the horizon. I managed to sleep through the brief Riad Stopover and only woke when the plain hit the tarmac at Sana'a International. My heart skipped a few beats when the ATM wouldn't accept my card. Half expected this so brought more US dollars than I usually would. Getting my entry visa was easy enough though my passport will fill up fast if every Arab country I go to insists on taking up a whole page with a sticker relaying all my personal details in Arabic.
My bag was in Arrivals which was a relief give that it had been through four countries (and Heathrow Airport no less) to get there. I was worried that after ten hours in transit and largely sleepless night at the airport and arriving at 10pm how I would get on with the taxi drivers which were a constant source of conflict during my last trip to the Middle East. Turns out it was a fixed price of 2000 riyals to the city which sounded pretty reasonable. I might have got it cheaper had I bargained with the drivers outside but looking at the state of their taxis in various states of decay thought against it. The other problem you face is me knowing little Arabic trying to explain to someone who knows little English where your hotel is when the hotel will have different names in each language and is on street which doesn't have a name in either. Anyway after a few 'life flash before your eyes as you watch imminent death unfold before you until the driver takes evasive action and you miss the other car by the coating of paint that would have been their had it not rusted away' moments and a few stops to ask for directions I made to my hotel in one piece.
Wadood, the hotel manager recognising that 'just spent 10 hours in transit after a largely sleepless night in an airport' look on my face just gave me the keys to my room and said I could fill out the paperwork in the morning when I've had some rest. Legend.
My hotel was in one of those 8 story tower houses that put Old Sana'a on the UNESCO Heritage list. It was pretty basic but the rooms were clean, well decorated, had views over the old town, hot water and western toilets. The latter two luxuries I'm not expecting to see much of over the coming months.
As I lay awake looking up at the rug oddly hanging from the ceiling and listening to the Arabic music playing loudly from a car in the street it hit for the first time that I was traveling again and I was excited for the New Day.
The new day started how I forgot it would, been woken up by the call to prayer blaring from the mosques of Old Town. I only realised it was noon when Wadood gave me a bemused look when I asked for some breakfast. "You sleep very well yes".
He cooked me up an omelet just the same.
After this I went about learning my way around, relearning how to cross the road without breaking a leg, getting a general idea for how much things cost and trying to remember the basic Arabic that makes it just that little bit easier to go about your day. And remembering those things you loved about the Middle East. The souqs selling sweets, nuts, grains, gold, silver, tourist silver, linen, fruit, perfumes and almost anything you could practically need to get by. The juice bars where almost any juice you could possible want is squeezed in front of you. And the hospitality of the people inviting you into their store for tea or just a chat.
I expected Sana'a to be similar to say Damascus and to an extent it was, there were just a few things which I'm new to. Almost every man you see carries a dagger with a hook at the end. Sometimes there is a plastic bag full of qat hanging from it and with that a bulge in the side of the cheek where the qat is slowly chewed. (FYI qat is a narcotic leaf grown in Yemen and parts of East Africa). Spitting in the street is common in the Middle East the only difference here been that the streets are covered in a pattern of green saliva. The most obvious difference and what brings most people to Sana'a are the beautiful tower houses of the old town.
The Next day I spent my time walking around the old town. No set route as I don't really think their is anything specific to see. Just letting my curiosity get the best of me. Follow that path, walk towards that minaret just to see where it takes you. All the while taking in what is happening around you. Children playing football or doing chores for their parents. Always the same conversation,
"Hello"
"How are you?"
"Whats is your name?"
"Where are you from?"
"How are you?"
"What is your name?" etc etc.
Adults, well men at least, asking where I was from and before saying "Welcome to Yemen" (I don't know what they would have said if my reply was anything but Australia). Women all in Black or occasionally with a coloured scarf walking with their children while defying the laws of physics by balancing loads of water or whatever on their heads. Men haggling around a pile of qat or just going about their business in the souqs. Every now and then passing another westerner sharing a nod and a smile acknowledging the fact you're one of a handful of tourists either of you see will see for the day.
Finally finishing the day watching the sunset over the mountains from the roof my hotel listening to the sounds of the city winding down only broken by the dusk call to prayer, echoing from each mosque around you, like a choir, each with its own voice, some better than others.
Up until now the most constructive thing I would get done in a day is finding the least seediest place to get a juice and lunch. Trying to do anything more constructive than that and you almost forget all the shit I've just spun about the joys of traveling in Arab countries. I set myself the task of organising flights and guide for Socotra and buying some sunscreen to protect my now pasty white spent too much time in England skin. The sunscreen wasn't too hard, it just involved going to about two dozen pharmacies before finding a solitary bottle of spf70. With the guide and flights I made the mistake of referring to my guide book. Trying to find anything is nigh impossible with no street signs to speak of and the only map you is the monochrome thing you have in your guide book which is by no means to scale or complete. It may as well have been a map of Adelaide. When I found where I was looking for if it was highly recommended it was highly non existent, if it was English speaking it was nothing of the sort even if it had a website in perfect English. By this time it was mid afternoon so the last place I went to which was a bit of a trek to get to had just closed for the afternoon.
On the bright side in my day of roaming I did see somethings I mightn't have seen otherwise. A bloke approached me, speaking quite good English if you got passed the missing teeth, got me to read to him a brochure on fruit juice. He thanked me and went on his way. A bit random but fair enough.
I saw a butcher, everywhere so not special buy itself, it's just a little harder to stomach when the live calf's are in a yard just next door. And I saw a shepherd herd his goats (successfully credit to him) across a ten lane high way. So on a day of great effort on my part I achieved nothing more than a mango juice, a chip sandwich and the beginnings of a cold.
I woke a 5am the next morning wishing I was dead. It was another 4 hours before I was ready to face the world. After telling Wadood about the day before he suggested I just book the flights myself. So I went to the Yemenia office and booked a flight. I'll be on Socotra Island for a week and even though I have no way to prepare for it Wadood reckons it'll be easy. I'm not so sure but I guess he who dares my son, he who dares.
Feeling better with myself I set about finding a juice and grilled chicken for lunch and spent the rest of my day wandering around the souqs, taking a few photos and mingling a bit with anyone who spoke English. Generally I had a pleasant day but seriously the kids here need an xbox or something. In the few days I've been here I have seen kids set their (pretty vicious) dog against a stray dog, later on beating that dog to near death with a stick and as I was walking back to my hotel after sunset I saw some kids kill a kitten by crushing its skull with rather largish rock. I started yelling abuse at them and they just laughed and ran of into the alleys. Not the nicest way to finish the day and not the lasting memory I want of my time i Sana'a.
This morning I went to the Tourist Police to get my permits. This was much easier than expected though they did tell me I would need at least 30 copies to hand to police as requested which was no surprise as bloke at my hotel went through over 70 copies in three weeks. Tomorrow I head to Shibam.
Cheers,
scott.
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