Due to my new job, O and I weren’t able to spend long in the UK over Christmas and flew back the day after Boxing Day.
This meant that we were to spend our first New Year’s Eve in Abu Dhabi.
This meant that we were to spend our first New Year’s Eve in Abu Dhabi.
What to do?
We had a number of options. Most of the hotels with bars/clubs had some sort of event going on. There was talk of going to a beach party organised by one of the hotels and then sneaking in to the inevitable club party, we could go for dinner, we could do nothing OR we could go and see in the new year out in the middle of the desert.
We went for the last option – mostly because of some deluded notion of making the most of being able to experience things while we can, or something, but also because a lot of people we like were going and the other options slowly fizzled away unless we wanted to do them on our own.
So. December 31st saw us shuffling on down to a car park to wait for the bus that was going to take us into the desert. 10 minutes pass and we find we’re in the wrong car park so hot-foot it across the 6-way junction and make it on to the bus. A slow and perilous journey begins and I make sure too look for that window that busses have that have a little hammer next to it or are easy to push out (there isn’t one) because the bus is in a less than ideal condition and much the same could be said about the driver. Still, after an hour or so on the motorway and then a desert road, we get there… somehow.
Where “there” is, I’m not entirely sure, but we’re herded off the bus and – in sixes – into range rovers. It is at this point that the most fun part of the evening began. For five minutes we were driven off the road for a brief but wonderful bit of dune-bashing before coming to a stop at the top of one particular dune.
Looking down we could see what was supposed to be a Bedouin Camp with falling down walls, shelters around the outer edges, a big stage in the middle and a camel outside (really). The stage was for dancing and that night’s “entertainment”.
All around the stage were big carpets that had long, low tables interspersed with cushions to sit on. Along two sides of the camp were covered seating areas away from the stage, on another was the shisha area and along the last side were the toilets (with paper and soap and everything, praise be!) and the food area.
This is where it all began to fall down. For the (worryingly low) ticket price we understood that we’d be getting food, drinks – even alcohol, shisha and entertainment. Food there was, only they made the mistake of opening the buffet about two hours after everyone had arrived, meaning everyone was hungry which meant the buffet got mobbed and people queued for a good hour to get any food. If you didn’t queue then, that was pretty much it for another few hours until the (awful) shawrma station opened, which was supplemented by some very greasy fried spring rolls and stuff. Thankfully the drinks didn’t run out, although we were looking at 30 quid for a bottle of very average white wine of which there was only one kind.
The shisha was free, if you could figure out the ways of the secret society to get any and then maintain it with coals and replacement heads throughout the night. First we were told we couldn’t have the shisha next to the stage, which we weren’t, so no problem. Then we were told we couldn’t have them on the carpeted area because of fire risk – fair enough, but the designated shisha area had six seats, we were eight and some of us wanted to smoke and some of us didn’t – so we moved to the sand. We tried bribing one of the shisha guys to look after us and bring us coal but he ignored us completely after getting his money and we ended up raiding the nearby barbeque pit for our own coals.
This leaves the “entertainment”. At one point there was a magician for the kids, and a belly-dancer came out and gave the most pathetic performance I’ve ever seen. For the rest of the night there was a DJ who played non-stop Bangra. I’ve no issue with Bangra, but I can’t help feeling that since we were supposed to be having a faux Arabic/Bedouin experience, music that has an Arabic slant to it would have been slightly more in keeping with the theme.
We were able to, on the whole, enjoy ourselves – in spite of the complete lack of organisation. Though I would never see in the new year in the same way again, I am now much more keen to go on a desert safari which I’m told involves lots of dune bashing and culminates in a similar event.
One thing I am really glad about though: As budget as the event was, and how badly organised, at least there were toilets.
We had a number of options. Most of the hotels with bars/clubs had some sort of event going on. There was talk of going to a beach party organised by one of the hotels and then sneaking in to the inevitable club party, we could go for dinner, we could do nothing OR we could go and see in the new year out in the middle of the desert.
We went for the last option – mostly because of some deluded notion of making the most of being able to experience things while we can, or something, but also because a lot of people we like were going and the other options slowly fizzled away unless we wanted to do them on our own.
So. December 31st saw us shuffling on down to a car park to wait for the bus that was going to take us into the desert. 10 minutes pass and we find we’re in the wrong car park so hot-foot it across the 6-way junction and make it on to the bus. A slow and perilous journey begins and I make sure too look for that window that busses have that have a little hammer next to it or are easy to push out (there isn’t one) because the bus is in a less than ideal condition and much the same could be said about the driver. Still, after an hour or so on the motorway and then a desert road, we get there… somehow.
Where “there” is, I’m not entirely sure, but we’re herded off the bus and – in sixes – into range rovers. It is at this point that the most fun part of the evening began. For five minutes we were driven off the road for a brief but wonderful bit of dune-bashing before coming to a stop at the top of one particular dune.
Looking down we could see what was supposed to be a Bedouin Camp with falling down walls, shelters around the outer edges, a big stage in the middle and a camel outside (really). The stage was for dancing and that night’s “entertainment”.
All around the stage were big carpets that had long, low tables interspersed with cushions to sit on. Along two sides of the camp were covered seating areas away from the stage, on another was the shisha area and along the last side were the toilets (with paper and soap and everything, praise be!) and the food area.
This is where it all began to fall down. For the (worryingly low) ticket price we understood that we’d be getting food, drinks – even alcohol, shisha and entertainment. Food there was, only they made the mistake of opening the buffet about two hours after everyone had arrived, meaning everyone was hungry which meant the buffet got mobbed and people queued for a good hour to get any food. If you didn’t queue then, that was pretty much it for another few hours until the (awful) shawrma station opened, which was supplemented by some very greasy fried spring rolls and stuff. Thankfully the drinks didn’t run out, although we were looking at 30 quid for a bottle of very average white wine of which there was only one kind.
The shisha was free, if you could figure out the ways of the secret society to get any and then maintain it with coals and replacement heads throughout the night. First we were told we couldn’t have the shisha next to the stage, which we weren’t, so no problem. Then we were told we couldn’t have them on the carpeted area because of fire risk – fair enough, but the designated shisha area had six seats, we were eight and some of us wanted to smoke and some of us didn’t – so we moved to the sand. We tried bribing one of the shisha guys to look after us and bring us coal but he ignored us completely after getting his money and we ended up raiding the nearby barbeque pit for our own coals.
This leaves the “entertainment”. At one point there was a magician for the kids, and a belly-dancer came out and gave the most pathetic performance I’ve ever seen. For the rest of the night there was a DJ who played non-stop Bangra. I’ve no issue with Bangra, but I can’t help feeling that since we were supposed to be having a faux Arabic/Bedouin experience, music that has an Arabic slant to it would have been slightly more in keeping with the theme.
We were able to, on the whole, enjoy ourselves – in spite of the complete lack of organisation. Though I would never see in the new year in the same way again, I am now much more keen to go on a desert safari which I’m told involves lots of dune bashing and culminates in a similar event.
One thing I am really glad about though: As budget as the event was, and how badly organised, at least there were toilets.
1 comment:
Abu Dhabi is a city of contrasts; on one hand you have many traditional buildings constructed using Arabic styles such as the Grand Mosque and the other is the modern, futuristic.And there are many funny performance you will see.
Oernight desert safari Abu Dhabi
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