Aden,
Yemen
February 26 - 29, 2008
by KT
Yemen may not be on any
top 10 lists, and granted I probably wouldn't use my two weeks vacation
to go there, but it is one of the most intriguing places we have been.
I found Aden to be beyond anything I could imagine, from the scenery to
the people, it is one of the those countries that sparks curiosity.
February 26, 2008
I loved the coastline as we approached the Aden harbour. Dry desert
mountains shot up from the water, with dirty white and sand colored
houses built into their sides. There wasn't a spec of color to be seen. This may sound drab, but I found it just the opposite, perhaps because
it was the way the houses seemed to be a part of the mountains, or the
rugged lines of the mountains themselves, or the very uniqueness of such
plainness, or maybe it's just because having grown up in Arizona I'm a
desert girl at heart. The one thing about Aden however, is that
everything looks better from afar. From the water you can't see that the
buildings are crumbling, old, and dirty, and from the mountains you
can't see that the water is a sick unnatural green color.
It was a huge relief to reach Aden. The last three passages
(Thailand-Maldives, Maldives-Oman, and Oman-Yemen) had been tough. It
seemed we have been living in a constant state of wetness, boat repairs,
sea sickness, and fatigue.
The first order of business upon arriving (after showering of course)
was the check-in. This was the first country where we had been told we
might need some baksheesh. Baksheesh is a form of tipping, or bribing,
depending on how you view it. While Westerners probably see it more as a
bribe, it is commonplace in this part of the world, and I'm sure they
think of it more as a tip. With officials it will usually start with the
official asking if you brought him a "present". Now, you can say no, and
sometimes they'll just shrug and life will go on with no problem, but
usually if you don't come up with something life suddenly becomes more
difficult; paperwork might be lost or delayed, officials might find it's
time for their lunch break, and so on. Since a pack of cigarettes or a
few dollars usually satisfies, it doesn't seem worth the hassle to say
no.
The
harbor is sectioned off from the city by a large wall. To enter
and exit one must present their shore visa at the gate.
Photography around the harbor is also usually frowned upon. Much
of this security was put in place after the US Navy war ship, Cole, was
bombed some years back. (Photo right: the
guarded entrance gate)
The minute we stepped ashore a number of people approached offering
taxis, tours, diesel, laundry, and other such services. It was a little
overwhelming, but also entertaining. All the men were friendly, and none
were the slight bit put off when we said no (although they didn't really
take no for an answer, instead they'd just say, "okay no problem,
tomorrow then?"). The check-in turned out to be one of the fastest, and
easiest that we have ever been through. The immigration officer was
extremely friendly, although it's a little discerning to turn over your
passport to be held in such an unsecured office, especially when the
officer informs you to double check your passport photo when you
check-out has he may accidentally give you back the wrong passport!!! (As it turns out, one boat we know was stuck in Aden as another cruiser
had indeed sailed off with the wrong passport). Customs was just as
easy, and we got away without having to hand out a gift.
We then set out walking, looking for an ATM and dinner. We had read in
one of the guidebooks that Aden is much poorer then Salalah. At the time
we had wondered what about Aden made the author write that. It took
about 30 seconds out on the street to understand - there was no doubt
Aden is a poor city. Everything is run down, and not just slightly, I'm
talking full-on falling apart. Every car looks as though it's been in a
demolition derby, every building looks as though it is minutes from
collapsing, and everything is a dingy grey or brown color. The desert
climate doesn't help, as it leaves a layer of dust covering every
surface. What was a real surprise though was not the poorness but the
friendliness of the people. I couldn't believe it when people shouted
across the street "Hello! Welcome to Aden". Horns honked and hands waved
as cars drove by. Everywhere people seemed to smile at us.
It turns out there is no ATM within easy walking distance, but we
managed to exchange a few American dollars at one of the small shops. As
many of the stores didn't have signs, and any signs that did exist were
in Arabic, finding anything required window shopping. After a bit of
walking around we settled on a place to eat. Eight of us were given
three menus, with pretty poor translation, which made ordering a bit of
a fiasco. All part of the fun of a new country. We stuffed ourselves
until it was painful - Chris and I gorging on the fresh pita bread and
homemade hummus (along with our dinner of roasted chicken, kebabs, and
salads). Then we waddled back to the boats for a much looked forward to
full nights rest.
And that's when we discovered a whole new side to the Arabs. The
Seaman's Club (which we thought would be patronized by mostly
white-foreigner-folk, but turns out draws a huge local crowd), gets
going around midnight. That is it STARTS the loud music and dancing at
midnight and continues until about 4am. I couldn't believe it, and
recognized that I was surely getting older as I kept thinking "Who the
hell STARTS the party at midnight, and how can they stand the music that
loud??". I swear the speakers must've been aimed at the anchorage, it
was so unbelievably loud. To top it all off, it wasn't even good music. No offense against Arab music, but I just wasn't digging it. Finally,
when I realized it wasn't going to end at any respectful hour, I dug out
an ear plug and managed to get some sleep.
February 27, 2008
We spent the morning doing odd projects around the boat (aka fixing
stuff) and cleaning up another round of salt and sand. Late in the
afternoon we headed ashore for a trip to the shopping center, where it
was reported there was a LuLu's supermarket (ah, the things that excite
us). One of the locals at the gate offered a taxi ride for 1,000 local
(about $5.00), however you can hire a taxi/guide for $5.00/hour, and the
shopping center was reportedly less than 20 minutes away - so this did
not seem like a good deal to us, nor was he willing to negotiate his
price. We headed out looking to find our own taxi. We finally came
across a van and he was willing to take all eight of us for 400 (the
first guy would've been 1000 per car which only holds four). As it is
said, half of the adventure is the journey itself. Our driver had no
clue where we were going, nor did he speak English. He ended up driving
us around the town (which was actually quite entertaining) and yelling
out his window to various people on the street who would then yell
directions back to him! We did at last find the mall, and didn't even
have to pay extra for the extended tour.
Inside the shopping mall is a huge contrast to the rest of Aden; it is
clean, sparkling white, and very modern looking (motion sensor
escalators and everything). But there isn't much for content. A lot of
clothing shops, with designs that I'm not even sure I could begin to
describe, a food court, and the LuLu's grocery store.
We had four goals: atm, ice cream (Baskin Robbins if you can believe
it), internet, and grocery shopping. Priorities first, we took off
looking for the Baskin Robbins. The mall was some funky design with what
seemed like maze of halls; nothing like the simple circle shapes of
American malls. In addition it is, of course, all in Arabic. So it took
us all of two minutes before we were lost. But in our lost-ness we did
come across a Kodak shop, where the eight of us proceeded to baffle and
entertain the local shop clerk as we all decided to get passport photos
taken. You'd think we would've been clever enough to ask the English
speaking women who took our photos where either the Baskin-Robbins or an
ATM was, but oh no we just aren't that clever.
We ran into three 40-ish local men. One approached asking if he could
take a photo. Becky said of course, but the men were looking at me and
he said, "with her", pointing at me. Oh boy I thought. Well, I have no
problem with it so I stood by one of the men while another lined up the
shot. I am sure I was blushing bright red as my gang laughed at the
scene (Becky and Gordon kept tell me I should ask them for some
baksheesh for the photo!). In these countries I never know how to
"behave", normally I'd just throw my arms over the shoulder of whoever
is next to me, but in a country where females don't even talk to strange
men on the street, let alone touch them, I tend to be a bit
conservative, so I just stood shoulder to shoulder, arms at my side,
attempting to be as proper as possible. After the first photo, the man
behind the camera asked "one with me?" Sure, why not. When I stood next
to him he put his arm around me (nothing rude), so what the heck I
thought, and I threw my arm around his shoulder. The third guy ran in to
be in the photo, so up went my other arm (oh boy I thought, for sure
they think I'm a big 'ol slut now). Well, the first guy (who was now
taking the photo) seemed to realize he was missing out, so he asked for
one more photo, where he too put his arm around me. They were very
friendly, but it was still a strange experience. I wish I could pop into
their minds for just a moment - how do they see this white girl whose
showing her hair, face, and <gasp> wrists, willing to take a photo with
strange men while her husband watches???
It took a few more minutes of aimlessly walking around to find the ATMs. With eight of us together we were quite a site for the locals and the
men standing nearby couldn't help but wander over to check out what all
these white-folk were doing. Of course the last thing you want when
punching in your super secret ATM code is a bunch of people looking over
your shoulder! We were double lucky in finding the ATMs, as right across
from them was the Baskin Robbins. We practically ran over to it, and
must've looked downright pathetic when we discovered it was closed. As
if in denial we just stared into the window ... eight white tourist
hovering around the Baskin Robbin store window practically crying with
disappointment. Either because we looked so desperate, or maybe it
appeared as though we would bust through the store window at any moment,
one of the mall security guards came over and told us that he believed
it would be open in a minute, that the worker had just gone to the
bathroom. Ahh were we ever relieved.
Having wised up since our last encounter with an English speaking local,
I asked the man if there was an internet cafe in the mall. Not only was
there one, but he offered to escort us there. Turns out our new friend
was from Egypt and had only lived in Yemen for the last three years. He
seemed pleased enough to learn we were from America and Canada. The
internet cafe looked hi-tech enough, but was dog-slow, making even a
simple email check painful. Conveniently it was paired up with a
cafe-restaurant, so after interneting we enjoyed chicken shwarmas
(similar to a greek gyro), and then found our way back to the Baskin
Robbins.
By the time we got around to the grocery shopping it was early evening;
the time when the locals come out in full force. The mall was a sea of
black flowing cloth as women in full burkas mingled around. It was a
photographers dream, only not, because photographs in this part of the
world aren't usually granted or appreciated (seems odd given the four
men encountered earlier). It was apparent that many of the women don't
make it to this mall very often (if ever before), as the escalators
seemed to make most of them nervous, and even caused one to fall. Kids
treated the escalators like an e-ticket Disney ride, while the older men
seemed to hang on to the hand rail as if their life depended on it. Huge
people pile ups occurred at the entrance and exit points of the
escalators, as the locals hesitantly attempted to get on or off.
I had always imagined the burka as a shapeless, drab, black, boring
"dress". What I found is that while it is pretty shapeless, there is
quite a bit of style to it. Intricate designs can be found on the
wrists, and sometimes bottom hems. Some of them have patterns around the
hoods or down the front. They are a almost silky material, that seems to
flow rather than hang. The women around Aden do not all wear a full face
cover, many only cover their hair. On the extreme end some women wear a
full veil (even covering eyes), with full stockings (covering their
feet) and mittens covering their hands. The men are dressed smartly,
whether in more western gear (slacks and long sleeve button shirts), or
wearing more traditional sulus or robes. And it did appear that more
than one man was shopping with multiple wives (which Chris commented
must be a nightmare, as he believes it's hard enough shopping with just
me!!!) (photos below, taken by Ascension, show more conservative full burkas)
Becky wanted to take a photograph in the grocery store, not necessarily
of any one person, just of the crazy mass of people that were crowding
the aisles (it was literally packed cart to cart). When she pulled out
her camera a security guard approached and told her absolutely no photos
were allowed! They must keep top secrets hidden amongst the tomato
sauce.
It is a nightmare shopping when it's that crowded, and I couldn't wait
to be done. We found another van cab, this time costing us 1000 for all
eight, but it included a movie! The driver put on the Disney Aladdin at
top volume and away we went. Turns out he didn't know where we were
going either, so after getting a bit lost, doing a u-turn on some
desolate dark road, and asking for directions from an eight year old, we
made it back. It was another midnight disco music night, but at least
time we were prepared and had both gone to bed with ear plugs in!
February 28, 2008
In just about every small country nothing works the same way twice. We
had been told that getting diesel "inside" (meaning in the town versus
outside at the dockside fuel station) was cheaper, but that inside
wouldn't fill jerry cans unless you had permission from customs, which
you couldn't get without paying a fee, which in turn made the price
nearly the same as getting the fuel outside. Just for grins Chris went
to ask at the gate if he could bring jerry cans through. He was told to
go to customs. The customs official walked him to the gate, spoke some
Arabic while pointing at Chris, and just like that we were allowed to
bring through jerry cans. So the two of us made two trips through,
without any hassle (except carrying the heavy cans), paying about a
quarter of
the cost. It was easy as pie, but there is not doubt that on a different
day, with a different guard or a different official we could've easily
been in paperwork hell attempting to do the exact same thing. At the gas
station we talked to a few of the workers and for at the least the
fourth time since Oman I was told (in response to saying we were from
America) "We like Americans, just not Bush". I only hope they are
happier with our next selection, otherwise life could become more
difficult for American tourist in this area.
After a morning of fueling up, we were off for some exploring. It's not
hard to find a guide and car, as they are hanging out around the gate
waiting for business. After a bit of negotiating we had ourselves a
guide, and he was calling for a second car. I don't know how either car
actually managed to run, both seemed dented behind belief and laden with
rust, neither installed a sense of safety, but in Aden terms they
weren't too shabby. Chris sat in the front with the guide and tried to
put on his seat belt, our guy told him not to worry about it, that only
the driver was required to wear a seatbelt. Meanwhile I'm thinking, it's
not the law that's worrisome, but rather that big shatter in the
windshield right in front of Chris, about where someone's head might've
hit when a crazy driver braked too hard!
Our first stop was the ancient water tanks. An amazing water holding
system built into the side of a few hills. No accurate information
exists about the original construction of the tanks, but the work is
amazing and must've taken some bit of effort. The tanks were discovered
in 1854, covered by debris and rubbish. They were dry when we visited,
but can hold 20 million imperial gallons (our guide said that they still
fill with some water during the wet season). We met a few friendly local
men, dressed in traditional Yemen clothing (robes and sulus), some even
wearing a Jambiya (a curved dagger worn in a special belt). I ended up
getting my photo taken again, but in return they posed in a few good
shots for us.
Next up was a ancient mosque (it seems everything in Aden is ancient),
where for a small donation we got to see inside the tomb of Al Aidroos
(I think you need to be a Muslim in Aden to know of him) ... I
didn't look, and everyone else said it was too dark to see anything
anyway.
After the mosque we drove along the waterfront, with a quick stop at the
fish market. Then we hiked up to see the remains of an ancient castle. Along the hike we came across a lot of local men, all who smiled and
said a friendly "hello" or "welcome to Aden". Up at the castle, groups
of men sat about in circles chewing on Qat (pronounced "gat" or "cat"). Qat comes from a small evergreen bush, the leaves are chewed to produce
a mild stimulant effect. Supposedly it leads to a peaceful disposition
and heightened sexual prowess. Chris got one guy to laugh by
enthusiastically chewing on one leaf when offered (he spit it out later,
before any effect took place). When they chew Qat they continuously
shove leaf after leaf into their mouth, chewing and sucking, and storing
the leaves in the side of the cheek. It doesn't take long before their
cheeks bulge as though they were chewing on a baseball.
The views from the castle were amazing, from here Aden didn't look so
poor or dingy. But the castle itself was strewn with trash and covered
in graffiti (included the ever tactful "F... Bush").
Left to Right: Locals at the ancient water
tanks; ancient mosque; top of castle ruins
We continued driving along the coastline, past salt fields and a huge
flock of flamingoes. We made a quick stop at one of the beaches, were a
lot of local women sat in full burkas, socializing in the sea breeze. A
huge line of men sat against the curving beach wall, all chewing Qat. Our guide tended to make fun of the men who indulged in Qat. He also
joked about the burkas, calling the women Ninjas. He said he too was
married to a Ninja, so we figured he didn't use the word in disrespect
(of course one never knows). Since he was so open we felt we could ask
more direct questions about the culture, and he was very friendly in
trying to satisfy our curiosity, but I feel as though I still don't
really understand a thing. However we did learn that a man can have a
maximum of four wives (our guide felt one was enough), and that if a man
did have four it meant he was quite wealthy. He said the advantage of
multiple wives was that when you had only one, they might argue and be
opinionated, but once a second or third wife came into the picture, the
women became more submissive, as the husband would threaten to spend
more time and money with the other wife. Well, it's a unique way
of thinking!
Our final stop of the day was Arab town. This had to be one of the
craziest, most crowded, extremely interesting, sensory overloading, and
sadly, poorest places we've visited. We started with a look at sesame
oil processing. From the grinding and shaking of the seeds, to the old
machines that turned, grinding the seeds into oil, while the men scooped
out the oil. Down the street we visited with henna tattooed camels. Yes,
you read that correctly, the camels themselves were dyed in funny dot
patterns. Chris attempted to get himself beaten-up by taking a
photograph of the street ... the women across the road thought he was
taking their photo and began yelling and pointing, causing the men to
send evil stares ... luckily we were leaving that area, and quickly
retreated!
Left to Right: Men at
beach chewing Qat; Making sesame oil; polka-dot camel
Our guide walked us through the Qat market. I can't even come close to
explaining it. Imagine shoulder to shoulder men, standing, yelling,
sitting, bargaining ... a sea of bodies and noise beyond comprehension. A lot of people used gas lanterns, which heated up the place to a nice
boiling temperature. One thing I've noticed about Arab men is that when
they yell or negotiate it can appear as though they are fighting - up
until they finish the enthusiastic conversation and smile. When you are
trying to push your way through this mass of yelling it can feel
intimidating. And since it is entirely men, as a woman, I felt a bit out
of place. But what I never once felt was threatened or worried. Eight
white people walking through caused everyone to stare, but they all
smiled and many said hello.
We stopped at a small juice shop for fresh lime juice that was
outstanding. Sweet, tart, and fresh. Sitting away from the masses also
gave us a chance to get a breath and relax. From there we walked through
the garment shops, full of amazingly bright colors and gaudy dresses. After a tying demonstration we bought Chris a head wrap. I attempted to
tie it around his head, but one passer-by just laughed, so I asked him
to do it. He got to work on Chris, laughing the entire time, with a huge
ball of Qat bulging out the side of his cheek. Chris wore his new head
gear for the remainder of the day, which was a huge hit around the
market.
As dusk came Arab town came to life. I had already thought it was
bustling and crowded, but it now seemed as though the entire population
was wandering the streets! We bought some fresh chapati (flat bread) at
one of the stalls, which immediately brought along some beggars. It is
nearly impossible to turn away someone asking for a bite of bread, and
so Chris handed some out, which of course just brought out more beggars. We eventually had to walk away as it was too much to handle, but we did
try to give everyone a little piece. One the men was so pleased with
Chris that he continued to follow us through the market. When we stopped
to buy vegetables Chris watched as the beggar stole a few carrots when
the vendor was turned away busy handling a customer. It is beyond
heartbreaking to see people so desperate and so hungry. (Photo
left by Ascension)
Another hour was about all we could handle. Then the crowds, the
yelling, the haggling, the staring, all just became too much - we were
ready for the peace and quiet of our boat! After such a busy day even
the midnight disco music couldn't wake us!
February 29, 2008
We finally had a little bit of a down day. A few chores around the boat,
some interneting, and a tiny bit of relaxing. We could use a few more
down days, but the southerlies are blowing, and our friends are anxious
to get going.
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