Andy Carvin's Waste of Bandwidth

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May 30, 2005

Car Sick in the Empty Quarter

Two African women walk along the ridge of giant sand dune

Once conference activities had wrapped up on Monday afternoon, I returned to the hotel for a quick swim before meeting Shauneen Furlong for an evening ride into the desert. The pool, adjacent to the hotel on the roof of the parking garage, offered a fine view of the post-modern skyline along Sheikh Zayed Road. The ironies of Dubai were in full force as the afternoon call to prayer sounded in the distance while Eminem's "Without Me" played on the poolside PA system; it was very odd hearing the opening Allahu Akbars of the prayer while the rapper lamented how the Federal Communications Commission won't let him be. In some Muslim countries I've visited, they turn down the music when the muezzin offers the call to prayer; here, though, I could have sworn they actually turned the music louder.

Downstairs in the lobby, I met Shauneen just before 4:30pm. Our ride was waiting for us; the driver and three passengers sat inside the Toyota Land Cruiser, with the door open for us to slide in the back seat. The three passengers were teammates on the Kuwait national basketball team, including a Kuwaiti national named Sami and two Americans, one of whom was named Jameel.

We left the hotel and drove south on the highway; soon we were out of Dubai and somewhere in the emirate of Abu Dhabi - it's hard to drive anywhere in the UAE without going into Abu Dhabi at some point, given the fact it takes up around 85% of the country's land mass. Somewhere along the highway the driver pulled over for gas and let us get out to buy snacks at, of all things, a roadside Dunkin Donuts. As we got out of the car, I realized that Jameel was enormous - probably close to 6' 10". He looked over at me and shook his head.

"Uh oh," he said. "A Red Sox fan." I hadn't even thought about the fact that I was wearing a Sox t-shirt.

"Let me guess," I replied. "New York?"

"Brooklyn born and bred," he said.

My dune companions: Jameel is the tall one; Shauneen is on the right

We got back in the car and drove another 45 minutes, until we reached a highway outpost somewhere southwest of the oasis of Al Ain. The driver informed us this would be our last chance to buy food or water until dinner time, so I got out and picked up another bottle of water and a snack bar made of cashews and dried fruit. Meanwhile, one of Jameel's teammates grabbed a stack of hats that were on the shelf of the store, several of which displayed the label Georgetown Hoyas.

"Check this out, Jameel," he said.

"Well I'll be damned," Jameel replied.

Suddenly I had a moment of recognition. "Did you play for the Hoyas not too long ago?" I asked.

"Yep, '96 to 2000," Jameel said proudly.

"No wonder you looked familiar," I replied. "I bet I saw you play while I was living in DC."

(Later that night, I did some poking around on the Georgetown website and found him - Jameel Watkins, drafted by the Houston Rockets prior to moving into the international pro basketball circuit.)

While the others finished buying their supplies, I snacked on my fruit-nut bar and stared across the road at a giant sand dune. It must have reached 250 feet high, certainly the highest sand dune I'd ever seen. I wondered how far out into the desert we'd get on this trek of ours.

I soon found out. Back in the Land Cruiser, we joined two Land Rovers from another tour agency and drove behind the outpost. Suddenly I could see nothing but sand dunes, and no road for us to take. But that didn't matter; the caravan of 4X4s drove straight up the dunes, gunning the pedal as soon as we hit your sand. "Check your seat belt," the driver yelled back to us.

Arabian sand dunes

Before I knew it, we were careening up and down the dunes at frightful speeds. Not wanting to go in a straight line, the driver banked hard to the right along the edge of a dune; the car dipped 45 degrees to the side, feeling like it would tip over at any moment. He gunned the gas again, causing a gale of sand to whip up behind us. We plunged down the other side of the dune, dropping 200 feet in a matter of seconds; my windpipe caught my stomach and grasped it with all its might before I could cough it up all over the ceiling.

Everyone in the car, except the driver, let out a series of involuntary grunts, whoops and guttural noises as the 4X4 banked along the dunes like a roller coaster that shifted randomly with each turn. I soon began to regret that snack bar I'd just eaten; I had no idea that we'd be going on a ride like this. You could actually feel the g-forces as we careened at gravity-defying angles, spraying sand and plummeting between the dunes. Even though I felt awful from the ride, I kept telling myself to enjoy every minute of it. I mean, how often do I get the chance to race through the Arabian desert with a former NBA player?

As we darted through the endless dunes, I did my best to take pictures and some video clips. I had to be careful about pressing the lens against the window; sometimes we'd plummet down an embankment, causing an enormous thud that would easily shatter my camera if it were too close to the glass. Looking behind at the Range Rovers following us, I was shocked at the gravity-defying angles the vehicles took while shooting up and down the dunes. What on earth were their drivers thinking? I then realized they were simply following our tracks -- our vehicle was doing the exact same thing; I just hadn't realized how utterly reckless it all was.

Eventually, the car spun to a halt, parking on the side of a dune. We got out and enjoyed the tremendous view of the desert, not to mention the stable, unmoving sand below us. Jameel and his buddies took a crack at sandboarding, riding a snowboard down the side of the dune; I held my breath and prayed I didn't throw up on the Indian tourists that had just gotten out of one of the Range Rovers.

Our driver checks in with the tour agency from the dunes

Jameel and Sami were really getting into the sandboarding; the driver offered to take them up to the top of the tallest dune, towering nearly 300 feet just behind us. We watched with amazement as the 4X4 flew up the edge of the dune, skidding out and grinding to a halt at the very top. Sami then jumped on the board and surfed downward, plummeting around 150 feet before rolling over. He seemed to really enjoy the ride, but now he had to walk all the way up to get back to the car. Meanwhile, I pulled out my iPod and recorded a brief podcast -- perhaps the first from the Empty Quarter, I wondered.

Soon, the car returned and we climbed inside; the driver retraced our path until we reached the highway again. We then turned north and heading towards a "Bedouin camp" set up for tourists to have an evening barbeque. Along the way we passed several itinerant camels strolling down the road; the driver said they were wild camels.

The caravan pulled off the highway and followed a wire fence back into desert, reaching the camp about five minutes later. The camp was a large courtyard with several divans set up inside, each seating around 20 people on pillows along the perimeter. To the left there was a small fleet of all-terrain vehicles waiting for riders willing to pay an extra fee (they weren't included in the tour price); to the right, a man in Bedouin dress stood by with three camels, waiting to give tourists a ride.

Jameel and his friends went straight for the ATVs; Shauneen and I made a beeline to the camels. The camel driver lowered the animals and let us climb onto their backs. We each got our own camel, sitting in the second seat position of the saddle. Unlike every camel I'd met previously, these camels were very sweet; they let you scratch their heads and rub their necks, and actually seemed to enjoy it.

Andy bonds with his camel

The camel driver gave the camels a bit of a whack, and all three of them stood up. I've ridden camels three times in my life, and each time I'm surprised just how high off the ground you get while riding on their backs. It's really quite an extraordinary experience. And compared to my previous camel rides, this one was quite comfortable; the saddle was wide and well padded, hugging your legs as the camel took each step.

The driver directed the camels over a sand dune to get us a little way from the camp; Jameel soon skidded by on an ATV. The rider-less camel strode along side mine, leaning in close so I could scratch the back of its head as we rode. It was a marvelous, relaxing experience.

By the time we got off the camels, there was a line of a dozen or so tourists from India and Singapore waiting for a ride. Interestingly, with each successive group of passengers, the rides got shorter, and the camel driver more irritated. By the time Jameel and his teammates got on the camels, the rides were lasting no more than 30 seconds, in a tight circle. I was really glad we got to ride them when we did; otherwise I would have thought we wouldn't have gotten our money's worth.

We went into the camp's courtyard and helped ourselves to some tea and dates; I then grabbed a beer at the bar to help cool down, since the water they served tasted like burnt plastic. One of the staff offered us shishas, so Shauneen and I split one as we waited for dinner.

The belly-dancer-in-residence teaches some of her moves

About 30 minutes later, we were invited to the buffet, which included half a dozen types of pilaf, several kabobs, hummus, baba ganouj, pasta and lentil curry. It wasn't the best food I'd had in the UAE, but it wasn't bad either. After dinner, we were treated to a belly dancing show. The dancer was actually quite good, though she spent too much of her routine trying to recruit tourists to learn how to belly dance. Shauneen was actually a good sport about it; she got on stage and belly danced like a pro; I stuck to my camera and pretended not to hear the belly dancer when she asked me if I wanted to take a crack at it.

At 9pm, the dance ended rather abruptly; the tour staff were clearly on the clock, so it was time to drive back to Dubai. For the next 90 minutes, we drove northeast along the highway. For one stretch of the trip, the driver kept swerving perilously close to one of the Range Rovers while thumbing his mobile phone at the same time. Eventually he rolled down the window and drove within inches the other vehicle, sticking his phone out the window. I suddenly realized what he was doing.

"Bluetooth?" I asked.

"Yes, good pictures," he replied, apparently of the mind that a driver had the right to swap camera phone photos wirelessly with other drivers while speeding down the highway. Fortunately, a few sharp "slow down!" requests from Jameel caused the driver to mellow out.

Just after 10:30, we got back to the hotel. I noticed I left a trail of sand behind me as we walked towards the elevator.

Posted by acarvin at May 30, 2005 1:30 PM

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