Friday, March 16, 2007
1001 Arabian Nights: the Adrenalin Junkie's Tale
I stumbled home at some time past 3. It was generally accepted that missing the 9:15am start time for the next day's conference was the kiss of death for any consultant's prospects. Thankfully, the two alarms and the hotel wake up call I set proved to be (just) enough. I staggered out of bed and into the shower at 5 to 9, jumped into the nearest pair of trousers and ran to the conference venue.
There were many, many casualties. Some managed to sneak their way in during the half time coffee break. Those who didn't were named and shamed at the end of the half day affair by Dora, a fierce firebrand of a lady who had put the whole trip together. The conference itself was interesting, full of announcements and presentations that would change quite a bit about the company's direction. I can't say more than that, obviously, but even the hung over amongst us were paying attention.
The view of the hotel, from the hotel.
At lunch, many of us flinched at the sunlight, but still managed to wolf down quite the treats at the buffet. It was then time to retire until 4pm, when the company-sponsored safari would begin. I found myself a nice beach towel in the shape of a beach chair, and sat in that and read Reggie Nadelson and drank iced tea by the growing shadow of the Tower of Araby. People like me, conference rats, would walk by and say hi. I was in a perfect environment to reflect on life, my career, my future with the company. So instead I slept.
At 4pm Zahir, the nice man from Arabian Adventures, came to take us to the Dubai Desert Conservation Area in a nice 4x4 Toyota, to do some very unsafe things at high speed over the rolling dunes. The area was not quite the deep Sahara – you could even get decent cellphone reception – but it was as close as we would get to the real thing. Zahir took us over ridges, plunged us down steep tracts of soft sand, and bounced over the hard compressed wakes of the other 4x4s. It was all too much for Andy P, and while we got some fresh air I took photos of the others launching themselves into obscene angles at the dunes.
Scarier than it looks.
Our 4pm start was because others had gone earlier to try a bit of dune driving. I deeply regretted not having the international license to join in, but nevermind. We rejoined the main group at the bottom of a very steep dune indeed. The second life and limb activity involved strapping yourself to a board and sliding down this dune at high speed. It sounds easy – especially as we had done some snowboarding just the day before – but it was nothing of the sort. Combrink, one of our Tech Ops guys, broke a collarbone going down. That sobered up the atmosphere, though not really by much (less catcalls, same number of incriminating photos). I learned later he was airlifted to the best hospital in the city and subsequently flown back to London.
We piled back into our Toyotas and drove to a “sunset watching area” with cushions and champagne and salted nuts. I made small talk with the Filipino waiters and drank and watched the sun fade into the distant haze.
That done, we were taken to another reserved area (I get it, the desert is big enough, but why have all this driving about? Why have a “not really important but let’s just drive you here to look at the camels area”?) where the evening program would be. I managed to catch a 5-minute camel ride before catching dinner and getting a henna tattoo done (a crappy one of a scorpion, my star sign).
Post sunset, pre-shisha.
We tucked into yet another buffet (good one this time – lamb with rice ftw), watched a belly dancer drag fat consultants onto the stage, and sat around smoking shisha and watching the stars. Although the lights were on the whole time, I cupped my hands and watched for shooting stars. I spotted two before realizing I had lost my camera in all my wanders round the desert. I managed to find it wedged under one of the shisha cushions, so All Was Well.
It was very quiet outside the camp. The desert seemed as romantic and eerie as all the desert literature promised it would be. Too bad it was all a bit - artificial and soulless. After close to 800 words, I still have an ocean of them inside, so... to be continued.
There were many, many casualties. Some managed to sneak their way in during the half time coffee break. Those who didn't were named and shamed at the end of the half day affair by Dora, a fierce firebrand of a lady who had put the whole trip together. The conference itself was interesting, full of announcements and presentations that would change quite a bit about the company's direction. I can't say more than that, obviously, but even the hung over amongst us were paying attention.
The view of the hotel, from the hotel.At lunch, many of us flinched at the sunlight, but still managed to wolf down quite the treats at the buffet. It was then time to retire until 4pm, when the company-sponsored safari would begin. I found myself a nice beach towel in the shape of a beach chair, and sat in that and read Reggie Nadelson and drank iced tea by the growing shadow of the Tower of Araby. People like me, conference rats, would walk by and say hi. I was in a perfect environment to reflect on life, my career, my future with the company. So instead I slept.
* * *
At 4pm Zahir, the nice man from Arabian Adventures, came to take us to the Dubai Desert Conservation Area in a nice 4x4 Toyota, to do some very unsafe things at high speed over the rolling dunes. The area was not quite the deep Sahara – you could even get decent cellphone reception – but it was as close as we would get to the real thing. Zahir took us over ridges, plunged us down steep tracts of soft sand, and bounced over the hard compressed wakes of the other 4x4s. It was all too much for Andy P, and while we got some fresh air I took photos of the others launching themselves into obscene angles at the dunes.
Scarier than it looks.Our 4pm start was because others had gone earlier to try a bit of dune driving. I deeply regretted not having the international license to join in, but nevermind. We rejoined the main group at the bottom of a very steep dune indeed. The second life and limb activity involved strapping yourself to a board and sliding down this dune at high speed. It sounds easy – especially as we had done some snowboarding just the day before – but it was nothing of the sort. Combrink, one of our Tech Ops guys, broke a collarbone going down. That sobered up the atmosphere, though not really by much (less catcalls, same number of incriminating photos). I learned later he was airlifted to the best hospital in the city and subsequently flown back to London.
* * *
We piled back into our Toyotas and drove to a “sunset watching area” with cushions and champagne and salted nuts. I made small talk with the Filipino waiters and drank and watched the sun fade into the distant haze.
That done, we were taken to another reserved area (I get it, the desert is big enough, but why have all this driving about? Why have a “not really important but let’s just drive you here to look at the camels area”?) where the evening program would be. I managed to catch a 5-minute camel ride before catching dinner and getting a henna tattoo done (a crappy one of a scorpion, my star sign).
Post sunset, pre-shisha.It was very quiet outside the camp. The desert seemed as romantic and eerie as all the desert literature promised it would be. Too bad it was all a bit - artificial and soulless. After close to 800 words, I still have an ocean of them inside, so... to be continued.
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