Wandering North

Kuwait Mongolia-Kuwait-Bahrain trip 2025

Kuwait: Quick and Quiet

I had wrapped up my time in Mongolia and flew to the next country on this trip, which was Kuwait. You may be thinking what I was when I came up with this preposterous itinerary, which is, “Kuwait is nowhere near Ulaanbaatar.” And you would be right. After deciding to visit Mongolia, I wanted to visit another country that I had not been to before, but there wasn’t much around Mongolia, so I looked West and decided it was time to time to hit up a couple of Gulf microstates. Next stop Kuwait.

Almost every blog or social media post I see from people who have been everywhere and feel the need to rank countries, ranks Kuwait near the bottom. Boring is the consensus. No problem. I didn’t plan to spend much time there and, in my experience, everywhere is interesting for a day or two. I would be in Kuwait for about 36 hours.

I landed in the middle of the night and took a taxi to my hotel, the ibis Sharq (so called because it is in the Sharq district). Uninspired, but it was cheaper than a lot of options. I have no idea if there is a better area to stay in Kuwait City; something walkable and affordable. I feel like it does not exist, but I am open to suggestions. The ibis was fine. I slept for a few hours and headed out. I wanted to get an early start because I was there only a short time and I knew the afternoon would be hot.

I wasn’t sure what to wear in Kuwait. I heard mixed things about how covered up and conservative I should be, so erring on the side of caution, I wore a light black abaya and matching headscarf with some black beading at the hems and underneath I had leggings and a t-shirt. I don’t know that it was necessary to be so conservative, but I think I would have felt conspicuous walking around without it. But the thing was, it was very hot. It was at least 45°C and I think at one point it went up to 48. It was not pleasant for walking. Throughout the day, I kept tucking into air-conditioned establishments or sitting on the sidewalk in the shade and drinking lots of water trying to get my temperature down. It was intense.

My main stop, and I think every tourist’s main stop in Kuwait City, was the Kuwait Towers. Three retro futuristic sipe-like towers built in the 1970s. Two of them piece blue spheres. One sphere is a water tank, one is a café, and one is divided in its lower half as a water tank and its upper half is a restaurant. I did not pay the money to go inside and I don’t regret it. But they were cool to see in person. During the day they are blue and white but at night they are lit up in different colours. I was able to walk there from my hotel and took a bit of a stroll along the bay, again until the heat overtook me.

Thankfully they have Uber in Kuwait, and I called a car and asked it to take me to another area of town so I could visit a big mosque and the souk area.

A couple of problems with Kuwait: One problem is that it is a car culture. It’s not designed for walking, so the streets don’t have much life them. The distances are long and there’s not a lot of things to engage with along the way. Also, it’s hot, so walking isn’t great to begin with. The other problem was that I was there on a Saturday; a Saturday being sort of like the equivalent of a Sunday in a Christian nation and pretty much everything was closed. So a city that wasn’t super exciting to begin with felt even more quiet. The business district was a ghost town.

I did wander over to the souk and that was a little bit interesting although most of the shops were closed. Fortunately, some of the cafes were not, and I found a café (Dalalwa Café) with lots of outdoor air conditioners and men lounging outside, drinking tea and smoking shisha in crisp white thawbs (locally called dishdashahs). I joined them and drank tea and smoked a cigar. They refused to take my money. I attracted a lot of curious looks, but they were polite and no one was no one made me feel unwelcome. (I’m not sure if the looks were due to my gender, the cigar, or the face that my face was so red and sweaty.)

The mosque I wanted to visit wasn’t open. All I could do was walk around the outside. I walked around some streets and took in more of the atmosphere, such as it was. I tried to visit the museum, but it was closed, as was the aquarium. There really aren’t a lot of designated tourist attractions in Kuwait.

What Kuwait lacked in museums, it made up for in cigar lounges. I was able to visit two. Both were in commercial buildings: one, simply called No.21 high up in The No2 of the two Pearl Towers; a bit difficult to find, but worth it. (UPDATE: sine I was there it has relocated to the 4th floor of the Four Seasons Hotel Kuwait at Burj Alshaya. The other, the Cabinet Club on the second floor of Salhiya Mall. They were nice lounges. Very well appointed and with excellent selections of cigars. Not cheap. Nothing in Kuwait is.

I enjoyed the respite from the heat, and I was able to chat with the employees of the two lounges. It wasn’t easy to engage with people in Kuwait because there weren’t a lot of them around but the people working in the lounges were all from other countries and spoke English and were happy to chat for a bit. I was the only woman in the two lounges. The others there were men, again dressed in gleaming white dishdashahs with designer sunglasses and perfectly groomed facial hair. They looked very fancy. I felt bedraggled by comparison.

At some point in the day, I started to feel a bit unwell. I wasn’t sure if it was heat stroke or if it was the subtle food poisoning that I had been experiencing yesterday at the Istanbul airport, but my stomach just wasn’t right. I went back to my hotel to have a bit of a rest before dinner. Because I had some big dinner plans.

The most interesting thing about going to Kuwait was that I was having dinner with someone that I have been working with for over 10 years but had never met. If you don’t know, I’m a lawyer. In 2015 we took on a case involving members of the Kuwaiti royal family and their deceased father who had invested in some properties in British Columbia Canada. Several of the children ended up suing each other including in British Columbia and we became lawyers for one of them. (I’m able to write about this this because there are several reported decisions in the Supreme Court British Columbia, so all of this is public information.) At the time of writing, the case is ongoing. Anyway, I had never met our client, the Sheikha, and I was excited to have dinner with her and her daughter. A Sheikha is effectively the equivalent of a Princess. She and her daughter selected the restaurant and picked me up at my hotel in a black window tinted SUV. And we went to a restaurant called Dar Hamad in Salmiya, which is its own city, but really seems like part of Kuwait City.

Again, to be respectful I was wearing my abaya with my headscarf loosely draped over my shoulders. The Sheikha was also wearing a black abaya with her hair covered but the daughter was wearing a more western style outfit, although still quite modest. The restaurant we went to was gorgeous. Beautifully designed and fancy. We had a table that looked like it was meant to seat ten but it was just for us. I didn’t understand why we had such a large table until they started bringing out all the dishes. The Sheikha had ordered a feast. Not a veritable feast but an actual feast of different things for me to try. She knew ahead of time that I was a vegetarian so most of the dishes were designed to be vegetarian.

*some of the dishes i was too sick to enjoy*

This would have been heaven, except that by the time I went to the dinner I was feeling extremely unwell. I had been suffering from terrible bouts of nausea and feeling like I was going to throw up. I hadn’t eaten anything all day, but I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to keep anything down. I politely told them that I wasn’t feeling that well but that I was excited to try all the food. And I did have the smallest nibbles of all of the different dishes but every time I did, I felt really ill. On two occasions during the meal I urgently had to leave the table and I went to the bathroom to violently vomit. This was not the first impression that I wanted to be making, but it was a very enjoyable dinner and I felt very privileged to be able to experience it.

They drove me back to my hotel and I went to bed. I had a flight early the next morning.

Apart from my dinner with the Sheikha and the cigar lounges, I didn’t love Kuwait. It wasn’t the most interesting of places, however, I think being there on a weekend was a bad decision. For that reason I would like to go back and get a better sense of what the country has to offer. So while it’s not high on my list of countries that I’ve visited, I’m not sure I gave it a fair shot. But that was my visit and my next flight would take me to another new country of similar size, Bahrain.

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Ulaanbaatar redeems itself

On that third day in Ulaanbaatar, I woke up in a good mood. I had so enjoyed my tour the day before and, despite not loving Ulaanbaatar on my first day, I was excited to see more of it. I devised a loose walking plan through the city, with plans to meet someone for a cigar in the evening.

I walked from my hotel (the Hotel Nine by the main square) to Gandantegchinlen Monastery. It was a pleasant, if unremarkable, walk. I did make one blunder, though: I walked by but did not visit the newly constructed Chinggis Khan Museum. I felt like I had done enough of that the day before, and I didn’t think I had enough time, so I skipped it. Everyone I have talked to since has told me it was a mistake and that the museum is incredible. I should have at least popped in. Next time.

I arrived at Gandantegchinlen Monastery and discovered my favourite place in the city. It is a complex of Buddhist temples, and I’ve seen lots of Buddhist temples, but there was something about the way they were laid out and the openness of the space. There was also this low, deep chanting and the occasional soft sound of a gong that permeated the space and made it feel so serene. I felt it kind of deeply. I think it was mostly the chanting. I think, with the right music, I could be tricked into joining a cult.

From there, I walked to a café/tea house called Potala. I read about it on a blog or in a book because I would never have discovered it otherwise. It is on the 11th floor of an office tower called Gem Palace. Weird. But it is a lovely café, decorated in a Buddhist-temple style, with lots of places to sit comfortably and look at the view. They had food (including vegetarian dishes), but I wasn’t peckish. I did try one of their specialty drinks, “Potala Coffee.” which was strong coffee with shar tos (Mongolian clarified sheep or cow butter). It wasn’t terrible, but I think I’ll stick with black coffee. Great café, though. They even had Wi-Fi and lots of outlets; it would be a great place to work on a laptop.

After that, I wandered around more and made my way to a restaurant at the Corporate Hotel. There isn’t anything too special about the hotel, but it has a restaurant with a big, covered patio and comfortable seating. I had a veggie curry and a cigar (Juan Lopez No. 2) and decided it was time to try Mongolia’s vodka. I opted for the Chinggis Gold Vodka, which was the best they had on the menu. The menu said it would be just an ounce, but the waitress brought out the bottle, and I swear she poured me half a glass of vodka. Look at the photo; that’s not water. (It tasted like…vodka.)

Rested and feeling good, I walked south to the Bogd Khan Winter Palace. Bogd Khan was the leader of Mongolia from 1870 to 1924, and this was one of his residences. It was not a great walk there, but I did find this excellent Soviet-style mosaic on the way.

The palace had small, modest interiors and a little bit of a museum, but the palace itself was the real draw, with its decorations and murals.

I didn’t feel like repeating the long walk back to the centre of town, so I hopped on a bus heading in the right direction, and it got me where I wanted to go. I meandered around town for a little longer and then took a taxi to a cigar lounge to meet a stranger.

When I had posted on Facebook that I was flying to Ulaanbaatar, a cigar friend of mine from Vancouver who now lives in Hong Kong messaged me to say that his neighbour, who is also a cigar smoker, was in Ulaanbaatar for a year for work. I’ll call him Pemberton. My buddy connected us, and Pemberton and I arranged to meet at a cigar store and lounge called Habanos Cigar Lounge.

*a nice lounge in an uninspiring setting*

I greatly appreciated that there was a lounge in Ulaanbaatar, but the selection of cigars for sale was only so-so. I bought a Bolivar Belicoso Finos and a Partagas Serie D No. 4 from a disinterested salesperson and settled into the lounge. The inside was actually pretty nice, but, when Pemberton arrived, we sat outside on the patio. It was nice.

We chatted, and I got to hear what it was like to live and work in Ulaanbaatar. Dismal was my takeaway. Pemberton was from the Netherlands but had moved to Hong Kong long ago and worked for a beverage company. His posting in Ulaanbaatar was for about a year, during which he worked with the government to set up manufacturing and distribution in Mongolia. Similar to the stories I had heard from others, doing any work with the government was slow, inefficient, and a bit corrupt. Pemberton found living in Ulaanbaatar depressing and unpleasant. I can see that.

We parted ways well after dark, and I walked back to my hotel. Ulaanbaatar may not have a lot going for it, but it did feel very safe. The next morning, I got up early and took a private transfer to the airport (hoping not to take the bus this time). The sky was beautiful.

I enjoyed my three days in Mongolia, even if I was only lukewarm on Ulaanbaatar. If I were to return, though (and I wouldn’t rule it out), I would take the train to some other locations in Mongolia and try to spend more time in nature.

But I was on to my next destination from Mongolia, which was, illogically, Kuwait.

*some murals and a random Beatles monument in Ulaanbaatar*

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Ulaanbaatar to the Unknown: A Mongolian Day Trip

My first day in Mongolia, checking out Ulaanbaatar had been a mixed experience. It was not a great city, but I had a good time checking it out, even if there wasn’t much that I liked. The second day I would break things up by taking a day tour into the countryside. This would be a great improvement.

I booked a day trip with a company called Nomadic Hospitality Mongolia to see Terelj National Park and the statue/museum of Chinggis Khan. I thought it would be a private trip but there was a French girl on the tour with me, which was a nice surprise actually. When I told her I was from Vancouver she lit up and said, “I love the X-Files!” A show that was almost entirely filmed there. I am a HUGE X-Files fan, so we had a lot of chat about.

Our driver / guide as a young woman (probably only the second time I have had a female guide or driver) called Kulan who was a terrific host. She answered all of my questions about Mongolia including about how people live in the remote parts, the economy, the government, and the local music.

Glorious Genghis

We drove first to the massive silver statue of Genghis Khan. It is a new monument, built in 2008, which is a bit weird. I always thing of giant monuments as something we don’t really do anymore, but I guess I was wrong. It was cool. The scale and the glittering silver against the blue skies were impressive.

Below it is a museum about Genghis Khan and his empire. Very well done and it amazing to look at the maps and see how far they got into Europe and Asia. In case you doubt or don’t know, here is the map of the Mongol Empire at its height in 1279.

Outside the museum were various fellows with camels and predatory birds if you want ride or have the birds perch on your shoulder for pictures. I did not but couldn’t resist a camel selfie.

A Ger-iffic Lunch Spot

We visited a local family to have lunch in their ger. Obviously this is a thing they do for tourists, but it was still very cool to be in their actual home and see how cozy it is and to walk around the fields surrounding it, interacting with cattle. Lunch – or at least the veg portion of it – was simple but tasty, with my favourite part being the aaruul, dried balls or fermented milk or yogurt from cows, goats, sheep, yaks, or camels. It was similar to those I have had in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan (called qurt or various similar spellings).

Terelj Temples

From there we drove to Terelj National Park to see, first of all, a large rock that looks like a turtle. It does actually look turtle-like, though for that alone I don’t think it would be worth the drive. The setting, however, was wonderful. Green and dotted with wildflowers and just so sweeping and open. We got to appreciate more of it as we walked up a long path to a Buddhist temple on the mountain. The views were incredible and the temple was serene. Or at least it was until I mistakenly walked in the wrong direction around the room, causing some woman to abandon her spiritual reverie to harshly rebuke me in a manner that I found rather un-Buddhist.

Back in the Capital

We drove back to Ulaanbaatar. It was a great day. I think that is the thing about Mongolia; what there is that is really worth seeing is in the countryside; in the landscapes, both punishing and desolate and green and serene. But it is rather difficult to get around if you don’t drive. This gave me a nice taste, and I am glad I did not skip it.

After my return I ate another meal at the vegan restaurant I had eaten at the day prior (Agnista Vegan Restaurant) and paid a visit to the National Museum, which I liked.

My third day in Mongolia would be another day in Ulaanbaatar, and I am pleased to say that it grew on me as I found more about it to like.

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First impressions of Ulaanbaatar

I arrived in Ulaanbaatar at about 9:30 in the morning flying in from Seoul on, what would turn out to be a ’round the world’ trip.

Mongolia. A new country and a new capital city. Apparently, some people will shorten Ulaanbaatar by just calling it “UB”, but I was committed to the saying the full name every time. It’s fun to say and even better to read and write. With all those long As. I was excited.

As exciting as it was to land, getting in from the airport was a bit annoying. It is far from the city. There is an airport bus to take you on the approximately 50-kilometre journey, but the traffic is so terrible that the journey can take up to two hours. It took nearly that long the morning that I arrived. It’s bizarre really, there is lots of room for roads through the countryside, but it is a narrow highway congested with too many cars. I was impatient, but I still enjoyed the journey. The scenery was beautiful with rippling hills of green but very few trees. The bus dropped us off in the main square in the city which was just a minute or two from my hotel on foot. The main square was impressive. Imposing buildings some with attractive colours and columns; a giant statue of Genghis Khan – the fellow who would be everywhere – and the weather was nice.

I walked to my hotel the Hotel Nine, which is nothing special to look at but it has an excellent location, a good buffet breakfast, and reasonable rates. The nicer hotels were mostly unremarkable and overpriced.

I went out to explore. Ulaanbaatar didn’t make a great first impression on me. I’m not sure it made it great last impression on me. At least not in terms of beauty. It is, generally speaking, an unattractive city. There are some buildings that are nice, some that look decorative, some that look a little bit Soviet, and there are some beautiful temples, but overall, it is just quite ugly. It is unattractive buildings with busy streets and neighbourhoods that were designed for cars and not walking. It’s not the sort of place that you wander around and explore and get lost in charming little nooks and crannies. But it was interesting and I enjoyed it.

I visited the National Art Gallery which had some nice works of art, but mostly it was interesting to see the very specific Mongolian paintings of nomads and camels and harsh winters on the steppe.

There was a temple area sort of in the middle of town that I wandered over to. I wasn’t able to go inside, but viewing them from the outside was and gave me hope that there would be more interesting things to see.

I walked a lot around the central part of the city that day exploring what there was to see and I wasn’t really loving it. I was having a good time, as I always am when I’m exploring somewhere new, but I wasn’t charmed or wowed or impressed by what I saw. I did visit a little cafe with some vegetarian food, and I went there and had a bite to eat and smoked a cigar. It was kind of a cool place with music playing and lots of young people with neck tattoos and army boots. I was pleased to see that there was kind of a cool alternative subculture. And in walking around the city I have to say that I think Mongolian people are underrated for their beauty. Obviously not every person is beautiful, but the people that are attractive are extremely good looking.

I wandered around some more and found myself on the patio of another restaurant where I had a negroni and a cigar and watch the sunset behind some unattractive buildings. Speaking of the negroni, a fun fact about Ulaanbaatar is that until it was repealed in 2022, on the first day of each month alcohol was not allowed to be sold or consumed. It was a law. Apparently, Mongolia has high rates of alcoholism, but the law was repealed because it just drove drinking and alcohol sales into the black market for that day.

I was tired from my journey and underwhelmed by the city and I didn’t stay out late that night. There also didn’t seem to be anything in the evening that I really wanted to do, so I had an early night. The next day I had booked a driver to take me around to see some sights outside of the city. That day would be excellent, as would my second day exploring Ulaanbaatar which I’ll write about in another post.

And this is one of the downsides of writing a dairy-style blog, The first day was mediocre, but it got a lot better from there. So if you are reading this and thinking “Ulaanbaatar sounds awful” or “Ugh, she didn’t even visit the good spots”, I get it. My next two post will be decidedly more positive. But this was my first day and impressions.

Read on for enhanced positivity. (Nature! Temples! Gers! Cows!)

Asia Mongolia-Kuwait-Bahrain trip 2025 South Korea

Hello Kitty to the Rescue: A Layover in Seoul

I don’t know why, but in the last few years my travel planning has become a little bit more chaotic. I used to book my trips many months in advance, and I would spend time refining the itineraries and learning phrases in the local language and getting organized. But more recently I find myself booking the trips with just a few weeks’ notice. I still make a good itinerary, but it all feels a little rushed. I don’t think I can conceive months in advance of actually being able to take time off work, but then something happens and I just need a holiday and then I book it without much planning. This was one of those trips.

I had decided that I needed to go somewhere, and I decided to go to Mongolia. But I didn’t just want to go to Mongolia, I wanted to try to visit a couple of other countries. And that’s what I tried to do on this trip. I decided to go to Mongolia and Kuwait and Bahrain. I’m aware that Mongolia is nowhere near Kuwait and Bahrain, but it made for an interesting itinerary. And it started with an overnight layover in Seoul South Korea.

This was my third or fourth time visiting Seoul, although each of those visits has been on some sort of long layover. I’ve never actually taken a trip just to see South Korea. I probably should, but this would be another layover visit.

I don’t love Seoul. I know that Seoul is very popular but, overall, I am not enamoured with it. It does make for a good layover though. I appreciate its excellent public transportation and its affordable accommodations, and that there’s lots going on day and night to fill your time. As much as I don’t love it, I was happy to be back for my layover this time.

*Arex: the fast train into the city. Of course it has a cute mascot.*

I arrived at 4:00 PM and I would have to leave again at 9:00 in the morning, so I just had an evening. I booked myself into the Hostel Drip & Drop, which is conveniently located in Myeongdong and right by the Euljiro 1(il)-ga metro station. I took the AREX Express train (which is only slightly faster than the other train) into the city with my backpack and walked to the hostel and dropped it off.

Before I say anything else, I have to say how impressed I was with this hostel. I have fantasies of designing the perfect hostel because there are so many of them that just have design flaws, like having no lighting options between pitch black and blinding white or showers in shared bathrooms with no place to take off your clothes or hang them up outside of the soaking wet shower. This hostel was close to perfect.

It had an immaculate sleeping quarter. I opted for the girls’ dorm and it was one of those ones where every bed is a pod with a proper curtain, a shelf, lighting, and a comfy mattress inside. For the first time ever, I had a little bunk with a window in it. This hostel also had an adjoining room where there were lockers to put your backpack and your shoes, so you would take off your shoes and get your pyjamas, or do whatever you needed to do, and then you could either go into the room with the beds or into the shared bathroom. What this meant was there was no possibility of anybody in the sleeping room rummaging around in their bags, or getting dressed, or crinkling plastic bags because all of that happened in another room. I’m sorry if you’re not here to hear about effective hostile design, but I was very excited by this. And it was $56 Canadian per night. Not exactly dirt cheap, but pretty close.

I don’t know why it’s called Drip & Drop except that it has something to do with coffee and they do provide you with a coffee pour-over situation and they had a pour-over station in the common area. I mean, that’s pretty great. The downsides were no kitchen, and the common area was very sterile and didn’t really invite one to hang around, but that’s OK; I wasn’t there for long. I would 1000% stay there again.

Once I was finished admiring my hostel, I set out into the city. I decided to wander along the Cheonggyecheon, which is sort of a man-made urban river that runs through the city lined with pedestrian and bike friendly spaces with benches and sculptures. It’s a really wonderful use of public space and provides some serenity into what a busy city is otherwise.

I meandered around taking exploring the streets. There appeared to be some sort of festival happening geared towards children and there were a lot of inflatable things and children’s activities. I have no idea what was going on but it did make for some fun photos. It was blisteringly hot in Seoul, so, to cool off, I lingered by the fans set up outside next to some inflatable children’s water park set up for the event, until I realized that a single adult lingering near strange children is creepy.

I wanted to visit a cigar lounge before it got too late (and I needed an escape from the weather) and so I went to the Resolver Cigar Lounge. It was walking distance from my hostel in a commercial building. The lounge was a little bit difficult to find and I nearly gave up and left but finally I found it and it was worth the effort as it was a beautiful lounge. Dimly lit with comfortable leather chairs, excellent cigar accessories, and a sophisticated atmosphere. I visited the humidor and picked out a Plasencia Alma Fuerte – a cigar made at the Plasencia factory I had previously visited in Nicaragua. They had a decent selection of Cubans and some non-Cubans but the prices were very high, and this was the cigar that I decided best fit my budget and palate. The only downside of the lounge, if there was one, was that it was very quiet. There were a couple of other groups of men smoking cigars, but it didn’t have a very social atmosphere. I’ve noticed this a lot with cigar lounges in East Asia which is that people don’t really seem that inclined to talk to each other. Everyone seems to kind of keep to themselves.

By the time I left the lounge it was dark, but that did nothing to reduce the heat and humidity. Sweating profusely, I walked back to the area near my hostel to visit the Myeongdong Night Market. I was delighted to have a night market to go to. At first, it was terrific to walk around the area with the market. The neon signs were twinkling, throngs of people were out gawking at the stalls and eating things on sticks and there was food and merchandise for sale throughout the streets. It was a fun atmosphere. Except now not only was it hot, but it was hot and I was walking past stalls frying up food and producing clouds of hot greasy air.

I quickly became very uncomfortable. I also desperately wanted to eat something but, as is always the problem with night markets in Asia in my experience, it’s very difficult to find anything vegetarian; plus, I had forgotten to get cash from the ATM. After a while I just needed some air conditioning and relief from the weather and that’s when I saw it, like a beacon calling to me. My savior. Hello Kitty.

I love Hello Kitty and I’ve been wanting to go to a themed cafe forever. And there it was: a two-story Hello Kitty café, open late and artificially ice cold. While I was thankful for the air conditioning, I will say that the interior of the Hello Kitty cafe was so brightly lit that I felt like I was in some sort of alien spacecraft, but I was happy for it. I bought two food items that I’ve never had before and will certainly never have again which was a dragon fruit iced tea and a mango cake that was shaped like an actual mango inside a hard shell. It was delicious; or maybe I was just hot and famished. I sat by the window by myself, my eyes ringed in smudgy black eyeliner; I was looking goth-adjacent smelling of cigar smoke and thoroughly enjoying my Hello Kitty meal.

After that, I took one last spin around the market and then went back to my hostel for a shower and asleep. In a few short hours I would be up again and heading back to the airport to fly to my next destination: Ulaanbaatar.

*Temple at sunrise. Headed back to the airport*

Canada North America

One Day in Calgary

It was about two months since my trip to Yemen, and I was desperate to go somewhere. I didn’t have enough time to do a proper trip anywhere internationally, but I just felt that urge to get on a plane. And that’s what it occurred to me: I never been to Calgary, Alberta. I also had no desire to go to Calgary, Alberta, but I looked at the flights and there was a flight leaving early in the morning and coming back in the evening for about $100 round trip on Flair Airlines. Without giving it any more thought, I booked the trip. I may have had no interest in Calgary, but surely there would be enough there for me to be entertained for the day.

The time it took me to get to the airport in Vancouver was longer than my whole flight to Calgary which was only about an hour and a half. I landed in the morning and took a bus into the city. It was a Saturday and I wasn’t quite sure where to go, but the bus dropped me off in the business district, which was kind of a ghost town on the weekend. I found a nice cafe and had an espresso and came up with sort of a plan.

I went for a bit of a stroll which involved walking down Stephen Avenue, a pedestrian street lined with restaurants and shops. Nothing on the street interested me other than a few statues in the area, but it was good for a wander.

Weirdly, the thing that I was most excited about seeing in Calgary was the public library. It is an impressive modern art building completed in 2015, the work of a Norwegian and American design firm. It has a huge atrium with a lot of light and curved wooden elements. It’s very nice but I have to say that its shape did remind me a bit of a vagina. It’s worth checking out if you are in the area; it has some sculptures outside which are interesting and the building itself is attractive, but also inside there were various art displays and lots of places to sit and relax. But I had no time for relaxing. I was only there for the day.

I spoke to the people at the information desk at the library and they recommended that I check out the National Music Centre. It wasn’t on my radar previously, but it was free on the day that I happened to be there so I figured why not check it out.

This was another knew an impressive building, although unlike the library I didn’t find this one to be that attractive. Nevertheless, it was something to see. They had live music concerts going on and displays about the history of different genres of music in Canada. It was more interesting than I thought actually and I gave it a walk through. Not really giving it the time that it deserved but I got a sense of this thing and it gave me some more appreciation for Canadian musical artists.

From there I had decided to walk to a neighbourhood called Inglewood as I heard that it was sort of the “hipster” kind of neighbourhood of Calgary. It was a beautiful Sunday and a pleasant walk over a little river and into the neighbourhood. This was my favourite area that I saw while I was in Calgary. It had a street lined with lovely shops. Thrift stores, record stores, bookstores, coffee shops, even a vegan bakery. I browsed around, bought a book, and had a bite to eat.

There was also a small art museum called the Esker Foundation on the 4th floor of a commercial building. The art was good and although it was a small space there was a lot to look at. This was also free and, strangely, it didn’t even have anyone working at the information desk. I would have thought that it was closed except the doors were opened and the lights were on. I was delighted with the find.

If I had more time, I think I could have spent more of it in Inglewood just exploring the neighbourhood, but I had two more stops to make.

I called an Uber and I went to Contemporary Calgary, another modern art museum. This one wasn’t free, but it had reasonable admission price which was absolutely worth it. It had some excellent exhibits, including several by American artists dealing with subjects like slavery and immigration that were quite moving.

It was just about 5:00pm and I had my final stop to make on Calgary day tour and this was the thing that I most wanted to do in Calgary. Years before, my mother, whose name is Betty-Lou had told me about her speakeasy bar at Calgary called Betty-Lou’s Library. How could I not visit? I love a speakeasy bar, and my mother loves books, so how could I help visit the bar that seems to be her namesake? It was delightful. It was in the basement of an older building on a residential street just off of a commercial street. You’re supposed to make a reservation, although I’m not sure it’s technically necessary. I had emailed them to make the reservation, and I had gotten the necessary code word. Entering the building, I picked up an old-fashioned phone, and they asked me for the code word which I gave them. (The name of an English author.) And then a bookcase opened and I was let inside. The decor is exactly what you would want in a place like this: vintage furniture, dark with red lighting, and old time jazz. It was wonderful. It was also just after 5:00pm and they had just opened, so I was one of only three people inside but I bet it would be even more fun to go later in the evening when it’s busy.

I sat at the bar and had a cocktail and chatting with the bartender I told her about my mother Betty-Lou and how she loved books, and I showed her the tattoo I have of Betty-Lou’s name on my arm as proof that I wasn’t inventing the story. The bartender told me that the owner had named the bar after his mother whose name is also Betty-Lou and a photo of her was hung above the bar. The owner came out and introduced himself and then my next drink was on the house. I was delighted to have been able to go to this place. (Thanks mom)

And with that, it was time to return to the airport. I called an Uber and arrived just in time for my flight.

I had a thoroughly enjoyable day and would recommend it to people living in Vancouver who have never been to Calgary and need a little travel fix. Would I go back? I don’t think so. I did everything that I wanted to do (and more) but I didn’t like the city enough to warrant a return visit. There’s nothing wrong with it really, I just didn’t really like it. It’s definitely a driving city, not a walking one, and a lot of it just feels very business-y and not that interesting or beautiful, however, I was delighted to have gone.

This trip would tide me over until my Mongolia trip in August.

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London Layover: The Canals

I landed in London at 8:40 AM after my incredibly short night in Cairo, concluding my journey to Yemen. I had only a five-and-a-half-hour layover before my flight home to Canada, but there was absolutely no way I was going to spend that time sitting inside the airport terminal. Within minutes of clearing customs, I was on the Heathrow Express heading straight for Paddington Station.

I stopped for a quick espresso and to take in a little public art.

I firmly maintain that for a layover of this length, taking a stroll along the canals near Paddington is an excellent option. I had visited the area once before, but only the sections directly adjacent to the station. This time, I ventured a little farther into the neighbourhood properly known as Little Venice. It was so much more beautiful than I had imagined.

There are countless reasons why London remains my favourite city in the world, but one of the main ones is its seemingly endless supply of charming neighbourhoods. Walking that morning past the clear, reflective canals—lined with beautiful historic buildings and flowering trees—I was in absolute heaven. It is entirely possible that it all felt especially lovely because I had just spent the better part of a week in Yemen. While Yemen is incredibly beautiful in its own right, it was also hot, punishing, and dusty.

I felt a wave of pure happiness that morning, enjoying the slightly cool weather, walking under a canopy of lush green trees, and looking out over the serene waters. Eventually, I made my way back toward Paddington Station and stopped for a coffee and some avocado toast at one of the charming little barge restaurants moored on the canal. It was an absolute delight.

It really is amazing how much you can accomplish during a short layover in London if you are willing to move. With that, I headed back to Heathrow Airport. My magical Yemen trip was officially over. My next adventure would keep me a little closer to home: a quick day trip to Calgary.

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Cairo Layover: The Interrogation

This was barely a layover, but because it involves a rather funny story, I thought it deserved its own post. My two travelling companions, John and Doc, and I had left Yemen, flying from Seiyun to Cairo. Our stopover was incredibly brief: we landed in Cairo at 9:45 PM, and my flight out was scheduled for 5:45 AM the next morning. Originally, I planned to just rough it and sleep at the airport terminal. However, realizing how crucial a good night’s rest would be, and seeing that airport hotels were reasonably priced, we each booked a room at Le Passage Cairo Hotel right next to the airport. I highly recommend it—even in the middle of the night, they have food and beverage options open, and the property itself is very nice. But first, I actually had to get there.

To leave the airport, we each had to go through immigration to get our passports stamped into Egypt. John and Doc passed through within seconds with absolutely no questions asked. When I stepped up to the counter, however, the officer looked at my passport and began typing furiously into her computer. She asked where I was coming from and where I was heading. I explained that I had just arrived from Yemen and was flying to London in the morning. She kept staring at her screen. Finally, she called over a colleague, who instructed me to follow them into a small side room. None of this particularly worried me, except for the fact that it was cutting into my precious sleeping time. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, so I wasn’t anxious.

The little room turned out to be an interrogation office, complete with a desk, filing cabinets, and a couple of chairs. A thin man wearing glasses, a white button-up shirt, and a tie was standing inside. He spoke flawless English and invited me to sit at the desk. He held my passport in his hand, and what followed was approximately five minutes of pure silence. Five minutes might not sound like a long time, but in a setting like that, it feels like an eternity.

The man pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, unpeeled the cellophane slowly, selected a cigarette, and tapped it deliberately against the desk before lighting it. He then took off his glasses, cleaned them with a cloth, inspected the lenses in the light, and put them back on. Next, he stood up, adjusted a fan mounted near the ceiling, and switched it on. Finally, he sat down and began slowly flipping through my passport, the cigarette dangling casually from his lip.

At this point, the performance ended and the questioning began. He asked where I was coming from and exactly why I had gone to Yemen. I explained multiple times that I was simply on holiday and enjoyed visiting unique countries. He asked what I did for a living, and I told him I was a lawyer in Canada returning to my home and job the day after next. He also questioned me about the short layover I had in Cairo on my way to Yemen, noting it was suspicious that I had gone into the city for such a brief window. I countered, “Why would I miss an opportunity to go into one of the world’s greatest cities for breakfast?”

He repeated several of his questions, looking for cracks in my story. Finally, he stared directly at me and said, “I don’t believe a single thing you are telling me. But I cannot find a reason to keep you here, so I am going to let you go.”

He handed my passport back and sent me through immigration, where it was stamped and I was finally released. It was a bizarre interaction, and I have no idea what the fellow thought I was actually up to. Honestly, I am glad it happened because I thoroughly appreciated his weird, exaggerated mime theatrics. Perhaps I should have been nervous, but I was simply too exhausted to care.

When I finally checked into the hotel, I was still too wired to sleep. I sat outside in the courtyard having one final cigar before going to bed for a grand total of two hours. The next morning, I would be landing in London for one final day of vacation before heading home to Canada.

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Yemen – Shibam and Departures

We awoke on this, our last full day, at our beautiful hotel in the valley. The previous day had been our excellent visit to the villages of Wadi Doan. The routine was well established at this point: I woke up, had my cigar, and watched the sunrise, followed by breakfast with the group before we set off on our next excursion.

Today, we would be heading to Shibam. As I’ve said in earlier posts, this was the thing that I most wanted to see. This was the picture that I had seen on the internet years ago, making me think, “Someday, I must see this place.” And that day was today.

The Old Walled City of Shibam is one of the highlights of a trip to South Yemen. The town was founded in the 3rd century, but the buildings that you see today were built in the 1500s. The structures are made entirely of mud brick and stand between 5 and 11 stories tall. They are narrow and built close together. Apparently, this particular design was meant to protect them from Bedouin attacks, but whatever the reason, it looks unusual and beautiful. Amazingly, the buildings remain strong and resilient. While they need regular, fresh applications of mud to the exterior, they have lasted all these centuries. The tallest ones are just over 30 metres high. It is the look of these closely clustered tall buildings that has given Shibam nicknames like “The Manhattan of the Desert” and “the World’s First Skyscraper City.”

Seeing it from a distance the night before was magical, but walking amongst the buildings was equally special. People actually live and work here. We saw pharmacies and honey vendors, little shops selling antiquities, and, of course, men sitting around smoking and drinking coffee. Sometimes, seeing things that you’ve been dreaming of can be a disappointment. This was not one of those times.

From Shibam, we drove back to Seiyoun, where we had started our journey; however, we hadn’t seen much of the city at the beginning. This time, we visited a museum in the market. I was delighted to explore the marketplace, finally try some Yemeni coffee, and browse through the little shops. I picked up some small bottles of oud as a souvenir. We sat around a café with our guide and driver, and I thought again about how much I wished I could just explore a little bit on my own. I could have spent all day sitting at a café, smoking and watching the people go about their daily activities.

We went to a specific spot near the market where they made jambiyas. A jambiya is a large, curved dagger that Yemeni men wear as part of their traditional ensemble, tucked into a thick, embroidered belt and worn on top of their futa. John and Doc had not gotten their jambiyas when they first bought their Yemeni clothing, but now they would. The craftsmen at the shop picked out the right jambiya for each of them and hammered holes into custom-fitted belts so that John and Doc could wear them with pride — right up until they had to go through airport security, I guess.

I bided my time at one of the nearby gun shops. This is another moment where I must emphasize that my trip to Yemen felt completely safe, and that the people were extraordinarily nice and hospitable, but there is a tremendous amount of guns. This little shop, which was no bigger than a single parking stall, sold an astonishing assortment of handguns, machine guns, and rifles. They even let us handle and pose with them—without any ammunition, of course. I couldn’t resist posing for a few photos. I had mixed feelings about sharing these pictures online, but I think I’ve been clear that Yemen is not a scary or dangerous country. I just really like this picture of myself with the machine gun. I’m not someone who does online dating, but if I did, I think this would be a fun picture to use in my profile.

Next, we made a specific visit to the honey market, where rows and rows of small shops sold an incredible variety of locally produced honey. Yemenis are very proud of their honey, and we had been eating it every day, but I had no idea there was such a wide variety. We got to sample different types and were told about how different varieties of honey were good for various ailments. Each of the three of us picked up a tiny little bottle of the most expensive honey (sidr) to take home. It was thick, a dark amber colour, and very strong-tasting. I think it was about $5 USD.

But there was still more sightseeing to do. We drove to the nearby city of Tarim, walked the streets, and took in the Al-Mihdar Mosque and some Sufi shrines.

We returned to the Hawta Palace Hotel (the place where we had stayed on our first night in Yemen) for our final night. We were called to dinner and told there would be a special surprise. A group of men arrived and set up for us just before we ate. There were about 8 men dancing and another 10 men playing musical instruments and singing as they put on a performance. It was wonderful, although admittedly, I was trying to juggle a bit of remote work during the show. My companions, John and Doc, were called up to dance with the performers. John tried to call me up as well, but it was very quickly made apparent to me that this was a men-only situation. No problem. I sat outside with my cigar and just watched the show. It was a terrific end to an incredible trip.

The next day was the day of our departure. We got up, had a leisurely breakfast, and went into the city to walk around the market a bit more. We even went to a sort of Western-style coffee shop for iced mochas and lattes. These fancy coffees were not included in the trip budget, and I think this brought the total amount that I spent on the entire trip to about $30 USD—not including the tips that we gave to our guide and driver, of course. I had no idea how much spending money I would need and had brought a lot more with me; it is always better to be safe than sorry. If you are bringing money to Yemen (and you should) make sure that it is crisp, new US bills. They won’t accept anything with any imperfections.

At the airport, we said our goodbyes to our guide and driver and headed through security. There was little to no fanfare or hassle at immigration. Once we were through, we found a little seating area with a café, and we spent the last of our local money on snacks. I realized at this point that I was no longer really in the country and no longer had to wear my abaya. I had thought earlier in the trip that I might bring it home with me, but after six days of wearing it in the heat, it was crusted with sweat and dirt. I was completely sick of it, so I took it off and left it behind.

We boarded the plane and said goodbye to Yemen. It was an amazing trip. While I wouldn’t visit those same sites again (simply because I think we did them justice) I would be happy to go back to the country if the northern part ever reopens to tourism, as I would love to see the capital, Sana’a.

We shared a quick overnight layover in Cairo before John, Doc, and I went our separate ways. Next was a short layover in Cairo where we spent the night and I got interrogated at the airport.

A few more pictures from that final day in Yemen.

*i accidentally snapped a photo of the most handsome man in Yemen*

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Yemen – village life in Wadi Doan

On our third day in Yemen, we awoke at the hotel in Mukalla, and after a morning cigar and breakfast, we were back on the road. This would turn out to be both the best and most trying day of the trip so far. We drove to our next accommodation, the Haid Al-Jazil Hotel. It sits pretty much in the middle of nowhere—but what an incredible nowhere! Approaching the property, it simply appeared to be sitting isolated in the middle of a dry desert plain. The hotel itself consists of a series of landscape-appropriate bungalows alongside a main building housing the reception and dining area. However, stepping just past those bungalows revealed the most extraordinary view.

Before us lay a massive desert valley with a thin ribbon of green slicing through the bottom, marking where water flows at certain times of the year. Rising up from the middle of this valley was a large, round plateau topped by a tiny town. A compact cluster of mud-brick buildings sat perched high atop this rock, isolated in the heart of a desolate landscape. It was one of the most remarkable sights I have ever seen, and our accommodations offered a front-row seat.

This was Wafi Doan (aka Wadi Dawan). A wadi is a desert valley, and Wadi Doan cuts through the larger Wadi Hadhramaut region. It is globally famous for its distinct architecture and premium honey production. Looking down from the hotel’s vantage point, I could see tiny people leading tiny creatures along the valley floor. I suppose they were actually regular-sized people leading regular-sized animals, but from that immense height, they looked like miniatures. It was simply amazing.

After taking in the view, we got back on the road to visit some of the local villages. We hiked down into the wadi, but after that point, I get a little confused about the exact order of the places we saw. Trying to piece it together later by looking at my photos and searching online didn’t make it any clearer. I know that on this day we descended into the valley and visited Ribat, Qarhat Ba Humaish, Qarn Majid, Al-Hajjarain, and Sif, but distinguishing between them in memory is difficult because they sit relatively close together.

We began with the descent, which was probably the only low point of the entire holiday. The plan was to hike down to the valley floor to visit that charming village on the rock. No problem, right? I was told it would take about 90 minutes going downhill. I love hiking, so I wasn’t initially concerned. Where it became an issue was the dress code; while the guys were exempted from wearing traditional clothing for the hike and could wear shorts, I was still required to wear my abaya.

As a result, I was hiking through an exposed desert landscape with absolutely no tree cover while wearing leggings, a t-shirt, socks, heavy boots, a thick fabric abaya, and a hijab. I don’t know exactly how hot it was, but I would estimate it was well over 40°C. I overheated very quickly, and the climate took a massive toll on me. Furthermore, while the hike wasn’t overly technical, the terrain was covered in loose rocks. I had to be incredibly cautious about my footing to avoid twisting an ankle. Perhaps other people wouldn’t be so worried, but I have a historical habit of falling off mountains, so I was trying to be careful.

On the way down, I just grew hotter and hotter. My abaya kept catching on thorny bushes, which was incredibly frustrating. The closer I got to the bottom, the more lightheaded I became, to the point where I actually collapsed a few times. Frankly, it felt humiliating. Despite that, the views were beautiful, and descending into the valley remained exciting. When we finally reached the bottom, I allowed myself to collapse onto the stones to drink some water before we walked into the village.

The village itself was incredibly charming: dirt roads lined with three-story mud-brick structures, and small market areas where locals hung out in the shade of palm trees. It felt like a true oasis, even though I didn’t see any actual water. We walked through the paths, stopping to admire the goats and the fruits and vegetables for sale. There was a little open-air, covered structure where a group of men had gathered to play dominoes. Everyone seemed genuinely happy to see us, and a few people even asked us to take their pictures. It was astonishing.

There are not many places left in the world where you can travel and feel like you are truly somewhere different—where there is no mobile phone service, no recognizable Western businesses, and people do not dress the way they do back home. As much as globalization is likely beneficial for the world overall, it does chip away at these unique pockets of cultural experience. But here, at the bottom of a valley within a valley in Yemen, it felt entirely distinct.

Our driver met us at the bottom, picked us up, and drove us through the various towns and villages I mentioned earlier, stopping so we could explore points of interest. We saw small palaces clinging inexplicably to sheer rock faces, brightly coloured buildings, beautifully carved wooden doorways, and winding paths through mud-brick neighborhoods where children peered down at us from windows. Everything we saw was beautiful.

One site of historical significance we visited was the ancestral Bin Laden family home. I don’t think it is a house Osama ever lived in, but it belonged to his father. We couldn’t go inside, but we looked at the exterior and took a few photos. While we were there, a young boy rode by on a motorbike and stopped to gawk at us. John asked him if he could try riding the bike, and the kid nodded. It is not clear if he actually understood the request, because when John took off down the road—going maybe 50 feet—the kid panicked and ran after him yelling, thinking he was being robbed! Thankfully, the misunderstanding was quickly resolved, and everyone had a good chuckle.

Driving between the villages, we occasionally spotted women minding livestock. While the task itself is common, their outfits were extraordinary. These women wore full black abayas, niqabs, hijabs, and what appeared to be gloves. I didn’t find the coverage unusual, since I also prefer to stay covered up in intense sun, but their hats were completely eye-catching. They wore comically tall, peaked, brimmed hats that looked exactly like witches’ hats, except they were straw-coloured. Some had the very peak and the band around the brim painted black or red. We passed them too quickly to get a clear photo, though we tried.

The hat is called a madhalla. They are woven from date palm leaves and can stand up to two feet tall. Apparently, the extreme height is designed to keep the wearer’s head cool by creating an insulating pocket of air. I have no idea how the women balance them so effortlessly while navigating that rugged terrain and tending to goats, but it looked incredibly stylish.

Walking through the villages, we also noticed a number of locals carrying firearms. We were already somewhat accustomed to this, as our tour group traveled with a guide, a driver, and an armed guard. Our driver carried a semi-automatic handgun, while our guard carried an older automatic rifle. Because a few days had passed and we felt more comfortable, we finally asked if we could take pictures with our guard and his weapon. I understand that people in Yemen do not want their country portrayed as a scary, gun-crazed society; it isn’t. That is America. Our guard carried his weapon strictly for our protection. I am not certain we actually needed protecting from anything, but if it provides a job to someone in an economy where employment is scarce, I am all for it.

Our last stop of the day was another village whose name escapes me. We drove to the end of a road and sat on a rocky outcropping looking out over the valley, and there before us was the skyline of Shibam. Shibam was the city I was most excited to visit on this trip. Because we were scheduled to tour it the next day, I will save my full description for the next entry. However, looking out over that cluster of tall, narrow, ancient mud buildings in the middle of the valley, washed in the warm glow of the setting sun, was a truly special experience.

In the early evening, we returned to our beautiful hotel with its commanding view of the valley we had just explored. We had dinner, and I sat outside at leisure, enjoying my cigars and watching the landscape until the view completely dissolved into the blackness of the night.

At one point, while I was relaxing at the hotel in my regular Western clothes, four young girls approached me. One of them spoke a little bit of English. They were fully dressed in abayas, niqabs, and hijabs, so I couldn’t see their faces. They walked up to me, said hello, and giggled. They asked me where I was from, and giggled. They asked if I liked their country, and giggled some more. I asked them a few questions about themselves, and they kept giggling. Eventually, they asked to take a photo with me. I agreed, on the condition that I could also take one with them on my own phone. Finally, twittering with excitement, they all flipped up their niqabs to show me their faces, smiled warmly at me, dropped the veils back down, and ran away giggling.

It was a wonderful interaction. I suppose they don’t see many foreign women. I thought it was incredibly neat that they felt it was appropriate to show me their faces. Personally, I am all for people wearing whatever they choose to wear, but I struggle with the idea of anyone being forced to wear certain attire because a government, culture, or religion dictates it. Even that is complicated; if your religion prescribes a dress code, and you love your faith and genuinely want to follow it, then there is nothing oppressive about that choice. Still, I certainly have mixed feelings about societal systems that imply women must be covered up. I don’t know what the exact situation was for these girls, but I was simply happy to have met them.

This was by far the best day of the trip so far. While the first two days were great, today was truly amazing. By this point, all the money we spent and the bureaucratic hoops we had to jump through to get here felt completely worth it. The next day, we would finally visit the ultimate highlight of the trip: the ancient city of Shibam.