Yemen Trip Letter IIIb

Hello again,

The journey is coming to an end. I hope you have enjoyed the ride.

As always you can see photos at clubphoto.com (tumicki23@yahoo.com to access albums) and refer friends to beckyofarabia.blogspot.com for past letters.

Yemen Trip Letter – January 2006

Part III b – Weekend to Manakha / Al Hajjarah

By this time Rhonda has returned to Saudi for a day before flying on to Thailand. Marion from Italy joined me for this weekend outing. She was a wonderful traveling partner and did such a great job describing Bolzano where she lives I decided I must go visit there too.

Manakha is 95 km southwest of Sana’a. This area is known for its terraces built on long slopes. These terraces hosted coffee plantations and today more and more qat plantations. Shortly outside Sana’a our driver A’del stopped at a roadside fruit stand so we could get snacks for our day’s trek; lots of tangerines, apples, and bananas among other fruit to pick from. We continued into the mountains and passed by a small town swarming with people and livestock. If I was in the market for buying sheep, cows, and oxen, I would have requested to stop. I noticed a man walking through a field below with his purchase in tow – a cow. Another quick stop was in another market town and this stop was for the driver to purchase qat. He says this is a good area for it. Many men and small boys walked around with plastic bags filled with qat branches. A bag could run between 500 – 1200 riyals. The children and some men asked to have their pictures taken while we waited for the driver to return. The Yemenis are very photogenic.

The next stop was in Manakha to look at accommodations and to meet our guide. We had the option to stay here for the night or higher up in the village of Al Hajjarah. The hotel was full so back in the vehicle but now a small boy got in the back with me. The driver said he was our mountain guide. Really? Both Marion and I had stunned looks on our faces. No doubt this little boy could show us the way but what would happen if one of us fell and needed to be carried out? We were still in shock over this guide when A’del almost hit a man walking toward us. It appears they knew each other and the man jumped on the side board clutching his bag of qat and rode with us to the top of the hill. This man, named Zaid, turned out to be our real guide so the little boy was made redundant.

Not too far outside Manakha was Al Hoteib, a pilgrimage site perched on a solitary mountain. It is revered by followers of the Ismaili sect as the location of a shrine dedicated to a 16th century preacher. We followed the steps, about 300 I would guess, at a severe incline. From the top we saw a panoramic view of rolling hills followed by rugged mountains followed by a brilliant blue sky. A lovely spot for photos and a little rest before taking the steps back down. It is a well known fact I am slow walking down hills but I guess Zaid thought I was struggling down the steps due to my daypack. He offered to carry it for me for the rest of the four hour hike. I said I was OK but he insisted. I started calling him Sherpa Zaid. After a steep up, we leveled off and followed a contour line along a terrace through an orchard. It was a gorgeous day and super to be out walking in the fresh air amongst the mountains. This is my kind of vacation!

A small boy from Al Hoteib was still with us trying to sell us eucalyptus seed necklaces. He was persistent but polite. He was with us for some time and I thought he was losing out on sales back in Al Hoteib where more tourists would be coming. Sherpa Zaid said the boy lives in the small village of Kahel. We would be stopping there for a local snack and the boy had to fetch it from his mother. Kahel is a quiet and half abandoned village with about 5 families living there. It appears abandoned because most of the male villagers go into Sana’a looking for work. Not surprisingly, this is happening to most of the smaller villages. We gave the boy an empty water bottle to retrieve the milk snack and he ran ahead.

Zaid had a spot in mind on a hill in the village for us to have our snack. You enter the village by ducking your head to pass through a low, dark stable walking around animal dung. Out in the open again we climbed up steps to get to the spot. What a view! This trip keeps getting better and better. The boy found us and we sat down to a soured milk and garlic mixture to dip a thick local flatbread in. Oranges, apples, and cookies were shared along with stories and laughs. Marion and I asked Zaid about his family in Manakha. He has a younger brother and 4 sisters. Zaid, 28 years old, has been married for about 9 years. His wife was expecting a baby any day. She has had 4 or 5 other miscarriages previously and I bet the family was nervous but hoping for the best. I can only wish he has a healthy baby today.

The snack hit the spot and we were ready to continue on. The little boy stayed behind in his village while we climbed up and up. Along the walk we saw a person here and there working in the fields, a man leading his small flock of sheep and a cow, women with buckets going to fetch water, and a few other flocks shepherded by small boys. It was about 3 pm and the sun was about to hide behind the mountain we were walking along. We felt the mountain chill and stopped to add more layers. Sherpa Zaid was also getting cold and Marion had an extra jacket. Now he was sporting my yellow daypack and the purple wind breaker over his white gown, suit jacket and his jambiya around the waist. This could be a new look in trekking attire.

As we approached a cluster of houses, Zaid asked if we wanted to stop for tea – why not, it was cold and we were in no rush. He called out several times towards a house off the trail. Eventually a girl came out with a thermos of tea and small glasses. Then she brought out some jewelry and jambiya knives. The knives were nice and after much debating about getting one here on the mountain side or back in Sana’a, Marion decided to get this one at a fair price. The tea, however, was not a fair price. First the girl was asking something like 300 riyals. We bargained down to 50 riyals each.

What goes up must come down. It was a long and rocky descent to the village of Al Hajjarah. Sherpa Zaid and Marion played mountains goats and bounced and pranced down the rocks while I felt like an elephant fumbling and tripping over rocks for what seemed like an eternity. I was happy to be on level ground. The only hotel in the area was at capacity for the night and good thing our names were on a list. Marion and I got a room with three mattresses on the floor. The larger rooms had maybe 8 – 10 mattresses so if you are in a group tour you sleep as a group. The shower facilities were primitive but served its purpose. After a hot shower I rested my tired legs out on the patio with a cup of hot coffee basking in the last rays of the day at peace with the world. With some day light left, Marion and I decided to explore the village and maybe getting a bite to eat. We mentioned this to Zaid and he said the only place in the village serving food was the hotel. We were already getting hungry and it was now 5 and dinner would be ready around 7 inshallah. Zaid walked with us as we stopped to browse at souvenir tables and small souvenir shops – same type of souvenirs but still fun to look. We continued on to the adjoining village on top of the hill. The evening traffic was building up on the trails and stairs with flocks of livestock barreling along disregarding the pedestrian traffic. I made my way down the stairs just before the avalanche of hoofs and horns came through.

Entering the neighboring village was similar to Kahel with walking stooped over through a stable to enter the village. We walked among the towering buildings with a few tourist shops here and there. One lady shop keeper was a true character and I ended up taking a hand embroidered sash. I said I had no money with me and she said no problem, bring it tomorrow. We did do that but this time I was not as quick and the morning traffic of hoofs and horns nailed me. A cow barreling down the stone steps broadsided me into the stone wall and clipped my shoe with its hoof. Besides a bruise on my leg from being bashed into the stone wall, a hoof print on my hiking shoe, and having a little adrenaline rush, I was OK.

By the time we got back to the hotel that evening other tour groups were still settling in. This last one was a big group of about 20 from Spain. A large room on the ground floor was being set up for dinner. It was typical Yemeni style with cushions on the floor and windows all around. Marion and I found a corner to sit in and we waited like the others for food. We had the good fortune of being served first because 1) Zaid possibly told the cooks how hungry we were or 2) we only had two in our group. By now it was 7:30 and we dug in without fanfare. The rest of the groups were served as the food was made. The last group was served an hour after we were. It was another good meal and we were happy to lean back and rest on the cushions to relax our bulging stomachs.

No sooner than the last group finished their meal, the dishes were picked up off the floor and the musical instruments were brought out. There was a small drum, something like a guitar and a tambourine. The drivers, guides, and hotel staff were eager to sing and dance. It was great fun to watch and participate. Most of the dances consisted of two men holding hands and gliding down the middle of the room on the balls of their feet keeping beat to the music. This would be repeated up and down the room with turns and twists added. It can also be fast moving like a polka. We were no longer stuffed after dancing a few rounds. By midnight we were tuckered out after the hike and dancing and said good night.

The next morning after breakfast we did a shorter hike to other neighboring villages. It was another sunny day and be were happy to we out walking again surrounded by mountains. A large school bordered one of the villages and I thought back to my Peace Corps days of walking to school with the kids along with herds of goats and sheep and women on their way to the water well. We stopped at one of the wells and I watched the activity of the women and children. The children came to play while their moms’ would be washing clothes, loading donkeys with jerkins of water, and some stopping to rest between chores. What different lives people live.

Back at the hotel we collected our belongings and drove back to the tourist hotel in Manakha. Zaid invited us to his house and we had a very pleasant visit with his family. We met the mother, the father, his wife, and his brothers and sisters. We were served a hot beverage made from the shells of the coffee beans spiced with a ginger mixture. It was nice to exchange a few sentences in Arabic while watching an Arab music video channel. They were surprised I knew of Sami Yusef when his video came on. This was also a special part of my stay in Yemen to be able to spend time with a family and see how close their family unit is.

By now it was about 1 pm and instead of having a big lunch at the hotel, Marion and I decided to have tea and a sweet. We didn’t know the sweet was going to be the honey cake which they would have to prepare and bake. We wondered why we waited over 45 minutes for the snack. Turns out the kitchen was also preparing food for the tour groups coming in for their lunch time meal. We sat back on the cushions watching the groups come in looking exhausted. I wonder if they had been trekking too. It was also qat time and this time I decided to join in since we weren’t going anywhere soon. I picked of the leaves one by one and tucked them into my right cheek. I asked if you swallow or spit once you start chewing the leaves. No, the trick is to keep the qat tucked in the corner of your cheek and keep adding other leaves to it until your cheek is bursting at the seams. Communicating with someone who has a stuffed cheek is not all that pleasant since their words are muffled and they spray bits of green stuff every where. I didn’t go as far as having a tumor like bulge on my face but enough to say I tried it and it tastes like eating grass. I heard to enhance the effect you can smoke and/or drink coke while chewing. After the tourist groups ate it was time for more singing and dancing. I was sad thinking I had two more days in this special country.

The 2 ½ hour ride to Sana’a was in quiet. Marion and I watched the scenery go by as we slumped back on the seats tired and content. We got our second wind in Old Sana’a when we met for dinner with her friend Claudia who was feeling much better from the cold she picked up a few days earlier. I showed them around the souq and took them to my favorite jewelry store. They found pieces they liked and so did I but I decided to buy a few other things the next day.

My mission on my last day in Yemen was to go to the Post Office. For some reason I prefer to go to the post office to buy stamps to mail postcards rather than getting stamps at stores. I feel I am part of the community standing in line with the others but me not knowing if I am in the right line or not. Eventually things get sorted out. I also have a book idea revolving around post offices of the world and now I make it a point to go, try my luck with the lines, and take a photo or two if I can. At this post office a young girl of about ten would come close to me and look up with a big smile on her face. At first I thought she might be begging for money but she never held out her hand or tugged on my abayya. She kept smiling at me while I did my business getting stamps. I sat down at a table to put the stamps on and like my shadow she was right there with me. She helped me with my stamping task and that is when it dawned on me how she knew me. She was the little girl walking ahead of me with her mom and sister as we walked into town. She kept looking back at me with a wondering look as her mother tugged her along. She was wearing a deep purple colored skirt just like this little girl standing next to me. Finally, it clicked and I smiled at her and asked her where her mother and sister are. She pointed to another line and then her sister came over to join her. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to take a photo inside the post office without seeming to obvious I wanted a picture of the inside. The girls posed and this picture will even be more special now with them in it.

On my way back to school, I walked around to the shops I frequented and said the phrase I practiced on my last day of school, “I am leaving today to go back to Saudi, thank you , good bye”. I went to the juice guy, the tea guy, and some souvenir stores. I wished fellow students good luck with their classes and secretly longing to stay and take more classes. Don’t be surprised if you hear I am heading back to Yemen for a three month stay to do just that. Want to join me?

In case you are wondering where to next, it will be Morocco in April for a week; definitely not enough time but enough to get an introduction to colorful Morocco. Another teacher from here and a friend from CA have a special arrangement with a visiting anthropologist to visit a Berber village to meet women weavers and to stay the night. The two days in Marrakesh and one day in Casablanca will round out the trip. I have started reading Michael Palin’s “Shara” to get a feel for the area.

Spring is in the air here with warmer temperatures and longer days.

Bye for now.

Yemen Trip Letter IIIa

See photos at ClubPhoto.com (use tumicki23@yahoo.com)

Yemen Trip Letter – January 2006

Part III covers the weekend outings, chewing qat, the people, and final thoughts

Part IIIa – Weekend to Shibaam / Kaukaban

Besides two weeks of classes, I also had two weekend excursions with a driver, 4wd vehicle, mountain guide, and hotel accommodations. The first weekend was to the Shibaam and Kaukaban area with stops along the way. Rhonda, another teacher from Al Hada, was also on the trip. The first stop was 45 minutes outside of Sana’a to Wadi Dar home to Dar Al Hajar, the Rock Palace. The Rock Palace gets its name from being built directly on top of a large rock. There is no room even to walk around the building. It was built by Iman Mansour Ali Bin Mehdi Abbas in 1786. In the 1930s, Yemen’s Iman Yahya Hameed Al Din added the upper stories and annexes and used it as a rest house. The palace has been renovated and is open for self guided tours. Rhonda and I wandered up the many stair cases leading to different levels of the palace. There are floors for the kitchen, men’s sitting area, women’s sitting area, bedrooms, and a formal room. From up high we watched a group of men dance to pounding drums on the courtyard below. I have read this is a famous spot for men to gather to perform the wedding dance if a wedding took place. Now I think they gather on Fridays for the tourists. I would not mind having a palace like this as a weekend rest house either. I will add this to my wish list after the Mafraj.

Heading back out on the same road we entered, we stopped to take in the views of an impressive canyon – their Grand Canyon. The views were good but the activity on the canyon’s edge got my attention. Rifles were set up with targets for a small fee. A Yemeni and his falcon were there to have one’s picture taken with the falcon for a small fee. Another Yemeni was there with his horse for the same purpose and a small fee. The poor and disabled held their hands out for a small fee. After a few snapshots we took off again.

The driver took Rhonda and me to a village known for its old houses but the driver didn’t tell us that. He didn’t tell us much in the way of what we would be seeing. He said we could walk into town from the outskirts and then meet him at a hotel. If we got lost we could ask anyone to guide us to the hotel. We walked through the village of Thula with several boys and men offering to show us around but not knowing what the driver had in mind as in would he guide us through it or did we get a guide here, we continued on our way through the village. Thula is a small village and it didn’t take us long to find the hotel and our vehicle but no driver. We heard he was having tea. We had tea while waiting for him. Upon his return we left not knowing why we stopped here at all.

Next was the village of Hababa. We drove along dusty roads littered with pink and blue plastic bags. This is a sad yet a common site of the many villages we drove through or stopped at. We stopped outside the wall of Hababa and I stepped down into a massive mound of litter piled up on my side of the road. The highlight in Hababa was the cistern in the center of the village. It had steps going down into it for easy access to get water or to go for a swim. The water is for the animals, washing clothes, swimming, and maybe irrigation. I am not sure because we had no guide. It was also a place for people to gather and rest. This was a nice spot and great for photos. I got a nice one of two girls perched on a step fetching water.

The driver announced we would have lunch in Shibaam. Shibaam is a trade town. It is also dusty and dirty. We were there on a Friday, their market day, and this place was crawling with small trucks, cars, jeeps, SUVs, and motorcycles. The driver led us to a hotel known for its local food. The place was packed with groups of men and some tourist groups. Turns out these hotels use the same rooms people sleep in as dining rooms during the day. We found an empty room with a long bench down the middle and plenty of cushions and armrests on the floor for sitting. A German/Italian couple joined us in the room. They are also teachers and have traveled extensively to remote countries during their many years of teaching. Enough food was brought for 10 people and we felt bad leaving so much behind since it was only 5 of us eating.

Not far down the road out of town was our hotel for the night. The top three floors seemed to be a recent addition and we had a room on one of these floors. It was clean, had two mattresses on the floor with blankets and pillows and a bathroom. We dropped off our bags and then headed out to the last stop of the day, Al Tawilah. This place, like most villages, sits high on a hill. It was here the children were really irksome and without a guide we wandered through the village not sure where to go looking like the pied piper as the kids trailed behind saying picture, pen, and money. We didn’t stay long here either.

The evening was quiet and pleasant. I guess we were the only tourists in the hotel because no one else joined us in the Mafraj on the top floor. This Mafraj was beautiful! The plaster was delicately carved and painted in pastel colors. The windows were huge and offered great views of the surrounding valley. From the big picture window facing south, I could see the remains of the huge rock slide that happened two days earlier. It was quite clear to see how part of a cliff came tumbling down on the village below. Cars were lining up on both sides of the road to walk to the area. Dinner and breakfast were served in the Mafraj for us rather than in the general area downstairs that resembles an auto mechanic shop without the cars. The poor worker had to climb up about 120 steps each time. After the evening meal he brought up an incense burner and showed us how you stand over it to get the smoke up into your clothes.

No water the next morning, I thought that only happened at Al Hada. Minus a shower we packed up and drove up the mountain behind Shibaam. The village on the top is called Kaukaban. Here the driver said we would get a guide to walk us down the steep trail back to Shibaam. The driver came across a young teenager pushing a wheelbarrow with his trinkets to sell to tourists. The teenager turned out to be our guide. We walked through the village and outside the gate to the trail. The path goes straight down and is made of many stone steps. I can tell this kid used this path often as he leaped and bounced down the trail as we plotted our every step ever so carefully. At one point he yelled for us to run down like he did. We said we would pass on the offer. The trail reminded me of my days in Nepal walking from village to village and marveling at how graceful the locals are walking down rugged terrain. Back in Shibaam we located our driver and drove back to Sana’a. I think he left out a few stops because we were back by noon time.

Stay tuned for the much more enjoyable weekend to Al Hajjarah with Sherpa Zaid, song, dance, and chewing qat.

Yemen Part II

Yemen Trip Letter Part II

http://web.mit.edu/akpia/www/AKPsite/4.239/sanaa/yemen.html - a good article on Old Sana’a

Part II covers the buildings, the old souq, what to buy, and my favorite topic FOOD.

The buildings in Old Sana’a look like they are made of gingerbread and trimmed with white icing. How could you not fall in love with a place looking like this? The buildings are typically tall and narrow with the top floor being dedicated to lounging and is called a Mafraj. I have decided to have a Mafraj in my house when ever and where ever that may be. It will have big windows, carpets, cushions on the floor, low tables, shesha pipes, and music. The windows of the buildings intrigued me the most with the wooden framework, unique metal hinges, and the colorful half moon windows above called a kamariah after the Arabic word for moon. I noticed the kamariah consisted of two different designs; the inside one being different than the outside one. I wondered why, in the first place, did they use two fan panels instead of only one and then why did they use two different ones? Was it a way to refract the sun coming in?

I also had many questions on how these kamariah windows were made. I have read the white trim of these lights and other decorative trim on the buildings is from lime and gypsum. The designs are geometric and intricate and many of the old designs came from the Jewish Yemenis. I assume molds have been created and the gypsum plaster is poured into the molds. But who are the artists and do they use computer aided drafting to make the designs? On my weekend travels outside Sana’a, I did see many of these kamariah windows standing outside shops ready to be purchased. I would have liked to have stopped and see what happens inside these shops but maybe next time. My photos will give you a better idea of both types of windows.

Having the school in Old Sana’a was a treat because my friend Jehaan described Old Sana’a as a living museum. Old Sana’a is a walled in city containing the beautiful old gingerbread buildings, a tangle of streets and alleys, clusters of shopping areas called souqs, food vendors pushing their wheelbarrow of roasted corn, sweets, nuts, egg sandwiches, or fruit, and throngs of people in traditional dress of robes and the local cotton wrap for men, the decorative knife called the jambiya, head scarves and the women covered in black.

The souq area is divided into different sections comprised of narrow alleys wide enough for small truck to make deliveries or walkways used by people, bicycles, motorcycles, and the infamous green wheelbarrow. The wheelbarrow or arabiya as I often heard people from behind call out and wondered what they wanted (it meant move aside a wheelbarrow is coming through) is everywhere and used for every thing. It is used for not only moving goods about but also to haul around the gas containers used in homes to cook with, and to rest in. I strolled through many of the souqs as I got my bearings using some of the minarets as guide posts. The souq areas, 40 total and over 1,700 shops, consisted of antique silver, gold, jambiyas, qat (the leaves they chew on), raisins, spices and incense, nuts, cloth, a very small one for carpets, the original food court concept, brass, windows, clay, stone, shawls, clothes, shoes, pretty much anything you can think of.

Another interesting feature of the souq is the camel driven oil press. I walked passed three of these rather dark and dungeon like looking places. It takes a whole day to press three liters of sesame oil. A camel walks around a small circular dirt track wearing something that looks like flying goggles and he is attached to the central pole of the wooden press. It looks like a very slow process. This is not a profitable business but I have read it is something their father did and their grandfathers did and they want to carry on the business. I have a photo of a camel standing outside one of these places.

Old Sana’a is a shopping paradise with the exchange rate being favorable. I limited my purchases to local items because most of what I saw there is also available in Saudi. My brother will get a jambiya for his travel wall in New Hampshire. The others things that weighed down my backpack on my return included: the local cotton wrap called a m’auz worn by the men, the colorful cloth worn by the older women, a candle holder using the designs of the kamariah windows, goat hair rope, a small wooden window frame that doubles as a picture frame, coffee, tea, raisins, frankincense, olive oil soap, a small wooden container used as a measuring cup in the souq (it was a gift from the owner of a shop that makes them because I brought over several groups of people to his shop and one bought a set of 4 wooden measuring cups) a small brass horse, a small metal horse designed to be used as a padlock, hanging lanterns, and Jewish silver jewelry. Through the grapevine at the language school, I learned of a silver shop with unique designs using the old Bedouin jewelry. Among the many silver shops, this store did have the best selection of designs for earrings, necklaces, bracelets and rings. One night when I was showing my Yemeni friends this place, it was crowded with 4 Italian tourists – one in particular was buying out the shop to resell the items in Italy. He was there for over an hour but my friends did manage to find pieces they liked. After packing for the return to Saudi, I have decided to, once again, limit my shopping to jewelry. I will write that down as a New Year’s resolution.

To keep up my strength between classes and walks through the souq I ate locally. The food is cheap, fresh, and simple. Breakfast was a glass of milk tea and an egg sandwich. Down the street from the school was a small open square lined with pharmacies, 4 in total, juice places, a fruit store, a call cabin to make local and international calls and to use the “enternet”, a tea/coffee stall, and a place to get hot food. This square also had wheelbarrow food in the mornings and some nights. The tea stall consists of a man standing at a large gas burner roaring away to make tea and coffee to order. He uses the Turkish style coffee pots to make the hot drinks. The rest of the space is big enough for about three people to order a drink. The rest of the crowd yells over the roaring stove with their order. I would wait to make eye contact and then place my order. The tea runner would bring it outside in a glass to the small rickety table next door that belonged to the hot food stall. With the tea I had an egg sandwich from one of the wheelbarrow vendors. The wheelbarrow would have a huge pot of hot boiled potatoes, stacks of hardboiled eggs, soft cheese, bags of fresh, small, thick pita bread, and several colored spices to sprinkle on top of the sandwich. The white is salt, the red is hot and could be chili powder, and the yellow is maybe turmeric. You should try it at home, the sandwich is good. Start with the small pita and open it up half way. Spread the soft cheese on the bottom. Place about 5 slices of hot potato on the cheese then put the sliced egg on top. Sprinkle with the yellow or red or white or all the spices to top it off. The total cost for this filling breakfast rings in at 80 riyals or 40 cents. The tea is 30 riyals per cup and the egg sandwich is 50 riyals if you know the price. I also kept bananas, oranges, and apples in my room if I was running late for class.

From what I observed it is mostly (99%) men eating at the various cantina style places. I was always welcomed into these establishments and the food was hot and good. Twice I was invited to join a group for a meal. The first invitation was my first night out sitting at the rickety table by the tea stall. I was drinking tea and doing my Arabic homework when a group of three men sat down. One spoke English and we had a polite conversation until their food came. He invited me to join in and on the second prompting I agreed – I didn’t want to offend. This was a good way to try food and to ask what it is. This food stall made sizzling minced meat. It is served in a blackened stone bowl with long rolls and the three colored spices used on the egg sandwich. More tea followed the meal. Once they finished they went on their way. Lingering over a meal or after a meal is not the fashion. They linger plenty while they have their chew on the qat leaves.

On the other occasion I went to the donkey market by the square. It was crowded with about 50 donkeys and twice as many men stuffed into a small side square. The man standing next to me started talking to me in English. Turns out he lived in Germany for many years and picked up English along the way. He was working in the area putting up new phone lines. The conversation lead to a glass of Yemeni coffee followed by an invitation to the mid morning meal with him and the lead engineer at another place in the heart of the food souq. This meal was also the sizzling meat but with large flat bread. As the engineer stood in line with numerous others to place an order, we wedged our way between other diners at a rickety table covered with newspaper. As we waited a few minutes for the food I watched as the deliver guy would run off through the crowds with a piece of cardboard carrying the hot stone bowl with the sizzling meat and then return empty handed to run off again in a few minutes with another sizzling bowl. This was about 10:30am and by noon time places are closed for several hours. I read this is the time the men relax while chewing qat and it looks like they continue to chew qat until late into the night as I observed in the souq.

Besides the sizzling minced meat, I had other memorable meals. Jehaan took me to her favorite fish restaurant. The fish is split down the center and spices are added before cooking it. It is served with the large pieces of flat bread and a sour yoghurt dip that is on the spicy side. The lunch in Shibaam had a host of traditional dishes that were very good (700 YARS). Lunch and dinners at the local cantinas were a combination of rice, roasted chicken, fava beans, vegetables, flat bread, and/or yoghurt with fresh mango juice. Meal prices ranged from 300 – 500 YARS ($1.50 - $2.50).

I was very happy with the food and fresh juice. See www.clubphoto.com for pictures of the food.

Now that you are probably hunger, go ahead and make yourself an egg sandwich.