The Backpacker

A bit of paradise, you can call it. Or a veritable oasis, for oasis is hard to come by in the UAE. It is pleasantly surprising to come upon a pool of water anywhere by the roadside as the mountains look down loving upon the frolicking night-outers or travelers who care to stop by and appreciate its existence.

As a tourist spot, there is nothing much to look forward to. No restaurants for miles, no comfortable benches to sit upon, no air conditioned shelter to prevent heatstroke, but what you can get here is absolute silence, peace, a sense of adventure, clear skies, warm breeze, rugged mountains and above all, exhilaration. A great weekend drive.

It is not a spot really, because this particular road that turns right from the first Shell Petrol station on the Hatta-Oman road and leading to Mahda is a stretch of paradise. On this road are spots anyone with the least inclination for adventure can discover. There are surprises waiting to be discovered. To begin with there are no road dividers, except for a white line painted on the black road. The hills rise in the distance and reduce to rolling plains with plenty of shrubs. Here, you will find camels left to themselves who will readily pose for you if you can coax them out of their customary shyness. You can park anywhere by the road or off the road, for there is no lose sand in which your car can get stuck.

Here the fun begins. Of course if you are driving a 4WD then it’s alright, for you can head straight to the hills and if you are not, lock the car and walk or run, it’s all very pleasant. That is the beauty of this place, it is inviting. The undulating hills, the firm surface, the warm winds are all but a preview of what is in store few miles down the road. Keep driving, preferably with your windows down. There is no traffic that will bother you anyway.

How you identify a picnic spot here, then? Well, keep a watch over the mountains. Sooner or later you will see them leaning over to whisper to each other, bowing respectfully over a narrow opening which will also appear green due to the water hidden in tiny pools. There is nothing to beat the excitement of having suddenly chanced upon a haven of green between two rugged mountains all by yourself. They make for pleasant picnic spots and if you look carefully there are evidences of people who have made camp there earlier.

The road goes on, winding around empty stretches and signboards announcing the names of obscure places such as Al Diyah, Al Nuway all pointing of course, right into the mountains. To explore this, a 4x4 expedition is advisable. Inevitably you will end up at a wadi some of them as wide as a river.

The suddenly even the overhead electric lines disappear! Again you will be glad for it. For when you wander away from the road, it is great not to see the offending lines criss- cross through the skies.

(to be continued...)

This is how Dubai appeared one misty morning, last week. Now the sun is back and the mists have gone.

(Continued)....

Leave the blue seas behind and hit the roads once more. But, but if you are hungry after the sea has worked on you, then there is very little to be done. However there is something you can do. Turn around the fountain which also doubles up as a round about and go left. Alongside the stretch of the sea at the far end of the road there are few, houses and it is my guess that there could be some thing by way of a cafetaria or a restaurant. I have, myself no explored that possibility, for after having decided to stop only at Al Ruwais where ever it was, there was no turning around fountains to go in search of food. It being a Friday and all, one should take chances, you see.

We hit the roads.

Did I tell you my good friend who accompanied me, had, by this time, very nearly given up all hopes of ever getting back to civilization or food? Ah and rightly so. So on and on we went, passing by trucks and 4WD's (thank god for no Sunny's and Corollas) and pulled up by the road upon sighting green hillocks. Now here is the catch. The absolutely green patches that you see just by the roads is really an artifically created environment. If you must park here, then stop on the sand after the yellow line. The 100 tonne trucks bear down upon the roads quite mercilessly and you do not want to be left shaking and grabbing at air to steady yourself after one of the many-wheeled monsters has just passed by.

Roll on the thick carpet of grass. You can even pose with a butterfly if you wish because they are thousands of them around waiting to be photographed. It is really a pleant feeling to lie on the grass and watch the world pass by.         

Okay, lets come backwards from Al Ruwais. There is no point driving straight into Al Ruwais, is there, when one has to, even if one doesnt want to, come back on the same road on which one has passed earlier.

I see I have managed to confuse! All right then, getting on to Al Ruwais. But first, how many of you have actually seen the mythical oasis? None, I presume unless you are confusing Oasis with a pool surrounded by date palms,  camels and veiled damsels with goatskins and few horses and if you are clear in your head about the truth of the Oasis, the you could do very well to call Al Ruwais an Oasis!! But throw into the imagination a bit of modern machinery, and a lot of greenery, some neatly laid out roads,a supermarket, a ladies club, banks and bus stations, a food area, and plenty of children on roller skates, and you wouldnt grudge yourself the lack of a real oasis.

Al Ruwais is an oasis par excellence.  

Now, how you reach here is simple. Drive from Dubai to Abu Dhabi, the stiff lip capital of the emirate, turn towards the Mussafah Industrial Area and keep going until you see an indifferent arrow shaped board pointing right towards Sila. This we all know is where the emirates ends and begins the forbidding Saudi Arabia. So you will do well to fuel up at Mussafah, stock water and food, check for everything in your car before hitting the road. But naturally precautions are to be taken, despite that fact that you are not heading out into the wilderness but the authorities did not think fit to install fuel stations every twenty kilometers and instead placed them several hundred kilometers apart just to test your patience and the efficiency of the car. Trucks have nothing to fear.

Fuel because, enroute there are numerous places you want to see. The two lane roads are quite a delight and if there are no passing trucks, you are alone with the road, the desert on either side looking quite domesticated due to the thousands of red and white transformers sticking high into the sky. But if you pull over and watch these transformers, they make for a beautiful sight. Through the high tension wires you can see the sky which looks like it has been sliced into a thousand strips.

Go right ahead. You will soon (meaning at least a fifty kilometers) reach a pretty spot on the road, a round-about,  and quite welcome actually (because it gives you the relief from seeing long staright stretches) which takes you right into Mirfa, a beautiful resort by the sea. You pass through the an area protected by the Environmental Agency (see pic). There is a clever cover up here. When passing through you feel like you are crossing a dangerous forest stretch, but if you take the pains to see through that narrow strip of 'forest' and beyond, there is a bit of disappointment in store. What you see is a large, wet empty space. I have no idea what to make of it though but isnce there are important announcements here and there, I do suppose it must be important!!

Go on straight till you reach a pretty fountain and a pretty garden. Walk down the garden path and right into the sea.

Ah, the sea! One of Gods better creations!! And more appealing when it is just at the periphery of the hostile deserts! But, it is salty. God has thrown in a spanner in the works. You can roll in the waters but you cant drink. If your hair turns into a coarse tangled mass, sneak into the fountain pool and wash, at least that will get the salt out of the hair.

After which you can drive into Hotel Mirfa. A pretty resort sitting on the edge of the sea, with lovely gardens. In some places the sea is permitted to come inland so that the rich can idle away in the yatchs or speed boats in considerable safety. I personally believe that if it is thrill you are looking for then you will get it on the high seas with real waves!  

(To continue...)    

...But the songs were all wrong. 101.6 played "Bheege honth tere..." This was followed by some other romantic numbers and on came, "Ghar se nikalte hi..." Understand that it was early, yes about 6 am and stuck in a fog. In times like this emotions of many kind run rather high and fast. The romance brews. And one needs just a touch of the right songs to keep one going ahead. I wish, the songs were in reverse order (I had just passed the ghar se nikalte hi.....stage). Radio Four was a little better and 104.4 stuck to the ancient. Not the right song, I should say.

Weather, I say is the greatest equaliser, or the second best. Picture this: Early morning, with the visibility down to Zero, cold breeze and colder roads, one place does look like any other, dosent it? You are alone in the car, do not know what is around you, the trucks or car ahead of you are distinguishable only by the pattern of their red lights and the mist in thick swirls closing in fast and furiously...Imagine you have just got out of sleep and straight into this scene. Would you know where you are? No way. Until you turn on the radio. And if, if the radio is playing a Spanish number or Brazilian, you will not be wrong in assuming that you are in some other place.

Today was just one of those "lost in another world" days. All kinds of fancy overtook me and I was up and about on the roads at 5.13 am. No, do not ask me what I was doing out there so early. I did take a peek outside my window and saw nothing...and that actually helped me make my decision. It is not everyday one gets to wake up into a misty dream. And since I have covered 200 km to reach my office which is 30 km away from where I live. Naturally when everyone drives with their hazard on, and keep a safe 5m distance between each other, one is apt to feel a little romantic and lose ones head and feel like wandering away into the mist and get lost in it.

Thus, having swung onto a road that had no signboard I reached, after condiserable distance, another road which lead to a sand pit. Now, the piles of sand also takes on a romantic feature when enveloped in mist and on that mound of sand I sat till the mist settled into droplets on my hair. You see, the temperature also works hand in hand with the mist. It drops down drastically and one cannot help but shiver slightly when the wind catches the bare arm and back.

I was hungry. Cold is a good appetiser I found and after many many kilometers I reached civilisation...if one can call Al Qouz that. If I were to drive back on the roads I drove on this morning, i would never find Al Quoz.  It is very strange that when one gets lost, they do end up somewhere quite by chance or luck but when one is setting out to find a turn or a road, you dont. The long and short is that when I pulled up outside a hotel, weak from hunger, I was greeted by a bunch...no an army of Pathans (as we call our brothers from Pakistan) huddled around the few tables devouring steaming hot parathas! Not the one to back away from the sea of eyes, I joined them. Ah, the warmth of human touch...and tea and parathas...and I reached work just in time.

But the songs, I still say were all wrong. 

...Then there is the usual question I (am sure all of you too) face often.

"Where do you live". This is one of those 'productive' questions that lead to many other sub-questions which again are capable of producing many more little question...for which I dont have a word.

The usual questions that follow the 'mother' question.

"Do you cook yourself?" (I mean one can be forgiven for wanting to know whether I cook, but not for asking an impertinent question such as that!! One can be, with little effort, kind to the language, no?)

Yes, kind people. I do "cook" myself and believe me I taste wonderful with pepper and salt. Top that with honey and a dash of lime juice, I am the mother of all "foods." I am quite healthy too, you see.

Do you drive yourself?

No. I drive others. I drive them up the walls, off the roads and occasionally when gripped with a mystic power, I drive them into different lanes.  

What language you speak?"

I am speaking Greek. It is a pleasure to see that you understand it in English!

(I like this question. It gives me great satisfaction to know that 'English' is after all only a cover up for the more horrifying language one hears around.)

This is the question I wish someone would ask me.

"Who are you?" 

My answer would be: I am the person who does the job. You must be the other.

(Curtesy: The Departed) 

Have you, as a media person, been "interviewed?" Of course, I dont mean for the prestigious awards or such things, but on a simple, one-on-one terms by the very person you have been assigned to interview? Ah, that is the trick. The interviewee is always curious, despite being in the public front for long, he/she still wants to know! Knowledge, of course is everyone's right, but shouldnt the poor over worked, underpaid scribes be spared the barrage of useless questions they are sometimes asked? Naturally one can make allowances for the fact that the "interviewee" is not in possession of the scribes quick wit and intelligence and their subtlety, but as upright, educated and respected members of the society, shouldnt they at least posses a grain of knowledge as to what to ask the scribe?

It always begins like this. I present my card.

 "Oh so you are Anj...?"

(No, I am in the habit of carrying another persons' business card)  

"Where are you from?"

(Next time I will make sure I get that bit of info on the card too)

 "From Kerala?" (If the person happens to be from Kerala. If not, they stick to good old India)

(You see it is a sin to have a Thomas to your name. It is a dead give away. Never mind that Thomas Hardy or Jefferson were from USA)

 "Where do you live?" 

"You are a reporter? Okay, so what do you do? You write everything?" 

(No. I dont write for Al Queda or the KKK, but yes, I am a reporter, so whats okay about it?"

"You want to interview me?"

(Oops, no. I just wanted to ask your opinion of my hair)

"You are really from India? You dont look like that"?

(This could be in reference to my get-up. Its not my fault really if I look like am about to go on a holiday to the mountians, right? And what do Indians look like?)

"You studied this writing? Journalism? What a cool job. I like writing also"  

(Cool job? What does that mean? Do they know that the temperatures at work place can rise to a 100 degree centigrade if an article is not submitted in time?)

Then if a woman, they observe you rather closely and get straight the heart of the matter.

"Wow, you can dress casually? Jeans? Always? You meet many (wink wink) people, right? Lucky. You know, I dont like dressing up either, but you know how it is.  

"You dont look like a journalist really. It is so easy to talk to you"

(Notice that I have not begun my interview yet. Grudgingly one is forced to draw their attention to the matter at hand. After some deft manouvering, we are finally facing each other. Then suddenly in the middle of a serious issue, a question."

"You will write all this? (and even more suddenly), "I like your jacket. You are a lawyer you say? Then how do you write?

(Oh, I rather forgot to tell you I have been blessed with special powers that convert the laws in the book into an dratted interview, so simple really) 

"You are different you know, rather pretty." (That is not an answer to my question)

But one high ranking official took the cake.

"I am glad you are a writer. You are nice."

Why?

"Because you are not a lawyer"