dunes, rain and rugby...

Ladies in Liwa...

8 women, 3 cars, a desert highway and a private villa. To beep or not to beep, that was the question. Once we left speed cameras and traffic behind, we opened windows and turned up music to drown out the annoyingly steady beeps and blasted along the rolling desert highway. Bumpy dunes, yellow sand, tree farms consisting of a few scraggly rows, try to keep the sand in check, keep it from covering the road. The sand turns orange, darker red swirls have a marble-like appearance. Sooner than I thought, we hit the crescent-shaped Liwa Oasis - green plantations, palm trees, the road curves, climbs, drops. Hard to believe that beyond the dunes on our left lies the Rub al Khali - the empty quarter, the Saudi border. Sun and sand forever.
The hotel sits atop a large hill, our villa has its own pool and we waste no time working out ways to position deck chairs in it to allow for maximum sun exposure.

Sunset approaching, we climb back in the cars and head away into the dunes, looking for the perfect spot. We leave the cars, some leave their shoes, and set off - the surface is foreign to me - solid one step, loose and fluid the next - a bit like snow, but looser, a step causing a wave to roll down. My sense of size, my depth perception are changed. Loose sand scuds along, lies off the top of the tallest dune. We attempt to settle on a ridge, but it's windy, and the sand stings, hitting my back, twisting into my eyes. We shift downward, place bets on the time of sunset, pour wine into plastic cups, drinking around the thin flim of sand developing inside. Sand sticks to my skin, in my hair, even under my clothes - the thin film of leftover sunscreen only worsening the problem - but I don't care. The silence is complete, deep, except the occasional car on the road we've left behind. The sand is as warm as its color as I dig my toes and fingers in... the sun sinks... twilight - that time when it's neither here nor there, dark or light... a crescent moon appears... the sky shifts to deeper blues... star light, star bright... and in that moment that I'm forever trying to capture, it's dark. I lean back, squint against sand particles, and absorb the moment, the sight of stars in spangles so dense the constellations blend in... I feel at peace.

Reluctantly we stand, cautiously move our way through the dark, eyes straining for the solid strip that is the road... the sense of tranquility stays with me through dinner on the back patio, sleepy conversations, clinking dishes waking me the next morning, coffee in the early sunshine, reading with feet in the cool water, the drive back...
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It rained. Really rained - a rain worthy of Belgium, that sent me scurrying to my car. Windshield wipers, headlights, palm fronds bending, tea and a book under a blanket.

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Rugby 7s: some of the best rugby players in the world, 7-man teams, 7-minute halves filled with scrums and tackles, a stadium full of expats... one of the best events in Dubai - so I was thrilled when I won a drawing at school on Thursday for some extra tickets.
The only problem was, Saturday didn't dawn bright and sunny - it slogged in heavy and gray. Still optimistic, I grabbed sunglasses along with my sweatshirt and headed off....
Oh, did it rain. All day. In spurts, in spits, in drenching downpours, in steady plops.... garbage-bag ponchos abounded. Who would have thought I would need an umbrella here. We stuck it out for awhile, taking a break under a tent, then joining some friends with a large umbrella, testing the limits of its coverage. We yelled, we cheered, talked, laughed, had a good time while getting thoroughly drenched. The sandy grounds, unused to such a deluge, turned into silty brown puddles which were quite fun to splash through. The pitch was saturated, giving the players an excellent surface to slide and splash and tackle on.
I gave up around 4 o'clock, but I was there long enough to know that if I had fun in the rain, I could have lots of fun next year when it will not rain... right?