Stories

Jeep Safari
By Rania Margari

With my passport in hand, I was filled with nervous anticipation. My first trip to the Middle East, at Christmas, in a country where only a few years ago tourism was all but nonexistent. At Doha International Airport, Arab men and women in traditional Muslim clothing dominated the terminal and tourists were few. I approached the window to buy my visa. A woman in a veil and black dress viewed my passport and then studied my face. Again she looked at my Greek passport, studying my picture. Eyes back on my face. Eyes to my passport. Her hand reached slowly for the visa stamp. She raised the stamp three inches above the passport, started to stamp the document, then paused. Eyes to my face. Looking down once more, she brought the stamp down on the document with a slam. I was legally in the country of Qatar.

The capital of Qatar, Doha, is also known as "the pearl of gulf". In fact, pearl hunting was a major contributor to local wealth just before the discovery of oil, a discovery that led to the country's tremendous development. The tiny, oil-rich sheikdom is finally becoming a traveler's destination, and remarkably modern. In general, Qatari women enjoy a degree of freedom comparable to Egypt, which is good news to a woman, like myself, traveling alone. Al Jazeera broadcasts here without overt censorship, and the government no longer guards its population against western corruption. Only a few years ago, a visitor to the country needed an invitation from one of the hotels to obtain a visa. But with the 15th Asian Games held in December of 2006, a building boom ensued with many new hotels and other facilities for tourism.

While May-October temperatures are often as high as 120 degrees, my first December night in Doha was perfect. Lying in my bed, in the cool air of the evening, all I could think of was the Jeep safari I was embarking on the following day. I had never been to the desert and my experience with Keeps was just as limited. Jeeps, desert, sun and Christmas in a Muslim country. Things could get interesting.

I was out of bed at first light. There were five of us going on the morning's trip to the desert, the rest of my party comprised of friends from Greece who now lived in Doha. I had with me light-reflective clothing suitable for the desert, my hat, sunscreen, sunglasses and my camera... and plenty of cold water to taper the desert heat. In Doha the "weekend" is on Friday and Saturday, and the city remained quiet and still at this hour of the morning. The sun rose quickly and strong as we turned onto the road and headed to Sealine, a port near the ocean from where we would depart into the deep desert. Jeeps were all around us, as they are the most common vehicle in the country.

Soon, I came across extraordinary and magical scenery - to my right the Persian Gulf and to my left the desert. We drove south from Doha along the coastal route to the Sealine Beach Resort. Our driver Ahmed turned to us and said in English, "You must meet my family." As he spoke, he slowed to a stop near a small encampment of tents. One by one, several men, women and children came out of one of the tents, blinking in the sunlight, and walked to our Jeep. Smiling warmly, they began introducing themselves. Meeting all the members of Ahmed's family, I could easily see the characteristic hospitality of these once nomadic desert people. They were all very kind and open and eager to make me feel welcome. During the night, strong winds had unexpectedly arisen, blowing the ocean tide into the tent, and they had slept very little. Getting soaked had not seemed to bother them. Speaking with Ahmed's wife I learned that camping this way is what they normally did during their weekends; they came with all the family and stayed in tents by the sea. Their camping facility had only the necessary amenities, not even water where they could have a bath, but they enjoyed the tranquil beauty of the water edged up against the vast expanses of sand.

Ahmed - both our driver and guide - walked to each side of the Jeep and released air from the tires to allow them to ride smoothly over the top of the deep desert sand. He then offered to give the women of our company a warm-up drive with the Jeep in the desert. Sitting on the front seat of Ahmed's Jeep and following the orders of my friends who had been there before, I reached for my seatbelt. The buckle was frozen shut. I turn to Ahmed; "Do you know that there is something wrong with your seatbelt?"

"Well, yes, of course I know, I have done this myself!" he said with a crooked smile. "When one rides in my Jeep she must trust me. There is no need for seatbelt." I had to agree: I had no choice as Ahmed's Jeep was the best of the those available, and he was the most experienced driver. I accepted my lot in life.

We continued along the road, tracing the shoreline. To get to the undeveloped beaches here, a Jeep or other 4-wheel-drive vehicle is a necessity. The sand dunes extend right up to the water's edge and the feeling of remoteness is tangible. I was in another world. Without warning, we turned away from the shore into the desert. I sipped my water as we sped along, the hot wind whipping by my head, the sand occasionally stinging my face and making me glad for my new sunglasses. Deeper in the desert now, the only thing I could see was huge dunes of sand where several jeeps were trying to best each other with extreme maneuvers. Soon, my directional orientation was totally gone and there was no way I could have found my way back if they had left me there. A stunning vision of magnificent dunes as far as the eye could see stretched before me, with not a plant in site. At one end of a sand canyon a group of Jeep owners huddled together, pointing at the dunes, planning their attacks on the sand. Behind them three camels walked between the Jeeps as though sizing up the mechanical competition.

Ahmed turned our Jeep toward one of the larger dunes. The vehicle fishtailed as sand shot backwards in a plume from under the tires. I gripped my seat and hunched down as we spun sideways across the face of the dune. We topped the crest of the dune's ridge and powered our way toward the edge of the sand canyon. Suddenly, everything grew quiet as our car left the earth.

Our jeep shot into the air over the top of a large dune. Ahmed expertly guided the vehicle to a landing and we sped forward toward a sandy incline to our left. We hit the dune at top speed and moved quickly up its side as another jeep came over the top twenty feet away. The Jeep slid crazily to the left and then bounced far to the right, throwing us into the air and back down again in a continuous motion. Another Jeep ran close behind us, its occupants bouncing in their seats with every dip and turn. The sun spun around my head as we first turned east, then west, then in some other direction as we spun giant circles in the sand. I thought of my seatbelt and the cat I had left behind.

Hours later, I was fully engaged in my desert roller coaster, each new dip in the sand an adventure in adrenalin and bladder control. Soon, I was laughing and screaming with each pitch and turn. Ahmed grinned. "You like?" I did, I admitted. This could grow on a girl.

The sun light on the ride back turned deep red against the desert sands. That night, we ate with Ahmed's family around a campfire as his brothers played a lute and drums, singing to us as we dined. Tired, I dozed as we drove back along the coast to Doha, safe, comfortable and never once thinking about the broken seatbelt at my side.

Rania Margari is a freelance travel and lifestyle writer currently living in Athens, Greece. She has studied Journalism in Thessaloniki (Greece) and completed her postgraduate studies in UK. Her work is published in regional magazines and in various online sites. What she loves most in this life is travelling and sharing her thoughts with others through writing.

About Qatar

The barren peninsula of Qatar extends into the Persian Gulf, bordered on the landward end by Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates. Its area may be very small, but the independent emirate is exceedingly wealthy, with one of the highest per capita incomes in the world, thanks to its oil and gas resources.

For most of the 20th century Qatar was a British protectorate, gaining independence in 1971, after which it became embroiled in territorial disputes with its neighbours and suffered civil strife, with the Emir being ousted by his son in a coup.

In 1989 the country started issuing tourist visas, heralding a new era of opening its doors to visitors.

Whether visiting for business or pleasure (or a combination of the two), most travellers use the capital, Doha, as their base. Doha, formerly a quaint and busy pearl fishing village, is today one of the most important cities in the Middle East, a major trading centre. It has a large British and American expatriate population (the Al Udeid air base was headquarters for the US invasion of Iraq in 2003), which has moulded the city into an interesting blend of eastern and western culture and architecture.

Tourists tend to spend their time on the Doha Corniche, a palm-fringed public promenade that extends for four miles (7km) along the seafront, lined with five and six-star resort hotels, restaurants, shops, beaches and recreational areas. A short boat ride from the Corniche is Palm Tree Island, a great escape full of fun family amenities and a first class seafood restaurant. Doha also has its equivalent of Disney World: the Kingdom of Aladdin Theme Park is in the West Bay area. A major attraction for visitors is shopping, whether it is in traditional markets (souqs) or the plethora of massive ultra-modern malls that fill the city centre.

Those wanting to explore outside the city can undertake excursions to interesting towns, fishing villages, beautiful beaches, camel races, luxury resorts and the Almaha Sanctuary at Shahaniya where the near-extinct Arabian Oryx is being protected. The Oryx is the origin of the legend of the unicorn, and is Qatar's national symbol, flying high on the tails of Qatar Airways jetliners.