A Weekend in Yemen
Yemen Travel Blog› entry 3 of 3 › view all entries
April 28th, 2009 – by: beckywicks
Landing in Sanaâ€™a, it was obvious that we were somewhereâ€¦ letâ€™s say special. Organised chaos at the airport meant it took an hour to get our visas and through immigration, but we were soon collected in a clapped-out taxi and driven to our hotel: the Sanaâ€™a Nights Tourist Hotel, to be precise. The people of Yemen like to confirm their hotels are for tourists. And tourists stand out, if not for their milky skin and protruding telephoto lenses, for their wide-eyed stares and flapping guppy mouths.
Like me, who was warned against wearing my latest flowing dress purchase from Goa â€“ bright blue and covered in swirling flowers â€“ most female tourists stay concealed beneath scarves and abayas, but itâ€™s advisable to go with it, out of respect. This is after all, a strict Muslim country. We rarely saw a woman who wasnâ€™t covering everything but her eyeballs.
Sanaâ€™a, if youâ€™ve never cared to Google it, sits within a mountain range and thus endures the temperamental forces of Mother Nature. One minute the sky is sapphire blue, the next itâ€™s an ominous gray, showering hailstones the size of marbles on your head. Itâ€™s a city forgotten by time, yet time has taken its toll; it dates back to the Sabaean dynasty of the 6th Century BC and its multi-storey buildings of clay line the cobbled streets like gingerbread houses â€“ icing sugar paint outlining every, tiny window.
The city has been inhabited for more than 2,500 years and wandering its streets felt a bit like exploring a living fairytale. The characters are all here too â€“ Hansel and Gretel wearing dungarees and smiles caked in grime run at you from doorways, scattering chickens and startling donkeys in their paths. The scary grandma sits huddled over piles of ripe tomatoes, her face, (what can be seen of it), contorted with a cheek-full of khat â€“ a leaf that supposedly acts as an amphetamine-like stimulant, a bit like caffeine but Iâ€™m not too sure. It tastes like what it is, really â€“ leaves.
It was pointed out, quite rightly, that when other ancient civilizations were battling with stones and grunting, there were people here in Yemen building and living in multi-storey houses. Kind of puts things into architectural perspective.
As we left the madness of Sanaâ€™a with our local guide, Ahmed, the pages of our fairytale kept turning. We wove our way along perilous mountain roads in a 4x4, like a modern Jack climbing his beanstalk into the sky, and stopped to take pictures of entire villages cast into mountainsides. The ancient walls looked a lot like they might fall at any moment, yet children continued to race and play tag in their colourful, doll-style clothing, squishing up against the bricks, chasing bedraggled goats, dragging the hands of weary mothers from shop-front, to food-stall, never once fearing their world might suddenly crumble. Sort of made me wonder whether people will be running around The Palm like this, 2500 years from now. Even if it wonâ€™t be ten feet under water and covered in the skeletons of long-extinct polar bears, is anything in Dubai being built to last, like this?
One of the most impressive sights was most definitely the Dar al Hajar, or the â€śRock Palaceâ€ť. Constructed on top of a humungous boulder, this awesome building was once the summer haunt of the powerful Imam. Itâ€™s a bit of a favorite destination for Yemeni families, as well as tourists, although the local kids followed us around like we were famous members of a pop group (great for the ego â€“ Yemen). "Surrah, surrah!â€ť they shout: â€śTake a picture, take a photo!â€ť So I did. About 800, actually â€“ although I cut them down for my albums (a bit).
Stunning architecture aside, it was the people who made this weekend adventure what it was, really. Iâ€™ve never encountered such amazing hospitality. At the hotel we were treated to a private dance performance (no, not like that, filth-wizards, think daggers and dish-dash swirling on a bright red carpet) and at the end of the trip, Ahmed, our guide, took us to his house to sample tea and his wifeâ€™s homemade cake. Yummy.
We saw no physical violence in Yemen, although we definitely saw guns. We never felt anything but welcomed, safe, respected and altogether absolutely awe-struck. From the gingerbread houses to the mischievous glints in the childrenâ€™s eyes, I think Yemen is one fairy story everyone should add to their collection.
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