|
OMAN:
November 1998
When the border gate remained closed after a long siesta Jan
crawled through the barbed wire, approaching the army post on foot
and nearly got himself arrested. In spite of application 3 months
before and waiting in Sana’a for 14 days, our road permit had not
arrived at the Sarfayt border post. In fact it was not even
open for vehicle crossing or non-local travellers! Their
suggestion was that we should retrace our steps and take a
different track – a 500km journey – to the inland border post of
Mazyunah… Locals brought us tea. At sunset the burley officer
reported no progress. One group of Yemeni workers invited us for
supper. Others brought the supper and offered us a container of
water. After dark we surreptitiously sent frantic e-mail (via sat
phone) to Des and Land Rover in Oman. (If they knew about the
phone we would probably be arrested as spies!)
The next morning the army Sergeant asked if we needed anything.
Jan replied: “We have food for 2 months but we might ask you for
water after 4 days”. (It was clear that we were not going to go
back!). Soon afterwards the Captain came and said that he would
try to contact the Royal Omani Police from this end. Lunchtime we
were fed again and the little teacups donated as a gift. 26 hours
after our arrival the Sergeant with the Indian accent removes the
chains from the gates: “Congratulations! Welcome to Oman”. (“And
tarred roads” we think). Two soldiers in a Land Rover escort us
60km to the next Army checkpoint. They take the travel permit but
also phone the base to check its validity. At the Royal Omani
Police Checkpoint the explaining and phoning goes on and on.
Eventually an ROP officer escorts us the 100km down the incredible
engineered winding pass to Raysut where we spend the night
at the police station; (but with only our passports in custody!).
The next morning we are escorted to Immigration in Salalah
where the paperwork is done for us and we are finally free to go.
Immaculate Oman! Perfect pavements and swept streets.
Lush green lawns with flowers, fountains and works of art adorn
the traffic circles. Avenues of trees link the pristine parks.
Only shiny new cars around. Tailors and Tailors and Tailors create
the long white “dish dashas” the Omani men wear. ‘The big chief’
is Sultan Qaboos. We see his palaces and extensive royal stables.
He studied town planning in the UK and has beautified the entire
Sultanate. World-class museums have been commissioned. He is pro
conservation and has succeeded in re-introducing and breeding the
Arabian Oryx and the Thar (mountain goat) again to Oman.
Our considerate pilot friend had left maps for us at the Salalah
airport. He directed us to a vegetated wadi for an off road
camping spot: “The beauty and the cruelty of the “wadi” – the
dried-up, frequently stony creeks that have known better days.
They form a fossilised hydrographic network and natural channels
of distribution, which spread throughout the entire Arabian
Peninsula. During the rainy season these “wadi” can suddenly
swell, their flood waters surging down on the villages with an
unexpected rage.”
It is a thousand kilometres of smooth driving through the desert
to Muscat. The capital is beautifully situated next to the
sea and in between the mountains. The mosques and the adornments
of art and plants enhance the scene. (Extended over 50km).
It was through Des’s continued efforts and liaison with Land Rover
Oman that we succeeded in getting into the country. We enjoy the
company and the home comforts with Captain Des and Adri. They have
liked the pleasant and safe way of life and have used every
opportunity to explore Oman in their Land Rover. Now the contract
is over and Omani pilots have to fly. (Their affirmative action is
called “Omanize”). They take us on an unforgettable sunset cruise
past the sultan’s giant yacht and the forts above guarding the
harbour. The mosques begin chanting one after the other, as the
sun sets.
Des takes Jan to Land Rover for spares and to thank the manager
for getting us into Oman. All foreign workers have to be sponsored
by a national and many foreigners pay off large sums of money. All
businesses must be registered in the name of a local and he
partakes of the profits. The labourers and shop owners all seem to
be Pakistani. Now we understand why Omanis and UAE citizens are
able to drive such fancy vehicles and wander around in the park
and sit and chat and drink tea and coffee and smoke hubble-bubble
and never do a stitch of work.
We are sorry to leave Muscat but enjoy visiting the forts of
Nizwa, Bahla and Jabrin on the way to the border.
UAE:
“Welcome to the United Arab Emirates”. El Ain’s museum has
a good display of Bedouin daily life and wedding finery. We camp
outside the town at the camel racetrack.
Before sunrise the activity starts:”Ten or more splendid racing
camels await the starter’s signal. A confused medley of cars
follow the camels; their necks stretched out in front of their
bodies, side legs moving in unison, they seem to be defying the
laws of gravity. At the finish line the tiny jockey jumps down
from his frothy mouthed mount”
The racing camels are accompanied to the starting line by a larger
camel. Next to the oval track fence follows: Two Land Cruisers
with TV cameras, a mini bus, a large bus (the ‘ring-side’ seats),
a control vehicle and two ambulances. The circuit is 6 kilometres
and each race takes about 10 minutes. On the grand stand TV’s with
split screens are placed so that the group, the leader and the
time is displayed. There are only local men in white dishdashas
with, on their heads, a white kaffiye and black agal with tassels.
The TV staff offer us tea and Al Ain mineral water. They tell us
that today there are 10 prizes for each race and the first prize
is 1000 dirhams (xl,5=R) In an important race the first camel
receives up to 2million dirhams. A winning camel can sell for
3million dirham!.
Dubai:
modern skyscrapers reflecting the sunlight and being reflected in
the wide creek. Two busy free ways and a tunnel connect the two
hubs on either side of the sea channel. A hotel and the golf club
house resemble sails. The golf course and the large creek park
form an attractive green belt next to the water. Shops filled with
imported goods and a whole market with gold jewellery are to gape
at. We try to visit some of the renowned shopping centres but
somehow each time Jan is fainting with hunger and we have to cut
it short!
We stay with Leoné’s cousin, Mienie, and Dawid in their large
villa with garden. With Mienie’s good taste and flair for
presentation it was 5 star luxury. Even nice old M-net and SA
beating Wales and Scotland. . We met nice SA people (some of the
thousand SA families in Dubai!). Mark, a friend from Jhb, took us
to dinner at the very luxurious Jumeira beach hotel, which has the
tallest tower of hotel suites in the world.
Our visas for Saudi Arabia had been applied for 5 months
previously in South Africa and, after many follow ups, were now
ready for collection. We spent an entire morning trying to locate
the Saudi Arabia Consulate. When we did, they had closed at 11 am.
Returning the next day, we were told that the visas could not be
found by name and that we needed the numbers. We e-mailed and
faxed frantically for Ingrid and Liesl to get the numbers.
Eventually after a whole week we received our single entry 7-day
transit visa. In this time Jan had installed some parts, for which
Brian had so kindly (once again!) sent replacements. The
extraction from the airport took only 2 hours, compared with 8
hours in Nairobi. We also visited the world class museums in the
area during that time and also a very modern public library. The
women had a separate entrance and a reading room where they could
remove their veils.
We went West from Dubai towards Saudi. Abu Dhabi the
capital of the largest and the oil-richest of the 7 emirates is
situated on an island. The corniche has park and walkways and
fountains.
When we enter the city, our flag is recognised and we pull off to
chat. We are promptly invited for a meal and to meet those who
came with them. Captain Solo and Marga. One other police
helicopter pilot and three police paramedics and their wives.
Such a nice sociable evening which had to last us a long time…
SAUDI ARABIA:
We sleep close enough to the border so that we can enter Saudi
first thing the next morning. First 20 dirham each departure tax
on UAE side. We enter the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. They look
through all our photographs and only point to the bare arms in one
(Not noticing that the ladies are sipping Margarita’s!). Leoné,
demurely dressed in abaya, (black robe covering head to toe) is
requested to stand outside the vehicle while they search it from
end to end (looking for alcohol, pork or pornography; any one of
which would get one arrested)..
We had to cover 2900 km in the 7 allotted days. (Hard going for a
Land Rover, even though the speed limit on some freeways is 160
km/h!) At the town of Hofuf we drive in circles because
there is no clear downtown and all street names and road signs are
in Arabic only.
Only once did we see romantic sand dunes. The desert next to the
freeway was flat and uninteresting. Riyadh is a sprawling
city.. Between 1973 and 1978 SA annual oil revenues went from
US$4.35 billion to $US36 billion. Under King Khalid’s reign 1975
to 82 money was pouring into utility and infrastructure projects.
Riyadh has a good museum in a restored fort with English
descriptions. Women were not allowed unless accompanied by a man;
who had to be related by blood or marriage; the same requirement
as when she would be in a car! (Women are also not allowed to
drive).
In Taif we tried to go to the market. We always got our
timing wrong because whenever we arrived anywhere they were
shutting up shop (5 times a day) for prayers. We visited the
market in between prayers. Underneath that black garb, we imagine
that the women must be dressed in complete contrast. The fabric
and dresses in the shops are so elaborate and gaudy. Even the
lingerie is green and red. Bright “gold” jewellery and shops with
imported perfumes abound. Many shops sold incense in the form of
fibre balls or crystalline resin from the frankincense tree.
We had gradually climbed and there was an attractive pass towards
the coast from Taif. One policeman tried to turn us back because
‘trucks’ were not allowed. We convinced him and found the only
quarry in the whole pass a few metres further for late night
camping. The direction we had been following was “Mecca” but
eventually all non-Muslims are directed to the “Christian
by-pass”.
The other Saudi towns had plain houses and mosques and little
decoration or greenery. Jeddah had it all. Lovely mosques
and wooden decorated 5 story houses within the ancient city walls.
Many shopping centres, one which includes the exclusive designer
shops of the world. We had lunch in a restaurant where women had
to sit behind a screen but they were served. Jan could sit with L.
Decorated streets and a 30-kilometre promenade with pieces of
contemporary sculpture and playgrounds and sea water pools
interspersed all the way.
The road never stayed close to the sea but there were signs to the
desalination plants and the oil export harbours and petrochemical
and cement factories.
We left Saudi and had some time in hand. The immigration official
said: “I hope you visit Saudi Arabia again.” ….
Then it was “Welcome to Jordan” over and over many times
while they faffed around with computer and papers for about 3
hours, until it was dark. We felt safe and so welcome that we
pulled off on the beach just around the corner from the border….
“Bang” “Bang” on the door at One o’clock in the morning. The
police telling us to move on. (JHV can argue even in his sleep:
“Why?” “Where’s your ID?”) Eventually they escort us to a
campsite nearby. We feel “welcome” again when the fatherly camp
attendant shows us where to park in the howling gale.
We are next to the Gulf of Aqaba. It is the beginning of
the Rift Valley and is 1800m deep until it leads into the Red Sea,
further south. We have to take a ferry over this channel to Sinai in
Egypt. |
