UAE Hints and Mosque Manners

Herewith a few hints to Lady Travellers visiting the UAE on their own.

First of all, I didn't experience any particular problems as a woman on my own in Abu Dhabi.  Everyone I met was courteous and friendly and, as far as Western women are concerned, the rules concerning dress are fairly liberal.  I chose to wear tops that covered my arms and trousers - but this was partly as protection against the sun.  However, I've found that when you are on your own, dressing more conservatively offers some protection against unwanted attention (though it didn't stop two guys from making kissy faces at me outside the souq - for them I employed my Cape Town Mean Face).

The one exception to the dressing rule comes when visiting a mosque.  The Sheikh Zayed mosque helpfully advises visitors as to appropriate clothing:

Briefly, upper arms and legs need to be covered for men; hair, arms and legs for women - and clothing shouldn't be too tight.  Clothing with profanity on it is also a no-no. I wore cotton trousers and a long-sleeved cotton shirt and had brought a scarf with me and this proved to be entirely acceptable.  (I'm frowning with the effort of photographing myself.)

BUT, but, but, if you turn up not wearing suitable clothing, Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque will supply you with a robe to put on over your clothes (I imagine this is not the case with smaller, less tourist-friendly mosques, however).

You will be required to take off your footwear before entering the mosque proper.  I also noticed one couple who were being photographed by a friend (not a problem) being politely asked not to touch inside the mosque.

Apart from that, the same rules apply as when visiting most places of worship: be respectful and think twice before photographing people at prayer.

Abu Dhabi: A Mosque and a Souq

I stopped off in Abu Dhabi on my way home from Australia because a) it's a long journey and it's more pleasant to get off the plane and go to a hotel than to get straight onto another plane, b) because I was curious to visit the UAE and c) because I'd never visited and could count it as my new country for 2013.  (These reasons are in no particular order.)  

With only 48 hours in Abu Dhabi (and being fairly jet lagged) I focused on a few key things I wanted to visit.  The first was the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque which we passed on the way from the airport to my hotel.  In the sunrise all of the domes and minarets were tinted a rosy pink.  When I visited later in the day, everything was blindingly white - I literally had to put on my sunglasses to see properly.

The building of the Mosque was initiated by Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan al Nahyan, the 'father' of the UAE, and he is buried in its grounds (though access to the mausoleum is limited).  It is one of the largest mosques in the world and a great source of pride to the Emiratis I met.

Inside, there is lavish attention to detail.  Flowers inset into the marble floors,

and floral motifs creeping up the walls, not to mention the windows.

The carpets were equally stunning - and because, it being a mosque, all visitors have to go barefoot inside, you really experience the thick pile first hand.  First foot?

The scale of the Mosque is fairly breathtaking and visiting was a fascinating experience - although I found its size overwhelming.  It would be interesting to see whether, as it ages, it develops a patina like, say, the Taj Mahal.  But sadly none of us will be around in 400 years to compare notes.

After leaving the Mosque, I went downtown to the Souk/Central Market, a Norman Foster-designed reimagining of the traditional souk.  There's a nod to tradition in the use of materials, the latticing and the play of light in the interior.

Inside, there are clothes shops, many jewellers, several souvenir shops and, my favourite, an emporium of spices, teas and dried fruit.  I particularly loved the baskets outside - look how beautiful this display is.

I had a real wow-I'm-really-in-the-Middle-East-now moment when I peered at this (greyish, unappealing substance) and realised that it was frankincense.  It smells (forgive me for any inappropriate smell-association) like all the incense burners of all the Catholic masses of my youth.  When I looked into it, I discovered that frankincense is often used for incense in Catholic churches.  So there it was - exotic and faintly nostalgic, all at the same time.

Slightly less exotic, but amusing to see, was the shop next door to the souq:

Apart from these two iconic experiences, I wandered around a little, taking in the newness of it all - both new to me and new in the sense that a great deal of downtown Abu Dhabi is very new.

I thought I'd hit upon an ancient monument when I saw this:

But sadly it was on a hoarding covering the building within and access to the actual fort is currently forbidden owing to building works.

So I called it a day and went back to my hotel to watch camel racing on tv and to marvel at the intricate and stylish ways in which the female tv presenters on the local and on the Saudi Arabian channels arrange their hijabs.  

Overseen: Matchy Matchy

Overseen in Marseille, March 2013.  Oh those French, with their matching vans and window treatments.

The Red Rock

Here's my confession.  Sometime during the five-hour drive from Alice Springs to Uluru, I became thoroughly grumpy.  I decided that the rock was probably overrated - I mean, it was just a rock, right?  (It's true that my grumpiness may have had something to do with lack of sleep, but I was still very disinclined to be impressed by anything.)  And my first sighting did nothing to disspell that thought: yep, there it is, a big red rock in the middle of lots of red desert and scrub.

It is in fact an inselberg, an isolated sandstone rock formation standing in the middle of a flat plain.  Its fame comes not from its height (it's not particularly high - 348m) but from the fact that it is, literally, monolithic.

Still, picture me looking out the bus window, unimpressed.  And then, THEN, we got off the bus and up close and personal.  Despite the 40 degree heat, this is when I started to understand why the traditional owners refer to Uluru as a living thing.  Because it isn't just a big hunk of rock - it's full of life.  And it isn't just monolithic - all its nooks and crannies and crack and crevices are full of interest and colour and delight.

From the long black tunnels carved by rainwater (which, during the rainy season, is supposed to pour down the rock in sheets),

to the cave paintings adorning its multiple surfaces,

Uluru has many stories to share.  One of my favourite of all the things I learned was that the rock art is virtually undatable because it has been continually added to over hundreds of years.

One of the most surprising things about this legendary red rock is that it's actually quite green, in places.

Tjukurpa is what the traditional Anangu owners call the creation period, but it also refers to the spiritual and cultural laws they use to guide their lives.  One of the creation stories relates to Kuniya, the sand python, who did a ritual dance across the rock.  You can see her eye at the top of the ridge here, and her body moving across the rock.

Another story recounts how Uluru was formed by two mischievous boys who were playing in the mud.    First they piled it high (forming the rock) and then they climbed on it.  If you look carefully, you can see a foot- and a handprint in the photo below.

I've subsequently noticed that the patch of blue in this next photo looks like a small boy doubled over while he crows with laughter ...

One story I had heard about Uluru before I visited is that the rock changes colour throughout the day.  This proved not to be a myth - and I was so enchanted by the different colours that I regretted I wasn't staying over so I could see the sunrise the next morning.  But still, the journey proved to be anything by disappointing.  I think the problem with Uluru is that words don't really do it justice; I'm not sure if photographs really do either.  But I'm going to finish with three, taken at different times during the day.

Oh, wait - one more thing.  It's Ul-ur-ooo (BIG emphasis on the final syllable) or Oo-lu-roo (emphasis on first and last syllables).  Any other attempt at pronunciation rendered me unintelligible to Australian listeners.

Road to Uluru

Last weekend I reread 'Down Under', Bill Bryson's book about his travels in Australia.  So much of what he wrote about Alice Springs and Uluru echoes my own scribblings that I'm tempted just (in the words of my eldest nephew) to write 'oh yeah, know dat.'  One of the things Bill Bryson points out is that Alice Springs, though commonly regarded as a jumping off point for Uluru, is not actually that close to it - nearly 450km away, in fact.  In Ireland, that would be regarded as a MAJOR JOURNEY, and, as it was, I had to get up at 5 to be ready for my bus trip to the Rock.  (Because I was limited on time, I booked an all-in coach trip with Emu Tours.)  The trip takes the best part of five hours each way, so it was just as well that the scenery was worth looking at.

Beginning with sunrise over Alice Springs ...

After about two hours, we stopped at Erldunda Roadhouse (incidentally, the geographic centre of Australia is just over beyond those satellite dishes).  This is the last place with phone reception before Yulara (the resort at Ayers Rock).

That was the biggest excitement for a while.  The view for the next hour or two looked like this:

And then!  In the distance, you see it ... a long, low rock appearing on the horizon.

And it turns out to be Mt Conner, not the big rock you were expecting.  Though beautiful, none the less - and, like Uluru, a sacred site for the local indigenous people.

We stopped when we got a bit closer so that we could step into the red sand and see a typical lakebed - now just a salt flat.

As we got closer to Uluru/Kata Tjuta National Park, I noticed that the underside of the clouds was pink - reflecting the red earth all around.

Our first stop in the park was not 'the' rock but some other rocks: the Olgas or Kata Tjuta.  Here's me with my unattractive but necessary fly-proof hat.

And here are a couple of pictures of Kata Tjuta, a group of domed rock formations.  The snake king Wanambi is supposed to live on the top of the highest dome.

And if you think they're impressive - just wait for Uluru!

Rock Wallabies

I admit it, I am a very gifted procrastinator.  I'm currently putting off posting about Uluru (Ayers Rock) because, frankly, I don't know where to start and I have HUNDREDS (no exaggeration) of photos.  It was, in fact, The Trip That Broke The Camera, though happily the camera has been repaired.

All of this is by way of explaining why today's post features rock wallabies and not rocks of the big, red, magical, mysterious variety.

Pop along to the Heavitree Gap Outback Lodge on the edge of Alice Springs and (for no charge) you can view the local population of black-footed rock wallabies.  Food is available to buy from the lodge reception and the wallabies will eat it out of your hands.

Ohlookacutelittlebabyjoeyinhismother'spouch!

And yes, boxing wallabies.

Alice

A Town Like Alice is one of my favourite books.  In it, the town of Alice Springs features as a kind of icon, a vision to cling to in the midst of war (most of the events of the book take place in the Malaysian jungle during World War II).  In my head, it was a kind of oasis in the middle of the red desert of the Northern Territory and although I was assured that it had changed a lot since Nevil Shute wrote his book, I was still determined to visit.

I arrived mid-afternoon (me and a few hundred other train travellers), stepping off the Ghan into the dry desert heat.  I was lucky: temperatures the previous week were above 40 degrees, but it was only about 37 the day I arrived.  Be prepared!  Because of the dry heat, you should wear a hat and sunglasses, apply sunscreen liberally and, above all, make sure to carry a bottle of water wherever you go.  I myself nearly succumbed to a nice case of sunstroke, so you can't be too careful.

Another thing to be prepared for: Alice, for all that tourism is a major part of the economy, is not your cosmopolitan flat-white-purveying, designer-shop-hosting town that you encounter all along the south/eastern seaboard.  Being isolated as it is, I imagine freight costs must be prohibitive - whether this is the main reason or not, I couldn't say, but don't expect to find a wealth gourmet cuisine in the town.  I did hear tell of one hipster cafe, but I had to make do with Gloria Jean's where the staff were friendly and the iced coffee hit the spot.

After I checked into my hotel (an Ibis - Alice is not blessed with a great range of accommodation, especially of the independent/boutique type - at any budget, see above) I headed, first, to the HQ of the Royal Flying Doctors.

The RFDS was very much a part of my romantic notion of the Outback (doctors! flying! in shorts and long socks! bringing health to the wilderness!) and visitors to their Alice Springs centre provide them with much needed funds.  However, there isn't a huge amount to see: a film about the service (which is certainly inspiring) and a small museum showing changes in medicine since the RFDS was founded.  I will add, however, that the film did get me a bit choky as you realise that people literally owe their lives to this service.

I wandered around town, taking photos of some of the original buildings, all of a similar single-story, tin-roofed style.

I then made the slightly less than wise decision to walk out to the old telegraph station which is what Alice owes her existence to - the town was founded around, first, the telegraph and then the railway.  The walk was beautiful and not that far (around 4km along the dry Todd River) but I underestimated the toll the heat would take and I found the 40 minute walk pretty challenging - despite hat/sunglasses/sunscreen/water.  Hint to future visitors (at least those visiting in summertime) - minimise walking!

One thing I did notice as I walked - the Indigenous population is much bigger (as a proportion of total population) in the Northern Territory than in Victoria and hence you are much more aware of the social inequality they are experiencing.  The 'no grog' signs dotted around Alice are testament to the toll alcohol abuse has taken on Aboriginal Australians.

Everywhere I walked I saw groups of Indigenous people, old and young, sitting in the shade.  Let me stress that this is not a problem in and of itself but it was a reminder that the wrongs experienced by the Indigenous community are a long way from being addressed.

The telegraph station eventually reached (and duly photographed),

and I fell in with some kind fellow tourists who gave me a lift back into town - via Anzac Hill where we got this great view:

The other place I wanted to visit in Alice - and did, the morning before I left - was the School of the Air.  My primary school library randomly had a copy of an old 1960s book about boys and girls in Australia and I remember being fascinated by the notion of doing your lesson by RADIO with no teacher even in the same room to keep an eye on you.  The whole thing seemed entirely wackadoo and fantastical.

These days, lessons are done via the internet (they have a special Skype-like programme customised for the school's particular needs) and we watched a teacher teaching a class of 4 and 5 year olds who were all learning, not just the usual things 4 and 5 year olds learn, but how to use the equipment.  (When they want to raise their hands, they click a hand icon on their screen...)  I found the school inspiring but also unexpectedly sad.  One of the pupils (though this is at the extreme end of the spectrum) lives 1000km from school.  Can you imagine?  I'm not sure I can.  Once a term, our guide explained, they try to get all the kids into Alice for a week and the kids look forward to this like Christmas.

As well as seeing the lessons (you can see into the broadcasting studios/classrooms where the teachers transmit their classes) there's a film, and a small display of equipment - including the famous pedal radio that enabled services like the School of the Air and the Flying Doctors to keep in touch with their community spread over such a vast distance.

This map - showing the thousands of kilometres covered in the school catchment area -  charts all of the children who are enrolled in the school and where they live.

I loved visiting Alice Springs and am glad that I could fulfill the dream of - well, not quite a lifetime but a long time.  But if the Ghan really made me appreciate the vastness of Australia, Alice Springs made me question the price paid for trying to inhabit such a fundamentally uninhabitable (or scarcely habitable) place.  But it did make me appreciate Nevil Shute's evocation of Alice Springs as an icon and an oasis.  To someone who lives on a remote Cattle Station and doesn't see a neighbour - let along a stranger - from one week to the next - a town like Alice must be like heaven.