Middle East Interviews

New - Nafud Desert Expedition

Mohammed Sadiq Dawani

Dr Akif Khalil Al-Alousi

Dr Enas Al-Alawi Flys high.

Albert Gayo pulls back ....

Shaikh Sayed Dheya Al Mosawi

Vedat Muratli

Me & My Car

Mahmood Bushehri - Aston Martin

Khalid Busafer - Mustang GT

Achieved Article

James Hogan

Hanna Harwood

Index

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Ritz Carlton Doha Grand yet inviting, The Ritz-Carlton, Doha combines the extravagant opulence with the warmth of a traditional Arabian welcome. Situated on its own exclusive island overlooking the crystal blue waters of the Arabian Gulf...... Check Availability

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Arabian Park Hotel Welcome to your new business address Arabian Park Hotel, Dubai. The Business Hotel with a Five-Star attitude. A refreshing addition to Dubais Profolio of Hotels, Arabian Park Hotel offers new standard in comfort and hospitality with a first class service at an affordable price. This 318 room property - the largest of its category in Dubai - is an quiet city neighborhood yet just five minutes from Dubai international Airport, ten Minutes from Duba..... Check Availability

It all started with an email from Dr Al Rasheed inviting Nick and me to join him on his annual camping expedition to the Nafud desert. With little idea of what we were letting ourselves into we bordered a flight to Riyadh.

Upon landing in Riyadh I slipped on my abaya before disembarking, leaving my magazines for the crew as I was expecting to have them confiscated at customs. But it didn't happen, nor was every woman covered. I grew up in Saudi, and still regularly travel back to the Eastern Province, yet was under the impression that Riyadh was extremely strict about women covering themselves. It didn't appear so.

Let me warn anyone about Riyadh airport – there is nothing to do there! We had to get a connecting flight to Hail, but boarding was quite some time away and we had several hours to kill. As it was a beautiful spring day outside we decided to get a cab to central Riyadh and have a look around. We experienced wide and open roads, and nearer to town there were boulevards that reminded us of Dallas, Texas. Upon entering Riyadh, shops displaying high end brands such as Cartier and Chanel lined both sides of the street, and half dressed mannequins appeared in the windows of the high end fashion shops. It appeared that a Mall was on every street corner.

Luckily for my bank balance it was Friday morning which in Saudi means that all shops were shut. We instead settled for a delicious buffet lunch at one of Riyadh's five star hotels, after which we went for a walk, heading towards the Kingdom Shopping Mall, only to latter turn back before we arrived there. Discretion being the greater part of valour, we realized that we were the only people in the street and judging by the amount of security surrounding the hotel – it was certainly intended to stop something from getting in. The emptiness of the streets I found quite eerie and I began to think of the BBC's Frank Gardner, who I knew, and who had been ambushed, shot at, and left for dead in Riyadh just a few years before, for no other reason than he was a westerner in the wrong place at the wrong time. We quickly strolled back to hotel to get a cab back to the airport and board our internal flight to Hail.

Back at the airport we met up with a fellow camping companion, Peter Harrigan, a close friend of Dr Al Rasheed for years, and extremely knowledgeable about the region.

The flight to Hail was chaotic – hysterical even. Passengers sat where ever they wanted and argued with the crew. Babies were screaming. One chap even got out of his seat and walked down the aisle insisting on being served a coffee as we were about to take off! Of course our seats had been taken so we ended up in the back, behind a nanny and 3 children who kept passing rancid wind throughout the 45 minute journey.

We landed gasping for fresh air and to a disorganised little airport that looked like a throwback from the 70's. Dr Mohammad was waiting for us outside and after a big hug we clambered into his Toyota Land Cruiser and set off for the desert. Hail was exactly how I remember Damman as a child. It was almost as if we had entered a time warp.

Just before entering the desert we stopped to reduce the air in the tyres which makes off road driving easier. There was no moon so it was pitch dark. At times the journey was quite nerve racking as Mohammad navigated his way around and down the dunes. At one point he momentarily lost control and we hit a dune – I really thought we were going to topple over. We had blown a tyre which had contributed to the near accident but we soldiered on. Mohammed being the perfect host he decided that as there was only another eleven kilometres to go he would not inconvenience us by stopping to change the tyre, resulting in it's total destruction by the time we reached camp.

The Camp.

Now I know that there's camping and then there's 'camping in style'. I was hoping for the latter and had visions of a camp with beautiful Arabic tents, beds with goose down duvets and evenings spent sat in comfortable chairs beside a large fire.

Arriving at the camp quickly dispelled any fantasies I had of luxury as there was absolutely nothing luxurious about it. No tents, no protection against the cold, and certainly no comfortable chairs surrounding a campfire - and it was freezing. There was a makeshift kitchen which consisted of a metal camping table and some cooking pots. A rather pathetic looking fire burned away with even more pathetic looking chairs surrounding it and a large Persian rug spread out between the 'kitchen' and campfire, which was to be our dinning room for the next five days - and the great desert twenty paces in any direction from the camp was to be our bathroom.

The best was kept for last - our beds. Mohammad motioned over to sleeping bags lying on the sand. Instantly the phrase - 'you've got to be kidding?' entered my mind. He wasn't! Granted the sleeping bags were lined with sheep's wool and supposed to be waterproof. But obviously the guy who had designed them had never suffered from claustrophobia as you were suppose to zip yourself into the bags like a cocoon. Thankfully I was too cold and tired to say anything – personally a first.

Mohammad handed me a sheep skin traditional Arabic desert coat and introduced us to Natasha, his Siberian husky, and his three staff that would be doing the cooking and cleaning – well at least that was something!

The first night was spent curled up in the foetus position and shivering and mentally counting down the days I had left. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so cold. Even more annoyingly Nick fell asleep within seconds of crawling into his bag. I wanted to kick him awake so he could at least suffer with me but I was too cold to even unzip my bag.

Early morning I finally had to crawl out to find a bush – It was freezing and I was actually hyperventilating from the cold by the time I managed to crawl back into my bag. At least I didn't need to worry about creepy crawlies because they're not stupid and would all be hibernating, no doubt in very cozy little holes. And I called this a holiday?

Day 2.

My sour mood was quickly forgotten upon my awaking soon after sunrise. I will never forget the spectacular beauty that greeted me as I unzipped my bag and poked my head out. It was breathtaking, this time not from the cold but from the sheer majesty of the desert.

It was magical. Wide open views with hills and valley's, in various shades of yellow and reds, the pale blue sky, the frost on the sand (and my sleeping bag) sparkling like diamonds. Rolling red dunes in front of me, behind me and beside me. And the silence, something most of us are not used to, was "deafening". I revelled in the vastness and simplicity of my surroundings, enjoying a nature that so few people – expats or Saudi's, have the pleasure to experience despite it being on our doorstep.

I noted, with pleasure, that there was not a single telegraph pole insight. Our standard mobile phones did not work here and our only means of communication with the outside world was via a satellite phone.

I staggered out of my sleeping bag looking like a cave-woman. After splashing myself with surprise, surprise, ice cold water and putting on two tee-shirts, two sweaters, a fleece and a jacket – I felt human again and joined the rest of the party around the camp fire. A piping hot coffee and a cheese toasty with spring onion was thrust into my hands. The day had begun!

That first day was spent around the camp fire swapping stories, laughing, discussing theology, philosophy and politics. Each subject was intensely debated.

It was the first time in years that we have lounged around for so long and not got bored or felt guilty about doing nothing. We spent our time exploring, eating, sipping ginger teas and coffee, and talking. Every night we looked forward to our dinner which was laid out like a banquet consisting of traditional Arabic food, salads and stews finished off with a piece of chocolate. Bed time was usually around nine pm as we generally woke up as the sun rose.

I surprised myself by just how much pleasure we got from simple things such as taking long walks, getting water from the well, shopping for supplies in the very basic but nearest village to us. There was not one hour that we felt bored.

Would I do it again? Most defiantly I can't remember when I enjoyed myself or laughed so much and there are so many stories that I would've loved to have shared with our readers!

It was one of my best experiences of my life. On our return to civilisation and life back in Bahrain, we immediately appreciated things we had always taken for granted. Taking a shower was bliss, crawling into bed without the desert getting in with you was a luxury. Nick and I giggled like kids as we bored everyone who'd listen about our camping trip to Saudi Arabia.

The Bedouin Camp.

We did have an unexpected visitor on our third day. A Bedo and his young son just turned up out of the blue during breakfast so we invited them to join us and in return we were invited to his majalis that evening. Peter, Nick, Mandour and I took him up on his offer.

Our host for the evening lived on a hill over looking the rest of the camp and spent his evenings in a black camel haired tent. On a little wooden cabinet was a set of four Arabic coffee pots but other than that there was nothing else but some large comfortable cushions, and a real fire. There are five families living in this particular camp.

Mandour translated for us as he spoke to Abu Moussa and Moussa (his little boy). All the children were taught five days a week until the age of twelve by a government supplied teacher. Holidays were the same as any other school in Saudi and girls married around the age of seventeen. Unless the children decided to move into the towns once they were old enough – which was becoming the norm, their future was looking after and selling their livestock and living off the desert. Overall the Bedouins are respected in Saudi society and left alone.

At one point Moussa's three year old sister was dragged in by him to join us. She looked at us as if we were Martians, ran over to her father and burst into tears then disappeared – it was very cute. Moussa then wanted to show me his favourite camel and with a very authoritive voice called out for him. The Bedouins have a great respect for animals and know every part of their own herd's right down to the hoof print and whose they are. The previous week Abu Moussa had been forced to kill a wolf that had strayed into their camp because it had killed ten of their goats but other than that – they only killed to survive.

At which point he insisted on slaughtering a sheep for us to eat but we graciously turned his offer down and with the amount of tea and coffee he made us consume – I wouldn't have found the space anyway. But before we left Mandour gave Moussa a torch and Nick gave him his business card as that was the only thing he had on him. We have never seen a father and son so excited to receive both. We set of to try and find our camp which turned out to be more like the theme from Hotel California because in what ever direction we headed of in - we ended up back at the camp we'd just left. Finally we navigated our way home and I spent the rest of the night re-hydrating the desert.

The night it hailed in Hail!

Every night sleeping under the stars was a truly magical experience. The sky was so clear at times it felt like you could just pluck them out of the sky. During our five nights of sleeping outside we experienced the extreme cold as temperatures dipped to minus four – I told you it was cold, it drizzled and most mornings we woke up to see our sleeping bags covered in frost. But the third night will be one night I will never forget.

As we chatted around the campfire a bitter wind suddenly picked up and we all decided to retire to bed early so that we could admire the stars. By this stage I really thought I had cracked it and learnt how to stay warm. It only took polyester leggings and top, polyester sweat pants, socks, two more tee-shirts, a polyester night dress, a fleece, a beanie and my wool lined coat – yes I had turned into the polyester queen – courtesy of the village shop. I smugly slipped into my bag convinced that tonight would be the night that I would sleep like a fat cat in-front of a fire.

Oh boy how wrong could I be? Just as I was dozing off I felt a drop of rain on my cheek and then the most incredible thunder storm and lightening lit up the sky – not to be deterred and over coming my claustaphobia - I zipped myself completely up into my bag like a cocoon convinced that we were going to get struck by lightening.

The next minute I felt ice cold water trickling down my neck, soaking into my clothes. My legs were also wet. Not only was it hailing the size of ball bearings but the water was leaking into my sleeping bag through holes. I shouted to Nick finally there was a God because yes he was a wake and it was happening to him too. I jumped up so quickly that I managed to loose my socks and beanie in the process. I scooped up my bag and ran in the hail towards the land cruiser. I threw myself at the passenger's door only for it to feel like a scene from a bad horror movie. I heard myself scream "It's locked …nooooo." I frantically ran around to all the doors and the boot. Just as I was on verge of despair I saw a light flicker in the second land cruiser. It was Peter taking pictures of the storm. I threw myself on the bonnet pleading with him to let me. Really I should've just gone and open the passengers door but it all added to the drama.

Nick and I spent the rest of the night curled up wearing soggy clothes in the boot of the land cruiser. I kid you not – he was asleep within seconds while I spent the rest of the night trying to stop my legs from going dead from the cold. In the morning half the camp hadn't even been aware of the storm and slept through the lot.

Rebecca Cooksey