London Layover: The Canals

On our third day in Yemen, we awoke at the hotel in Mukalla, and after a morning cigar and breakfast, we were back on the road. This would turn out to be both the best and most trying day of the trip so far. We drove to our next accommodation, the Haid Al-Jazil Hotel. It sits pretty much in the middle of nowhere—but what an incredible nowhere! Approaching the property, it simply appeared to be sitting isolated in the middle of a dry desert plain. The hotel itself consists of a series of landscape-appropriate bungalows alongside a main building housing the reception and dining area. However, stepping just past those bungalows revealed the most extraordinary view.

Before us lay a massive desert valley with a thin ribbon of green slicing through the bottom, marking where water flows at certain times of the year. Rising up from the middle of this valley was a large, round plateau topped by a tiny town. A compact cluster of mud-brick buildings sat perched high atop this rock, isolated in the heart of a desolate landscape. It was one of the most remarkable sights I have ever seen, and our accommodations offered a front-row seat.

This was Wafi Doan (aka Wadi Dawan). A wadi is a desert valley, and Wadi Doan cuts through the larger Wadi Hadhramaut region. It is globally famous for its distinct architecture and premium honey production. Looking down from the hotel’s vantage point, I could see tiny people leading tiny creatures along the valley floor. I suppose they were actually regular-sized people leading regular-sized animals, but from that immense height, they looked like miniatures. It was simply amazing.

After taking in the view, we got back on the road to visit some of the local villages. We hiked down into the wadi, but after that point, I get a little confused about the exact order of the places we saw. Trying to piece it together later by looking at my photos and searching online didn’t make it any clearer. I know that on this day we descended into the valley and visited Ribat, Qarhat Ba Humaish, Qarn Majid, Al-Hajjarain, and Sif, but distinguishing between them in memory is difficult because they sit relatively close together.

We began with the descent, which was probably the only low point of the entire holiday. The plan was to hike down to the valley floor to visit that charming village on the rock. No problem, right? I was told it would take about 90 minutes going downhill. I love hiking, so I wasn’t initially concerned. Where it became an issue was the dress code; while the guys were exempted from wearing traditional clothing for the hike and could wear shorts, I was still required to wear my abaya.

As a result, I was hiking through an exposed desert landscape with absolutely no tree cover while wearing leggings, a t-shirt, socks, heavy boots, a thick fabric abaya, and a hijab. I don’t know exactly how hot it was, but I would estimate it was well over 40°C. I overheated very quickly, and the climate took a massive toll on me. Furthermore, while the hike wasn’t overly technical, the terrain was covered in loose rocks. I had to be incredibly cautious about my footing to avoid twisting an ankle. Perhaps other people wouldn’t be so worried, but I have a historical habit of falling off mountains, so I was trying to be careful.

On the way down, I just grew hotter and hotter. My abaya kept catching on thorny bushes, which was incredibly frustrating. The closer I got to the bottom, the more lightheaded I became, to the point where I actually collapsed a few times. Frankly, it felt humiliating. Despite that, the views were beautiful, and descending into the valley remained exciting. When we finally reached the bottom, I allowed myself to collapse onto the stones to drink some water before we walked into the village.

The village itself was incredibly charming: dirt roads lined with three-story mud-brick structures, and small market areas where locals hung out in the shade of palm trees. It felt like a true oasis, even though I didn’t see any actual water. We walked through the paths, stopping to admire the goats and the fruits and vegetables for sale. There was a little open-air, covered structure where a group of men had gathered to play dominoes. Everyone seemed genuinely happy to see us, and a few people even asked us to take their pictures. It was astonishing.

There are not many places left in the world where you can travel and feel like you are truly somewhere different—where there is no mobile phone service, no recognizable Western businesses, and people do not dress the way they do back home. As much as globalization is likely beneficial for the world overall, it does chip away at these unique pockets of cultural experience. But here, at the bottom of a valley within a valley in Yemen, it felt entirely distinct.

Our driver met us at the bottom, picked us up, and drove us through the various towns and villages I mentioned earlier, stopping so we could explore points of interest. We saw small palaces clinging inexplicably to sheer rock faces, brightly coloured buildings, beautifully carved wooden doorways, and winding paths through mud-brick neighborhoods where children peered down at us from windows. Everything we saw was beautiful.

One site of historical significance we visited was the ancestral Bin Laden family home. I don’t think it is a house Osama ever lived in, but it belonged to his father. We couldn’t go inside, but we looked at the exterior and took a few photos. While we were there, a young boy rode by on a motorbike and stopped to gawk at us. John asked him if he could try riding the bike, and the kid nodded. It is not clear if he actually understood the request, because when John took off down the road—going maybe 50 feet—the kid panicked and ran after him yelling, thinking he was being robbed! Thankfully, the misunderstanding was quickly resolved, and everyone had a good chuckle.

Driving between the villages, we occasionally spotted women minding livestock. While the task itself is common, their outfits were extraordinary. These women wore full black abayas, niqabs, hijabs, and what appeared to be gloves. I didn’t find the coverage unusual, since I also prefer to stay covered up in intense sun, but their hats were completely eye-catching. They wore comically tall, peaked, brimmed hats that looked exactly like witches’ hats, except they were straw-coloured. Some had the very peak and the band around the brim painted black or red. We passed them too quickly to get a clear photo, though we tried.

The hat is called a madhalla. They are woven from date palm leaves and can stand up to two feet tall. Apparently, the extreme height is designed to keep the wearer’s head cool by creating an insulating pocket of air. I have no idea how the women balance them so effortlessly while navigating that rugged terrain and tending to goats, but it looked incredibly stylish.

Walking through the villages, we also noticed a number of locals carrying firearms. We were already somewhat accustomed to this, as our tour group traveled with a guide, a driver, and an armed guard. Our driver carried a semi-automatic handgun, while our guard carried an older automatic rifle. Because a few days had passed and we felt more comfortable, we finally asked if we could take pictures with our guard and his weapon. I understand that people in Yemen do not want their country portrayed as a scary, gun-crazed society; it isn’t. That is America. Our guard carried his weapon strictly for our protection. I am not certain we actually needed protecting from anything, but if it provides a job to someone in an economy where employment is scarce, I am all for it.

Our last stop of the day was another village whose name escapes me. We drove to the end of a road and sat on a rocky outcropping looking out over the valley, and there before us was the skyline of Shibam. Shibam was the city I was most excited to visit on this trip. Because we were scheduled to tour it the next day, I will save my full description for the next entry. However, looking out over that cluster of tall, narrow, ancient mud buildings in the middle of the valley, washed in the warm glow of the setting sun, was a truly special experience.

In the early evening, we returned to our beautiful hotel with its commanding view of the valley we had just explored. We had dinner, and I sat outside at leisure, enjoying my cigars and watching the landscape until the view completely dissolved into the blackness of the night.

At one point, while I was relaxing at the hotel in my regular Western clothes, four young girls approached me. One of them spoke a little bit of English. They were fully dressed in abayas, niqabs, and hijabs, so I couldn’t see their faces. They walked up to me, said hello, and giggled. They asked me where I was from, and giggled. They asked if I liked their country, and giggled some more. I asked them a few questions about themselves, and they kept giggling. Eventually, they asked to take a photo with me. I agreed, on the condition that I could also take one with them on my own phone. Finally, twittering with excitement, they all flipped up their niqabs to show me their faces, smiled warmly at me, dropped the veils back down, and ran away giggling.

It was a wonderful interaction. I suppose they don’t see many foreign women. I thought it was incredibly neat that they felt it was appropriate to show me their faces. Personally, I am all for people wearing whatever they choose to wear, but I struggle with the idea of anyone being forced to wear certain attire because a government, culture, or religion dictates it. Even that is complicated; if your religion prescribes a dress code, and you love your faith and genuinely want to follow it, then there is nothing oppressive about that choice. Still, I certainly have mixed feelings about societal systems that imply women must be covered up. I don’t know what the exact situation was for these girls, but I was simply happy to have met them.

This was by far the best day of the trip so far. While the first two days were great, today was truly amazing. By this point, all the money we spent and the bureaucratic hoops we had to jump through to get here felt completely worth it. The next day, we would finally visit the ultimate highlight of the trip: the ancient city of Shibam.