Road trippin'

Four teachers, ready for a break from the hustle and bustle and noise of the city, take to the road armed with water, cameras and a loaded iPod. They marvel at the previously undiscovered ridiculousness of Dragon-Mart, a large and (they assume) dragon-shaped mall, and gladly leave it, and the traffic, behind. The desert emerges around them, filled with scrubby brush and trees that somehow survive the intense heat. These too disappear and the sand starts to undulate and crest in wind-blown dunes. A colossal dune rises ahead and merits a photo-op stop near the ATV/camel/horse rental operation. Shortly after, camels are spotted, ambling along the barbed-wire fence. It seems they slow enough to allow the travelers time to spill from the car, cameras at the ready, to accost them. The camels look amused, as if they are used to posing for these wide-eyed visitors, and they eye them back with wide, dark eyes of their own. They pause to pose for a few close-ups, then continue on when they’ve grown tired of the attention.

Mountains now appear in the distance, and closer to the road, gray and time-worn rocks stand in stark contrast to the red-orange hue of the sand. Signs warn of impending doom should it rain and cause the wadis to rush, though momentarily, with water. Cell phones and car speedometers bleep together as the car speeds across the Omani border and emerges again, within minutes, the cacophony announcing a man-made boundary not declared by the view out the windows . Finally, near the foot of the mountains, the destination: Hatta. Signs for Hill Park promise a view – and they do not disappoint. Emerging from the car, the four stretch and lift their faces to the hot afternoon sun. The gate watchman smiles, slightly puzzled: who would climb a hill in the full heat of the day, on a weekend during Ramadan?

The silence is complete. Hatta seems a ghost town but for the occasional squawking of birds. Four pairs of ears stretch out to feel this palpable sense of peace, the first true quiet after being in a place that buzzes constantly with the sounds of a growing city. The Heritage Village, too, is eerily quiet, the dish-dash clad man at the entrance sleeping as we approach, no doubt worn by the heat and his fasting. Exploration of the village provides interesting insights and opportunities for creative, interactive picture-taking with the many displays.

The peace continues over a late lunch at the nearby hotel, with its views of mountains and palm trees, and vows are uttered to visit when life demands another escape.

The car turns homeward as the sun starts its descent over the desert, the sand absorbing the deep gold of late afternoon and deepening its reddish hue. The city approaches all too soon, but back-lit by the magenta of the rapidly-sinking sun, even the half-finished shells of skyscrapers look stunning…