“And I think to myself, what a wonderful world”

• Louis Armstrong

We’ve been been back for several months now from our stay in the United Arab Emirates, and I’ve had a lot of fun remembering the experiences of our many travels. We brought a few trinkets back, but mostly memories. Some of those are of the famous tourist attractions – they were memorable, they are popular for a reason. But many of my most pleasant memories were of people. I have collected a few of my favorites here.

This is where it all began – Lynn on her first night in Abu Dhabi on the balcony of one of the Yas Island hotel rooms where we spent many nights. She spent countless hours planning our trips for the rest of our time there, doing an outstanding job researching flights, finding practical hotels for our agenda that were close to convenient public transportation, and things to do during our visits.

Our first trip was to Greece over the New Year holiday 2018.  We started off in Athens. Of course, we went to the Parthenon and saw other museums and ruins, but visiting markets quickly became established as one of my favorite things to do, and the Athens Central Market Meat Shop was one of the most memorable.  Butchers bellowed throughout, slamming cleavers into their chopping blocks even when they weren’t carving anything. Just about any kind of meat you can imagine was there, displayed proudly for your inspection in their final cuts as well as in bulk.

Olives in the Mediterranean are as prominent as dates are in the Middle East. This was in the produce section of the Athens Central Market.

A small shop typical of many we passed walking around Athens. Fresh bread, cheese, wine, and olives were highlights.

We welcomed in 2018 in the quiet port of Hydra.

The Al Mina Fish Market is a part of the Zayed Port, an important international port of trade in Abu Dhabi. The fish market has been open for decades, with gulf fisherman bringing the best they have to this large central market. We visited several times; in my opinion the best was our first, in part because the novelty and authenticity.  Fresh seafood of every variety was for sale in dozens of booths. It was generally easy to get by with English in the UAE, but as this was an authentic local market and not a tourist spot, Arabic was needed to move freely.  I had a fabulous time working through the booths, trying to figure out everything without verbal communication – what type of fish I was looking at, how much it cost, how did I want to have it prepared, etc. I eventually figured out that some buy the fresh fish to take directly home, others have the fish cleaned to take home, and others have the fish prepared at any of the several shops around the perimeter. 

This man was happy to recommend a nice sea bass for our lunch.

One end of the fish market is lined with cleaning booths. I wondered how many fish this gentleman had cleaned in his lifetime. Some of the salesmen were loud and boisterous – this man quietly plied his trade.

I brought our fish to one of the shops and placed our order with an Arab man that spoke no English (and of course I speak no Arabic). He figured out I wanted fish cooked, and I simply gave him some money with no idea what we were going to get back. I came back in about 20 minutes and it was ready.

Many locals have their fish prepared for takeout. Those that choose to eat on site (us on this occasion) could go to a small room with a 6-8 simple tables. A thin sheet of plastic was spread on the table and you were free to eat your lunch. No napkins. No utensils. No condiments. Just sit down and eat. This was as fine a fish as I have ever eaten.

This was just fun. We took a five-day trip to Seychelles that included a day trip on a glass-bottomed boat to some of the nearby islands, some of which are home to the tremendous Esmerelda tortoises. While taking a break during a walk around one of these islands, this big fella came walking up the path and decided he wanted to go under the bench Lynn was sitting on. He wasn’t even close to being able to fit under it but that didn’t stop him from trying. We had a good laugh.

Camel day. That’s not an official day, but that’s what I called one of these favorite days. I learned there were camel races in the UAE at a few places and endeavored to find one. We headed south of Ruwais, our little town in the western desert, hoping to find a lightly advertised camel race just south of the town of Ghiyathi.  We pulled into what we thought might be the right spot. Lots of camels, many being briskly trotted but nothing that looked like a “race” to us. As we pulled up to a spot and got out to try and figure out what was going on, this fine fellow came running up to me. He spoke no English, and I no Arabic – but he was insistent that he wanted to drive our car and show us around. I hopped in the back seat, and for the next couple of hours he drove us around the sprawling complex, stopping frequently to show us highlights and introducing us to different camel drivers. He invited us to his apartment that wasn’t as big as some American home walk-in closets. He washed our coffee cups in sudsy water in a coffee can and shared a cup of Arabic coffee with us, staunchly refusing any payment for his service to us. A special day.

In Little Petra, Jordan, there are a series of homes dug into the soft sandstone rock of the area. Curious to look at one, but cautious not to rudely intrude, I asked if I could buy a cup of tea. I was welcomed, and this fine young man brought me a cup of strong, sweet local tea. As I finished the cup, a small slimy mass went down my throat. I briefly struggled to maintain my composure before I realized the cup had been brewed with whole tea leaves – that is what I had swallowed!

This shot was taken at a Roman auditorium in Amman, Jordan (still in use, by the way). Lynn and I were moseying along, and these two young ladies came running up wanting to have a selfie taken with us. We obliged.

Late afternoon in Wadi Rum, Jordan. The camels, the dust in the air, and the harsh environment appealed to me.

Late afternoon in Zadar, Croatia. Alfred Hitchcock described Zadar as having the best sunsets in the world. I couldn’t disagree. There are no filters or photo editing here.

A fruit stand in Trogir, Croatia. I came to love the markets wherever we went. I don’t think everything is local at these stands, but much is and the cherries were for sure. We saw them at many small roadside stands.

Lynn enjoying a pleasant afternoon at Trstenik, one of the many beaches dotting the Croatian coast.

A roadside bakery in a lightly populated part of coastal Croatia. We pulled over to a gas station and I noticed this small shop next door. I’m a sucker for stopping in at places like this and bought a loaf we didn’t need from this sweet local lady.

I didn’t include too many pictures of pure tourist shots in this composition, but Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany is too much to pass up.

This was taken in a small parmesan cheese factory in Parma, Italy. The master cheesemaker is teaching his son the trade in framing the raw cheese into one of the molds that will ultimately create one of the ubiquitous Parmigiano Reggiano cheese wheels recognized around the world. I don’t know if intentional training was going on when I took this picture, but certainly the young man was learning.

Lynn standing by one of many racks of parmesan (Parmigiano Reggiano) wheels in this cheese factory. The wheels weigh about 35 kg (~77 pounds) each after aging. They mature for at least one year before they can bear the name. Every wheel is periodically removed from the rack, inspected, cleaned, and turned over. Parmigiano Reggiano has a protected “designation of origin” title, assigned to a variety of products throughout Europe that comply with certain quality standards. I noted there seemed to be more products that had this designation than there were fast food restaurants – perhaps quality matters more than quantity in Italy?

We chanced upon this small shop in San Gimignano, Italy that proudly advertised their world champion gelato awards. I had a simply wonderful melon gelato that had us coming back for seconds the next morning. The cheerful young lady serving us just made the experience better.

I took three trips to Oman during my stay and loved them all.  Lynn was with me on this abseiling adventure to Snake Canyon (aka Wadi Bani Awf). We stayed at remote rustic lodging, securely fenced not for security but to keep the roaming feral goats from rummaging through everything. A central sitting area adorned only with rugs and throw pillows is common in Arab countries, and we took full advantage this night. This was truly a relaxing evening to ponder my good fortune in life.

I travelled twice on business during my stay in the UAE, once to China and once to South Korea. I flew to Shanghai, China, and from there travelled on a high-speed train to Zhejiang province where I visited the recently completed Sanmen Nuclear Power Station. From the window of my small basic hotel room, I looked out on sprawling clam beds in a shallow inlet from the East China Sea. At high tide, the water reached the shoreline. At low tide the water receded a mile or more, and dozens of people worked their clam beds (small dots going out to the horizon). I have no idea what exactly they were doing. For some reason, this image fascinated me more than the bright lights of Shanghai.

I was busted trying to take a discrete picture of two young ladies (Mongolian I think) on the train to Shanghai. The contrast in their response was funny to me. I should have just asked, but it was a crowded train and I thought I could get away with it.

James of the Tanzanian Chaga tribe was our mild-mannered lead guide to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. Having climbed the summit over 150 times, James was the pacesetter, advising us over and over “Pole-Pole” (slow-slow) and “The mountain likes slow steps”.

Isaac was another one of our Mt. Kilimanjaro guides, an enthusiastic young man (and apparent Trump fan) who would periodically burst into song with a resounding “WAYLA!!”.  I don’t know what that means.

Noteworthy only because this is likely the highest elevation I will ever reach under my own power.

Early morning on the Nile, with fishermen rowing their boats with oars instead of using outboard motors. Serenity.

Menem was a friendly Syrian I ran across a couple of times. I only met him twice but considered him a good friend and would trust him more than many people I know. How someone from Syria can maintain a sense of humor is a testament to the human spirit. This is on a hike in Kumzar, Oman.

I took this shot walking down a side street in Kumzar, Oman. This fascinating tiny village of about 1,000 people sits at the tip of the Musandam peninsula, jutting into the Strait of Hormuz. Isolated from the rest of the Arabian Peninsula by rugged terrain, it is accessible only by boat. They maintain their own language with influences that reflect their history – Portuguese (originally settled by Portuguese fishermen), Farsi (Iran is just a few miles across the strait), Arabic, and English, along with local additions. I don’t think these youngsters see many visitors – they were very friendly and curious. When I see things like this, I always reflect on how their life experience differs from mine.

Looking down from the high bluffs surrounding Kumzar on a peaceful morning. An unforgettable moment.

This is a young mother and her daughter in the mountains of Tajikistan, taken on a long weekend trip to see some dinosaur tracks on the side of a mountain. I suspect the daughter, and perhaps the mother, had not seen much of the world. They laid out a lunch of bread, cheese, fruits, and vegetables for us on a blanket beside their small mountain home for a lunch experience as memorable as any I have had. Tourist attractions are a fine thing, but I wouldn’t trade these simple authentic experiences for anything.

Have you ever seen a Tajik senior citizen pull over to the side of the road to toss a snowball or two?  Yea, I hadn’t either.  A serendipitous opportunity to catch a couple of older Tajik women getting in on the snowball fun during an unexpected snowfall.

The date stamp on this photo was April 15, 2019 8:57 PM, less than four hours after we left. Fate had placed us among the last visitors to tour this icon of Paris and France. We slept in our hotel by the Seine with the scent of the burning cathedral drifting in our open windows.

Koreans love their seafood, but much more than the typical fish filets, shrimp, crab, etc. They make a meal out of just about anything that comes out of the sea.  This was at the Noryangjin Fish Market in Seoul, an extensive farmers fish market described in one brochure as “an aquarium where you can eat the exhibits”. This was a lively place where it was best to leave your dress clothes at home.

These ladies seemed to be pressing the limits of what would fit on the scale. I regret not having the facilities on my visit to have sampled the goods.

I asked the concierge at our hotel in Seoul for good fresh seafood. He recommended a place that certainly didn’t disappoint in the fresh department.

Another of the memorable trips was a weeklong trip to the Omo Valley of Ethiopia. Pretty much everything there was an eye-opening experience, but none more so than the bull blood drinking event with the Mursi Tribe. This bleeding process takes about a quart and doesn’t harm the bull.

The blood in the gourd was mixed with some fresh milk from the yellow pitcher on the lower left, producing a salty-sweet concoction said to increase the strength and vitality of a young man. I was content just to keep it down.

A young mother also of the Mursi Tribe, known for their ritual of inserting plates in their lower lip. Our guide said this may have been to discourage slave traders, or to make them less desirable to thieves from neighboring tribes seeking to steal brides. See if you can count the number of ways life for this lady are different from the experiences of a young American middle-class woman.

I had two pictures of the same lady that I considered, one carrying a rifle in her right hand or this one with her balancing the milk jug on her head. I chose this one. Either way, you must admire the warthog earrings.  Also in the Mursi Tribe, this lady did not have her lower lip disfigured to accommodate a plate.

This lady was of the Hamar tribe. The distinctive hair style of the Hamar women is created by rolling small locks of hair with a blend of ochre and butter or animal fat along with a fragrance. Although her neck rings indicate she was a woman of status among the wives of her husband, that didn’t get her out of wood-carrying chores. Woman – young and old – throughout this country carry wood.

This was likely the only time I will sleep in a legitimate yurt on a mountain in Kyrgyzstan. Our entrepreneurial young Kyrg guide had worked with the family of this fine woman to add a couple of additional guest yurts. The family lives in the yurts for most of the year. They are quite robust structures, but the family can take them down in a matter of hours, then move them up or down the valley depending on the season.  They move to a small traditional home near town for the winter.  She was a gracious hostess, making sure our hot tea was always topped off.

The trip to Kyrgyzstan started off with me driving to the airport in Dubai from Ruwais (a 3+ hour drive), contemplating that I was on my way to the airport and had no ticket, didn’t know what city we were flying to or on what airline, and didn’t know who else was going. Towards the end of the trip a few days later, I found myself at the bazaar in Bishkek, completely separated from my group with no knowledge of where we were to be picked up, without my passport, didn’t know the name of our hotel, a cell phone plan that didn’t work in Kyrgyzstan, and virtually none of the locals able to speak English. But the sun was out, the locals were pleasant, I was healthy and had resources, and it all sorted itself out. This friendly (and non-English speaking) fellow was a big help. This day goes in my all-time favorite day list.

My nomination for happiest people goes to the Cambodians. No matter where they were or what they were doing – they seemed to be genuinely, sincerely happy. This young lady selling catfish was typical.

This young lady in a Cambodian market (I always sought out the ‘legitimate’ markets used by locals) was surrounded by five-gallon buckets of prahok, a fermented fish product with a distinctive strong smell used by locals to season food. I was always game to eat whatever the locals were eating, but I was cautioned by our guide to defer in this case. His judgement was that tourists’ systems were not prepared for this experience.

Have you ever had someone tie a string of blessing around your wrist, pull you over and hug you, take off your hat and kiss your forehead, and still have no idea if it was a man or a woman? This sweet ‘person’ I chanced upon at one of the abandoned old temples at Siem Reap, Cambodia was as kind and gentle a soul as I have ever met.

This was on a trek to Oman to see the sea turtles. Our trip started with a hike up Wadi Shab, a large section of which was in the water. Just a fun day.

Local Omani fishermen picking their catch from the nets by hand. The town where I took this, Sur, has an interesting piece of trivia – it is one of the few places where the traditional wooden sailing ships called a “dhow” are still built.

This is an afternoon chess game near the waterfront in Baku, Azerbaijan on the coast of the Caspian Sea. There were a few of these. I first assumed they were just typical tourist attraction curios before I realized how focused the participants were.  Chess is a serious game in the Caucuses, with some of the world’s finest players coming from the region. At times fifty or more would gather around watching the contest, some tracking the moves and strategies on smartphones.

This was another splendidly wonderful authentic dinner. During our stay in Georgia, Lynn arranged a day tour to some of the sites of the country. I knew it ended with a dinner but was unprepared for how special this was. We were hosted by a local family in the town of Sighnaghi and treated to a feast of home-made goods, including their own red and white wines made in qvevris, the traditional Georgian method of fermenting wine in terracotta pots buried underground. Dinner was served in a 300-year old dirt floor outbuilding under a single incandescent bulb hanging from the ceiling.

This shot was taken in Pripyat, Ukraine, a small city built to support the Chernobyl Power Plant staff as well as some local military facility families. The town was evacuated after the accident once the government got past their denial phase. People were told it would be for a few days, but never returned. Decades later, we walked through the eerily vacated buildings.

Our Ukraine trip also included a ride in an old Soviet-era Amphibious Armored Personnel Carrier. After a trip on the river we went to a nearby forest, and were given a chance to take a turn at the wheel. Lynn intently received instructions from our guide, then took off in this manual-transmission vehicle without stalling once.  Badass!

Twice I took advantage of the opportunity for a desert hiking experience in Liwa in the south of the United Arab Emirates. The desert here is part of the “Empty Quarter”, a vast desert covering the southern third of the Arabian Peninsula. We hiked about 12 miles on a pair of sunset and sunrise hikes, where the angled lighting of the sun created a surreal environment.

These are prayer cloths on the trail to Lungchu Tsey Monastery in Bhutan. They are common throughout the country. The cloths are held sacred, and the wind moving through the prayers printed on them are said to bless passing travelers.

This friendly Bhutanese woman seemed happy to see me. But then, Bhutan is the only country in the world where Gross National Happiness is established in the Constitution as a guiding principle for government action to protect the welfare of current and future citizens.

Paro Taktsang, commonly known as the Tiger’s Nest, overlooking Paro Valley in Bhutan. The monastery dates back to 1692, when it was built on the site of a cave where the Guru Rinpoche is said to have meditated for three years, three months, and three hours. He is credited with bringing Buddhism to Bhutan in the 8^th century, flying from Tibet on the back of a tigress.  

This camel won second place at the annual camel beauty contest at the Al Dhafra festival. She is indeed a beauty! Buying her would cost you about $800,000.

During the cooler months in Ruwais I would take an occasional bike ride around the area, out by the oil fields and back through town. I have developed the habit over my life of waving and saying high to complete strangers. This particular day while riding through town around one of many rotaries, I waved and smiled to some fellows (Pakistani perhaps?) who were admiring the lush petunias in the middle of the circle. As I was heading off on my way back to our apartment, I heard them calling to me “Come, come!!”. I turned around and came back to them. Seems they wanted to take some pictures with me, and next thing I knew we are high fiving each other, taking selfies and just having a big time like we were old friends.  I left with such a good feeling!

Some Americans have a negative perception of Muslims and the religion of Islam. There are certainly good and bad, as there are of people everywhere. Appearances will vary country to country, but these friendly young ladies sitting outside the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul are typical of my encounters with Muslims.

In Istanbul, we stopped at a restaurant for dinner before heading over to see the Whirling Dervishes. The bread with the meal was a delightful lavas, or “balloon bread”. Our server was quite proud, and with just the smallest request he took me back to the kitchen to watch the loaves being prepared. He models one here fresh from the oven.

I went to the UAE knowing the project was a South Korean project in an Arab country with people from many nationalities. I knew I would work with Koreans – I did not know that I would make such great friends. On my right is Hyung Jin Lee. He worked with me as my primary interface with the Korean project team. His amazing work ethic and sense of humor made him a pleasure to work with and made my work much easier. The lady on my left is Susie Wanderlust. She told me her Korean name but that is not how I remember her. She was assigned to my group as an interpreter late during my stay there but became a dear friend. There were many other Koreans that I have fond memories of. I can think of few things that would benefit most Americans more than spending some time immersed in a different culture.

I knew I wanted to write some sort of last blog for my time in the UAE, but I didn’t know quite where it would go. I thought perhaps I would pick my 25 favorite pictures. That didn’t work. This turned out to be just a collection of random memories, but perhaps that is how I will remember the time. I never expected this opportunity at this point in my life. I am a blessed man for the experience.