Things To Do in Abu Dhabi: Going Around the City Slowly
My first day in Abu Dhabi began at 3:30 am. I landed at the Zayed International Airport, completed immigration (I have explained it in my UAE visa guide for Indians), and took a bus to my host’s house. Remi is a Frenchman who works and lives in Abu Dhabi and is active on Couchsurfing, providing space and shelter to travelers. Couchsurfing is a platform where hosts willing to share their homes put up their profiles, and travelers looking for accommodation write to them about themselves and their travel dates.
Couchsurfing benefits both: travelers get a home, and home dwellers get company and also the opportunity to be hosted when they travel.
Remi had told me I could show up anytime and that he would leave keys for me at the reception. Even at four am, when I took a bus from the airport to his house, street lights were on, buildings were shining, and many people boarded the bus. On that fifty-minute ride, I dozed off. After the bus, I walked to his home, Google Maps directing me skillfully. A few people were out and about, and some restaurants were open, too.
So this is how the nightmare began. I shouldn’t say that, though. Many people must have had it much worse.
I was in Dubai at my friend Haninder’s house, working on my newsletter, when I read a message from him. He had gone out.
“Heard the interceptions? Loud blasts?”
What blasts?
“Not really? You did?” As if that wasn’t obvious.
I checked the news.
Dubai airspace shut down. Flights canceled. Iranian missiles and drones hitting UAE. UAE intercepting the Iranian air attacks. Qatar, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and Jordan bombed as well.
Hanging out with villagers, Wandering Around Apple Farms, Climbing Into Pine Forests, and Drinking Wine under Starry Skies in Chindi, Himachal Pradesh
The government guesthouse in Chindi, Himachal Pradesh, was located on the brow of a hill. Below the guesthouse and further ahead and behind it, the village sprawled. We checked in at two pm. Our room was Set 1.
The PWD (Public Works Department) guesthouse caretakers hadn’t received a call from their superintendent regarding our booking. They thought there was no booking. All the staff, all men, were sitting on fixed wooden chairs that seemed to have been carved out of tree trunks right at their place under a giant Chinar tree.
In 2016, I took out my old grey and rusted brown backpack, Rusty, from the cupboard where it had been for the last three years. I was traveling to Chile to teach English as part of a volunteer program. As I was going for at least six months, I packed Rusty, a small wheeled suitcase, a laptop bag, and a black leather purse.
The four-month volunteer program was over soon. It was time to set sail for my longer backpacking trip through South America. With some push from my travel friend Alison, who also happens to be a backpacking genius, I accepted that Rusty wasn’t the best backpack after all.
Okay, so let’s set it straight. Some of the below things happened in Udaipur.
A man stalked me; it doesn’t happen in all Indian cities, though I wouldn’t say this kind of thing never happens. A friendly banter is often interpreted as a desire for something more. In Udaipur, I had bought a blue and yellow georgette sari that had been hanging outside a shop. Its colorful flutter had caught my eye as I returned from an exploration of one of the best places to see in Udaipur (Rajasthan). I spoke with the shopkeeper casually, and when I left the shop, he was following me on his bike, having shut his store, calling out to me as if I was waiting for him to take me to a fort and show me a molten yellow sunset.
I also climbed, no scrambled up, a very muddy hill. It was the Karni Mata Temple hill, or the Machla Hills, on which the temple is located. Though a ropeway climbs to the temple from Udaipur city, at that time, it was closed. I took a staircase to the temple. But, I think, after following the stairs for a while, I had taken a shortcut, a mud path, as is expected of me. As it hadn’t rained in Udaipur for months, the path was dry, my feet slipping.
The staircase I had taken from Manil Lal Park to Karni Mata temple in Udaipur
the muddy path, which I eventually always find
I had arrived at Karni Mata temple’s back gate, which was closed. So I had to maneuver around. In ten minutes or so, a well-dressed straight-postured young man, who introduced himself as a royal family staff (maybe someone important, perhaps a young son’s friend) said he had come to get me. The guard who had refused to unlock the back gate for me had apparently called him. He, the son, not the guard, was courteous and concerned. “Ma’am how did you reach here?” He watched me curiously.
I felt slightly odd to be called ma’am by him, a guy who supposedly had come from the fort or the palace and who said all the royal family members were scheduled to do a puja in the temple later that day. I don’t remember all of it, but he was saying that it wasn’t safe for me to be up there alone in the evening.
Homeless in Himachal During a Storm But Then We Find a Cosy Home in a Monastery-Travel Serendipity in Rewalsar Lake, the Himalayas 12:45 pm, May 25 Let’s see if we find a place in Rewalsar. 7 pm, May 25 Though I said let’s see if we find a space in Rewalsar today morning, I’m already …
Please note: This narrative is the fifth in the series of travel essays on my Sikkim to Himachal highway journey. The rest are available on the blog. Staring at the Symmetrical Taj Mahal, Soaking in Sun, and Scuttering Away from Petha Sellers After the Lucknow food tour, we drove on to Agra (Uttar Pradesh). My …
Please note: This narrative is fourth in the series of travel essays on my Sikkim to Himachal highway journey. Read the First:Leaving Sikkim for Himachal, Second: The 500-km Drive Through Bihar – Corn Harvests, Marriage Certificate at Hotels, and Truck Slogans, and ThirdEpisode: Arriving in UP at Midnight – an Eerie Expressway, a Suspicious Hotel Attendant, and a Missing Wheel-Cover, too.
Also note: If I was a bit calmer – and perhaps had an ice cooler sticking to my head – I would have photographed it all. For now, we would have to do with this photo-less tour of Lucknow’s famous food. I have added a few photos from Google though.
The featured image is of a plate of tiki, taken at my parent’s home and purchased from a street food shop in their town. It’s a quintessential Uttar Pradesh photo, showing the tiki (though without chutneys) along with the Hindi Punjab Kesari, the everyman’s newspaper of my state.
My Home State Uttar Pradesh (UP) Has Moved On, But I Have Not: Indulging Nostalgia Through Lucknow’s Famous Food
We were going to pass Lucknow on our way to Himachal (from Sikkim). So for that afternoon, we had planned a Lucknow food tour: not a guide, but we ourselves were taking us to some of the most famous food in Lucknow. Neither had I been to the capital before nor did my partner S, and skipping the city’s quintessential delicacies to make it quickly to Himachal sounded like a lame excuse.
Please note: This narrative is the third in the series of travel essays on my Sikkim to Himachal highway journey. Read the First Episode: Leaving Sikkim for Himachal – Serendipity or Choice? and the Second: The 500-km Drive Through Bihar: Corn Harvests, Marriage Certificate at Hotels, and Truck Slogans, too. Can We Ever Feel Safe in Uttar Pradesh? …
Please note: This narrative is the second in the series of travel essays on my Sikkim to Himachal highway journey. Read the beginning of the journey here and the onwards drive to Uttar Pradesh here.
Driving Through Bihar: a Test of Our Unrelenting Spirit
Driving through the field-fringed Bihar highway – of which so much was under construction that we were mostly taking diversions – I sat with the car window open, feeling the wind on my face. Eighty’s English Rock played on the car stereo, and the promise of open hours on the road seemed as fertile as the green-yellow country extending to the horizon.
When I went to Vietnam in 2016, I found myself in a green paddy-filled country. Under the shadows of their bamboo hats, locals flitted between places unhindered by the large bamboo baskets they carried. Birds sang from their cages hung on balconies. Streets were lined with stalls selling soup, grilled meat skewers, rice paper rolls, and fruits.
The Story of The Lost Shoe and a Failed Attempt at Buying a New Hiking Pair in Karsog, Himachal Pradesh
Anyone who knows my love for hiking would understand how important shoes are for me. In a tragic incident in 2020, I lost one of my Merrell shoes. I had purchased hiking boots in Chile in 2017, and since then my shoes were my loving companion on every trip and sometimes within cities too. (These Chile travel tips will prepare you well for your trip.)
When we returned from Chikmagalur after our one-month 2020 birthday trip, I started cleaning our rooftop shed (that we called home). My partner promised he would bring up all the stuff from the car. I told him please bring the bags a couple at a time. But he loaded all the stuff onto him and finished unloading the car in one trip. I think he did go back to the car to see if he had left anything behind and came back satisfied.
A couple of days later when he was putting the shoes into the washing machine, he shouted he couldn’t find one of my Merrell shoes. We looked around. Under the bed, in other bags, and in every corner. My heart sank. Oh, it sank! I still skip a few beats when I realize I will never find my shoes again (the linked shoes are similar to mine but just purchasing a new twin pair won’t do it). They kept my feet warm even on ravines and wouldn’t let me slip if I tied them tight. In dry and wet, we walked together.
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