Abu Dhabi and the Al Lulu excursion

  Abu dhabi, United Arab Emirates
Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Actually.  It's really quite nice here.  Perhaps the best preparation for a holiday is to convince yourself you will hate the place you are going to.  So far, all I have found is evidence to disprove my narrow minded theory.  Abu Dhabi really is OK.  There is no arrogant decadence of Kuwait City, nor the flashy sort of "brand newness" and lack of cultural depth of Dubai (ok so the cultural depth is perhaps but a millimetre thicker down here).  There are actual real shops of the streets, not JUST air conditioned marble coated Malls.

Abu Dhabi Street

 
As I discovered when I took a walk with the kids this afternoon.  Just to explore the "hood" whilst my knackered hostess and her wee'un slept.  She pointed out the general direction we should head in (we were ice cream focussed at the time) from her 16th floor apartment.  Quite a view from up there and looking straight down made my ankles and toes tingle.  From the balcony at the front a splendid array of tower blocks and mosque domes all in silver, blue and black.  The same to the right.

Abu Dhabi City Scape

And in another direction the landscaped gardens of the Al Manhal (palace?) surprisingly situated on Al Manhal street.  

Al Manhal, Abu Dhabi

And there is no shortage of private gardens (nor it seems water to quench them, buckets of the stuff being mismanaged all over the street).  Bougainvillea, perhaps my favourite of plants-not-to-be-found-in-England (though I attempted to keep one once, that visible shivered under Cambridge climes) sprouting from every garden wall, and the walk through the city on our first night brought the scent of night jasmine wafting to my nostrils, reminded me of Sri Lankan times. 
 
I was impressed at the choice of location for said 16th floor apartment.  Rather than opting for a white, European suburb, my friends had chosen well and although you could spot the odd honkey, most of the locals were a real mix of Arab and Asian.  So much so I wasted plenty of time trying to work out where people were from, before giving up.  Judging by the shop names many of them had been settled in UAE some time (Baghdad Motors, Afghan Trade, and restaurant owners of every nationality).  I liked it.  I felt strangely at home, despite my fair skin and cute blonde kid.  It sort of reminded me of MANY places I had been, both visually and in odour (curry and incense spilling out of doorways as we passed).  Nice to see simple things like fruit and veg shops and cluttered Asian stores stuffed with every packet of foodstuff imaginable, brightly coloured sweets, dirty bottles of fizzy drinks, newspapers, all stuffed down impossibly narrow aisles sized for the undernourished.  I have a language problem here.  Many of the townsfolk I come across are clearly not Arab, but I am assuming (careful) plenty of them Muslim.  So I opt for the Assalamualaikum style greeting and the Shukran style thank you, although I clearly heard whiffs of Tamil and at one stage my ears picked up on a bit of Iraqi dialect (well, they were standing outside Baghdad Motors), so I was delighted to be able to offer a "Sabah Alcher", which was greeted with "Sabah Noon".  Good.  Wouldn't want to get that wrong.  It is amazing how, as a "lone female traveller" having kids and making a (slightly pathetic) attempt at not speaking English can make you immediately popular.  Does help too, if one of the said kids is as blonde as a beach bum.  In most Muslim countries I have been to, I feel universally accepted and respected.  Children wave, men ruffle the hair of my kids and offer sweets and silly faces to entertain and women (at least those without burkhas) exchange open and friendly smiles (I'm sure the burkha ones do too...).  I wonder how such an obviously non British family would fare walking through an English town?  Would they be greeted with such warmth?  In fact try walking through a small British twon at chucking out time on a Saturday night and tell me how civilised our nation is.  Yuk.  Cringe.
 
My friend and I discussed the fact that Abu Dhabi was meant to be world HQ for the Al Q brothers.  Not that I saw any sign of them.  She said (and she has asked that the quote be attributed to her not me) - "better to be living actually in the wasps nest - I mean, they are not going to shit on their own doorstep".  Good point.  Frankly, I am not sure that Al Q actually exist.  If they do they don't seem particularly elite.  Them boys that got caught moments before they could blow anything up in London are allegedly Al Q, as was that very iffy British shoe bomber.  Does OBL just let any old nut join Al Q then?  I am sure with any half decent terrorist organisation, like the Tamil Tigers you would have to pass some sort of test before you were accepted to represent the group·.imagine what would have happened if some useless half wit had joined the IRA in the good (bad) old days?  Can't see it can you? 
 
Anyway, so didn't find the "hot bed" of terrorists, not a wasp in sight, just lots of friendly folk instead.  I did look in a couple of mosques (well, outside really) and had fun explaining badly to the kids why there were loads of shoes left outside.
 
So we made it to the ice cream place eventually.  I was disappointed to see that it was housed in a big fat air conditioned mall. Al Wahdah I believe.  Ah-ha - now it is beginning to feel a bit more like the Kuwait City I love to hate.  Inside the Mall was space.  Far too much space.  Spotless shiny marble floors making an excellent squeak and slide play area for my unruly two.  Inappropriately dressed brown white folk mingled with burkhas and immaculate Arabs who, because their dish-dashas reached the floor, appeared to hover several inches from the ground.  Tall and graceful, they floated and flicked the corners of their headdresses, whilst their wives shopped.  Amazing how you can tell that someone is filthy rich, even when they are covered in black from head to foot, but you can.  As I am essentially allergic to shopping (retail parks especially bring me out in hives) so such places hold no interest. All the shops are the same - Accessorize, Tammy Girl (what?), Body Shop (not the mechanics from Baghdad this time), and the designer outlets are all there.  Maybe the brown white folk like it because they feel more at home here, but I would swap these chilly clean open spaces for the stinky hot street corner shops any day.  And I did.  Dragging the kids out in the searing heat as soon as we had finished eating our disgustingly decadent ice cream Sundaes and Saturdays (of which I am ashamed).
 
Back in the hood my boys tried to guess the makes of the cars we passed (oh yeah - I forget to mention PARKING - the night we arrived it took us over an hour to find a space·ridiculous).  They got fed up with quite how many Toyotas were in town, but we all let out a big Wooaa when we spotted a brand new fuk-off Rolls Royce looking like a slate coloured slab the size of a house, just parked casually on the pavement (would you Adam and Eve it)?
 
This morning we got on a boat and went to visit Lulu island, which is about as touristy as you will get me being on this holiday.  I hope my friend wasn't disappointed in my lack of enthusiasm for her new home town (although she described it herself as nice and bland).  Lulu island was odd, it has to be said.  Again the bulldozer was there, being a familiar feature of the holiday.  It was a bit half built to be fair.  A bus took us from the boat to the·erm·beach I suppose.   The "beach" was a long stretch of what felt like fake sand, neatly dotted with white plastic sun shelters, equidistant at about 100m apart.  They house a bin and some white plastic furniture.  It was great for a picnic (which we did rather well I thought, even had fresh fruit).   

Fruit on Lulu

But it was El Scorchio (and I was slightly rouged from the day before), so I spent the morning under the plastic shelter with not an unpleasant breeze in the air watching the kids splash with a football in the warm sea.  When they started playing with a live throbbing jelly fish I thought it might be time to leave (if jelly fish can look angry, this one did).  We were getting a bit fed up with the ring of South Asian workmen who appeared to be spending their lunch break quite openly gorping at us.  It is not something we are unused to, my friend and I.  We remembered fondly the good times in Sri Lanka, when one night as my pal and I sipped wine on her balcony overlooking the Indian Ocean, we looked down to see a man looking up at us having a vigorous wank.  It was the way he didn't stop when we noticed him (even when we pointed and laughed) that bothered me most.  Quite revolting.  Of course these creatures wouldn't dare touch themselves in such a way on Emirati soil I am sure, but the thought was there I am sure.
 
So it's back to "the club" tomorrow for more cultural excitement I think.  At least we will be free from wankers and music will drown out the sound of excavator digging.  My new favourite radio station is UAE Radio 2.  I had forgotten all about Cool and the Gang, and I was reminded that Paul MacCartney was not such a musical genius when he recorded "That Girl is Mine" with Michael Jackson.  The station has however caused an argument over whether the Angel lives in the Centre Fold, or whether the Angel is in the Centre Fold.