Arrived in Abu Dhabi on zero sleep, looking like an extra from The Walking Dead. Dragged myself onto a bus, and rolled into my £14-a-night accommodation at 7:55am. Owner blinked. Check-in was noon. I asked if I could dump my bags and collapse on his sofa. He agreed. Five minutes later, I was unconscious. By 10am he decided I was a health hazard and handed me a room. Pokey, arctic aircon blasting, but at £14, I wasn’t complaining. Stuffed the flight blanket into the aircon unit.
Woke at 1pm. Found a cheap café. Surprisingly civilised for starting my day like a feral cat.
Joined a last-minute desert safari. £20 got me dune bashing, sandboarding, camel riding, falcon holding, dinner, and whatever else they’d dreamt up. Skipped the animals. My group was five Russian girls screaming across every dune like it was a horror movie, turning the desert into a full-scale photoshoot. Mild whiplash achieved.
Camp time was had my anti-social ninja mode engaged. Free henna, sweet drinks, buffet like a queen, sunset absorbed, human interaction expertly avoided. Performance was flawless. Entertainment lineup was whirling dervish – check. Fire guy – check. Belly dancer – expected. Gorilla – WTF. Dubious entertainment box ticked. Time for bed before reality questioned me further.
Next day was Abu Dhabi exploration. No metro, buses only. Traffic was hell. Walking felt like 2 hours to get somewhere that “looked close” on the map. Tried Qasr Al Watan, the official state palace. Closed. Needed a pee. Full security operation ensued: one guard radioed another, a woman materialised, escorted me in and back like a VIP diplomat. Gold, domes, libraries, halls. My toilet run had become state-sanctioned. Bus wanker life resumed post-wee.
Next stop was Al Mariyah and Al Reem islands. Not sandy beaches, more shopping malls the size of small nations. Sunset was gorgeous. Population was simultaneously unleashed. Crossing roads felt like stunt work. I survived and earned a shwarma.
Desert safari, take two because my original tour was just a con. Same gimmicks, better food, equally confused tourists. My driver was apparently the best dune bashing driver and, for once, the hype was real. Even the sunset was better this time. So yes, a pretty crap day salvaged by being violently thrown around a 4WD. I was then delivered to the airport full and exhausted, but still fossil-less, salt-flat-lake-less and definitely rock-formation-less. I see a refund in my future but for now my Middle Eastern adventure is over.
