Did you know Abu Dhabi is the safest city in the world?
Remember how I said Dubai is third? Ya… apparently Abu Dhabi is number one. Now I have to find out number two.
Hmmm…
On the day of our departure, I met the Madventures tour group at 8am at a hotel in Dubai. It was a little daunting. Actually, not a little at all… a whole lot. I couldn’t help but wonder what everyone was going to be like…
Would they like me?
Would I like them?
Either way, I’d be stuck with them for 59 days… and them with me.
Well… to be honest, the tour group wasn’t exactly what I’d envisioned. Not that I really knew what to envision, or what I had envisioned. But anything I’d had in my head, was not what it was.
Everyone was old.
Older, I should say.
Much older.
Some even elderly.
One man is literally a grey yellow colour. He looks like he’s knocking on nicotine’s death door.
I had NOT planned on such a geriatric group.
I sound mean.
I am mean.
If you think about it though, I guess the age group does make some sense. It’s multi-month, budget travel, right? Who can get away for months at a time?
Retirees.
It’s a bit of a rarity for anyone between the ages of 30-55 to be able to take months at a time off work. But on the other hand, I’d never expected that age group to sign up for a multi-month camping tour. I’ll admit, I was a bit disappointed. I’d expected more of a range of ages.
Get this. I’m the fourth youngest… and I’m the only one in my 50’s.
There are 21 people onboard - not including the guides.
~ 1 person in their 30’s.
~ 2 people in their 40’s.
~ Me.
~ And the remainder of the tour are in their 60’s & 70’s.
Eeeeek…
Double eeeek.
Anyway…
I don’t know about anyone else’s intuition, but I’m pretty dam good at knowing, immediately, who is going to be high maintenance… who is going to ask all the foolish questions… who’s going to have issues…. It’s usually pretty evident from the word go.
Rarely am I wrong.
The onset of this trip was no exception to the rule. I knew…
** Instead of describing each person right off the bat, I will probably introduce them as they become relevant in my ‘adventure.’
You’ve already heard about Yellow. His skin is yellow… or maybe more of a grey/brown/yellow. He’s a smoker (hence the yellow), he’s German and he’s probably around 76, if I had to hazard a guess. He doesn’t speak English, nor does he speak to anyone… and most of the time, looks like “here” is the last place he wants to be. His abnormally skinny wife spends the majority of her time either taking photos out the window of a moving truck (those always end up being nice photos, eh?) or catering to his every fancy. I think her name is Ursula, but I call her Thin Lizzy. She’s alarmingly thin. Fragile. Skin and bones.
Rosanna, our guide, seems very lovely. She has a kind face and an enthusiastic spirit. I like her.
The driver is Martin, but I haven’t really spoken to him yet. So far, he seems very distracted and quite irritated by us. They are both from the UK and are both as new to this route as I am.
They have been on this overlander since the truck left the UK… and by the time the full tour finishes, they will have been working every single day for almost a year.
You can tell they are exhausted.
It’s a bit unfortunate that we’ve joined the tour when both the guide and the driver seem worn out… but hopefully, the energy picks up as we go along.
I’ve latched onto an Irish girl, Denise, and she’s now set to be my bestie, whether she likes it or not, for the next 59 days.
The vehicle is not as big as the overlander trucks I was on in Africa… or maybe it is… but I think there are more people onboard here.
I don’t know.
The truck’s name is Marianne, and like the other overland trips I’ve done, we all have to change seats every day. So I’m sure I’ll get to know everyone very well in no time, as dreadful as that just might be.
The tour has been going since Istanbul and most everybody before us on the bus has come through China, the Stans, Iran… and they have now made their way to pick us up. They lost some passengers along the way, and, of course, all of us newbies jumped on in Dubai. It’s been a little bit of a transition for the original crew accepting us into the fold… and naturally, it’s a little uncomfortable for us trying to fit in.
Some of them weren’t as inviting as I would’ve imagined they’d be... to put it mildly. You know what they say about first impressions… you don’t get a second chance.
A couple of them just seemed miserable. Eyeing us all up. Well… so was I, to be fair… eyeing them up, that is. Not miserable. Not miserable yet, anyway.
Our first stop was at a Mangrove Park, just outside of Abu Dhabi and pretty much smack dab in the middle of nowhere. A mangrove oasis in a desert. I tried to take some interesting photos, but failed miserably. It was just boring… and unphotographable unless you’re a birder or a mangrove fanatic. Denise, myself and a lady named Marilyn did the mangrove circuit quickly and then headed back to the café to take advantage of the air conditioning.
It’s hot here.
We rolled into Abu Dhabi early afternoon and although the check-in process was somewhat tumultuous, it eventually sorted itself out and we were assigned our rooms for the next couple of days.
I was sharing with Karen, from New Zealand.
As soon as Rosanna said our names together, I felt a wave of disappointment roll over me. My heart sank. She just seemed… so… mean…
*But… more about Karen in a bit.
Once we were organized, the majority of us set off to see the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque.
The Middle Easterners sure do love their malls here. You just can’t get away from them. They’re everywhere. The entrance to the mosque was an underground mall.
So… get this… the mosque was free to enter.
Absolutely free.
Free.
BUT… first… you had to go online to the official mosque website and register yourself in order to receive a scannable QR code to get through the entrance.
Ok…
There were no ticket booths. It all had to be done online. Simple enough… for someone with WIFI or data. Not me.
For reasons unbeknownst to me, Airolo could not sell me an eSIM while I was in the UAE. I have to wait until I cross into another country before I can purchase one. I resigned myself to be ok with no data… and equally ok relying on free hotel/mall wifi until we crossed the border into Oman. Most malls offer a free wifi connection anyway… but, my luck, not this one.
The entrance was moderately frenzied. Surrounded by crowds of tourists and locals eager to enter the mosque, we were desperate to regroup with a group of essentially strangers, hoping to find someone with mobile data who could access the site and download the codes we all needed to gain entry.
Finally Marilyn managed to get online and registered six tickets for the lot of us standing together.
We joined the alleged line up, though it was less a line and more a hectic mob, slowly shuffling forward along with the rest of the crowd. I finally reached the front, smiled at the security and moved forward to walk in through the gates.
Denied.
The security guard held up his hand to indicate I was to go no further. My outfit was too inappropriate.
What??
I looked myself up & down… trying to figure out what was wrong with me. It was my pants. I was wearing leggings.
Dammit.
No tight pants…
Wish I’d known.
You know me and my tight pants.
We were told to bring a scarf to cover our hair, but nothing else. I’ve never visited a mosque before… so how would I have known? I should have done my research into mosque proper attire.
My fault.
But… surely… after months of Muslim countries and mosques, someone could have given me the heads up.
Nope.
I was waved off and told to change before I’d be permitted inside. I could hardly hold up the crew, so I quickly took a photo of my free entry QR code and retreated to purchase myself something more appropriate.
Stores were everywhere, unsurprising, given that it was a mall. One might assume there would be numerous options for renting an abaya… and there likely were… but I had neither the time nor the inclination to sift through a multitude of shops in search of a bargain.
I stopped at the first place I saw. As soon as I turned around, they were waving me over, determined to sell the stupid tourist (me) an abaya, for the low, low price of 100 dirhams. Cheaper than doing laundry in Dubai, but that price seemed atrocious to me, considering by this time, I was fairly dialed in (somewhat) to approximate pricing. 100 dirham for a cheap black robe was out of the question.
I was starting to walk away when they produced a much cheaper version. It was still around $20 Canadian, but it would have to do. I threw it over myself and made my way back through the mob.
The abaya was a long, black robe with a simple gold embroidery design along the collar, the cuffs and the hood. The hood was slightly pointed, which made me look like something out of Harry Potter or worse… the Grim Reaper.
Praise be.
Having been in a tizzy to rush off and buy an abaya, I’d take a pretty crap photo of my QR code. Blurry… and entirely un-scannable.
Again… my fault.
The guard kept trying to scan it, unsuccessfully… and each time it gave that horrible wail of denial, he would eye me up with suspicion… like I was trying to pull the wool over his eyes… and scam my way in.
It’s FREE to get in.
I repeat… Free.
Oh my hell… this excursion was beginning to turn into a nightmare. Finally something tweaked and I was beeped in. I was nearing my breaking point.
The frustrating part was the excessive amount of security checks inside, ensuring everyone had their QR code. At each check point, I had to explain my fuzzy photo and endure long wait times and suspicious looks until I was cleared to continue.
And again… it’s FREE to be there.
The mosque was breathtakingly beautiful and I’m glad I successfully jumped through each hoop. Stunning. Spectacular.
Dreamlike.
It reminded me of the Taj Mahal … although I’ve never been there.
Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque is an architectural masterpiece that blends traditional Islamic design with modern construction techniques. It is one of the largest mosques in the world and a central place of worship in the UAE.
Intricate floral designs, coloured marble, chandeliers crafted from Swarovski crystals… it’s truly majestic. If you have to see one mosque, this might be the one to see… but then again, this is my first.
“Designed to embody a message of peace, tolerance, and cultural harmony, the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque is not only a marvel of Islamic architecture but also a global symbol of inclusivity and spiritual unity.”
Security was everywhere. No one misses a beat in this country. You can’t get away with anything here.
Denise and I were wandering around taking photos and I raised my hands for one photo and one of the guards was ON me… demanding I delete that photo. He even loomed over my phone while I deleted my deleted photo. Of course, I had to ask why I was not permitted to raise my hands in joy.
When did euphoria become a crime?
He said it is insulting in some cultures.
Ok.
The photo is gone… never to be seen again.
The United Arab Emirates is predominantly a dry country but if you seek, ye shall find… and wine, we did find. It was overpriced crap but still worth the splurge to relax & get to know a couple people in the group.
We decided to do a stroll down the iconic, bustling Corniche street after our wine. Rebecca, an older Indian woman joined us. We thought we’d find something for dinner along the way as someone had mentioned he’d read there were vendors along the boardwalk. It was mostly cafés and ice cream, so we settled on finding a nearby Indian restaurant. It seemed a good idea because Rebecca told us she was a vegetarian. Indian food is phenomenal for vegetarian options.
She specifically said, “I don’t eat meat.”
Ok.
Me neither… anymore.
The Corniche was alive with activity. Loads of people out walking and biking, families having picnics. I almost got hit by a couple bikes and scooters.
And… back to Karen…
At first she wasn’t too bad. My plan was to kill her with kindness. Its not like she did anything horrible or anything… but there was just no over abundance of amiability. The entire two days I roomed with her, all she did was sleep and watch TV… at a disturbingly loud volume, that usually drove me out of the room. We didn’t exactly bond.
To sum up her attitude and how I reacted to it… she’s intimidating. The following morning, I went down for breakfast and I was scared to sit with her, so I sat alone.
Frightening.
Denise and I planned to spend the day exploring the city. Rebecca happened to be at our table when we discussed our plans. She mentioned she intended to wander around on her own, so we extended an invitation for her to join us, which she accepted. While I understand the importance of making others feel included, having her along proved to be a challenge. We walked so much that day… and she often struggled to keep pace, making the experience more arduous than anticipated.
She’s quite short, so maybe that was the problem. Short legs.
It actually became quite aggravating. She is also hard to communicate with. Had I been her, I would’ve said ‘peace out’ and jumped in a taxi back to the hotel. I have a feeling she’s not too comfortable doing things on her own. Ya… these tours are great for convenience, but a lot of people that book them are far from independent.
Abu Dhabi has the most incredible piece of art, the Founder’s Memorual. It is tribute to the late Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan, the founding father of the United Arab Emirates.
”It is a three-dimensional portrait of Sheikh Zayed created using 1,327 suspended geometric shapes illuminated by lights. These shapes form a striking image of Sheikh Zayed when viewed from certain angles, symbolizing his enduring presence and legacy.”
We were all taking photos in front of it… and after the usual ones were taken, it was time to take some rather fun photos. Right? Had to be done…
Well fun didn’t happen.
No fun permitted.
I discovered that it’s disrespectful to take a photo with a fan and to also take a photo while twirling. In my defence, I don’t normally take photos while I’m traveling, but I was wearing a long dress and Denise suggested I try it out.
Serious no no.
So…
~ No fans.
~ No arms in the air.
~ No twirling.
Got it.
I’m always in trouble!
The security here is ON IT. No wonder there’s no litter. As soon as it would hit the ground, someone would be there to yell at you.
Our original intention was to visit the Presidential Palace, but it was closed for a private event. I’d tried to do a little research into whether or not we could take photos from outside the gate while it was closed… and the answer seemed to be yes.
It was a no.
A very firm, get-out-of-here no.
We were, however, permitted to enter the lobby of the prestigious and luxurious Mandarin Oriental Emirates Palace hotel though. It’s a SEVEN STAR hotel. I didn’t even know they went up from five.
I couldn’t help but wonder… what makes a 7 star?
And are there 8 star hotels? 9?
This is what I found out when I did a bit of research…
The term “7-star hotel” is not an official designation or part of the global hotel rating system, which typically caps at 5 stars. Instead, it is a marketing term or a colloquial label used to describe hotels that go far beyond the standard of 5-star luxury. To be regarded as a “7-star” hotel, a property would need to meet and exceed several exceptional criteria:
1. Exquisite Design and Architecture ~ Unique and iconic architecture that becomes a landmark. Opulent interiors featuring rare and luxurious materials like gold, crystal, and marble.
2. Exceptional Service Standards ~ A high staff-to-guest ratio, often exceeding 2:1. Personalized services, such as private butlers, on-demand chauffeurs and tailored experiences.
3. Exclusive Amenities ~ Unrivalled features like private pools, helipads, exclusive suites or villas. High-end wellness centres, Michelin-starred restaurants, and cutting-edge technology in every room.
4. Location and Accessibility ~ Situated in prime, desirable locations. Convenient access through private jets, yachts or VIP transport.
5. Cultural and Experiential Uniqueness ~ Offering once-in-a-lifetime experiences that reflect the culture or uniqueness of the location.
6. Unmatched Privacy and Security ~ Discreet accommodations catering to VIPs, royalty and celebrities.
7. Reputation and Branding ~ Earning a reputation for over-delivering on luxury through reviews, word of mouth, and global media.
Well… wouldn’t that be nice…
I can probably safely say that I will never be a guest there.
It’s hot here. I need more dresses.
I bought a beautiful new dress when I was in Casablanca. I think it’s beautiful. It is fairly pretty. For someone who’s been dressing so scantily lately… in my tight tight pants, I figured it would be a safe choice to wear for the day. It’s a long dress, with long sleeves… and it’s got a teal design very similar to that of the Von Trapp family’s play clothes. It doesn’t twirl very well, but I love it.
I wore it for my entire Abu Dhabi exploration day.
When Denise & I got back to the hotel, we headed up to the roof to check out the pool. A few of our group were lounging on the deck chairs and one of them was a British lady, Sue.
She took one look at me and exclaimed “Oh, did they make you buy THAT too?”
What?
How rude!
My dress was thoroughly insulted. As was I.
She was Implying that I, once again, was out & about, inappropriately dressed, and some random official had forced me to purchase my beautiful dress.
Well… I like it.
But now I’m obviously slightly insecure about wearing it.
That evening, we attended a “welcome” dinner at an Egyptian restaurant. Not particularly hungry, I initially settled on a simple plate of falafel. However, the waiter, brimming with enthusiasm, managed to persuade me to try a vegetarian dish he highly recommended, insisting it was exceptional.
Curious, I asked if it included falafel and baba ghanoush.
“Yes!”
No…
My meal was a large bowl of rice, spaghetti and penne topped with chickpeas and fried onions. Carb overload nightmare. And yes… it did come with falafel and baba ghanoush, but at an additional cost. I hardly even touched my meal and the price was through the roof!
As the waiter served our table, he leaned over to place a dish in front of Rebecca. My eyes could not believe it… a enormous cut of meat that resembled a sizeable leg of lamb.
“Nooooo!”
I leapt forward, trying to wave off the dish. It was clearly a mistake, as Rebecca was a vegetarian. How rude and utterly appalling to place a massive cut of meat in front of her.
Both her and the waiter shot me a look of pure confusion as she accepted the plate in front of her.
“Aren’t you a vegetarian?”
“No.”
“Yesterday you told me you were a vegetarian.”
“No…. I was a vegetarian yesterday.”
Ok.
My bad.
I didn’t know it was a day-to-day decision.
There are definitely some characters in our group and personalities are beginning to shine through, although it’s only been less than 48 hours.
Time will tell.
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