The week that was

It is already starting to be a long time since I saw people I know back home for a last time. Longer time I am here, Yas Island Formula 1 Grand Prix on 1 of November 2009 is getting closer and everybody working on anything connected to the Race Day, including Envac, is starting to panic and therefore we have more work than usual. And of course everything needs to be done ASAP (As Soon As Possible J) or yesterday. But for me it means that I cannot get any vacations to go home see my old friends until we finish our part, which means until September, maybe August.

If Mohamed cannot go to the mountain, the mountain has to go to Mohamed. So my mom decided to be my first mountain moving to me. She came for two weeks seeking hot temperatures, peace, relaxation and of course her lost son ;)

“Eee…ehm..Sathu. Could I have Sunday off? My mom is coming” I tried. “Eee…ehm…I don’t know Jiri” Sathu said and I was getting confident that I could have three days weekend. “Hello Nigel, what news are you bringing to us?” Sathu asked incoming Project Delivery Team supervisor. “You can start laying pipe in Golf Course from yesterday. You have three weeks!!” Nigel replied with a wide smile and disapeared. “Jiri, this is your area. You should come Saturday to the office” stated Sathu and my weekend split in half. “I would like to have you at my last progress meeting on Sunday” added Leo only thinking about his last day in UAE and his one-way flight to Sweden. And my plans vanished to the sandy construction site.

Fortunately my mother is very independent traveler she didn’t have problems to spend whole day on her own on the beach, sleeping, buying carpets, sightseeing in Old town, cleaning my apartment, cooking, ironing, washing clothes…J And when I came from work we went for a dinner to 52nd floor, swimming to the sea at night, to buy a new fridge or just sitting at the balcony talking and watching shinning skyscrapers.

Maybe you wouldn’t enjoy such holidays, but she definitely did. Pity that those were so short two weeks. But a combination of climate, bit exotic and world completely new and familiar in the same time made this hard to forget.

For sure that it was also a bit merit of my presence and of one weekend trip we made. I realized that I was somehow too busy to go outside the city. So it was a perfect opportunity to force me to catch up. Plan was then clear. We go to the dry wadis in Oman, high mountains on the East, swim to the Indian Ocean and basically while driving see something else than high society in the shade of high-rise buildings.

We loaded the car with supplies for two days and on Friday morning headed south towards Dibba. First, to our surprise we found well hidden Friday marked in the middle of nowhere, but living a busy live of a cheap commerce hub. “3500 Dirhams sir”, quickly replied a Pakistani carpet businessman when we asked for a price. With an amused smile I countered: “I could have a similar one for 400 next door, but I like yours more”. “But this is a high quality from Iran and a big size” Paki kept trying. “2000”, we moved in our negotiations. “500, take it or leave it!!” was my final offer. “It’s too little, but I’ll give a very generous offer my friend, 1000”. “In Czech it would cost thrice as much. 600 would be ok” told me my mom whispering. “600”, I took a wallet and started to dig for money. “Deal!! You are very lucky my friend”. Later we found out from a gardener that 600 is a normal price. For 400 would be a good deal and for anything more than that we would have been cheated J We continued heavier for a red Iranian carpet and a rope climbing plant.

After the lunch at old waste dump overlooking villas for “I have no idea who could possibly live here” and short stop at the ocean at Dibba we finally came to mountain mouth. This road should lead through Oman back to UAE on the other side. I had didn’t know exactly how such a road could be, but when I have 4x4 I had to give it a try J To Hideaway resort the road was closed so we continued straight up the wadi up to a place where the road left the wadi and was climbing to a pass.

“The road to Ras al Khaimah is closed, but to Khasab you can go” said to us some expats coming opposite direction and added “These 500 meters are tough, but after that it is ok”. So far so good. My plan was to go to Khasab anyway. We easily climbed to the pass and down on the other side. The descent was same steep but at least 10 time longer and muddy. At the bottom there was an Omani border post.

“Hello” said to us a soldier with machine gun on his shoulder, lifted a gate a let us into a place 10x10 meters cornered with another two gates.

“Can we go right to Khasab?” I asked. “No…problem” replied the soldier and behind him stood up another. “What problem?...permission?..papers?” I tried, but it was clear that those expats haven’t actually tried this way. “Can we go right then?”, “Yes…but also problem”. We already knew what that problem was. Emirati border patrol 20 kilometers further wouldn’t let us back to UAE. In the meantime couple of white FJ Cruisers came also from Dibba, but because they were locals they continued straight to Khasab!! Is this fair?

After judging our options if to camp here and return tomorrow or return now we went for option 2, because I was running low on petrol and after looking at the dark sky and muddy road up we decided to escape back 40 kilometers from the gunners when we could. It paid off because we found a nice spot on the beach next to Indian Ocean and only listened how there is storming somewhere in the mountains.

Morning the next day was a like in paradise. Bit of swimming, breakfast on the sun, dig up some palm saplings for my balcony and slowly leave towards Fujairah. It was a nice ride in different environment then Dubai. It was greener, older fashioned, more Arabic actually and therefore with more locals driving aimlessly their Land Cruisers around.

On the way we stopped at famous Snoopy Island for snorkeling and drove into a dry wadi full of picknicking families. This is apparently the favorite weekend activity of whole population and the government supports them by constructing paved roads to such remote places. These roads are just a dead ends leading to the desert to encourage people to have aim in their Land Cruising, which is like a drug.

Last stop was an old fortress where the Sheikh of Fujairah was living 200 years ago J Different region, different style. From there we just made a detour to Barracuda alcohol mall to refuel and returned home to busy Dubai city full of nice experiences.