Husam, the CEO of the consulting firm I work for asked me if I would like to see Cocoban, a mountain village about 30 minutes drive from Sana’a. As you might imagine, I jumped at the chance. Besides loving mountains and wanting to see what life is like outside of Sana’a, I have also been feeling a bit cooped up in the city. I haven’t left since arriving in Yemen (I know, I know… It’s only been two weeks, but that’s how I am).
I met him at 7:47 am in front of the huge Bab Al Yemen, the stone gateway to the Old City which has stood for millennia. As I hopped into Husam’s 2009 Toyota Landcruiser, barefoot children jumped onto the footrails at our windows, peddling their tissues. 20 Riyals per package made them happy enough to step aside and allow us to pull onto the street and get on our way.
Husam had a Yemeni version of smooth jazz playing on his i-pod as we navigated our way to the western part of town and began climbing the steep mountain grades. The mountains are just as rugged up close as they are from the valley. Dark volcanic stones litter the hill side. Nothing is growing. At the top of the climb sits a walled-off military compound and a military/police checkpoint. Two jeeps with 50 caliber machine guns stood on both sides of the road with about a dozen uniformed and heavily armed men ensuring good behavior from all motorists.
A military officer checked me out through the window, asked Husam for my nationality. The answer, “Amerci,” earned us a finger point to the side of the road for more discussion. After a minute, another uniformed man approached us, asked who we were and where we were headed. Husam explained ourselves, saying we were just headed up to the mountains for a couple of hours, that we would be back in town before nightfall.
The guy told Husam that we needed to turn around and go into the city and get a “permission” from the tourist police. Yes, the tourist police. He could let us pass, but when we reached the next city we would be asked for the permission again. If we didn’t have it at that point, Husam would end up in prison by the end of the day; maybe me as well. We turned around.
According to the guard, we could find the tourist police at Bab Al Yemen, so we headed back through the city. Those at the Bab directed us to an office near the Silas, just around the corner from where my house is. Finally having found the tourist police, we were sure we were close to getting what we needed. The answer disappointed again. We have to bring an official letter from Apex Consulting outlining exactly what our plans are. The letter has to be brought at least 24 hours ahead of the time of our trip, and we cannot deviate in the least from what is on the letter. Wow.
We decided to just head to the lookout point where I had seen the Imam Palace two weeks earlier. I was ok with that considering the circumstances. Really, I very much enjoyed being with my boss for the morning. He is a very good man and very easy to talk to. Unpretentious and kind. So we were able to talk about family and life in general. We talked about social issues in Yemen, similarities and differences between our cultures, business, etc.
Just as two weeks ago, I was impressed by the rocks surrounding the Imam Palace. I couldn’t resist climbing around on the boulders and the cliffs for a half hour or so. This valley could be a very attractive climbing destination. The rock formations remind me of southern Utah and of some places east of Phoenix. One large pillar near the palace itself would make most climbers think of Zion National Park. Color in the rock ranges from dark reds and greys to light tan. A year wouldn’t give anyone enough time to discover all of the great climbing in just this one valley. Add to that an Imam Palace and homes that are hundreds of years old, amazing history, and people kinder than any other on the earth, and you have a world-class climbing playground. I've gotta find some rock shoes somewhere in this city... Despite the fact that our original plans were frustrated, the day came out ok. From here on out I’m going to stay on top of what I have to do to see this country.
While the idea of tourist police sounds a bit hokey, it appears that they have the best information on where to go and not go if I want to stay reasonably safe. Plus, being the only ones that can issuethe needed "permission," they hold the key to adventure outside the city. We should be friends.
Pics! http://picasaweb.google.com/tystandage/ADayWithTheBoss#
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Bayt Boos
Saturday morning I actually slept in a bit. I say that not because work gets me up super early, but because my body just settled into the routine of waking up around 5am and being ready to get to the day’s work. Since getting over my jet lagged state I have felt very refreshed in the mornings. The reason has to be that I sleep right next to a large, east-facing window. That sun just knows how to wake you up in just the right way. I think an east-facing window in my room is a prerequisite of any home I buy.
Anyway, it was good that I slept in a bit on Saturday because Salim, my driver for the day, was running behind as well. I would have been sitting on those front steps for an hour and a half rather than a half hour. Salim pulled up just after 9:30 with a big smile and an “I’m late!” No problem. We’ve got the whole day to explore. Why start feeling rushed?
Plans were to go to an old Jewish town called Bayt Boos. Just like any other site or landmark in Yemen, this could be spelled a different way by every person that you ask. It was never meant to be spelled with roman lettering.
Pulling off the main thoroughfare onto what can barely be considered a dirt road, we started winding around hills and between buildings until the colony appeared on the hills above us. From our vantage point, and large well could be seen below, with the crumbling walls of an old village on the cliffs above.
Salim parked under a large sycamore tree. We were instantly surrounded by young boys eager to give us the tour of a lifetime. I groaned a bit inside, realizing that each of these boys would want some for of compensation at the end, and I only had very small coins to offer; not enough to give each what they would feel they had earned. But there was no stopping them, so I decided just to enjoy the time with them and deal with the problem when it became unavoidable. They wouldn’t believe me now anyway.
The town is still occupied by several families, all Muslims. The Jews took off at least decades ago, if not centuries (I couldn’t find anyone who really knew). And most of the Muslims took off when the expanding city increased the value of their land, making it attractive to leave for greener pastures.
One thing you will not find very often in Yemen is a religious building not devoted to Islam. Yet, there on the adjoining hill stands a synagogue, a lone survivor to a once Jewish-friendly land.
From the cliffs of this city you can see the city, with the giant new mosque as a centerpiece. To the north of our position, a dam created a lake. I pointed the lake out to Salim and he asked the kids how we could get there. After some more pictures, we loaded in the landcruiser and headed for the lake.
Several wrong turns later, we finally found ourselves at the bottom of the dam. Salim gave me the look which said he could beat me to the top of the dam and the race was on. I’ll let you guess who soundly beat his opponent. Really, there was no competition.
On this sunny day, boys were swimming and jumping from the rocks surrounding the lakes. While no prodding was necessary, the men sitting on the dam encouraged me to take a dip. I was already taking off my shoes. The water was cool, and the 10-12 foot dives provided a bit of excitement for me and the boys. Within twenty minutes the number of spectators doubled… Apparently there was something to see.
After I had exerted myself enough, I stretched out on a large warm rock and snapped some pictures of my surroundings. Great day, fun people. Time to go home for a nap.
http://picasaweb.google.com/tystandage/BaytBoos#
Wanna see some pics?
Anyway, it was good that I slept in a bit on Saturday because Salim, my driver for the day, was running behind as well. I would have been sitting on those front steps for an hour and a half rather than a half hour. Salim pulled up just after 9:30 with a big smile and an “I’m late!” No problem. We’ve got the whole day to explore. Why start feeling rushed?
Plans were to go to an old Jewish town called Bayt Boos. Just like any other site or landmark in Yemen, this could be spelled a different way by every person that you ask. It was never meant to be spelled with roman lettering.
Pulling off the main thoroughfare onto what can barely be considered a dirt road, we started winding around hills and between buildings until the colony appeared on the hills above us. From our vantage point, and large well could be seen below, with the crumbling walls of an old village on the cliffs above.
Salim parked under a large sycamore tree. We were instantly surrounded by young boys eager to give us the tour of a lifetime. I groaned a bit inside, realizing that each of these boys would want some for of compensation at the end, and I only had very small coins to offer; not enough to give each what they would feel they had earned. But there was no stopping them, so I decided just to enjoy the time with them and deal with the problem when it became unavoidable. They wouldn’t believe me now anyway.
The town is still occupied by several families, all Muslims. The Jews took off at least decades ago, if not centuries (I couldn’t find anyone who really knew). And most of the Muslims took off when the expanding city increased the value of their land, making it attractive to leave for greener pastures.
One thing you will not find very often in Yemen is a religious building not devoted to Islam. Yet, there on the adjoining hill stands a synagogue, a lone survivor to a once Jewish-friendly land.
From the cliffs of this city you can see the city, with the giant new mosque as a centerpiece. To the north of our position, a dam created a lake. I pointed the lake out to Salim and he asked the kids how we could get there. After some more pictures, we loaded in the landcruiser and headed for the lake.
Several wrong turns later, we finally found ourselves at the bottom of the dam. Salim gave me the look which said he could beat me to the top of the dam and the race was on. I’ll let you guess who soundly beat his opponent. Really, there was no competition.
On this sunny day, boys were swimming and jumping from the rocks surrounding the lakes. While no prodding was necessary, the men sitting on the dam encouraged me to take a dip. I was already taking off my shoes. The water was cool, and the 10-12 foot dives provided a bit of excitement for me and the boys. Within twenty minutes the number of spectators doubled… Apparently there was something to see.
After I had exerted myself enough, I stretched out on a large warm rock and snapped some pictures of my surroundings. Great day, fun people. Time to go home for a nap.
http://picasaweb.google.com/tystandage/BaytBoos#
Wanna see some pics?
Wanna hang for a day?
(WARNING: This is a long post, and one that might not be so interesting.... I tried to put a video of the amazing sunset and the call to prayer from last night up, but nothin' doin. Network isn't strong enough to do it for me.)
My day generally starts with being woken up around 3:30am by calls from the mosque. This is not the call to prayer, but preparation for the call to prayer. This call of praise will last about 45 minutes. Then a 15 minute break before the first call to prayer for the day begins. If I am lucky enough to sleep through most of it, I count myself lucky. If not, I might roll over onto my knees and join in. Why not, right? I snooze through the next hour or so while the sun makes its way from behind the dry rocky mountain to the east.
Within an hour my room is flooded with sunlight through the large, east facing windows I sleep next to (did I mention I love eastward facing windows?). My alarm won’t go off until 6:15, but I rarely lay in bed until such a late hour. Mind you, I don’t rush out of bed either… I’ll usually lie there and consider what my day holds and the things I want to accomplish; take a stroll through the Old City, maybe head down near the stadium where there is an endless array of shops and stands peddling everything from juice to high end cameras, grab some eggs at the tiny store around the corner…
When I feel good and ready I climb out of bed. Shower, read, throw down a bit of juice and bread; and I’m out of the house by 6:45.
As soon as I leave that door and step into the street I am instantly reminded of where I am (or where I am not). While veiled women dressed in black, jambya’s (the Yemeni Dagger which many men wear daily), and six to ten story buildings made of branches and mud are things that I am getting used to at some level, my heart still skips a beat when it remembers how white I am, and that I’ll have to mumble some words to the minibus driver to make sure he’s going where I need him to go, and to have him stop where I need to get off.
I walk past the intricately decorated facades of the homes in the area and the thick walls of the Old City constructed perhaps thousands of years ago of brown brick. The streets in this area are made with rough-hewn, tan stones about eight inches square. The foot and vehicle traffic has worn them into a slick surface that has me sliding around when there is even a hint of water.
After exiting the main city, I cross a main thoroughfare and walk along-side the military compound toward the bus stop. The compound stretches a quarter mile or so before I can round its corner and see the rows and rows of minibuses, all lined up to take me where I need to go. Looking over my left shoulder so as not to be run down by bus number 3 or a motorcycle carrying three Yemeni men, I cross the street and walk along the rows until I reach bus 7, my ride to Hadda Fundo.
This morning I’m lucky enough to find a seat where I can face forward and not have to duck my head during my twenty minute ride.
When the bus is full we pull onto the rugged, well used black top of the city of Sana’a. Because the tiny minibuses have very low clearance (only intensified when its seats are packed to the gills), the drivers take special care to avoid potholes or dips. When there is no choice but to take the hit, they slow to a snail’s pace in order to reduce the wear and tear on these vehicles that, though they seem to run like gems, invariably display several battle wounds from jockeying for position on the road in order to fill their seats. Very few private cars are to be found at this hour on the city streets. Most vehicles are either taxis or minibuses, either zooming toward a definite location, or trolling for passengers.
20 minutes and 50 turns later I mumble my words to the driver who somehow realizes that I want him to stop. I pay my fare of 40 YR (about 20 cents), and cross Hadda Street, entering the neighborhood that houses our office building.
The office building is nothing more than a three storey house with ten foot walls all around. The main working floors actually rise above that gate and from the roof I can see the mountain across town that protects the Old City where I live.
Work is work…. (I’ll get to that later since this is already getting way too long. If you're still reading this, you are either my mom, family, or we should really get together sometime...)
Once done for the day I hope on the bus for my return ride home. Traffic at 5:45pm is much heavier than it is at 7am, so my ride will be much noisier and much longer. By this time of day most of the men have a big wad of qat in one cheek. It is the stimulant of choice here in Yemen, and is used by around 80% of all men and up to 60% of all women. The leafy plant is chewed into a ball and placed in the cheek, sometime seemingly the size of baseballs. Literally, I have been dumbfounded by how distended the cheeks are of some men. Once the juices start flowing into the veins, energy and lightheartedness are not far behind.
I originally planned on taking a try at some qat. But at the admonition of my boss, and the fact that none of the lds crowd seems to think it’s acceptable, I think I’ll pass. Whether or not it is inappropriate for a good mormon boy to partake, the qat has done nothing to help the Yemeni people. My boss calls it a national disaster. I’ll decline (more on qat later if you’re interested).
Reaching the bus stop and starting on my walk home, I decide to take a different route. I walk through the middle of the Old City in search of some much needed grub. This always raises some anxiety for me… The last time I ate in the city by myself, all I could do was point to the dish someone else had in front of them, and hope I had enough dough to cover it. As it turned out, the dish filled me up quite well for $1.50 equivalent.
In the heart of the Old City I found a Falafel stand. The man would wrap falafel in a pita along with spices, vegetables, and some tasty salsa. I decided that if the previous dish had cost me $1.50 (300 YR), I’d ask for enough wraps to fill that order. He made me 10 wraps…. I had to laugh at myself. At least I’d have enough for lunch the next day.
Getting home, I went straight up onto the roof for a good meal, a good read, and an immaculate sunset. What more could I ask for? After the sun had dipped below the horizon and the calls for prayer had ended, I dropped back inside to change and get ready for bed.
A few episodes of Seinfeld later, I was ready to drop off to bed. 9pm isn’t too early right? Safely enclosed in my mosquito net, I drifted into the unconscious… gotta be ready for 3:30.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Unification Day
Friday was National Unification Day here in Yemen. On the 22nd of May in 1990, the northern Yemen Arab Republic joined with the People’s Democratic Republic in the south, thereby forming the present day republic of Yemen. Ali Abdullah Saleh was made president of the newly formed nation by popular vote on the same day.
Like other nations in the Middle East and elsewhere, Saleh has been able to hold on to power, and remains Yemen’s President to this day. His figure is prominently displayed around town, and it seems that people genuinely like the guy. Even so, it is likely that his ability to stay in power has been due at least in part (or for the most part) to his access to newspapers and other media outlets. During elections, the media is used to promote his campaign and ensure that everyone knows of his accomplishments and how great he has been for Yemen.
From what little public criticism I have seen of the campaigns, people are not frustrated with any supposed rigging at the ballot box itself. They focus more on the fact that Saleh has effectively endless resources in comparison to any candidate running against him. They do not argue that he is a malevolent dictator, but do reason that because he is able to maintain power election after election there is a void of new ideas and effective criticism of the government. However valid his claim to power might be and whether or not the Yemeni people might vote for another president if campaign rules were different, the US supports a united Yemen and recognizes Saleh, considered an ally in the “war on terror,” as the properly-elected head of state. The US is probably just happy to have someone who seems fairly serious about fighting terrorism, even if that means elections are not what they could be.
In order to celebrate the holiday, the government marched soldiers and tanks up and down the main street with fighter jets whizzing by over head to show how unified the country is (yes, a bit of tongue in cheek). In 1994, conflict with tribes and other groups in the south erupted into civil war. While Saleh was able to hold the country together and bring back a certain level of unity, rebellion still exists in small pockets in the south. These groups have been responsible for killing fellow Yemenis simply because they were not from southern provinces. One street vendor was gunned down earlier this year while sitting next to his fruit stand. (Friendly fact: There are three times as many guns in Yemen as there are people. That comes to around 70 million guns.) A friend here told me that they sometimes stop cars on the highways and ride away in the vehicles, leaving the innocent travelers stranded. The mountainous terrain in the areas where most of these incidents occur are ideal for hiding and k’niving.
The Yemeni government has engaged in skirmishes with these groups from time to time, and since the beginning of the year there have been perhaps a dozen deaths total of police officers, military personnel, and “insurgents.” Al-Qaida has apparently offered to support the movement if it is agreed that any new southern state would be ruled under Sharia Law. The offer was made in the past several weeks, but I haven’t heard anything new in that vein.
With this backdrop to the festivities, the government did their best to show that Yemen is indeed unified. Military personnel with uniforms from all areas of the country (north and south) paraded in front of the president, smartly saluting him. The fighter jets that flew over the festivities apparently flew down over the southern provinces as well, showing the length of Sana’a’s arm. Passionate speeches were also given by religious and military leaders which centered on the importance of that day of unification in 1990 and of the strength of the Yemeni people today as they continue to stand together.
For the most part, Yemenis really are united under a common flag, and the violence a few in no way represents the way most Yemenis think and feel. I haven’t met one person who feels that the country should be divided or that violence is justified to impose Sharia Law (or that Sharia Law is at all desirable for that matter). It is sad that the beliefs and actions of a small group have put such a dark mark on this wonderful country. Anyone you talk to who has been to Yemen and who has spent time with these people knows that you cannot find any more hospitable people on the earth. I have been blown away by their generosity and good nature. That coupled with the beautiful countryside and fascinating history should make this an attractive tourist destination. Hopefully that will be a reality in the near future.
Like other nations in the Middle East and elsewhere, Saleh has been able to hold on to power, and remains Yemen’s President to this day. His figure is prominently displayed around town, and it seems that people genuinely like the guy. Even so, it is likely that his ability to stay in power has been due at least in part (or for the most part) to his access to newspapers and other media outlets. During elections, the media is used to promote his campaign and ensure that everyone knows of his accomplishments and how great he has been for Yemen.
From what little public criticism I have seen of the campaigns, people are not frustrated with any supposed rigging at the ballot box itself. They focus more on the fact that Saleh has effectively endless resources in comparison to any candidate running against him. They do not argue that he is a malevolent dictator, but do reason that because he is able to maintain power election after election there is a void of new ideas and effective criticism of the government. However valid his claim to power might be and whether or not the Yemeni people might vote for another president if campaign rules were different, the US supports a united Yemen and recognizes Saleh, considered an ally in the “war on terror,” as the properly-elected head of state. The US is probably just happy to have someone who seems fairly serious about fighting terrorism, even if that means elections are not what they could be.
In order to celebrate the holiday, the government marched soldiers and tanks up and down the main street with fighter jets whizzing by over head to show how unified the country is (yes, a bit of tongue in cheek). In 1994, conflict with tribes and other groups in the south erupted into civil war. While Saleh was able to hold the country together and bring back a certain level of unity, rebellion still exists in small pockets in the south. These groups have been responsible for killing fellow Yemenis simply because they were not from southern provinces. One street vendor was gunned down earlier this year while sitting next to his fruit stand. (Friendly fact: There are three times as many guns in Yemen as there are people. That comes to around 70 million guns.) A friend here told me that they sometimes stop cars on the highways and ride away in the vehicles, leaving the innocent travelers stranded. The mountainous terrain in the areas where most of these incidents occur are ideal for hiding and k’niving.
The Yemeni government has engaged in skirmishes with these groups from time to time, and since the beginning of the year there have been perhaps a dozen deaths total of police officers, military personnel, and “insurgents.” Al-Qaida has apparently offered to support the movement if it is agreed that any new southern state would be ruled under Sharia Law. The offer was made in the past several weeks, but I haven’t heard anything new in that vein.
With this backdrop to the festivities, the government did their best to show that Yemen is indeed unified. Military personnel with uniforms from all areas of the country (north and south) paraded in front of the president, smartly saluting him. The fighter jets that flew over the festivities apparently flew down over the southern provinces as well, showing the length of Sana’a’s arm. Passionate speeches were also given by religious and military leaders which centered on the importance of that day of unification in 1990 and of the strength of the Yemeni people today as they continue to stand together.
For the most part, Yemenis really are united under a common flag, and the violence a few in no way represents the way most Yemenis think and feel. I haven’t met one person who feels that the country should be divided or that violence is justified to impose Sharia Law (or that Sharia Law is at all desirable for that matter). It is sad that the beliefs and actions of a small group have put such a dark mark on this wonderful country. Anyone you talk to who has been to Yemen and who has spent time with these people knows that you cannot find any more hospitable people on the earth. I have been blown away by their generosity and good nature. That coupled with the beautiful countryside and fascinating history should make this an attractive tourist destination. Hopefully that will be a reality in the near future.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Imam Palace
During the 1930’s, Imam Yahya built a palace about 15 km northwest of Sana’a as a summer retreat. The site he chose was atop an enormous boulder which had been used by various groups for centuries for anything from shelter to burial sites. The palace itself has five stories of classic Yemeni architecture, and you can see it up close and in person for a small fee.
Before checking the place out up close, we stopped at a look-out point that gazes down into the valley. This more or less flat spot of ground abruptly ends with a shear drop of around 75 feet to a rocky red ledge, then fading off more gradually below into piles of dirt, rocks, and boulders ranging from the size of your hand to the size of your car. Honestly, the first thought that I had while looking into the valley was “home.” Dry hills and stone pillars, colored in browns and reds, surrounded a valley with plenty of green in the washes and drainage areas. While it isn’t as hot as the dry valleys of Arizona, the whole scene instantly reminded me of where I had been only several days before. (All of this amazing rock gave me the hankerin’ for some climbing!)
After taking our time observing from above, we drove down right underneath the Dar Al-Hajar, “the Palace of the Rock.” Sliding 500YR into a small window carved from the thick outer wall surrounding the palace gets you a ticket to pass through the giant wooden gate leading to a stone pathway which rounds the boulder and brings you to the lower entrances of the edifice.
The courtyard in front of the palace has many beautiful flowering plants (There is also an amazingly beautiful tree right out in front of the enclosure!). Water flows from stone fountains inside the rectangular stone swimming pool with a stellar view of the wadi (valley). If you wonder how this tiny oasis could have enough water for such extravagances, just take a look at the boulders surrounding the fortress. Short, man-made walls channel water flowing down the rock into a central location for collection. This area actually has more than one month of consistent rain each year, and the imam obviously made every arrangement possible to keep the well and the cisterns full.
Inside the palace, stair cases go every which way, leading to wells, kitchens, entertainment rooms, burial rooms, lookout positions, etc. The walls and ceilings are white-washed, and doors are made of a dark wood. The floors are inlaid with grey stone. Stained glass windows in every room display intricate Middle Eastern designs to match the “plaster molding” designs found in the corners of the ceilings in nearly every room. It’s easy to forget what floor you’re on at the moment, and coming around the corner from one set of stairs and an entertainment room filled with pillows and floor cushions could find you suddenly face to face with a fourth floor balcony overlooking the valley and with yet another set of stairs leading up or down.
While the palace itself dates to the 1930s, holes hewn into the rock for ancient burial chambers, and a well dated to 700 BC remind you that this valley has lived through thousands of years of history. Many different groups of people with various religious and cultural backgrounds have occupied this very spot of land for a very long time. This imam just happens to be one of the latest of those inhabitants.
Stone look-out towers litter the hills and boulders surrounding the palace, apparently to give the imam information on the approach of enemies as far in advance as possible.
From the higher levels of the palace, the neighboring mosque is in clear view. Heeding the call to prayer, men poured inside, each removing their shoes and placing them in a giant heap near the entrance. About 40 men prayed outside the mosque, perhaps because there was not enough room inside. I wondered if the imam, there until the 1960s, prayed in that same mosque or in one very near to this location.
While I had been in Yemen less than three hours I felt that I had already had several true Yemeni experiences and that I had multiplied my understanding of the Arab world several times over (having started at next to nil, this was no great accomplishment). But even seeing it first hand for a few hours gives you only so much perspective. Hopefully several months living in Yemen will further improve that understanding of the history and present circumstances of this very unique corner of the world. On to some food!
Here are some pics related to this post. Sorry I didnt get them into the post. While it is more likelyt that I am simply blog-illiterate, my current excuse is the slow internet connection I use to make these posts. Thanks: http://picasaweb.google.com/tystandage/ImamPalace#
Before checking the place out up close, we stopped at a look-out point that gazes down into the valley. This more or less flat spot of ground abruptly ends with a shear drop of around 75 feet to a rocky red ledge, then fading off more gradually below into piles of dirt, rocks, and boulders ranging from the size of your hand to the size of your car. Honestly, the first thought that I had while looking into the valley was “home.” Dry hills and stone pillars, colored in browns and reds, surrounded a valley with plenty of green in the washes and drainage areas. While it isn’t as hot as the dry valleys of Arizona, the whole scene instantly reminded me of where I had been only several days before. (All of this amazing rock gave me the hankerin’ for some climbing!)
After taking our time observing from above, we drove down right underneath the Dar Al-Hajar, “the Palace of the Rock.” Sliding 500YR into a small window carved from the thick outer wall surrounding the palace gets you a ticket to pass through the giant wooden gate leading to a stone pathway which rounds the boulder and brings you to the lower entrances of the edifice.
The courtyard in front of the palace has many beautiful flowering plants (There is also an amazingly beautiful tree right out in front of the enclosure!). Water flows from stone fountains inside the rectangular stone swimming pool with a stellar view of the wadi (valley). If you wonder how this tiny oasis could have enough water for such extravagances, just take a look at the boulders surrounding the fortress. Short, man-made walls channel water flowing down the rock into a central location for collection. This area actually has more than one month of consistent rain each year, and the imam obviously made every arrangement possible to keep the well and the cisterns full.
Inside the palace, stair cases go every which way, leading to wells, kitchens, entertainment rooms, burial rooms, lookout positions, etc. The walls and ceilings are white-washed, and doors are made of a dark wood. The floors are inlaid with grey stone. Stained glass windows in every room display intricate Middle Eastern designs to match the “plaster molding” designs found in the corners of the ceilings in nearly every room. It’s easy to forget what floor you’re on at the moment, and coming around the corner from one set of stairs and an entertainment room filled with pillows and floor cushions could find you suddenly face to face with a fourth floor balcony overlooking the valley and with yet another set of stairs leading up or down.
While the palace itself dates to the 1930s, holes hewn into the rock for ancient burial chambers, and a well dated to 700 BC remind you that this valley has lived through thousands of years of history. Many different groups of people with various religious and cultural backgrounds have occupied this very spot of land for a very long time. This imam just happens to be one of the latest of those inhabitants.
Stone look-out towers litter the hills and boulders surrounding the palace, apparently to give the imam information on the approach of enemies as far in advance as possible.
From the higher levels of the palace, the neighboring mosque is in clear view. Heeding the call to prayer, men poured inside, each removing their shoes and placing them in a giant heap near the entrance. About 40 men prayed outside the mosque, perhaps because there was not enough room inside. I wondered if the imam, there until the 1960s, prayed in that same mosque or in one very near to this location.
While I had been in Yemen less than three hours I felt that I had already had several true Yemeni experiences and that I had multiplied my understanding of the Arab world several times over (having started at next to nil, this was no great accomplishment). But even seeing it first hand for a few hours gives you only so much perspective. Hopefully several months living in Yemen will further improve that understanding of the history and present circumstances of this very unique corner of the world. On to some food!
Here are some pics related to this post. Sorry I didnt get them into the post. While it is more likelyt that I am simply blog-illiterate, my current excuse is the slow internet connection I use to make these posts. Thanks: http://picasaweb.google.com/tystandage/ImamPalace#
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Coming Home to Sana'a
I left Dubai last Friday morning, boarding a plane which would take me far from the sky scrapers and orderly streets of that world financial center. Just as when I flew into Dubai, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect of Yemen.
The flight to Sana’a lasted just over two hours and crossed over the arid desert of the Arabian Peninsula. Arid is the right word for it; I didn’t seen anything green for hundreds of miles. Desert is also the right description; totally deserted. I can count on one hand how many highways and signs of humanity I saw while crossing that stretch at 30,000 feet. The dunes went on as far as I could tell in a sea of light brown, with row after row after row of sand.
As we came within 100 miles or so of Sana’a, darker shades of brown rose from the bed of sand into dry, rocky crags void of vegetation. Scattered sparsely in the valleys between those crags, huts made from rock and mud were visible mostly due to their shadows. No roads seemed to connect any one home with another or with any common course of travel. Perhaps cars aren’t worth the trouble out here (camels don’t break down as often and also reproduce for future generations… try that, Toyota).
A little further on, deep canyons cut the earth with scattered bushes showing themselves for the first time. Disorganized dirt paths started to appear which eventually emptied into a single paved highway that was apparently bound for the capital city. The mountains that surround Sana’a began to show themselves in earnest. Signs of Yemen’s past could be seen in them. On one of the risings in the foothills I saw what looked like ruins of an old fortification or outpost. Rock walls enclosed a crumbling stone tower. A closer look revealed ancient lookout towers on rock outcroppings and peaks all around the city.
As we came over the city I couldn’t help but think of the contrasts with Dubai. Streets went zigzagging every which way, many unpaved. Even downtown, few buildings appeared to have been built in the last 50 years or so and none can be classified as a sky scraper. Excesses such as modern malls and artistic dancing fountains were not things most Yemeni people enjoyed.
Once on the ground we de-boarded and walked to the terminal where doctors pointed a gun at our heads…. which read our body temperature. (did I getcha?) Apparently worried about the H1N1 virus, they were checking everyone that came into the country. Finally past doctors, immigration, and luggage pickup (my bags made it there with me, thank goodness) I walked into the main hall of the tiny airport and found a man holding a sign that read Mr. Tyler Standage. Tareq, the PR man for APEX (the consulting firm I am working for), was there to greet me as promised.
As we walked out the front doors the two military personnel at the door startled me briefly. They sat basically right in the doorway with little room to get around them with luggage, AK-47s draped across their laps. But their warm Yemeni smiles allayed any fear as we slipped past and headed for Tareq’s car.
Tareq, a man of few words, headed out onto the freeway, reminding me to buckle my seatbelt. My general attitude on the subject is that I’ll buckle my seatbelt when and if I feel like it, thank you very much. But this advice from Tareq is probably some of the best I have received about living and surviving in Sana’a so far. I’ll write a separate post on the driving another time, but let’s just say that there is little respect for “lanes” or “lines” (if there are any), one-way off/on-ramps, etc. And the use of the horn and emergency lights is an art form to be perfected and used so as to not kill or be killed. I have been to several places with nutso driving, but this definitely tops them all.
From the outskirts of town heading into the city center, Sana’a looks a lot like other third world countries. Dilapidated buildings, beggars on every corner, etc. But as we got closer to the Old City section of Sana’a, the charm found in the pictures you find on Google images of this place began to show. Tareq pulled onto Silas Street which looks like a big canal made of stone squares. Small speed bumps are plentiful on Silas Street, and Tareq slowed down to snail pace for every one of them. Also, stone bridges allow cars to pass underneath through relatively small slots with arched ceilings. It appears that those who constructed this street were intent on slowing traffic down in any way possible. The fact that there is generally no back up traffic here (only a small percentage of Yemenis own a car) and the fact that no one seems to be enforcing any traffic laws may lend support for this hypothesis.
Finally, we pulled up an off-ramp and stopped in front of a traditional, Old City-looking house. As we got out, a stately Arab man wearing traditional Arabian garb and a Yemeni dagger approached us. Khalid Ali Alsabri owns this home and rents it out to students coming to Yemen to learn Arabic. I checked out the rooms, and picked one with a decent view on the fourth floor. My room is about 6 ½ ft. by 7 ½ ft., and is raised a foot higher than the main level. When standing in my room next to the door, the top of the door almost reaches the top of my shoulder.
Every wall in the room (and the house in general) is white. The wooden beams that support the floors above me protrude from my ceiling and are plastered in a rectangular shape from wall to wall. There are windows in every corner possible, including ornamental stained glass windows. There are also ornamental shelves made of the same plaster material as the walls coming out of one of the corners and similarly off of another wall. Simple white curtains cover the main windows.
I have a small desk with a chair, a bureau to hang my clothes in, a cushioned chair for a visitor or for reading, and a traditional Yemeni bed in the corner. The bed consists of a pad 5 inches thick laid on the floor. It is quite comfortable, actually, even though it is not quite as long as I am tall. I find the room cozy enough.
Mr. Al-Sabri said that if I would like to go with him and another student to see the famed Imam palace situated on a large outcropping to the northwest of Sana’a, I could get settled in the next 15 minutes and he would swing by. That sounded great to me, so I got started unpacking in the room that would be my home for the next while.
I have put some pictures on a picasa album: http://picasaweb.google.com/tystandage/ComingHomeToSanA?authkey=Gv1sRgCNGiuaWOsY2GswE#
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Dubai en route to Sana'a
Because my layover in Dubai was nearly 12 hours long, I hoped to be able to get into the city and do some exploration. Not only an important central point for all Arab countries, Dubai is also counted as one of the world’s most important financial centers. I had seen pictures of the waterfront city and had talked to a few people about its environs, but I still had little idea of what to expect. My international travels have almost exclusively been to third world nations, so my natural tendency was to get excited about going to the most primitive suk in town to watch buyers and sellers haggle over carpets and heaps of spices and raw products. While this kind of marketplace still thrives in Dubai, I decided to just tell my taxi driver to “take me to where I can see the city” rather than try to explain exactly what I expected/wanted to see. I think this was a good move.
I was dropped off near the Dubai Mall in front of the new Dubai Fountain in Downtown Burj Dubai. The fountain was constructed in the Burj Dubai Lake overseen by “the Burj,” the tallest building on the planet (Burj means “tower”). Families from dozens of cultural and religious backgrounds watched the displays put to music ranging from classical Arabic music to music recognized the world over (I watched one show put to the music of Con te partiro by Andrea Bocceli). If you’ve seen the fountain show at the Bellagio (or watched the end of Ocean’s 11), then you are on the right track to getting an idea of what this fountain can do.
I was dropped off near the Dubai Mall in front of the new Dubai Fountain in Downtown Burj Dubai. The fountain was constructed in the Burj Dubai Lake overseen by “the Burj,” the tallest building on the planet (Burj means “tower”). Families from dozens of cultural and religious backgrounds watched the displays put to music ranging from classical Arabic music to music recognized the world over (I watched one show put to the music of Con te partiro by Andrea Bocceli). If you’ve seen the fountain show at the Bellagio (or watched the end of Ocean’s 11), then you are on the right track to getting an idea of what this fountain can do.
Now pump up the power. While the fountain at the Bellagio has one arc and three circles from which shoot water, the Dubai Fountain has two arcs and five circles. The fountain can shoot as much as 83,000 liters of water into the air at any one time, and to heights of over 150 meters (taller than the Dubai World Trade Center). That much water in the air with an accompanying choreography of light and music is pretty amazing.
Dubai is truly a cosmopolitan city. I must have heard seven to ten different languages in the course of a few hours downtown, and businesses from all over the world have some level of operations in Dubai. The city’s safe feel, clean streets, extensive freeway systems, and laws which strongly favor business have brought billions upon billions of investment. Everywhere you look there are more high rises being built and freeways being constructed or improved. This investment has brought a good deal of prosperity to the people of Dubai and to the country in general.
Perhaps there is no better example of that prosperity than the Dubai Mall which faces the Dubai Fountain. This labyrinth of a mall is larger than any other free standing, indoor shopping center in the world. Any and every brand you can think of has a store (ok, any brand I can think of; which, granted, is not all that impressive. But the mall is). For a second I thought I had been suddenly transported (yes, that’s a Star Trek reference) back to downtown Bethesda. Halls as big as “normal malls” in the States house 8-9 big box stores, all selling their own version of the same product (clothing, electronics, jewelry, etc). The gold suk area was particularly impressive. Perhaps as many as 50-60 small jewelry shops surrounded a huge domed atrium with lavish pillars, light fixtures, and intricate stone work flooring.
The mall has something for everyone. Besides the shopping there is also a full sized ice skating rink, a three story waterfall, and a huge aquarium. The food court peddles food from around the world, some domestic to the UAE and some not as much (McD’s etc). When I had had my fill of the mall (not a big shopper…), I walked out to the taxi stand to find my way back to the airport.
While on the streets of Dubai it is impossible to ignore the unique architecture of the city. I was told that Dubai boasts more 100-story-plus buildings than any other city in the world (citation: taxi driver). The tops of the buildings are particularly striking. Very few buildings have a flat top. The Burj Dubai comes to a point in an apparent attempt to puncture the moon. Other buildings have rounded tops, curved tops which come to a point on one side, large concrete spheres, or other unique features. These building were not built simply to house business and government. They have created a very unique and interesting city visually as well.
While on the streets of Dubai it is impossible to ignore the unique architecture of the city. I was told that Dubai boasts more 100-story-plus buildings than any other city in the world (citation: taxi driver). The tops of the buildings are particularly striking. Very few buildings have a flat top. The Burj Dubai comes to a point in an apparent attempt to puncture the moon. Other buildings have rounded tops, curved tops which come to a point on one side, large concrete spheres, or other unique features. These building were not built simply to house business and government. They have created a very unique and interesting city visually as well.
Two last thoughts on Dubai. First, organization. Both from the air and on the ground, you get the sense that this city was very thought-out. City signs are clear and plentiful. Roads surrounding the city center are set on a grid and one can easily tell the difference between the business and manufacturing areas of town. Even the way the residential areas are laid out seems very…. logical? They use the space in an economical way while not sacrificing visual appeal. In short, these people know how to build a city (though I obviously wasn’t there for rush hour… who knows what it’s like).
Second, the new airport is truly phenomenal. Completed only seven months ago, it boasts state of the art technology in everything from its computer and information systems, to its elevators and moving sidewalks, to its bathrooms. If you haven’t seen a picture of the airport from the outside, Google it. The Dubai airport out does any airport I have ever been to in almost all respects. It is beautiful, it is user friendly, it is comfortable, it is efficient. Well done.
So that’s Dubai in my three hour, nutshell experience. If you get a chance to go, do it. It impressed me to the point that I think I would rather enjoy living there if fate made it so. I'll get some more pics up soon.... I don't have enough bandwidth to download a picture in under five minutes right now. And, yes, I'll get to Yemen stuff soon. I've got a lot to write.
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