Wandering Amerrickans

From The Land of a Thousand Hills to The Cradle of Mankind

It was another early morning as we had to catch our flight to Nairobi. Even though we were only 20 minutes from the airport, we were told we should be picked up at 6 AM. It only made sense once we got to the airport as to why we needed to be there three hours ahead of time. What unfolded was a first for us, even with the multiple trips through the Middle East.

As you pull up to the airport, there is a checkpoint where all passengers exit the car leaving all their belongings behind. You then walk to a building where you go through a metal detector. Meanwhile, the driver stays with the car opens the hood, the trunk, the glove box the arm console all the doors, and then the police bring over a sniffer dog, who then goes through the entire vehicle, including the engine. After that, you reach the main terminal where you go through a second security checkpoint. Quite the set up, but always happy for the added security.

The one hour and 10 minute flight to Nairobi was smooth – the highlights being flying over Lake Victoria, the second largest fresh lake in the world, and a view of Mount Kilimanjaro off to our right; it’s peak sticking up above the cloud layer with the famous snows on top completely visible -quite a sight!

I had been told that arrival into Nairobi airport was something to behold, but it was completely uneventful, quite simple, and really very civilized compared to many other airports we’ve come into. Our driver Max was waiting for us on the other side where he picked us up, drove us to our hotel so we could drop our bags. 

Arrival here was also met with strict security, but we didn’t have to open the hood and we stayed in the car as the “happy” sniffer dog checked everything out.

After dropping our bags we grabbed our duffel full of school supplies and soccer balls then proceeded to the main office of the camp company that we will be staying with for our eight nights in Kenya. After dropping the duffel bag at the headquarters Max took us to fill our grumbling bellies. He couldn’t have chosen a more perfect place- a local artists gallery and restaurant set in park like grounds. The pieces in the gallery were fantastic – Jenny and I were thrilled to each get our own hand forged Masai warrior. 

From there, we proceeded onto another local craft market where we did a little bit more damage, including a nice canvas for Jenny, a couple of note cards, some small pottery pieces, and Billy was thrilled to find a rollup backgammon board handmade in Kenya with some beautiful Kenyan bead work. 

The next and last stop for the afternoon was at Kobe Tough, a women’s empowerment co-op, bead factory and shop (this was actually Billy’s pick for a tour choice). This place was different from the one that we went to in Rwanda in that it only dealt with beads – all handmade from scratch there. The ladies welcomed us with a dance in which they quickly included Jenny supplying her with a handheld shaker. similar to a maraca.

We were then taken through the process of how the ceramic beads are made starting with the stone dust they mixed with water, then drain to form a clay. It is then formed into various bead shapes and sizes using molds, then hand finished with a knitting needle to form the hole and finally kiln dried again.

They are then hand painted and kiln dried again, then assembled by various artists to create their own piece of jewelry. A really interesting process and one in which I never would have realized the amount of work that what went into each piece. Of course we felt the need to support them as well and picked up a few items.

We arrived back in the hotel in time to enjoy drinks and dinner up on the rooftop bar before calling it a day.

Tomorrow we can sleep in till 7:45 or so before we are picked up for our transfer to the local airport for our flight to the first of the three Safari camps we will be staying in.

And a few funny pics from the trip so far;

Gorillas in the Bush

Once again, sleep was fleeting and the 5:30 AM alarm came a mere two hours after I finally dozed off. We had a quick breakfast and then found Anderson waiting for us. Once the hotel staff outfitted us in gaiters (needed for the ferocious stinging nettle plants and even more ferocious fire ants), we were off for the 20 minute drive to Volcanoes National Park. 

Up until this point on the ground, the only obvious tourists we had seen were at our hotel, once at the park though, it was teeming with them. There were probably fifty safari-style land rovers parked in the lot and tourists hustling and bustling about. Gorilla trekking is Rwanda’s bread and butter as far as tourism goes and it was obvious that the ebola outbreak just across the border had not scared very many of them off.

There are about 21 gorilla families that can be viewed by tourists. Each family can have eight people total trek to see them for one hour of viewing per day. You can request an easy, medium or hard trek; a family with lots of babies or multiple silverbacks; or families that are located either close to park headquarters or an adventurous 1:30 away. We didn’t preface except to say that the closer the better because we had to drive back to Kigali afterwards – a roughly three hour drive.

We were assigned the Izuba family – Izuba means sun. We were told it had one silverback and three infants. The rest of our trekking group was formed with a young couple of Brooklyn, two lady friends from Spain (though Dutch and French Belgian by birth), and one guy from Portugal. Our guide Patrick went over the rules-most important not to run if a silverback charges you and it is OK to make contact but don’t get in a staring contest.

Anderson drove us to the start of the hike and assured us he’d be waiting there for us upon the return. We each hired a porter, more to employ some local folks than out of necessity but it was nice to have someone carry my pack that was heavy with water. We were each given a walking stick and then sent on our anxious ways.

Our hike started with a relatively flat walk through potato fields full of farmers and children who would come running to say “hello” when they saw us. From there we crossed the rock wall which designators the park’s boundary and we started to climb from the 8500’ or so we were at. 

The scenery was incredible- we even had the full “Gorillas in the Mist” cinematography going on. The elevation kicked in quickly and it was rapidly obvious that the Portuguese guy was not physically as capable as the rest of the group for the climb. Our pace slowed rapidly once Patrick moved “Bruno” in the front and though it made the ascent less painful it also ran the clock hands. 

The good news was it hadn’t rained for days because the bit of soil that was still holding moisture from the last downpours was a shoe-sucking sludge.  I can’t imagine what it would be like if it was really wet.

My porter, Fidel, was wonderful, if not a bit overzealous. He held my hand, literally pulling me up the mountain, sometimes so vigorously I couldn’t see where to place my next step in the thick understory. 

I had read about the rarity of seeing other jungles animals – elephants and mountain buffalo to be exact, while trekking; and back at the briefing it was a very quick topic of conversation only to explain why we would meet up with a ranger “holding a banjo” (AKA an AK-47) but I was a bit surprised when we came to a dead stop and heard Patrick in a hushed voice say, “Elephants!” Up ahead there was a heard of elephants, at least six that we could see, foraging in the bushes ahead. We were standing at a fork where two trails split-One trail clearly led down into the low Valley where the elephants were, the other leading up the mountain in the other direction. Billy turned to the man with the banjo and asked, “Well which trail are we supposed to take? I hope it’s not that one,” pointing towards the elephants. The man with the banjo smiled and said, “it is…” 

It was not safe to try and move past them so we had no choice but to turn around. As we moved further from where the trackers were watching the gorillas, we lost total radio contact with them. We made it to a clearing where we stopped and waited while Patrick sent a few of the porters ahead with the ranger while we waited and waited and waited. Eventually we heard them hollering that they had found the trackers. Up we went passed fresh buffalo scat, through wicked stinging nettle- taking one to the wrist – and right towards the Congo border…

By the time we reached the trackers, the Gorillas were thick in the bush, like really thick. We had a few glimpses of the silverback while the team worked at hacking us a path in. The terrain was steep and the bushes impenetrable. It was determined we should go back the way we came and try to go around. Back through the fire ants, so back through the stinging nettle, back through the ankle grabbing vines we went.. 

Once back up on top of the hill Patrick said the Gorillas were right there in the bushes in their nest. We were told to leave our packs behind, put on our face masks and to remember the rules.

My first glimpse of these magnificent creatures immediately created a response I wasn’t quite expecting. Tears started streaming down my face as I sat and watched an infant with its mother. Jenny came and crouched down next to me as we marveled at these magnificent beasts.

Meanwhile, Patrick had gone around the other side to try to hack through more bushes to where the silverback was, which clearly angered him as he came wailing and charging through the understory so fast it might as well have been an open field. Jenny jumped up, and I grabbed her pantsleg and told her, “Do not run.”

She told me afterwards her heart was pounding and asked me if I had been scared too. Funny thing was, I wasn’t the least bit, even though it was a rather intense moment.

Unfortunately the silverback stayed back in the thicket to the point he was barely visible but I was able to see him breaking bamboo like it was matchsticks. The size of his hands was incredible.

The two mothers laid down with their babies and a third came walking past us. less than a foot from me.

We hadn’t realized that there was a newborn there- apparently only three weeks old until it popped its head up!

The viewing was challenging as there was only a small opening to see in to their nest so we kept switching positions for everyone to get a chance to see. The hour went by too fast but it was one of the most magical moments of my life to be mere feet from these gentle giants who are so human like with their expressive eyes.

The hike down was pretty easy especially with Fidel dragging me now down the mountain. The effects of the stinging nettle began to take hold and I was glad it was only my wrist that got hit.

We were lucky that we saw some golden monkeys on the trek back. These primates are also endangered and are another of the creatures people come to Rwanda to trek.

When we got back to the trailhead Anderson was there waiting for us. We headed straight back to the hotel to grab our stuff and drop our shoes with the staff to be cleaned up only to be returned to us thirty minutes later looking like they did before we headed out on the trek!

We had a three hour drive back to Kigali and by the time we arrived we were pooped!

The Basketball Africa League Players were staying at the hotel as well which was pretty cool. It turned out Jenny had also got a stinging nettle, hers in her elbow, and both of us were feeling the full effects of the shock like tingling- a pretty strange sensation.

The day today was beyond amazing – a dream come true for me; an amazing experience for the three of us. I would return in a heartbeat to this beautiful country, with friendly people, and the gentlest of giants. I am so happy we made the decision to go.

A Tribute to Digit

Wow… this was a late morning.I was the last wake up, waking up two hours later than Billy and one hour later than Jenny at 11:30. Sleep last night was marred with issues from the malaria medicine, jet lag, a rock hard mattress and nervous thoughts running through my head. 

We are currently adjacent to an area that is a Level 4 on the State Department’s Advisory for travel; AKA-Do Not Travel for Any Reason-except to Volcanoes National Park. You are warned to not travel within 6 miles of the border of Democratic Republic of the Congo, due to unrest and armed militias and we are sitting at about the 6 mile marker – however, we are in the apparent “safe” zone. So when the power shut off at a few minutes after midnight without any prior warnings, I’ll be honest in thinking, “Oh sh@t, here they come.” I quickly formulated a plan in my head which included hiding Jenny in the lidded laundry basket and jumping in her bed so they’d never know there was a third person in the room. So, as you can imagine… it took a long time for my head to calm down and my heart to stop pounding- silly I know but it’s typically the way I roll. Hence why the 11:30 wake up for me.

Having slept through breakfast, we had lunch at 1:00 before Anderson came to pick us up for an afternoon outing. We had asked to do some shopping for local items and to go to the Dian Fossey Center. 

We went to the women’s cooperative first which turned out to be a fantastic stop! Before we even made it up to the welcome area though, we got sidelined by the extraordinary birds and the colorful flowers.

Once upstairs we were warmly welcomed and shown in to various areas where the women were busy handcrafting a plethora of objects. The first stop was where they were creating walking sticks that were hand carved and beaded- a very intricate process.

We then saw where they turned textiles into various items such as bags, skirts, aprons etc. using foot-powered sewing machines. Next up was the workshop where they weaved products from naturally dyed rafia and local grasses. In this workroom, the girls/ladies also entertained us with a drum riff and dancing.

They even managed to get Jenny and I up there to dance along with them! It was quite a special occasion.

We finished up in the painters workshop where the few males whose work was on display were quick to recognize that they were there to support the women.

Once the three of us stepped into the giftshop we went a bit hog wild. Billy bought one of the walking sticks; Jenny and I each buying paintings, miniature carved gorillas, small weaved baskets, reusable bags and beautiful metal candlesticks that also had beading. It is the kind of endeavor we like to support, so we did!

From there we headed over to the Dian Fossey Museum. The museum was very well put together giving a thorough history of her life, her work as a researcher, the gorillas she came to love and protect (Digit had been her favorite) and her untimely death. There was a replica of the cabin she lived in housing many of her personal effects (having been funded by Sigourney Weaver).

It also had great displays on the conservation efforts spearheaded by her; where they are today; and what they are working towards in the future. There are four types of gorillas in the world- the ones in the zoo are lowland gorillas, the ones we will see tomorrow are mountain gorillas. At one point there were only an estimated 250 of them left in the wild, today there are about 1065. In fact, mountain gorillas are the only species of the great apes that are actually growing in numbers – a rare success story!

It was interesting to learn that gorillas do not have fingerprints, researchers tell them apart using nose wrinkles- similar to the way they tell whales by their fluke notches. Here we bought a cool print of Digit’s nose wrinkles and a weaved mat.

Afterwards Jenny asked Anderson if he could drive us around a bit to see some of the local life. He didn’t seem too interested in it (maybe he thought there’s not much to “see”) but Jenny pushed for it so he agreed. 

We drove high up into the mountains where we could see a few of the volcanoes surrounding us though their tops were shrouded in clouds. 

Up here at about 8600’ there were fields and fields of potatoes. Anderson explained purple-flowered plants yield purple potatoes and white-flowered plants yield white potatoes. It is incredible how the farmers transport their potatoes. They are put in huge sacks that are probably four feet tall by two feet wide; each weighing a good hundred and fifty pounds; then one sack is loaded on to a bicycle! At one point, one of the transport bicycles passed us and in an incredulous voice Jenny asked, “Was that smoke coming off the bottom of that guy’s shoes?” Anderson laughed and confirmed it was. The guys who deliver the potatoes cut up old tires, glue hunks of them to only one of their shoes and use that to slow them down when going downhill or coming to a stop. And let me tell you, these guys fly! At one point Anderson tried to keep us with one so we could video him and he couldn’t. An absolutely astonishing sight and ingenious method.

Even though today was a short day, we enjoyed every minute of it. We had an early dinner and were off to bed – tomorrow is the big day!

Welcome to the Land of 1,000 Hills

Well right this one down in the record books as our most high-stress trip yet to plan and execute. This trip has been planned since August. It is a celebration of Billy’s and my 30th wedding anniversary! We decided on a safari and then added gorilla trekking in Rwanda. Since the war in Iran broke out, I have rebooked our flights three times, unfortunately resulting in a 15 hour layover in London, but I managed to get it all done.

I handled all the flight rebookings fine ( we were originally booked to fly through Qatar), managed the rebookings of camps putting Rwanda first as I couldn’t get mileage redemption flights into Kenya (our second destination) and when I finally was set with travel logistics and focused on other things, news of an ebola outbreak came across my feed…

I have spent the last ten days reading, researching, reading some more, Googling (yeah, I went down that rabbit hole), reading yet more and then as a family discussing, watching and waiting. In the end we felt like we were going to be safe from ebola as it is not like Covid in its transmission (so they say). We considered canceling but Rwanda had no cases (they actually never have). I actually had booked back up flights to bypass Rwanda all together and just head to Kenya for the safari part of our trip, just in case, but ended up cancelling those two hours before we boarded our flight to Kigali. 

We realize things might change and are as mentally prepared as possible to deal with that. We aren’t foolhardy completely; we also realize this could get uglier quickly, but in the end, we made the decision to move forward with our plans. 

It does feel a bit odd to travel to an area of the world that is suffering from such a horrible disease and go about normal tourist activities but again, Rwanda is fine at this point.

I will be honest in feeling a bit of relief as at check in, we were very clearly the only tourists amongst the 100 or so passengers in line and I was thinking to myself that we were the only fools who hadn’t cancelled, but at the gate, and once on board, there were some other American tourists.

Gorilla trekking has been a dream of mine since studying Anthropology in college. I spent countless hours at the San Diego Zoo working on projects centered around the great apes. I was always struck by the famous women researchers – Goodall, Fossey and Galdikas. When I suggested it to Billy and Jenny, I had initially suggested Uganda as it is much less expensive for the permits but Billy insisted if we were going to do it, it HAD to be in Rwanda- and right about now I am very glad he did!

When trying to plan this trip, the rainy season was a bit of a factor. Did I want rain on safari in Kenya or would I rather it while trekking through the jungle in Rwanda? I had originally been more concerned about rain while trekking in Rwanda and so had put that after Kenya but ultimately flight ability became the deciding factor and the gorillas came first.

Our 8 1/2 hour flight was smooth and our descent into Rwanda was spectacular! The emerald green hills crisscrossed by red dirt roads and rivers of a similar color made it clear we were in equatorial Africa.

The airport arrivals was empty, except for the other tourists almost all the other passengers were connecting. After a quick pass through secondary inspection for the suitcase full of school supplies and soccer balls, we met up with our driver Anderson to start our sightseeing trip around Kigali before heading to Volcanoes National Park.

The traffic was pretty intense but 1/4 mile out we were struck by two things. The first being the ridiculous amount of motorcycles- literally thousands of them, mostly used as mototaxis and almost all electric. The second was how impeccably pristine it was – like not a single piece of garbage anywhere! The country employs people to pick up trash, weed between pavers, deadhead plants and trees, and even sweep up fallen leaves in the gutters and dirt paths alongside the road. Every last Saturday of every month every citizen is expected to clean up their neighborhood. It is unreal. I have never seen a cleaner country.

Anderson drove us around a few neighborhoods of Kigali – both working and the high rent district. We drove past consulates and embassies- including our own; we stopped at the famous Hotel des Mille Collines AKA “Hotel Rwanda” for a coffee and to have a look around; and we toured the Genocide Memorial Museum (very heavy yet very moving).

Once outside of Kigali the traffic lessened but there was still a constant stream of people and school kids walking alongside the road, along with plenty of the mototaxis. 

The climb up into the mountains was fantastic, at one point we were driving along a ridge with fairly dramatic valleys on both sides. The land was heavily cultivated with crops of every kind growing or in the midst of being planted. There were literally hundreds of people hand hoeing their plots of land- not a machine to be seen anywhere.

We arrived at our inn just in time for lunch. It is lovely with lush grounds teeming with bird life, an inviting pool area and a breezy, second story, open-air lanai. The inn was at capacity with mostly Americans and a few Europeans. After lunch, we all crashed for a good two hours.

It gets dark by 6:00 and by 6:30 we were enjoying cocktails in front of the fire before sitting down to a delicious dinner.

It was so sweet because the chef had baked a beautiful cake for Billy which they brought out with the largest sparkler I have ever seen and the entire room serenaded Billy with “Happy Birthday” along with it playing over the speaker.

We really enjoyed the day today! Rwanda is a beautiful country filled with the warmest people built on a strong ethos of resilience derived from the motto, “lest we forget.”

We had an earlier morning than I originally anticipated because we were driving back to Abu Dhabi to drop the car and catch our onward flight to Doha, Qatar but there were still so many roads closed and highway lanes blocked that what should have been a drive of less than one hour, was taking upwards of two / two and a half. 

Billy always uses Apple Maps and I tend to use Google Maps (and had read Google Maps was better in the UAE) and when comparing the route suggestions between the two, the discrepancy was substantial – almost an hour; but since Billy was driving we went with Apple. It wasn’t long before we ended up in horrible bumper to bumper traffic with no police presence directing cars, clearly no rules of the road being adhered to and absolutely no consideration for other drivers whatsoever. Seven lanes of traffic were being funneled down to two – It was every man for himself and we were about to be eaten alive. I was feeling pretty good about the fact, contrary to almost all trips, I had taken out full insurance from the rental company -a no excess policy.

Once finally through the chaos, I checked the maps again and noticed that Google was showing a less than 45 minute drive from that point on while Apple now showed more than two hours still to go (we were losing time). I could see on the maps the highway ahead had serious issues but Google was showing smooth sailing so Billy relented and we took Google’s advice. Well. Thank goodness we did because it was spot on. The detour that had been showing, that worried Billy, was actually through some sort of processing plant area (we never saw a sign for what it was and it is not labeled on the maps) that is typically closed off by a checkpoint and gates but today it was open, I assume so traffic could reroute and maybe ease the horrible congestion that was on the highways between Abu Dhabi and Dubai. In any case, we were thrilled.

Our flight from Abu Dhabi to Doha was a quick 44 minutes – I think the shortest jumbo jet flight (we were on an A350) any of us have ever taken. We arrived at our last stop for the trip – our 12th hotel in 14 nights and wow, was it something. It was sheer elegance in every way, including the Qatari purple Lamborghini parked out front. The opulence was a bit much for us; we felt like we were in Paris (and later found out that that was the inspiration for this lavish hotel). It was gorgeous, don’t get me wrong but the formality was really more than I am comfortable with. I had chosen it only because of a credit we had through Amex taking the total cost of our one night’s stay to $80 (included with that was a $100 credit for food and breakfast for two) so we actually profited from the stay…

Funniest part of it all, at least where we are concerned, is we decided to use the credit for lunch and when I said to Billy I was going to have a beer with lunch, the waiter looked at me wide-eyed and immediately apologized informing me it was a dry hotel- the owner, he said, had promised his father he would never serve alcohol…oh well! It was clearly a very conservative hotel – the only one we stayed at that had a copy of the Quran and a prayer mat in the room.

Since we had only a short time in Doha we decided to try and see some of it. From the hotel we took a short walk to the National Museum of Qatar, an architecturally stunning building.

From there we took an Uber to the old part of town – Souk Waif where the majority of the shops were closed but that was alright because it allowed for a better feel of the place. We found it very strange, almost uncomfortable when we walked into a section that was like a Petco on steroids with hundreds of cages of all types of birds (including roosters, canaries, parakeets, and guinea hens); rabbits, mice, fish; tortoises and puppies (to which I would not look). 

From there we crossed to the waterfront and walked along the harbor where all the dhow boats were docked. The boats were in various states of repair but all of them leant an air of authenticity that we had not felt since we left Morocco.

Continuing on, we entered the Museum of Islamic Art at the perfect time, finding the air conditioning a sanctuary from the warmth we were just beginning to suffer from. 

We checked out various galleries, including one on Iranian textiles and one on the various forms of jewelry and adornment found throughout the Muslim world. It was pretty neat to see so much stuff from Morocco and to watch a short documentary on a silversmith from the Tiznit region, the same area we had been in and where the bracelets we had purchased in Tafroute were from.

Since Jenny had a very early morning flight out back to Edinburgh, we decided on an early dinner. Billy found a restaurant that was on the rooftop. affording beautiful views over the old part of Doha with the impressive skyline of the modern city, far off in the distance, though it was obscured by smoggy air.

Dinner was good, if not a bit comical. The entire time in the UAE and now Qatar it was as though things were completely lost in translation and not because there was a language barrier like in Morocco. It was just always very odd in how so many things got so screwed up even when we clarified them (or so we thought) to begin with. Like Jenny asking for no balsamic, the waitress repeats the order and then her meal arrives topped with balsamic. Or when she ordered shakshuka and the waitress asked if she wanted it Arabic style with a sunny side up egg or Turkish style with scrambled eggs; she said Arabic style and it showed up scrambled (again the waitress had repeated the order). Or tonight when Billy ordered a Heineken and a glass of wine, the waiter repeated the order and fifteen minutes later (as we were still waiting) he asked us if we want to order drinks, we reminded him we did (he had written it down and repeated it to us) and then he comes back with a Corona. I could go on and on but it happened at every meal we had. It almost became a guessing game of what would come screwed up each time. It never angered us, we just found the whole thing so strange.

Qatar is clearly far more traditional and way more conservative than any of the other places we have been on this trip. Almost all the women wear black abayas with a hijab and the overwhelming majority cover their face, leaving just their eyes exposed. All the men wear white thobes as well as white or red and white headdresses secured with an agal. Here even the young boys dress similar to the male adults. During Ramadan (typically thirty days) we were told, there was no alcohol allowed anywhere except in your hotel room or private residence.

Doha, to us, was far more interesting than the places we had been in the UAE. There clearly is a very modern side to it, but there is also an old side, a more authentic side. We had really only come here as that was where I could get us home from on mile redemption tickets but we ended up enjoying our brief time here more; it left us with a bit of curiosity.

Jenny’s flight left on time to Edinburgh, and we would be following basically right behind her five hours later on our way to London. We had to stay the night there before we could continue on to Boston in the afternoon. I decided that instead of holing up in a Heathrow hotel, we would spend the evening and next morning out in the country. It was an excellent decision – the hotel and grounds were lovely – originally built in the 1700s as a hunting lodge for the First Duke of Marlborough.

It is always sad when one of our trips comes to an end. This one was a whirlwind but there was never a minute we didn’t enjoy it. We had a lot of laughs, especially when Billy led the Frenchman to the pot of gold after dinner in Dubai (too difficult to share but put here as a reminder for us). Traveling as a family has always been one of our greatest joys.

All For The Burj

As planned, we wasted little time departing from Fujairah. We all agreed we were glad to have seen a totally different side of the UAE but it all felt a bit off, especially with all the Russians. Even driving out there was little life on the streets and odd monuments and statues here and there.

Unlike Morocco where we had fairly long drives every day, our drive times in the UAE have averaged two hours on perfectly maintained highways. Yesterday we traveled in three different emirates, today we traveled through the last four on our way to Dubai, the last night of our UAE trip – a fast one for sure!

Our first glimpse of Dubai city (both the emirates and and the city carry the same name) caused audible gasps of incredulity when the skyline emerged from the very smoggy air. The Burj Khalifa, even from miles and miles away awed upon initial sight! In actuality, the best way to fully grasp just how incredibly tall it is, is from far away so you can see just how much it dwarfs the other skyscrapers.

Driving in Dubai is certainly a bit chaotic and while the roads are in excellent shape, the traffic patterns are pretty strange but Billy did a great job. I drove the whole time in Morocco because of all the twisty roads but since UAE was pretty much straight shots Billy has been the driver.

As we got closer the full scale of the Burj’s size became quite apparent.

Our hotel tonight is the JW Marriott Marquis, the second tallest hotel in the world at 72 stories (It lost its number one ranking a few years ago after another hotel was built in Dubai and its spire topped the JW by three feet).

We grabbed a quick bite to eat before heading out for the Burj. I had originally thought we would go up to the top of it but I decided not to buy tickets ahead of time. I think it was a good idea because the smog/sand/haze was so bad I don’t think we would have seen much through it.

Dubai feels oceans away from the conservative world we have been passing through; there is a feeling of mass tourism here with venues built and created strictly to entertain. The mind blowing fact is Dubai did not even have electricity in 1960 and buildings didn’t start replacing Bedouin tents until the 1970s! Now there are over 100 shopping malls and 650 hotels – all in the same amount of time I have walked this earth. Just absolutely incredible!

We walked around the base of the Burj Khalifa, taking it in from the different perspectives, chasing down the right angle as the sun illuminated it.

The one thing Jenny wanted to do in Dubai was see the Burj (check) and have a delicious meal. I had gone back and forth about where to eat, a place with a view of the Burj or the restaurant up high in the Burj with a view of the city but in the end I chose a view of the Burj and I chose a place that we could also see the fountain show, an added bonus. I had made reservations months before and asked for a table outside with a view. The table we got had to have been the best in the house!

We sat a few minutes before six and caught the first fountain show. It goes every thirty minutes so by the time we left, we had seen six of them. The added, added bonus was I had no idea that the Burj Khalifa is also the world’s biggest LCD screen so we got an additional light show.

Funny thing is part way through dinner Jenny said that as nice as the trip has been to the UAE (posh hotels, fancy meals and all), it is all a bit of a let down after Morocco. She said she felt the same way on our trip to Cambodia following Myanmar. Billy and I agreed with her on this front. We knew going into it the UAE was not going to be our cup of tea but what we didn’t know was just how much we were going to love Morocco.

And just for fun… I love my silly girl…

Like a Fever Dream

Our plan was to wake up at 5:30 this morning to watch a falconry show but we had a bit of a rough night as our villa lost power at 2:00 AM followed by a beeping sound that started, It was 3:30 before maintenance got everything fixed and we were able to fall back asleep. But, I woke up on my own at 5:30 and decided to go watch it because, when in Rome…

Falconry has long been important in this part of the world and has been practiced by the Bedouins for more than 4,000 years. In fact, the falcon is the prominent feature on the UAE national emblem. This morning we were going to be watching two Gyrfalcons show off their speed and agility. It is done early in the morning before the heat of the day can take a toll on the birds.

The audience is warned not to stand up as the falcons come swooping down literally off the top of your heads.

Falconry for hunting has been outlawed in the UAE but as a sport for competition it is soaring (pun intended) with 7 million AED and 73 cars up for grabs.

My crew slept in until almost 9:00 when we were scheduled to do a short nature drive to try and see some oryx up closer and a stop by the stables to see some of the Arabian stallions they have.

After a delicious lunch, we started our drive for the emirates of Fujairah, on the coast of the Gulf of Oman. Still running into after effects of the rain.

If you ever look at a map of the seven emirates you will notice they are nothing like our states with contiguous land within one defined border. Instead, there are blips of land here and there, some on one side of the country, some on the other. Fujairah is mostly on the coast – it actually interrupts Oman’s border.

As we got closer to the coast and approached the Al Hajar Mountains, the geography became familiar. I had been so captivated by the mountains when Jenny and I were in Oman and that same feeling returned. The biggest difference this time though was there was a lot of green starting to show.

Emiratis only make up about 11% of the population of the UAE with Asians (particularly those from Bangladesh, India and Pakistan) making up about 83%. Nowhere yet, was this as obvious as it was here as we passed mile after mile of oil depots.

The area had an almost dystopian feeling with workers in blue jumpsuit uniforms lined up or riding on busses being moved from one area to the next. The huge electrical infrastructure was unreal here.

One thing that has really stood out to us is how incredibly clean all of the UAE is – even the highways have no trash at all alongside them. In all fairness, Morocco was exceptionally clean in most parts, there was the occasional area we passed through that was highly littered but really we were impressed by it.

Our hotel for the night felt like we had stepped back in time to the late 70s early 80s of Holiday Inns dominance in the beach resort world. On top of that, it was a bit strange as almost everybody there was Russian. Signs were posted in Arabic, English and Russian; even the Emirati sundry shop owner spoke Russian. Nothing at all appealed to us so we quickly decided we would get out without dilly dallying around tomorrow.

Been There, Done That

What a difference a day makes. The views this morning were gorgeous.

Jenny had two requests when we decided that we would also visit the United Arab Emirates on this vacation- The Grand Mosque in Abu Dhabi being priority number one. Our plan was to get there before the crowds so I had purchased tickets for early morning entry weeks ahead of time.

The Grand Mosque is a site to behold, an incredibly beautiful building that is often likened to the Taj Mahal; it is simply stunning – an architectural masterpiece.

The main prayer hall wows and is home to the world’s largest hand-knotted carpet (having taken that title from the Grand Mosque in Muscat).

But what wowed us the most was the serenity it affords the visitors – at least when you get there early. Twenty four hours a day, the Quran is being recited live, over loudspeakers, in an almost singing voice; the mams taking turns in two hour shifts. They locate themselves in the mausoleum where Sheik Zayed, the founder of the nation, is buried in a simple unremarkable grave.

We felt so lucky that we had the place almost to ourselves because when we were leaving, people were literally pouring in.

From the Grand Mosque, we started our drive out into the desert of Abu Dhabi emirate to the Al Maha nature conservancy, where we are going to spend the next night. We quickly ran into flooded highways, and the remnants of cars stuck overnight. At one point I had the window down when I heard a car coming up fast next to us. I immediately hit the window up button but it was too slow for the SUV that was plowing through the water. Thank goodness I leaned forward because our car was completely doused, including the interior and me. Needless to say we got a great laugh at my expense.

Al Maha had contacted us to tell us that if we were coming in from Dubai that the tunnel was flooded and we would have to go around but lucky for us we were not however we did see exactly what it was they were speaking of – absolutely unreal.

The road into Al Maha washed out so badly that they had told us to park down at the gate and they would send a land cruiser to come and collect us. We got a laugh when we pulled our little Toyota Camry in next to a bright green Bentley SUV. But not as much of a laugh as we did when we got up to the hotel and saw that somebody had abandoned their McLaren because it couldn’t make it out on the road. He said he would come back for it in a few days…

it was obvious once we arrived how much damage the hotel had actually sustained from the record rainfall. It was reported in the news that nearly twice as much annual rainfall fell in 24 hours – a new record since record keeping began 75 years ago. We got very lucky with our timing and that we were able to land between storms!

The staff showed us a video of the spa, a river of mud and water coming in one door and going out the other; walkways were damaged; fences were mowed down, huge gullies having been eroded into the sand. Clearly, the villas were also inundated with their individual pools taking the brunt of the floodwaters, but our villa was superb, the view was fantastic and the staff assured us they would get our pool up to snuff in a few hours.

We lounged poolside, watching all the little gazelles moving about in our vicinity and Arabian oryx off in the distance.

The hotel had provided a sketchbook and oil pastels along with an easel for anybody who felt so inclined. Of course, Jenny did, so she sat and drew for a while.

At 5:30 we assembled in the main building to begin our camel track out for sundowners. Jenny and I were surprised that we could convince Billy to go with us though Jenny was a bit apprehensive as well. I was going to do it, no matter what, because… well… when in Rome. We had planned to take a camel ride when we were in Jordan a few years ago, but the rain came and being wet on a soggy camel didn’t sound so appealing then.

Any concerns about controlling these notoriously ornery ungulates was quickly dissipated when we reached the loading point. The camels were all tied together with the camel master leading the way- two to a camel except for me I got my own!

The ride out was about 20 minutes and we got very lucky to ride up on a small herd of Arabian oryx (al maha in Arabic). They were the inspiration for this preserve, having been reintroduced (brought in from Arizona) as a way to save them from extinction here. Luckily the program has been quite successful.

Camels are at least twice as wide as a horse or at least, so it seems. It is an entirely different concept riding along with your legs just dangling and nowhere to rest your feet. Riding them was a little disconcerting; I felt with every step I might fall off, though Jenny apparently rode like Rose did in “Titanic,” both arms straight out soaring like a bird. Getting on and off is especially awkward, not to mention quite a site!

I will say camel riding is one of those things that I can now say been there done that – I don’t need to do it again.

Sundowners was glorious – sipping champagne on the dunes, watching the sun sink slowly behind the hills. It put on quite the show for us. We opted for a ride back in a Land Cruiser, instead of on a camel – one of the ways we could convince Billy to go with us, not to mention after a few cocktails it was probably a very good decision!

Dinner was a delicious five course meal set in a beautiful location with impeccable service.

By the time we got back to the room, the pool had been cleaned up as best as they could and before we knew it Jenny jumped in and enjoyed a late night swim…

This is the Desert, Right?

With all the tension in this area of the world, we had been prepared to abandon ship at any moment. Reports of air space opening and closing, as well as drones and missiles flying had us a bit concerned but we felt fairly confident the airlines would steer clear of any dangerous areas – perhaps a bit foolish but…

Our flight from Paris to Abu Dhabi was rough. We experienced some of the worst turbulence we have ever experienced as we began our approach into Abu Dhabi, so bad the pilot actually pulled up out of the approach and we ended up circling at least three times before finally touching down on the rain soaked runway. Needless to say it is a miracle that neither Jenny nor I got sick, though I can say with certainty, it would have only taken one more go around before things would have turned ugly. Five hours later, I still feel a bit queasy.

Picking up the rental car, the agent warned us to be careful as there was some rain and he said the streets here flood and the cars can quickly hydroplane. We pulled out of the garage in a drizzle and I kid you not, not even five minutes later and we were in a deluge that I have rarely seen. The highways were quickly inundated, cars were getting stuck in the deep floodwaters left and right but Billy kept our little sedan on the road and moving forward. 

We arrived to the St Regis to a bit of chaos from all the rain; they had buckets everywhere to catch the water pouring in from all the leaks but the staff was wonderful, welcoming us with dates and Arabic coffee; they upgraded us to a fabulous corner suite with jaw-dropping views (when they could be seen) and allowed us to check in hours ahead of time.

I had bought tickets ahead of time to visit the Presidential Palace, a working palace not a residential one. It is a formal space where the President receives foreign heads of state in his role representing the UAE in all international relations. The UAE, a federation made up of seven emirates was founded in 1971, after gaining their independence from Great Britain and changing their former name, The Trucial States.

 We got a small break in the storms and made our way there. Once through security, they bus you over to the main building to tour that on your own.

The palace was beyond opulent and absolutely stunning. We loved looking at the display of the gifts the President has received from other countries but were a bit embarrassed by the gift given by the US – a stainless steel eagle (the symbol of or own country). The one good thing is the weather seemed to keep many people away so the crowds were quite thin.

Back at the hotel, we grabbed a couple of drinks in the bar before noticing another wave of bad weather was rolling in off the Persian Gulf.

Once it hit, we had no idea how bad it was going to be but when we poked our heads outside, we thought we should go watch it from our room on the 33rd floor.

Once again, a slight drizzle quickly turned into a complete deluge and then the wind picked up literally blowing the rain and hail completely horizontal. At one point the windows looked like someone was running a hose over them and any view was completely wiped away.  What a crazy day to think we were in the desert but there was so much water it had no place to go.

Trying to catch a taxi to dinner was next to impossible as the streets were completely overrun. We ended up offering an Uber guy cash to take us when we dropped someone off at the hotel.

Dinner was completely over the top, our own fault. Our total meal for the one night was ten times what we paid for each night’s meal in Morocco – the single most expensive meal we have ever had…and I would only categorize it as very good…

What a complete contrast this part of the trip has already been to Morocco. We have noticed it in so many ways.

Here’s Looking At You Kid

The entire reason we came to Casablanca was because Jenny said she really wanted to see the Hassan II Mosque, the only mosque in all of Morocco that we could visit. Besides the mosque, there wasn’t much else in Casablanca worth taking time from other places so I planned it so we could tour the mosque this morning before our afternoon flight on to Abu Dhabi via Paris.

I had read it was best to get there first thing in the morning so that is exactly what we did, queuing up at 8:30 for the first mandatory tour at 9:00.

The mosque is spectacular, built over seven years with laborers and artisans working 24/7 in 8 hour shifts. All the materials were sourced in Morocco except two from Italy -the 260 chandeliers (Verano glass) and two small carrera marble pillars on either side of the mirhab (the positional niche facing mecca).

The mosque holds over 25,000 worshippers inside (with an additional 80,000 outside) and boasts heated floors for winter and a roof that can slide open on nice days. The craftsmanship was magnificent and it was fun hearing the sources as many of the areas of Morocco that we had just been in.

The minaret is 690 feet tall – the second tallest in the world (behind one in Algeria) and can be seen from many parts of Casablanca. In the basement is the wash room, a gorgeous area of fountains and tile work, where the faithful go and clean themselves before praying – a very precise ritual of washing hands, forearms, and face three times each, always beginning on the right side.

We were very surprised that women were allowed in the mosque without covering their hair, though out of respect Jenny and I both did. Morocco surprised me in how culturally traditional it was as far as dress went. From the time we left Marrakesh until the time we got to Casablanca, I think I could count on one hand the number of Moroccan women who did not completely cover themselves. The vast majority left their faces exposed though I saw quite a few with full face coverings (niqabs and burqas) as well. The same went for the men, I rarely saw a man that was not dressed in a jillaba or burnous.

The mosque was fantastic! I took our planned second night from Imlil which removed our trek yesterday to make it work but we all agreed we were very happy with that decision and getting to see it.

With just two hours to kill before needing to leave for the airport, we decided to take a quick walk from the hotel passing through the old Medina. We were pleasantly surprised that we did not get hassled. It is actually against the law in Morocco to hassle tourists but locals are fair game; however many vendors do not heed the law. 

Casablanca is far different in almost every way from what we experienced and saw in the other parts of Morocco. It is far less traditional in style of dress – the number of people dressed in a more western style of dress far exceeded the numbers dressed more conservatively, including most women without their hair covered. There is far less traditional architecture, it being characterized more by colonial architecture and modern buildings – a cross Jenny said between Beverly Hills and Mexico City; I liken it more to Buenos Aires with all the once lavish building now crumbling in a serious state of disrepair, but unlike Buenos Aires it is immaculately clean.

People were constantly on the move unlike most of the small towns and villages we saw where people were either completely absent or were sitting somewhere in the shade – except for when we drove through on market day and of course, Imlil. The weather in Casablanca was glorious with temps in the low 70s – we had similar temps at the coast in Douira but with far more humidity. Even though Casablanca is also on the coast, there was no humidity felt. 

The only thing I knew about Casablanca before coming, was what I learned about its place in history during WWII from the movie, a required watch in Dr. Collins’ 12th grade English class. There is a place here called Rick’s Cafe, and as I understand it, it is just like the one in the movie – if we had had more time, we would have gone in and looked for Sam.

Our drive to the airport was rather interesting. Apparently, the king is in Casablanca for three days and the highways were crawling with police for 30 kilometers outside of the city, every overpass had four officers standing with another set of officers stationed on the ground below. Every maybe 1/8 mile there was another 2 or 3 patrol cars and/or motorcycles positioned. Every small offshoot on the main road leading to the airport had a police officer standing. It was a beyond extensive and really quite something to see. 

Our flight departed from Casablanca airport (originally Nouasseur Air Base – the American air base used to stage all US aircraft for the European Theater during WWII) for Paris, where after a 2 1/2 hour layover we caught our six hour flight to Abu Dhabi.

All three of us loved Morocco – we especially loved how unbelievably friendly everyone we encountered was, in a most authentic way. Our visit was appreciated every stop we made – we never felt nor saw any anti-American sentiment. There was some vocal disbelief that America is looking at electing either “an old man or a conman…” Most reacted, upon hearing we were American, by holding a closed hand to their heart – a gesture meant to show respect and gratitude. This trip, once again, dispelled a lot of myths and gave us a much different perspective on Moroccan men, specifically. Billy said today, they we never witnessed anyone yelling or encountered anyone in a bad mood; everyone is grateful and appreciative – from our tuk tuk driver, to the children whose pictures Jenny took, to the  man who owned a little roadside store where we stopped for water, to the old woman Jenny gave coins to who was begging on the streets – all thanked us profusely, kindly and most importantly sincerely.

The natural beauty of Morocco resonated not only through our eyes with every new scene we saw but through our hearts with every new hand we shook. 

Shukran Morocco for a wonderfully beautiful trip; we would happily return.