Friday, June 3, 2011

Jumeriah Mosque


As a non-Muslim, a privileged glimpse into a mosque is an eyeopening experience.  The Jumeriah Mosque, one of the only mosques open to Westerners in the United Arab Emirates, provides this opportunity several times per week.  While Kristin and I were too rushed to take in a full service, the individuals running the service let us in before everyone else to take some pictures.  

Thursday, June 2, 2011

A night on the Palm - Jumeriah Zabeel Saray

 In this picture, you can make out the hazy downtown skyline anchored by the towering Burj Khalifa - the tallest building known to man

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Dubai - Camel burgers, waterways, and souqs


As Kristin touched down on before in Boo's corner, we were treated to a feast during our Dubai press trip at Local House restaurant.  One huge detail involved in this feast not lost on its participants was the menu offerings - everything, except the hummus, included camel meat.  There were camel burgers, camel milkshakes, camel steak melt sandwiches, camel meatballs, and camel milk.  If an award were given out for camel consumption and the contest included Kristin and I, then Kristin bested me on all counts.  She ate her burger like a champion, washing it down with a strawberry camel milkshake, after which, in a brazen display of camel madness, she also pounded a small glass of salty camel milk.  Yea, her stomach didn't fare so well.  While I was given a disinterested tour of Dubai's souqs (markets), museums, and waterways by a Pakistani businessman, Kristin sped away with our expert driver and friend, Mr. Mujeev.

She would find solace in our new hotel - Zabeel Saray.  

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Arriving in Dubai at Al Qasr Madinat

 Our arrival in Dubai was not marred by the usual horrible cab driver negotiation tango.  No sir.  We were scooped up in this navigator and brought to our hotel - The Al Qasr Madinat.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

The iconic Burj Al Arab - the height of luxury

 Exterior of the Burj on the beach
 

Boo's corner - Kristin's blog




 Well I am back by popular demand. I am writing this in the Qatar airport at 7:00 am on a Sunday morning. We arrived at the airport 3 hours before our boarding time because we confused our flight time with another. So we have plenty of time to kill in a not so interesting airport. We just dined on roast beef sandwich's and orange juice from A&W and for dessert we had a Oreo shiver from TCBY. There is no dieting on travel days. It is kinda hard to find stuff edible in most of these airports. Our last travel day lunch consisted of Justin and I splitting a can of Pringles that we bought for $7 and a Snickers bar. 
Anyways, here are the rest of the photos from Nepal and a few from Dubai. We are having a great time but it is quite tiring. We are on our one-a-days stretch of the trip. Basically, this means we have stayed in 9 different hotels in 9 days. Which is all fine if you have a small suitcase, which both Justin and I do not have. Every time I have to shut my suitcase I have to sit, sometimes jump, on my suitcase for it to close, EVERYDAY, it is getting annoying. Justin's suitcase does not even stand anymore on its own. He has to prop it up against a wall or my bag for it to stand. I nicknamed his bag BDB-bid dumb bag because it is. Big and dumb.

The largest grooming project of my adult life


I grew my beard long for the Arab world.  The last time I shaved, St. Croix, feels more like a childhood sitcom than a real time and place.  My how the beard grew.  It could sand wood.  It could make polished brass appear antique.  It could make me appear like a disheveled Specter floating from one country to the next.  It was at its worst a costume and at its best a shining badge of my disinterest in the enterprise of grooming.
 

Friday, May 27, 2011

The Bugatti Veyron in Dubai - the world's most expensive car


Exchanging Nepal's world of rickshaws and oxcarts for Dubai's land of super-cars and 5 star hotels was a rush to the dome.  Upon arriving at our hotel, The Jumeriah Al Qasr Madinat, a string of flashy cars were parked out of front, including this blue Bugatti Veyron - a mid-engined demon with four turbos, ten radiators, and a top speed of over 250mph.  With a price tag of $1.9 million, the car is right at home in the excessive car culture of desert Dubai.  While I will do a proper story about it later, one interesting this about the car culture here involves the license plates.  Lower is better, 7's are important, repeating numbers are important, and 5 digit plates are for commoners and pleabs.  Here on this Bugatti is a 7700 plate number.  The 7's mean it is likely owned by someone in the Jumeriah group.  Frequently the plates are auctioned by current owners with "1" selling for over $14 million back in 2008.  Just driving around Dubai, we saw "3" and "5," both on blacked out Mercedes G-wagons.

The breakfast of champions


I do not know that butter will ever be enough again.  After many years on this planet, and still more as a semi-functioning adult, I have crossed over into the land of jams.

I may never again be the same. 

At they very minimum, I do not intend to look back on an existence free of preserves.  Whether they be black currant, strawberry, apricot, or orange honey blossom, my time in luxurious Dubai has been rife with jam eating, smelling, and smuggling.

I am kind of kidding.  Seriously though, our breakfasts have been epic and jam has figured prominently into the equation.  For the traveler, no time is better for carb loading than a breakfast buffet.  Above is a typical plate for me.  It is believed that if not for my intense workout regimen, I would weigh over 300 lbs from bread intake.

Self-realization in Dubai


In my wildest dreams, I never thought that it would play out this way.  On that first night when I set the proverbial pen to paper in Hong Kong, almost a full 3 years ago, I wanted a reason to justify traveling, a link to the world back home, and most of all, I wanted to write.  Some of my friends had done fantastic travel blogs: The Reiersons, Eric Rems, and Mark & Cathy Jackson. I wanted to follow in their footsteps.  Share my experience, allow you to travel with me.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Pokhara - escaping from it all, eating bad chicken, fighting the good fight on a glimmering commode


Pokhara is a small city about five hours west of Kathmandu - an adventurer's Shangri-la.  People come here to para-glide, start treks around the Annapurna range, hunt spiders, get food poisoning, climb mountains, go rowing in the lake, and other stuff. 

Kristin and I came here to see the sunrise over the Annapurna range of the Himalayas, among other things.  After a butt clenching 6 hour drive from Kathmandu on a two lane road filled with garishly adorned trucks and buses, we arrived in Pokhara, thankful for cheating death on the dangerous mountain bends.  The traffic went both ways, many a head-on collision was narrowly diverted, and at one point, we got stuck in a traffic jam behind a guy trying to shove a newly purchased coat rack into his small car.  It didn't work.  He drove off in what I imagine to be a fury of disappointment. We were also starving.


Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Durbar Square in Patan


We took a ride over to Patan with our homeboy Monaj. Since it was the birthday of Buddha, we witnessed some sort of processional.  Taking it in like great travelers, we watched and talked about Nepal.  It is such a beautiful place.  With the mountains looming and Everest champions coming back with tales of the most extreme place on the planet, it is easy to fall in love with the lore of the rooftop of our world.  The pace of life in Kathmandu is frantic, but just a few miles in any direction are small Tibetan villages, soaring peaks, and lush rolling hills.  It has been days since I have passed a solid stool, but Nepal makes this sort of sacrifice worth it.  At times I regretted it, at times my heart soared, but in the end, Nepal added up way past the sum of its parts.  For every poisonous chicken mushroom dish, a snow capped monster soars.  For every traffic jam that seems inescapable, a quaint mountain village filled with tea-houses begs to be explored.  Patan seems to be the place where this truth materialized for me.  That, for every malady or setback, Nepal would reward me with the epic grandeur of an old magical kingdom.