Right before I started cycling from Cartagena I was invited to attend a travel festival in Dubai. That meant a time and destination restriction for the first part of Colombia. But in return I get to visit another continent, meet with amazing people and even sneak in a short trip in the area. On arrival at the airport, my question for the bus was met with confused looks.
"Just take a taxi..."
After some persistance I was on a bus. Textile city 1... textile city 2... textile city main entrance... not having been in a proper city for a while all this seemed so confusing. Gone was the freedom of having a bike but the plan was to get one for my time here and sell it after.
Day 1
Like the mighty rivers of the North, fast flowing highways criss-crossed the city, impassable without a car and with a clear message: nobody rides bikes in Dubai. I left early in the morning in hopes of visiting downtown before the event starts in the afternoon.
beautiful and yet always a little out of focus
It costs 500 dirhams to go up to the 126th floor of the Burj Khalifa, instead I spent that money on a cheap bike.
While successful at getting there, going back was a different game. A sixteen lane highway was the visibly smallest of the two roads I can take out of downtown. As a cyclist, roundabouts are scary too... but wait, lets make it a 4 lane roundabout.
While I had misjudged the distance, that was not the problem. Every single exit required 5 to 10 minute wait until I got to a major junction with 3 lane exit... following "downstream" it split into 2x two lanes, one was passable but the other, after 15 minutes of staring at cars was not. With a running start and few blown horns I made it to the other side.
What a poor excuse to miss the meeting with the crowned prince of Dubai.
At any other time of the year it would be blazing hot but the cool evenings made me wish I had brought more clothes.
En route back I convinced Kazu, a Japanese cyclist to join me for a ride. Surely some quite tall fence hopping and 8 lane highway crossing followed.
Day 2
I also thought that not being in Colombia I wouldn't be the gringo anymore but it was quite the opposite. All cyclists spoke fluent Spanish, add in the Spaniards and Argentinians and this was the main language in the gang. Even the italians and french spoke good Spanish! The two colombians I met already invited me to visit their parents back home. Jorje and Katherine are riding a moto around the world I bet they can't push that up a rocky trail! :)
Jorge and Katherine's moto and elmo guarding it
Most captivating I found the presentation of a man who built a wooden car... running on wood. Then built a plane and flew it to Africa. The cinematography, shots and conversations were just perfect. Who would find a road in the desert and build a gate using an old car? How do you come up with this stuff?
living the danger life in eastern europe, driving the wooden car through some fires!
Day 3
From the local cyclists I was able to borrow a fatbike and with some directions and google, I set off at 3am to chase the sunrise.
Dear Google.
Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Go straight to jail (or a military base).
A man I saw in the dark had the most confusing look on his face, he pointed back to where I came from. Pointed ahead and waved his hands, I think he means there is no more road.
Just before the sky turns red the prayer starts blasting through distant speakers and a distant highway's lights fade into the rising sun.
Then I realize that I shouldn't have borrowed a fat bike... but a camel!
A large wall goes across the desert, I wonder what is on the other side? Probably Mexico.
On the way back to the festival, I trick Kazu to ride the fat bike on the highway, he doesnt mind. I think he likes it.
Through a translator I talk to Ahmed, the man from Yemen who travels with camels. Although much gets lost in the translation, there was something about the way he spoke of the camels.
"In this world it is very difficult to make friends, human friends." The camels he described as human. He told me he is leaving to Kyrgistan in few months and I told him that one day I would like to join him. He can teach me arabic and I will teach him english.
Day 4
For the last day, a brilliant plan: get my feet wet. Kazu was definitely up for leaving at 5am and we zoom down the empty highways, no bicycle signs and construction sites. Through the fogged up windows of parked dozers and pickups is another world. Every worker here is from India, Nepal, Pakistan and Bangladesh, why are they sleeping in the trucks on a Sunday?
"Can you swim?"
"Yeah"
"Good, we are going to Iran."
Although the skyline was great the more memorable was seeing a sea kayaker through the waves, moving swiftly, 4-5 times our speed. He didnt smile, he didn't wave, he didn't flinch. Wow, I gotta try one of these some day.
I also could not miss the chance to take Jorge from spain for a ride through the 4-lane roundabout on the way to the festival. He kicked my ass in chess 3 times and I a due a rematch when I meet him at his place in Russia. He has been to all countries in the world and always speaks russian to me, eventhough I barely understand 5-10% of it.
And while I will leave the job for detailed coverage of the festival events to Kazu, Alvaro the biciclown or the italians, the great folks from The Dubai Travelers created something unique and amazing. By the end of the short time here, everybody felt like family, we all left with more motivation, inspiration and lust to visit new places and try new things.
okay dont shoot... put the gun down...
It was quite the shame, really that for the first time being in a nice hotel I barely got any time to rest. It was all go and go and after five glorious breakfast buffets, I had amassed enough bread, butter and sandwitches to last me a few days. At noon the bell rang and I was not "sir" anymore, just a hobo with 12 days before my return flight.
