My 1st night of sleeping in the open in Socotra had been most rejuvenating. Morning sun on my face had woken me up and I had found my bleating companion for the night missing. Anwar instead had stared down at me impatiently and we had left Wadi Dirhur after a quick breakfast. Our next stop of Dogub cave had been a couple of hours away and Anwar had wanted to leave before the day became too hot. Thus we had left the gorgeous canyon of desert roses and missing friends and I had kept looking back hoping that like all pets,  he would follow me. The goat concerned however had not been found and with arrival of new tourists into the wadi, I had hoped for him to escape the butcher’s knife. 

Diksam had started at the mouth of the canyon and huge patches of blood dragon trees had left scattered shadows. This time however we had not stopped for them and I had nearly sprained my neck, trying to get my last few glimpses of the iconic creations of nature. I had not been sure if I would ever return to Socotra again and had wanted to savour those magical, blessed travel moments as much as possible. Anwar, however either jaded by their sight or immune to my feelings had sped right on and soon Diksam National Park too had melted away in the distance. Dogub cave had been located in the southern part of the island and though not as spectacular as Hoq, I had been guaranteed of its uniqueness. Socotra island had been dotted with many such caves and the bigger ones had provided astonishing archaeological finds upon exploration. From telltale remnants of pre historic humans to ancient sailors’ scribbles, Socotra caves had been important throughout human history. 

Dogub cave had been located in the Nogid part of the island and it had been dry, red and inhospitable. Nogid had recently received an asphalt road and Socotra’s only highway had connected it with the rest of the island. Huge rocky hills had bordered the arid plains of Nogid and a beautiful blue ocean had hugged it’s other end. Sugar white sand dunes lie scattered along the coastline and the rest of the area has sparse vegetation of dry, leafless, scrubby bushes. Camels had roamed Nogid plains and only a few human settlements had dared to brave the harsh weather conditions of the region. The drive from Diksam to Nogid had been spectacular and just when I had thought that Socotra could not get any wilder, a whole new shocking vista had opened up in front of my eyes. Nogid had consisted of only 2 colours, red and yellow and from my altitude, I had been able to see the end of the island. The harsh aridity of the region had been difficult to bear and a few dry river beds had snaked through the area like desiccated veins.

Nogid had been Anwar’s favourite place in Socotra and I had suspected that to be the reason behind his rush. A little smile had flitted on his serious, taciturn face as he had cranked up Bollywood numbers on his car music system and had happily whistled along with them. The collection of Bollywood songs had been his only request from me and I had cringed in embarrassment as the saucy song called “Baby Doll” had blasted through that Socotran day. The landscape towards Nogid had been rough and lava sheet like grey rocky slopes had held swollen trunks of desert rose trees. They had grown in neat rows as if in a plantation and a few small caves had held actual homes. Small pieces of cloth strung at the mouth of the caves had served as curtains and behind their privacy, standalone families with their entire herd of animals had lived.

The road had been pretty high and as we had neared the end of the central highlands, a steep drop had suggested another canyon. This one, too had a lost valley embedded in it’s heart, but without any water running through it, the dusty depths had been devoid of any human life. The most beautiful part of Nogid had been it’s stunning rock formations and Dogub Cave had been a yawning hole in one of them. The access to the cave had been fairly easy and I had been most pleasantly surprised by Dogub’s size. Picturesquely twisted stalagmites had guarded the mouth of the cave and the sweeping interior had been large enough to hold at least 20 cars. Several small chambers had bifurcated inside the cave and dripping thin streams had created small natural wells of fresh water. The world’s fastest disappearing liquid, is a precious commodity in Socotra and Dogub’s treasure trove attracted many herders, animals and birds.

A severe bat stench had pervaded the interior of the cave and I had shared my mattress and lunch with more inquisitive goats, a stray lone herding dog and a bunch of curious villagers. They had pestered Anwar with way too many questions till he had played the hideous list of Bollywood songs on the car system and I had thankfully drifted off to sleep soon. The loud rumbling of the Indian Ocean had woken me up and I had found the blue strip very tempting. As much as I had liked Dogub, the bat stench along with some suspicious “turdy” looking things in it’s background had appalled me a lot and I had looked forward to the sugary white coastline. Thus we had left Dogub and it’s residents amidst much Bollywood inspired “dancing” merriment and I had secretly wondered if I had spoiled Anwar with my gift. It had been 5 in the evening, by the time we had arrived at Zahak and the sun had been still very harsh. Zahak had been famous for beautiful snowy sand dunes and they had shifted in position and size with Socotra’s temperamental winds. Although I had done sandboarding and dune bashing in the past, never before had I slid down white grainy slopes on my bum, and with soft sunset colours, it had been a most enjoyable experience.

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE.

Zahak sand dunes had seemed like endless mounds of sugar. They had been located near Dogub cave and had stretched on an arid patch near the ocean. Soft, rippled and nearly glowing in the mellowing sun, they had started in sprinkles. We had stopped the car right at the edge of the dunes and the sand had felt like soft powder beneath my feet. Although, I couldn’t see the ocean which had lain right behind them, I could hear its sighing waves and the breeze had smelled strongly of salt. Anwar eyes had lit up at the sight of the dunes and he had scampered up the nearly vertical sand masses like a rabbit. With his long limbs streaking against the afternoon sun and his futa (Socotran version of sarong/lungi) fluttering in the breeze, he had made it look so effortless that I had jumped out of the car, to run after him. 

But what had been made to look awfully easy by Anwar, had been deceptively tough and I had soon struggled against the shifting sand on all fours, like a monkey. It had been quite hard to climb the dune, especially since every step had required digging and retrieving each foot, one at a time and the soft, squishy sand had sunk deeper with every ounce of pressure. The wind which had felt nicely mild on my face, until then, had blasted thousands of grains all over my body and my ears and nose had soon got sand coated. I had felt neither remotely happy nor adventurous, as I had scrambled up the dune and the constant veil of fine sugary wind had nearly made me blind. It had been as annoying as possible and I had nearly turned to get back to the safety of the car, when thankfully, Anwar had come to hoist me up the sand dune. It had been a nice gesture and the view from the top had been absolutely breathtaking.

Soft, rolling sugary dunes had stretched right till the turquoise blue ocean and the sun had created beautiful shadows in midst of their sensuous grooves and cuts. The whistling wind had created rippling patterns on the sand in front our eyes and the translucent lovely ocean waves had complimented them perfectly. Personally I find the Indian Ocean to be the most beautiful among the 7 seas and that day, against a dazzling white coastline, it had looked magical. The shifting, nearly alive Zahak sand dunes had been an amazing sight and I had gawked as long as it was possible to squint against a constant sand loaded wind. It had gotten windier with each setting sun ray and suddenly I had started getting goose bumps under my clothes. The setting sky although not glorious, had been beautifully sublime and the region had seemed to be drenched in fresh honey. The arid landscape had been awash with gold, white and blue and a huge empty sky had stretched overhead.

In the not so far distance, amber coloured stark mountains had looked down upon orange plains and the 3 or 4 newly constructed houses had looked awfully lonesome on the vast arid land. A few camels had stirred among the solitude and in the evening sun, the thorny foothill forests had mingled into 1 continuous violet patch. The sea breeze had gotten stronger by the minute and soon I had to shout into Anwar’s ears to be heard. Anwar, in spite of all the sand and breeze had seemed to have had a great time and it had been quite a struggle to get him going from there. We had planned to camp on the nearby Omak Beach for the night and being road weary, I had looked forward to resting for a while. Omak had been promised to be very beautiful and quiet with gentle, swimmable waves and I had badly wanted to get away from Zahak.

With the abrasive sand constantly blasting on my face, I had rushed back to the car and needless to say, had dragged Anwar too. It had been a very glum Socotra man who had reluctantly driven out from amongst the sugary sand dunes and he had raced past deepening plantations of feathery date palms silently. The Bollywood songs on the car music system had thankfully remained silent and strange birds had called out from the date groves. Socotra is famous for sinfully sweet and small pitted dates and every July sees the tough islanders hoard these precious fruits in masses. Every monsoon, the island remains closed to the world for the entire season and during those months the islanders depend solely on dates and other local products for food. Sources of livelihood on the harsh sun swept island is pretty limited and till today the residents like to stick to ancestral traditions, which have been handed down through generations.

The ancient Socotrans throughout ages have developed a complex and intricate knowledge of natural medicine, sustenance and conservation using the locally available products and for an island, so unique and endemic, continuing those traditions make sense. Thus Socotra traditional medicines use many interesting land ingredients like honey, herbs, dates, snails, head lice etc, while from the sea, they derive dolphin fat, shark liver oil, dried shark meat etc. Fishing, date palm plantations, wild bee keeping, animal husbandry and primitive kitchen gardens constitute of their livelihood sources and in some hilly villages, people still store water and sour milk in animal skin bags. Donkeys and camels continue to bear both goods and humans and life in Socotra revolve around such precious, yet scanty materialistic possessions. Thus it had come as no surprise that every stone house in Socotra had a few fiercely enclosed date trees and fishermen walking along coastal highway, peddling fresh catch off the sea had been a common sight.

That day however, the only items being peddled on the highway, had been struggling little fuzzy goats and although, they have been laughably cheap, I did not have the heart to buy one for food. Thus our dinner that night had once again been pretty forgettable and add to that the continuous whispering breeze constantly filling my ears with sand, Omak Beach had been quite hard to love.

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE.

By the time we had reached Omak, a very violet sky had deepened into luxuriant purple and gold. The sun had set most spectacularly and a massive perfect golden disc had disappeared behind the horizon of tapering single highway. The rocky arid landscape had drowned in blood red colours and home coming villagers and their animals had kicked up clouds of chaotic orange dust. Omak Beach had been a bit of a drive from Zahak and it had been late twilight, when our tired 4 * 4 had crunched to a stop on it’s powdery soft sand. After being on the road for 2 rough days, I had been dying for a shower and toilet facilities. Socotra, owing to it’s untouched nature, had provided none such comforts and in the dusky evening light the bordering date plantations had provided me with privacy required for such needs. 

It had felt awesome to enjoy that privacy and for the 1st time in 2 days, I had been able to use the natural toilet without a bunch of inquisitive goat eyes staring at me unblinkingly. We had camped right on the beach and after a quick dinner, had dragged our mattresses out from the car. It had been a beautiful clear night and a velvety inky blue sky had been crowded with stars. Thankfully not a single dot of artificial light could be spotted for miles and the diamond bright stars had twinkled with clear hard glitter. The sea which had rumbled just a few feet away had been pleasantly mild and only a sweet, rushing sound of it’s waves had reached our ears. The constant sea breeze had felt chilly at night and I had slept at the foot of a big sand dune to escape the cold. The decision had turned out to be a bad one and in the morning, I had to be nearly excavated from underneath a mound of sand. 

The Omak dawn had broken with a rosy blush and I had woken up to Anwar staring down at me in serious contemplation. Sand had covered my body like a neat blanket and a few pesky intrusive grains sitting on my eyelashes, had stung bad. The sand coating on my lips had crunched on my teeth and I had waited, unmoved till Anwar had dug me out. Needless to say, it had not been my most blissful morning but the beauty of the sunrise had washed away all the wear and tear. I had looked straight up and breathed in lungful of  fresh blue sky.  The sand dune which had nearly shifted on top of me at night, had looked like a pile of dazzling sugar and white feathery clouds had fanned behind it. Severely sandy, rested and overwhelmed by beauty, I had rushed to the sea immediately upon getting unearthed and had happily savoured the experience of the breathtaking sun rise all alone.

It is not everyday or at every place that you get to enjoy a stunning sun rise on a magical stretch of white beach all alone and for those brief moments I had happily basked in “marooned on a deserted island” feeling. Not a single human, apart from me, had been visible either on the beach or on the sea and Anwar too had driven over to the nearest village to get fresh food. The young sun had risen slowly painting the sky in changing pearly shades and from faint silver to champagne gold, peach, pink, violet and blue, it had been a most beautiful transformation. The sea too had mirrored the sky colours and both had become one huge sheet of  restlessly changing molten shades. Anwar, as if on cue, had arrived just after the most breathtaking sun rise moments had passed and he had brought along with him a treasure trove of fresh food. With 2 back to back days of Nutella, honey, cheese, super sweet jam and dry bread for breakfast, I had looked forward to change and that morning we had feasted on a small bucket of milk, some fresh bread and sweating chunk of cheese.

For a person, who is in love with food, Socotra had been a hard experience and I had nearly wept in joy at the sight of the loot. Apart from the sunrise, Omak had been a bland experience and the beach had not been particularly very spectacular. The sea had been a bit too cold for swimming and the sand had been strewn with some trash. Thatched huts had lined the edge of the beach and beyond them, enclosed date palm plantations had stretched till the road. Omak’s biggest attractions in my eyes had been it’s shells and I had found some most beautiful ones scattered on the beach like strewn jewels. Big, intact, ridged and with iridescent colours, they had come in beautiful shapes and varieties. Large conchs also had laid embedded here and there and I had been severely tempted to get one for my mother. A big lover of all naturally pretty things, my mother, during my travels as a child, had regaled me with stories of how she could hear 7 seas with conch pressed to her ear. I had always believed her, until the day I had grown up to realize that her mermaids and fish fairies do not exist in our real world.

The conchs of Omak, however, had been so enticingly magical, that I had actually held a large one to my ear with the hope of  hearing the sound of distant seas. The big, white conch, of course, apart from pouring some more sand into my ear, had not produced any aural effect, but the sun rays playing on it’s smooth pearly sheen had been looked fairy tale like pretty. It had somehow brought back some very beautiful childhood memories with my mother and I had secretly ached for her a lot. In our grown up world of responsibilities and busy schedules, we often skip making our loved ones, especially parents, feel special and even forget “missing” them. That beautiful morning, I had craved for my mom like no one else on earth and had secretly vowed to bring her there. With sun climbing higher, Omak’s fresh dewy beauty had faded off quickly leaving a blazing hot beach where fishermen had been busily catching crabs. I had soon gotten bored with the whole scene  and after shopping for a glistening pair of lobsters  had started our long drive to Qalanciya.

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE.

We had left Omak in a cloud of dust, bumped over the edgy road and rattled our bones till they had felt brittle. Nogid had been experiencing, yet one more blazing hot day and I had wanted to escape the heat, before it became unbearable. Our next stop had been Qalanciya, which had been on the opposite end of the island. Located in north west Socotra, Qalanciya had guaranteed more than 3 hours of drive and the island’s 2nd largest town supposedly had a spectacular beach. Post Omak experience, although I had mentally brushed off Anwar’s brags, the idea of exploring another part of the island had excited me a lot. The road had retraced our initial journey all the way near Hadibo and once again, I had gaped at Socotra’s central highland’s captivating beauty. It had been a sunny, windy day and the lonely, vast valleys and canyons had been deathly still.

No skippy, hoppy team of goats had rushed in front of our car, no Bedouin lady had stood out in blazing colours and wildflower petals tugged out by the wind, had floated in the air like handfuls of mad butterflies. Stone houses, devoid of any life movements had stood like remnants of abandoned human habitats and frankincense trees had struggled against the force. One of the 3 precious Gifts of Magi, frankincense can be traced back to pre Biblical times. Ancient Egytpian Pharaohs had loved it so much that frankincense traders had been immortalized on the walls of Queen Hatshepsut’s (who had died in 1458 BC) temple. The legendary Queen Sheba’s empire had been mentioned in Old Testament as traders of frankincense and the Greeks and Romans had valued it more than gold. The Chinese, not to be the ones to be left behind, had treasured it as a symbol of luxury and the maritime Indian traders had built fortunes on it.

In Socotra, although the frankincense trees are found in lush abundance around the Homhil Plateau, we had passed a few stray ones on our way to Qalanciya. To help me enjoy it’s perfume to the fullest, Anwar had lit a small twig inside the car and immediately a most soft, heady aroma had engulfed us like a cloud. The fragrance had lingered for the next few days and suddenly the world’s obsession with the ancient aromatic resin had become clear. With the sun playing hide and seek among the clouds and sharp wind tearing at our hair, we had driven non stop leaving the arid rocky reds of Nogid and flower filled Diksam in a flash. Qadama had appeared immediately upon descending from Diksam and surprisingly there had been no trace of the wet winds from the south. A pit stop between Hadibo, the main town and nearly every other part of Socotra, Qadama had been marked by a long coastline, stunning, desolate plains, shadowy mountains and one of the island’s only 2 gas station. 

A few lagoons had been scattered along the way and camels, goats and humans had again made their busy presence felt. Salt production workers had been hard at work and their rusty, old trucks had been parked next to the road. I had stopped briefly to peek into one of the green lagoons and had been startled by it’s teeming depth. Huge catfishes, barnacles and big red crabs had rushed up to nibble at my toes and I had skipped over the rocky edges, squealing in pain. Small fishing villages had dotted the beach in small pockets and colourful boats had bobbed on deep blue water. It had been quite a contrast between Nogid’s morning emptiness and Qadama’s afternoon liveliness and the mountains which had run along one side of the road had somehow divided the 2 existences. Small violet wild shrubs had carpeted till their foot hills and along the beach, village mosques had stood out against a huge blue sky.

The sun had been high, by the time we had entered Qadama and Socotrans had taken breaks from their chores to rest in the shades. They had smoked, stared and and waved at us as we had passed and with only a few tourists landing up in Socotra every month, recognizing outsiders had been a great pass time for the curious residents. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, the road to Qalanciya had bent deep inside the island’s mountainous folds and it had been 3 in the afternoon, by the time Socotra’s 2nd largest town had appeared. The area around the town had been heavily littered and apart from a brand new hospital, Qalanciya had been a smaller, dirtier version of Hadibo. Dusty lanes had meandered into narrow bylanes where stone houses had stood in rows and a few new constructions had looked oddly out of place amongst them. It had been a Friday when we had hunted around the deserted village for an open store and muezzin’s call for prayer had rung through the silent date groves. Every house had borne an empty look and all the village lanes had been devoid of any life form.

Because of it’s desolation, I had not disliked Qalanciya a lot and had actually looked forward to see it’s much reputed beach. The hot mirage like afternoon air had borne an acrid smell when after replenishing our stock, we had finally headed towards the beach. Unfortunately a most heartbreaking sight had met my eyes because Qalanciya promenade had been horribly littered. The lovely mirror like little lagoon had been almost choked to death with florescent green algae and slippers, flotsam and jetsam, used diapers, plastic etc had been scattered in a most heartless manner. In the distance, rusty Yemeni army war tanks had pockmarked gorgeous sand coated mountains and it had been perhaps the most unexpected a sight to ever find on a beach. Disappointed to the core, I had seethed and ranted in annoyance when a very calm (and possibly non listening) Anwar had screeched the car to a stop. Urging me to get out, he had stared into the distance holding his expansive arms in a dramatic pose and I had halfheartedly followed his steps. But what had stretched had been nothing short of a slice of paradise and I had whooped in joy at the sight of Dewta Lagoon.

White, translucent blue and empty, it had been absolutely breathtaking and I had insanely wondered if the joy of such heavenly beauty could be passed to an unborn child by a mother. Wild thoughts and an excited me had urged Anwar to race ahead and we had chortled gleefully in childish enthusiasm all the way to my beach hut by Detwa. 

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE.

My Qalanciya days can be broadly divided into 2 parts, the unbelievable beauty of the place and the unimaginable warmth of the people of the little fishing town. Although, Qalanciya is officially Socotra’s 2nd largest town, in reality it has about 15-20 houses, a mosque, a school and a brand new hospital. Rocky mountains divided Qalanciya into the isolated Detwa Lagoon and the littered, humming fishing village community and the residents of the 2 usually did not cross over into each other’s territories. While traditional fishermen and date farmers had consisted of the villagers, the Detwa Lagoon had been more of the tourist’s zone. Beach huts had lined the crescent shaped lagoon and apart from occasional gawking, villagers had always respected the privacy of the holiday makers. 

Detwa had been a gorgeous blue green shallow lagoon which had reduced and increased with tides and amber coloured mountains had circled the water body. Sharp, sculpted with beautiful glistening coat of sand, the mountains had been spectacular and I had never managed to get enough of their beauty. They had seemed to change colours and moods depending on the time of the day and cloud cover had made them look like something out of the world. Several caves had ringed along the circular sugary mountains and they had contained several interesting characters and stories. One of them had been Abdullah, a friendly wiry fisherman whom I had met immediately upon claiming a beach hut and till today I am conflicted whether it had been his offer to cook calamari for me or his happy, infectious smile, which had made me his fan. 

Beach huts of Detwa had been as basic as possible and they had been 4 postered thatched structures which had allowed an unhindered view of the lagoon and freshest sea breeze throughout the day. They had no doors, attached bathrooms or toilets, but at night it had felt better to go to sleep without the fear of getting buried under shifting sand. Rudimentary bathrooms and toilets had stood at a distance and they had been concrete 4 walls, where I had bathed precariously positioning myself over the “throne”. An attached water tank had made the unit functioning and I had kept mine jealously secured with lock and key. My folding mattress had consisted of my only piece of furniture and in the evening, a portable electric lantern (along with an extended electricity connection) had made things comfortable. Only the kitchen had posed to be a problem and the biggest irk had been the dual task of flapping away thieving Egyptian Vultures while cooking. Our small camp stove had been much used in Qalanciya and Anwar and I had experimented with many seafood dishes there. While Anwar’s trials had been positively tasty, most of mine had been of questionable taste, look and odour.

Needless to say, it had been my culinary skill, rather the severe lack of it, which had drawn Abdullah to my beach hut and he had come rushing to save the sacrificial lobsters with a disapproving loud “tsk tsk”. Those had been the jewel coloured bright eyed pair which we had shopped for at Omak in the morning and Abdullah had grabbed them from my hand before I had massacred their edibility for good. Perhaps it had been his OTT love for seafood or my Hind (read Bollywood) connection which had made him shower me with a huge sunny smile and after that we had been fast friends. He had been so enchanted by my squeaky renditions of popular Hindi songs and Anwar’s CD (which had been gifted by me), that he had sealed our friendship by cooking us a big, slippery calamari which he had freshly plucked out of the lagoon. Thus had begun my Qalanciya sojourn, with Abdullah, Detwa lagoon, hiking the sugary sculpted mountains every morning and at night getting lulled to sleep, without the fear of being buried alive.

Abdullah had been quite a character. An expert story teller, he had loved fishing, hogging the limelight and regaling people with his notorious, and a bit embellished tales. He had apparently once discovered amber inside the belly of a beached whale and had sold it for a fortune. With the sudden downpour of wealth, he had chased women, lived the life of a high roller, drank, dined and in general had a pretty good time. For his family, he had built a concrete, comfortable house and had sent his father for the annual Mecca pilgrimage to purge his sins, in his place. He had bragged about his various ex girlfriends, while cooking our lunch and how they had disappeared after his fortune had gone bust. A dreamy smile had played on his lips as he had reminisced of his erstwhile days of wealth and he had confirmed that they had been all nice, vivacious ladies. It had been around 4 in the evening, when Abdullah had spun his outrageous stories and I had listened to him in dazed hunger.

Post lunch, I had mentally credited his stories to vivid imagination when Anwar had suggested a small hike to Abdullah’s cave. As atrocious as his stories of wealth had been, the reason behind his forced exile to the cave had been even more hilarious. The little Qalanciya fisherman, apparently had been sentenced to spending some parts of his time in the cave after his wife had lodged a civil complaint against him. The poor, overburdened woman had borne him 6 children and Abdullah, who had been aiming at having a perfect dozen, had refused to listen to her objections. In the end, the harassed, good lady had sought the local village council’s help and thus Abdullah had been barred from having any more children. It had been a hot lagoon afternoon, when a post lunch drowsy me and Anwar had hiked up to the cave and I had dragged my heavy feet behind the 2 Socotra men, unwillingly.

By then, I had liked the lovable fisherman enough to not harbour any intention of finding out the truth behind his stories and a nice siesta had tempted me wildly. Abdullah’s cave however had arrived at the mouth of the lagoon and the yawning entrance had totally blown my mind. Decorated with a huge whale jaw bone and pair of massive ribs, the cave house had all the telltale remnants of his fantastic adventure and I had slumped down on the turtle shell stool in open mouthed amazement. There’s more to what meet the eyes and Abdullah of Qalanciya had certainly been the epitome of it.

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE.

Abdullah’s cave had been something out of Arabian Nights and I had marveled at his incredible life. Remnants of big catches like the fateful whale, a few sharks and dolphins had decorated the cavernous interiors and fishing nets set for drying had marked off his bedroom from the sitting area. Abdullah had a few other guests that day and apart from me, there had been a Norwegian trio and an Italian solo traveler. All of us had been in the same position and from being slightly patronizing, we had gone straight to being almost dopey in admiration. Abdullah had loved it and had lapped up our crazy fan behaviour. Being surrounded by such an awe struck audience had perhaps made his dream come true and he had cooked, smoked and regaled us with his fishing adventures. So while we had sat inside a whale’s jaw and munched on oysters, calamaris and cinnamon tea, Abdullah had trained us on fishing techniques and secrets of the lagoon.

It had been a very entertaining evening. We had feasted on an orgasmic spread of fresh seafood, laughed like children at Abdullah’s tales and watched a beautiful golden sunset creating miracles over the tranquil little Detwa. To give us the complete experience of Qalanciya and his daily life, Abdullah had shepherded his little group into the shallow water of the lagoon and soon we had found ourselves stepping over oysters, sea grass and soft squishy sand beds. Starfishes had scuttled away at our approaching footsteps and octopuses, urchins, seahorses and puffer fishes had observed us from safe distance. Drenched in the golden shower of setting sun, we had walked slowly and languorously with rushing tide rippling around our feet. It had not been easy though and after watching baby squids bursting open from translucent white eggs, I had gladly returned to my hut. With so less to do, Qalanciya nights had been most relaxing and being completely out of all communication range, I had truly indulged the time on myself. 

Suddenly all my favourite songs had been enjoyed, old buried memories had been raked and I had idly wondered if the reef shark had visited Detwa’s water at night to lay her eggs in safety. Because of it’s bottle neck mouth, which had prevented the entry of large predators, Detwa had been a favourite nesting ground for the sea mothers. Expecting squids, octopuses, turtles and sharks had frequented the lagoon at night and there had been plenty of young ones frolicking or embedded in it’s soft safe sands. This had brought aquatic birds in hordes and during low tides flamingos, gulls etc had waded on it for hours. Apart from frequenting Abdullah’s cave, fishing and hiking up the sugary white sandy mountains, my favourite Qalanciya activity had been to swim and sun for hours on it’s tranquil, empty beach. Most of the times, it had felt unreal to watch only my footsteps tracing across a beautiful expanse on earth and as usual, the light had played stunning magical illusions. I had swum, floated and had aimlessly played with strange thoughts on my mind. 

I had loved floating on the blue green ocean, being one with the restless waves and during my most poignant moments had imagined them to carry me all the way to my loved ones. That had perhaps been the closest, I had ever come to know how a marooned man at sea must have felt and it had been deeply liberating to luxuriate in such aimless thoughts. The solitude and the silence of the beach had been complete and more than once, I had to wait for tide to ebb, to be able to get back to Detwa. During high tide, the slice of beach had been completely cut off from the rest of the semi circular lagoon and during that complete isolation, I had counted huge clouds racing across the sky. Socotra had been a land of magical skies and dramatic falling light and one night, I had witnessed a huge lightning suddenly crack open the black inkiness in the distance.

Such had been the complete natural innocence of Qalanciya and I had given in to it’s breathtaking power without any protest. Only the rusty Yemeni war tanks, perched on the mountains had been terrible eye sores and more than once, I had wondered if I had been watched during my swims. It had not been a pleasant thought and later I had started getting accompanied by the other solo traveler. Thus eating, swimming, sleeping, fishing and gossiping had marked my Qalanciya days and needless to say, I had lingered there longer than planned. 

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE.

I had left Qalanciya with a heavy heart and had headed towards Hadibo again. Homhil, Di Hamri, Arhar etc had been yet unexplored and I had missed out on the spotlessly white Shoab Beach. Accessibly only by a short boat ride, Shoab Beach is famous for dazzling white sand, azure blue water and ring of cucumber trees which grow along it’s sea facing cliffs. Only 2-3 fishermen live on that beach and a jutting headland makes driving/walking over to it nearly impossible. The water around Shoab is supposedly teeming with marine life and loggerhead turtles and playful dolphins fearlessly come close to the swimmers. As tempting as these had sounded, for a solo traveler, a return boat trip to Shoab had been around 200 USD and unfortunately, at that time, being the only tourist in Qalanciya, I had no one to share that cost with. Thus I had spent my last Qalanciya day with my friends and the evening especially had been pretty eventful. By stroke of good luck, it had been Abdullah’s eldest daughter’s engagement ceremony and we had been invited over to his house to join the celebrations

I had got along very well with Abdullah’s wife and their  brood, and his eldest daughter had been my favourite. Her name had been Jamila and she had been a bright eyed, friendly girl of 17 who had hated studies and loved fashion. We had spent a few evenings together, where I had helped her understand “Hind/Indian” and had once wrapped a length of cloth around her like a sari. So while not totally unexpected, the invitation had been most touching and I had spent the day with the family, participating in all the auspicious rituals. The celebratory customs had been vaguely familiar and for once, it had seemed like a scene straight out of the Indian subcontinent. The hard working Socotran ladies in the privacy of gender segregation had let their hair down and given into a day full of merriment. They had enjoyed henna painting, singing, dancing and making horrendously lewd jokes and more than once, I have had to render fullthroated renditions of popular Bollywood songs accompanied by dance steps.

It had not been easy to dance gracefully with hands and feet painted with gobs of wet henna and taking advantage of my tourist status, I had soon escaped to the other room where the men had peacefully smoked, gossiped, feasted and discussed Yemen’ political situation and fishing woes. The festivities had heightened post sunset and had continued the entire night, but I had bade them goodbye after the communal dinner. A wedding is a matter of great joy in the island and Abdullah had certainly pushed the envelope for Jamila’s functions. The food spread had been an orgasmic feast of pomegranate rice, red beans, fish, roast chicken, goat meat with an assortment of fresh seafood platter and the guests had gorged on them the whole day. Waking up early the next morning after such a heavy and late dinner, had been tough and I had dozed off nearly all the way to Hadibo. In that silvery morning light, a quietly smoking Anwar had driven in peace and he had picked and dropped his fellow islander enroute.

Transportation had been a major problem in Socotra and the residents had to wait for hours by the highway to travel even to the next village. Hitchhikers had dotted the Socotri road, just like it’s other omnipresent sights and we had always helped them as long we had space. A grey, moody day had welcomed me to Hadibo where familiar sights, sounds and chaos had once again choked my senses. A fine rain had thankfully smothered the rising dust and the looming Hagghar mountains had looked nearly indigo in the blanketing mists. The heavy, rain pregnant clouds had bore down on the tiny city and after a quick breakfast, we had sped towards Moumi Plateau. I had re experienced the familiar relieving feeling immediately upon leaving Hadibo and the widespread sunshine in the open areas beyond the capital city had been a welcome sight. The weather moodiness had been a typical Socotra feature and the rugged topography had given rise to the unique constant play of sun and shade.

Anwar, who had drooped into complete fatigued silence at Hadibo, too had brightened up and once again my gift of Bollywood music CD had blasted through the Socotra air. We had plans to visit Moumi Plateau that day, with a possibility of camping there overnight and the next morning had Arher Beach on our schedule. Located on the eastern part of Socotra, Moumi had been a vast rocky limestone area with inter hill-plains covered with lots of endemic and rare plants. Only a few ancient shepherd villages had pockmarked those open spaces and there had been a few incredibly beautiful lagoons. Keriya had been one of them and because of the dry season, only a thin stream had meandered between the deep red canyons. The brook had sparkled bright silver in the sunshine and at a gap it had flattened out into a shallow sheet of water. The stone villages and date plantations had bordered the water body and the deep blue sea had dashed in the distance. For such a small island, Socotra had been packed with natural attractions and the eastern part had certainly been one of its prettiest areas.

Di Hamri Protected Marine Area had been on the way and we had stopped there for some lunch and snorkeling. The marine park had been teeming with fishes and the coral reefs had been unbroken and spectacular. A whole crowded colourful world had existed underneath it’s glassy water and the warm sun had made the experience even more pleasurable. I had loved splashing about with Nemo and his friends, but Moumi had beckoned me to move ahead. Thus I had unwillingly left Di Hamri in a rush and the result had been drying my wet clothes on me during the rest of the drive. The air had gotten considerably colder as we had wound in and out of the hills and plains and by the time Moumi had arrived, I had run a slight temperature.

Moumi had been very pretty and large tracts of flowering bottle trees had been the 1st sight which had met my eyes. A sea of pink flowers had run along a small gorge and a green stream had gushed past wild date trees. It had been vaguely familiar with Wadi Dirhur with the exception of a small multi tiered waterfall which had tumbled into a green rock pool. The Wadi had run deeper into the folds of the canyon and the steep red rocky slopes had been covered with profusely flowering trees. Homhil Protected Area had not been too far and the frankincense, myrrh and dragon blood trees had made their presence felt. Known and popular for it’s rich bio diverse flora, Homhil had not allowed any overnight camping and I had initially made plans to hike over there to check out it’s beautiful reptiles. Apart from the unique tree population, Homhil had been home to many special flowering bushes and a whole range of endemic fauna.

Spotting the chameleon (Chamaeleo Monachus), the carnivorous beetles, strange land snails, the bright red freshwater crab (Socotrapotamon socotrensis) etc had been on my Homhil list, but the fast rising temperature had made me drop the idea. Soon along with the fever, my ears had started aching, I had made a very worried Anwar rush back to Hadibo for medical attention. By the time we had reached the town, Hadibo had been drowning in rain and apart from popping a few Egyptian medicines (with Arabic written instructions on chemicals, date of expiry etc), prescribed by the local pharmacist, I had no option of any medical help. Anwar had bought me a hot plate of food, sat silently as I had pushed a few forkful in my mouth, handed me the prescribed pills and had tucked me at Socotra Taj Hotel. He had left for the night soon, with a promise to check up on me at the earliest and I had cried into the thundering Socotra night in pain. Nothing had felt worse than falling sick in a foreign country and in spite of being a paradise island, Socotra had been the last place I would have ever had liked to get ill. 

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE.

My last few days in the island had been spent holed up in my Taj Socotra Hotel room and I had alternated between feeling horribly sick and homesick. The fever, which had started because of a fast spreading ear infection, had been diagnosed as malaria and it had taken a whole bunch of weakening antibiotics to help me feel strong enough to get back home. The medicines had given me delusional thoughts and the confinement of my room had nearly driven me mad. Yemen’s and global political situation had made me feel very anxious and I had counted days to get back my strength to be able to return to India.

Only once, had Anwar taken me for a drive to the beautiful Arhar Beach and as spectacular as it had been, weakness had made me enjoy it’s panorama from the comfort of the car. That enjoyment too had been short lived as aching body had made me crave for a bed and we had rushed back to Hadibo before the fever had become too high. Ill health had wrecked havoc in my travel plans and I had to change my Socotra-Sanaa-Dubai-Mumbai tickets for a later date. So, technically speaking, although I had stayed in Socotra longer than my original plan, I had ended up doing nothing special except being violently sick, sleeping, healing, missing my family and India.

Yemeni mainland had been undergoing rapid political changes during that phase and uncertainty had hung like a death pall. I remember TV channels showing repeat telecasts of the small Arab country burning in discontent and my entire sick period had been filled with apprehension. The Yemen government had fallen apart and their entire parliament along with all peripheral ministries had collapsed. Houthis had officially taken over and news channels had shown fearsome civil riots spreading across Yemen like wildfire. News of disruption of services, peace etc had trickled down to the island and embellished horrifying stories had added to my woes. Socotra at that moment had only 7 foreigners (including me) staying on the island and among us, 4 had been South African missionaries, who had been there on duty. Every evening, they had huddled in my room, to check up on the sick tourist, watch news in silent anxiety and each had faced a deep fear of not being able to go back home in a long time.

Incidentally, at that time, extremist groups in Syria and Iraq had executed captives in the most inhuman manner and Japan and the rest of the world had vowed revenge. News of constant drone attacks at the off limits Hadramout mountains and the surrounding desert towns of Marib and Shibam had been pretty terrifying and we had counted fearful days before ISIS had made it’s presence felt in Yemen. In retrospect, those had been some of my most emotionally disturbing and mentally taxing travel moments and to fall sick in a country where Al Qaeda, Houthis and armed Sunni tribes had been vying for power, had been a real nightmare. All these thoughts, disturbing media telecasts and an ill body had made feel extremely homesick and my most evenings had been spent crying myself to sleep.

I remember, how images from my home, my city and the safety net of my family would flash in front of my eyes and immediately gorgeous Socotra sunsets would fade into dull monochromes. A really slow internet also had not helped my cause and apart from catching on with what’s happening with life on social media handles, I had only managed to leave messages of my safety to my family back home. Indian embassy’s glaring Travel Advisory to Yemen had made things more scary and I had feared my consulate leaving the country, before I got better.

To keep myself from falling into pieces, I had started writing again; scribbling endlessly on pages and pouring out my thoughts through a proper fountain pen till I used to fall asleep on my open diary. Strangely the act had helped in venting out and had healed me, while I had counted days to go back home. I have always enjoyed writing and have preferred a fountain pen to electronic devices and once again the curling, wet letters had soothed my mind.

Today, in the comfort of a beautiful spring day in Moscow, reliving those nightmarish moments seem impossible and the pressure of the anxiety faced then, is hard to pen down. So I am attaching excerpts from my travel diary to help explain the situation in a more poignant way. The next few posts are taken directly from the diary and are perhaps the most candid that I will ever get. Inane, insecure, frustrated, hysterical, at times borderline crazy, selfish, scared, heartbroken, anxious and lonely; solo traveler’s thoughts at the time of uncertainty are a direct giveaway on how difficult it is to be responsible for your own self, in an unfamiliar surrounding amidst situation beyond our control. The intense homesickness and frustration felt in such situations are at times too much to handle and even the simplest of things result in extreme mood swings. Falling sick and of course, being a woman adds a whole new dimension to  the entire mess and you find asking yourself, why on earth did you ever have to do this anyway.

I don’t understand quirky travel concepts neither can I ever relate to offbeat tourism, which is packed in the cocoon of safety. Pushing the envelope to explore the unknown is the biggest nirvana for me and recently I have been scolded by my 74 years old friend, for being a fatalist. Having said this, I respect solo travelers of all kinds and bow down to the mental strength they carry within themselves. Solo traveling is a huge achievement in itself and exploring hard to access, isolated places at the time of crisis is not every one’s cup of tea. Being with yourself alone all the time, is perhaps the biggest hurdle of solo travel and when the world is going crazy and nothing seems right, having no one around to word out your fears, is like constantly battling demons inside your head.

While paid solo traveling to exotic destinations, seem like a job made in heaven, here’s a sneak peek at what goes inside the solitary traveler’s head, when the world goes lawfully wrong or unpredictable. Solo travel and enchanting strangers are a very potent combination and more than often, single travelers tend to find emotional, physical, cerebral and spiritual connect with other solitary souls on the road. Justifying it, dilutes the beauty because it is not everyday that you find another sponge which is as saturated with magical experiences as you are. And good, tough and at times dangerous, solo traveling is but an addictive greed to hoard such experiential jewels.

Continued in next post…

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE.

20.1.16

Hadibo 

1800 Hrs

I am back in Hadibo and my body has given up. I had never thought that I will look forward to the littered town as much as I did and it sure is the biggest town in Socotra. Roughing it out for more than 6 nights in Socotra has taken it’s toll and I feel battered. Hadibo is undergoing a massive construction boom, very odd since the island is an Unesco World Heritage Site. It is set to welcome tourism in a big way and the island will never be the same again. I am perhaps the last lot of tourists who are blessed to see its unspoiled way of life and beauty and on my next visit, this Socotra will have ceased to exist. It will be perhaps another Zanzibar; touristy, raped with all it’s innocence lost, another paradise sacrificed to tourism. Socotran children will no longer run around with cans or wheels stuck on rods and people will cease to acknowledge each other. The rat race will kill the warm, generous hospitality and time will gallop here. The only road will branch out and the island (one of the world’s most isolated places) will be lost forever. That is change and it is inevitable.

2000 Hrs

News channels are showing political problems in Yemen mainland and it is strange to see Socotra silently rejoice as Sanaa bleeds. But once again the underdog has won and the Arab Yemeni mainlanders have lost out in the cultural divided tug of war. The proud country is at mercy of the hodgepodge resident islanders to bail them out with it’s unique eco tourism and it is the only place where the violence of the mainland has not reached. The mainlanders will no longer be able to sidestep Socotris with the so called step motherly treatment and this table turning is intriguing to watch.

I visited Wadi Moumi recently and it’s beauty has taken me by surprise. Light has washed over the island in veils and the mountains had reminded me of the moors like Horton Plains of Sri Lanka. These mountains occupy the center of the island and the magnitude of their empty space is humbling. Date palm orchards lie in neat gardens around stony river beds which perhaps gush with water during the rain and I love the old stone house villages. Wadi Moumi with it’s waterfall, bottle tree forests and date palms has been beautiful, but the crystal clear water has shown massive traces of lime green algae.

Blood red crabs hid under rounded pink pebbles and there has been litter everywhere. Garbage has started killing the island and the lack of empathy among the islanders is most mind boggling. The coastal road ran along Delisha towards Di Hamri Protected Area before bending onward to Arhar Beach and the stretch towards Moumi is breathtaking. Keriya Lagoon is still protected and flamingos and herons had waded over it’s clear blue green water. Moumi has been ablaze with pink bottle tree flowers and goats were having a merry time chomping them off the short fat branches.

24.1.15

Hadibo 

1900 Hrs

I am watching the blue strip of ocean from my balcony as the late noon sun makes Hadibo blaze golden. It’s 2015 and still now the capital city roads are unpaved, houses are constructed of rocks, people live in caves and urban lagoons are bordered with palms, canoes and flamingos. Mountains tower fantastically beyond the little town and paradise is the word which comes to my mind. I understand T’s obsession with the island now. Strange, brooding T; whose eyes speak volumes and who lives inside his head. I have never been more happier to meet a man as much happiness meeting T has given me. He has restored my faith in men. Always happy to see me, he comes bounding whenever I am been visible, yet has never crossed the border of familiarity. Last evening had been nice.

We had listened to music under the new moon as my fever had subsided and though we had never said a word, it was just so comfortable to be around another similar thinking human. He gave me space, guarded his space and it took him some courage to ask for my contact details. It has been strange but very comforting to not get jumped upon for being a solo woman traveler and having a man around who maintains respectful space is liberating. Meeting the other stuck expats at Hadibo has been pretty pleasant too and thank god for the Yemeni, to invite us over to his house for dinner. We once again got blessed by the warm Arab hospitality and it has distracted our minds from the gruesome ISIS beheading video.

We shared the Yemeni family’s food with them and they have thoughtfully kept my glass of tea and shorba (soup) replenished all the time. It has been a mini global summit and we have exchanged travel stories from home and around the earth as our hearts have craved for our soil. The Socotri host shared stories of Kani tribals of Kerala, India and suddenly the reason behind the party is evident. He is a traveler, who is dying to share his achievements with people who understands him and who can appreciate his experiences better than our motley group of travelers.

The ex Sultan’s African Socotran camel driver was also invited and he told us tales of a world which now exist only in museums. The dinner had been fun and as our lives have suddenly come to a stand still in Socotra, the world outside our paradise continue to burn.

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE.

25.1.16

Arhar Beach

1500 Hrs

The drive along the coast has been breathtaking. It went deep inside the central highlands and Hagghar mountains scraggy jagged peaks had stood deep blue in the distance. Obscure Bedouin villages had lain amidst valleys and flashes of Bedouin colours of shepherds had painted the red canyons. Dry river beds had curved along the rocky ground and they had met the impossibly blue sea in the distance. Due to lack of public transportation people had waited by the road, hitchhiking for rides and we have picked and dropped them along the way. This time I had hated it and had growled in annoyance when Anwar had turned up the volume of music for their enjoyment. My head had hurt and my body had been hot rivers of racking pain. I just WANT to go home. I WANT my mother.

Our passengers have been varied and all of them, sensing my moodiness have kept quiet. Even the little boy and his goat who had boarded after the old man with orange beard and 2 wives, had sat still like a mouse. The Bedouin woman who lived in a cave had been kind to find out what’s wrong and had left a handful of ripe dates for me. Life in Socotra moves at true island pace, languorous, enchantingly stress free and human virtues come in a most innocent and priceless manner. Fishermens’ settlements have dotted along the coast and the coastal folks have been friendlier than the dour bunch of Bedouin people.

1900 Hrs

I am watching yet another sunset from my balcony and the earache has started again. Soon, it will be unbearable. I hope Anwar comes with dinner fast and I can sleep after taking the pills. I don’t feel like having guests over tonight. They can watch TV at the corner tea shop. I like the sunsets here and love the way nature plays breathtaking miracles on the island. Summer supposedly turns Socotra skies into vivid scarlet but at the moment my dark cloudy sunset is not too bad either. Golden light is falling into the island in stunning veils and I can never forget this sight of sunshine breaking through clouds, till I die. Hadibo in spite of it’s filth and squalor has beautiful moments too and sunset colours paint the town pretty.

2200 Hrs

If I can’t go home anytime soon, I will not mind teaching or volunteering here just like the South Africans family. But then I want to go back to India soon. Arhar with its massive sand dunes, crystal blue aquamarine sea and rose red mountains had been lovely. Grassy banks had started along the beach where spring water, pouring from the mountains had run into the ocean and huge yawning caves had pockmarked their peaks. Soft white sand, seabirds and endless blue sky had featured in Arhar. It had just been perfect. I wish my health had permitted me to camp there.

Shoab is left but it’s not happening anytime soon and I don’t know when I am going to come back to Socotra. My money is running out too and I hate these b*@ody extremists for creating such ruckus. I hope they all just perish and burn in hell for eternity.

26.1.15

Hadibo

0800 Hrs

By now I have gotten used to Socotra’s flies but can never tolerate the annoying “overfriendly” gestures of Hadibo men for long. Someday I will turn around and whip their a*s, if they ever try to touch me again. Will also tell them that honking loudly to attract my attention on the road is not helping their cause, if trying to be on my “to date list” is what they have in mind. Food is an issue here and I can’t stand eating out of cans or bland food any longer. I wonder how the vegetarians will fare here.

1200 Hrs

Just when my Facebook page had nearly opened, I am engulfed by power cut. I have nothing to do the whole afternoon and taking a siesta will guarantee yet another sleepless night. Maybe I will sit in the balcony once again and count the Egyptian Vultures. Electricity is erratic and nonexistent during the day but thanks to the sea breeze the tropical heat doesn’t bother. Internet is slow enough to drive people mad and at this time I am feeling borderline hysterical. I have been stuck here for more than 5 days and home seems like another planet. Wonder when I will actually get home?  Will Noni ever understand her nomadic mother? I wonder if my mother is thinking of me now and I want some home food. Perhaps Spot is patiently waiting near my bed for me to return. I so want to cuddle him right now.

1500 Hrs

No message, a concerned naggy one liner or even a hi on FB, from anybody. D has not written to me for 5 days at a stretch, in spite of knowing about Yemen situation. He doesn’t miss me. I am sure he is fed up with my schedule by now. If only I can get out of here, I will give him so much time, that all his insecurities will go away. I know life will be much nicer, once I get out of here.

1530 Hrs

Even my mom has not dropped a line. Nobody misses me. Oh God! And my earache has started again. I hate everything. I hate the world right now. Should try to get some sleep now and STOP overthinking. Maybe the medicines are making me have such mad thoughts and feel so weepy. Shall not cry once again, otherwise will have awful puffy eyes in the evening. Internet’s back. Hmmm..K has a new baby. She looks so happy and proud. Think will have another baby this year and quit this crazy schedule. It will be much smoother and life will be good. I am so jealous of K right now and I so miss Home. And the b@**dy power has gone yet once again. I hate Facebook. I hate Socotra. I just want to get out of here.

1900 Hrs
It’s India’s republic day and I am coming to know about it from TV. Home has never seemed so far and I am upset about being stuck in Socotra. In India President Obama is drowning in laurels and here my favourite tea shop man gave me a length of homemade goat hair rope to make me stop crying. “You can make it into a belt when you go back home”, he had said kindly, as I had burst into tears at the sight of our Republic Day Parade on TV. I have pushed back thoughts from home as much as I could, until now but it’s impossible to keep the lid on anymore. Why did I have to fall so terribly sick in Socotra in midst of Yemen’s political unrest? What if I can’t go home, by the time I get well? What if the embassy shuts shop and goes away? I WANT TO GO HOME.

2100 Hrs

Dinner and medicines have helped. I am much calmer now. Life is so strange and varied. It’s funny how the primadonna flight attendant, called “the queen” by my loved one, is grateful to be able to wash her hair once a week and I am not even a hardcore adverturist. Sanaa will happen hopefully soon and it’s funny how much Yemen has undergone during my stay. From a country facing major travel advisory and trickle of tourists, it is now on a complete NO GO list and embassies have gone back. People are living in volatile moments, apprehensive of dark days and even the Socotrans feel the palpable tension of uncertainty. The government has disappeared completely and I am perhaps one of the last few tourists visiting Yemen in a long time. With our return to our respective countries, Yemen will perhaps plunge into zero tourism (except for maybe Socotra) if the situation is not controlled.

Socotra too will face dire straits if the much advertised direct flight from Dubai is not introduced and there are hardly any chances of a foreigner wanting to undergo Sanaa to visit the island. A selfish part of me is however happy about it. The island will get a longer lease of life and a more prolonged preservation of innocence. I am ready to go home if only my bl*@dy illness gets over. And I want to get out of here fast before situation traps me in Socotra for good. I will not go anywhere for a long, long time and stay put at home. But someday I will return to Socotra with my mother and we will walk on soft sand and sleep underneath the stars.

22.3.15

Moscow

I had left for home soon after 26th of January and my last day at Sanaa, had been most emotional. I truly love the city and with the cloud of danger looming too close over it’s beauty, I had taken a long last look as I had boarded my Dubai flight. The city had shimmered innocently in the evening light and the mosques had called out for prayer.

Sanaa is a city of 103 mosques and most of them are both historically important and beautiful. I remember tears forming in my eyes as I had turned my back to it, because I had not not been sure if the gorgeous old Arabian jewel will remain standing for long. I had feared it to be heading the Syria, Iraq and the other unfortunate civilizations way and sadly on 20th March 2015, serial bombers backed by ISIS had killed over 140 innocent lives. With the fear and apprehension, which we had felt during our Socotra days, nearly coming true, I hope that the collective prayers of hundreds of Sanaa’s mosques will be able to dispel the danger which is slowly engulfing Yemen.

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE.

“It is not down in any map, True places never are” – Herman Melville

This is completely applicable to Socotra Island, one of the most fascinating destinations I have ever traveled to as a professional travel blogger. To say, that it is incredible, is like downplaying its beauty and the island is truly one of the last rarely discovered places on earth. Intriguingly isolated at nearly 220 miles from the mainland Yemen, the country to which it belongs, Socotra is home to legends, history, strange plants and some of the most beautiful beaches in the world. Any mention of this hot, harsh windswept island without fail draws two reactions and they are invariably either “Where is this?” or “Wow”. These reactions are well deserved for Socotra and the island is in the middle of nowhere. An UNESCO World Heritage Site, Socotra is Yemen’s largest island a very difficult to access destination.

Famous for its extraordinary and endemic flora and fauna, legends claim that Socotra had once been a habitat of dragons and the Phoenix. Titled as the ‘Galapagos of the Indian Ocean’, Socotra’s mushroom shaped blood dragon trees have put this tiny obscure island on the map of adventurers across the world and time had truly stopped there. It is a kind of a place, where many residents still live in caves, you can call endless stretches of pristine beaches as your own and strong winds shut out the island from the world for many months. The island which is home to approximately 50,000 inhabitants has more goats than people and hitch-hiking is the most common mode of transportation. Crime is unheard of at Socotra and its capital, Hadibo is the size of a small dinner plate. Only a few hotels exist at Socotra and the island got its brand new airport a few years back.

This has increased Socotra’s tourism footfall to approximately 1,000 a year and the gorgeous island is definitely the most incredible place I have ever visited. In this photo series, I will reveal Socotra Island’s beauty as I had experienced it on a day to day basis and include travel tips, costs and other extras. Until then, let us allow Socotra’s time forgotten simplicity and unbelievable natural beauty to escape commercial tourism and hope that the marvelous one of a kind natural heritage destination is admired and protected by locals and tourists alike.

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE

Today, when I look back and think about Socotra, the only word which comes to my mind is surreal. Socotra Island had been indeed surreal and my stay there had been one long road trip. Incidentally, the island has only one road which goes through the length and breadth of the landform and public transportation is a joke there. Hitchhiking is the most common mode of transportation and apart from Hadibo (the capital), hotels/accommodations are not available throughout the island. Camping is the most popular stay option there and and you can also sleep under the stars in canyons, caves and Bedouin homes.

The residents of the islands (apart from the goats) are broadly divided into the coastal fishing folks and the highland Bedouins. The mountain people roam around the vast central highlands, live in stone huts or caves and sustain mostly on their animals, plant products and barter system. They know the misty blue mountains like the back of their hands and trekking the hidden canyons and gorges with them as guides is an unforgettable experience. My own camping expedition at the lost Wadi Dir Hul, Diksam and Moumi Plateaus had been with one Bedouin guide and he had shown me some of the most breathtaking sights I have ever come across in my life. Picture this ; lost canyons with sparkling emerald rivers, date palms, rose red cliffs and strange alien vegetation, all of which have been existing there as long as time and the surrounding mountains had been covered with mushroom shaped dragon blood trees and flowering desert roses. The landscape had gone drier as we had headed south and huge cave faces had pockmarked the stony walls.

Those caves too had been fantastic and I remember us driving straight into one, only to find it housing more cars, humans, goats and complete sets of picnickers. The dry Nojid and Arhar had some very beautiful cave systems and Qalanciya had been the most beautiful place I have ever seen. Surrounded by rocky mountains, which had been coated with sugar white sand dunes, Qalanciya had also been Socotra’s second largest habitat and the snow white stunning beach had been ringed by turquoise water of clearest warm shades. A shallow lagoon had floated on the beach with the rise and fall of the tide and in the evenings, the locals had stomped there for crabs, squids and baby sharks. Now, imagine the play of colours as I describe Qalanciya; chocolate brown stony mountains, snow white sand dunes, sea green lagoon, pristine dazzling beach, open sky and an impossibly blue ocean. The description, though sounding almost paradisaical still falls short in doing justice to Qalanciya and the shifting dunes of Zahak had been equally gorgeous.

The Moumi Plateau, Delisha and Arhar beaches which had been located on the other side of the island had been enchanting too and the central highland had loomed over them like a mighty king. All these places had formed my multi day Socotra itinerary and I had been perhaps the only Indian travel blogger and one of the handful solo woman travelers who have visited the unique place. This fact itself gives a lot of pride and pleasure to me, because despite its beauty Socotra had not been easy. The difficulty of access had seemed like a cake walk in comparison to surviving there and the harsh wind sun swept island had seemed like a venue out of a reality tv show. Because of lack of proper amenities, sleeping in caves, cars, on the beach and in canyons had been a part of my routine and my most luxurious accommodation had been a beach shack at Qalanciya. Food too, had been mostly camping grub and I had relied on the locals’ generosity for better meals. Showers and toilets had often constituted of going to lagoons, rock pools and small rivers and baby wipes had been used as the last resort to stay clean.

By the time, Socotra had been done with me, I had looked like a ragamuffin, smelled and dressed unladylike and a terrible war had kept me marooned at the island until the arrival of the rescue plane. All these had been teamed with a serious bout of malaria and I had come back home skinny, sick, afraid, stunned and with magnificent proud memories of a lifetime. After my return from the war torn Yemen, I had taken a long break to contemplate and evaluate my life and thus 2016 had been all about radical changes. The Socotra experience had been life changing for me and it had taught me to respect normalcy, stability and domesticity. I had ceased to be the fatalist radical nomad that I had once been and perhaps travel is the only thing which can make us appreciate regular as much as the offbeat. Every phase/situation/condition has its time, importance and place in our lives and I would have never been able to see life from a 360 degrees angle without this experience of a lifetime.

Such had been my Socotra Island memories in a nut shell and today if I had to do it all over again, I would jump at the first opportunity. There’s a saying, “Be brave, Take risks, Nothing can substitute the experience” because in the end we only regret chances that we didnt take.

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE

The four islands group of Socotra are located around 217 nautical miles off the Yemeni coast and approximately 130 off the coast of Somalia. This well kept Yemeni secret is a treasure trove of botanical and zoological wonders and the legendary island of Socotra used to be the source of ambergris, dragon’s blood, frankincense, and myrrh during the ancient times. Now protected as an International Biosphere Reserve, the island which is also an UNESCO World Heritage Site is often referred to as the Galapagos of the Indian Ocean, and one of The Most Alien Landscapes on Earth. For centuries, the islands of the Socotra have intrigued early explorers’ and naturalists’ and by the end of the 90’s they shot to fame in the adventure tourism circuit too. However, due to its isolation, the trickle of tourists visiting Socotra is ridiculously low and according to local tourism industry, in 2013 only 1000 foreigners had traveled to Socotra. This figure had risen a tad bit in the following years, only to dip to nearly nothing in 2016.

While difficult accessibility to the islands is one of the reasons why Socotra tourism is not on a travel hit list, being a part of Yemen takes a toll on it too. The reality however, is that it is too far removed from any of the civil disasters happening on the mainland and life on Socotra is peaceful and quiet. In fact, I clearly remember how isolated and cut off I had felt during my last days at Socotra, when the mainland had been embroiled in war and all the embassies, airlines and civil foreign offices had shut shop. The only news I had received of my fate of return to India had been on television and media had as usual sensationalized the whole event totally out of proportion. While there’s no denying that Sanaa had been indeed been burning under air raids and bomb drops at that time, but at Socotra not even a murmur of the war had reached.

As mentioned in my last Socotra travel blog post, the island, despite being one adventurous roller coaster ride had been a life changing experience for me and it is truly a destination unlike any other. So, presenting a brief note on Socotra tourism through the eyes of an Indian travel blogger and solo woman traveler’s perspective, as well as my trip costs. Please note that it is extremely advisable to check travel advisories to Yemen before embarking on a journey to this fantastic island and for the latest updates, check the Ministry of External Affairs page.

Visa – Yemen offers visa-free travel to only a handful of countries like Iraq, Syria, Jordan, and Turkey and most Yemeni embassies do not entertain direct visa requests. The requirements too are extremely changeable and the best option is to avail it through a local tour operator. They’ are also very adept in getting necessary permits required for moving around the country beyond Sanaa and taking care of any bureaucratic hassle. After a bad experience with a shady operator, I had used the services of Al-Hamed Tourism Agency Socotra Island and he had been both reliant and professional.

P.S – Though it is possible to discover Socotra in a very DIY adventurous manner, the best option is to either get a complete tour package with transfers, accommodation, guide, visa etc or join any of their small group tours. Also note that it is important, to find out about the kind of accommodation, English speaking guide/cook/driver and type of food the package will include.

When to Go – When visiting Socotra, keeping a consideration of the climate is important. For nature enthusiasts the best time to visit is from early October to late April and wildlife and natural viewing is best from the end of January through May.

Getting In – At the time of my visit in late 2015, Socotra Island could be accessed only by flights from Sanaa and there had been talks of direct connectivity from Dubai and Abu Dhabi. Felix and Yemenia airlines had catered to Socotra on a weekly basis and sometimes the Yemeni air force had carted passengers to and fro from the island. Because of the two annual monsoons (southwest from June-October and northeast from April-May), no natural harbor and a flourishing piracy, arrival by sea even from the closest port of Aden is next to impossible and it makes sense to depend upon the national carrier Yemenia’s flight schedule. A return ticket to Socotra from Sanaa by either of the two airlines can cost around $300, round-trip and Felix has a bad reputation of canceling their flights without prior notice at the last minute.

Getting Around – Public transportation being a joke in the island with only one road, hitchhiking is the most common mode of transportation and most travelers commute by their own four wheel drives. Transportation is always included in a Socotra Island package and it is also possible to rent a car there on a daily basis at very steep rates.

Accommodation – The capital town of Hadibo has a cluster of hotels like the Taj Socotra (not to be mistaken with the Indian luxury chain) and be prepared for basic amenities even at the most expensive property. Internet, television channels, great room service etc are spotty at Socotra and on the beach camping at the lovely Delisha Camp, Detwa Lagoon Camp or similar makes more sense. For the rest of the island, either sleep under the stars, in caves, in the shadow of sand dunes or at a Bedouin’s home. The Socotra Island tour packages include mattresses and tents and it is advisable to carry your own sleeping bag. My stay at Taj Socotra hotel had cost around 60 USD/day and my ten days itinerary had been for approximately 3360 USD. This had included visa, accommodation, food, transfers, guide, transportation, water and other beverages etc.

Eat – Local Socotri food is available at Hadibo restaurants and apart from goat meat, which is available in plentiful, it is best to opt for fresh seafood. Ful is one of the best options for vegetarians and the little town market sells stuff which arrives by planes or boats. You can load up on quick snacks, cereal bars, chocolates etc from home if you wish quick bites for the road. A good meal at a local restaurant at Hadibo is as low as 2 USD/per person.

Shopping – Local products like wild honey, goat hair accessories, blood dragon henna etc are some of the souvenirs you can buy at Socotra. Please be aware of buying endangered plant or animal product at Socotra as it can be a punishable offence.

Activities – Camping, trekking, snorkeling, fishing, windsurfing etc.

Places to Visit – For beaches (Qalanciya,  Shouab, Arhar, Nogid, Omak), For Wadis and fresh water pools (Homhil, Wadi Dir Hul etc), For Caves (Hoq), For trekking/hiking (Hagghier Mountains, Moumi Plateau etc), For Blood Dragon Trees (Diksam Plateau)

TRAVEL TIP – Socotra is the home to over 300 endemic plants along with nearly 200 species of insects and birds. The critically endangered Egyptian Vultures are also found here in large numbers. The most striking plants to watch out for blood dragon, desert rose and cucumber trees.

For information and travel blogs on Socotra, check out

http://foxnomad.com/2013/05/23/how-to-travel-to-yemen-and-socotra-island/

http://wanderingearl.com/video-why-you-should-travel-to-socotra-island/

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE

“It is not down in any map, True places never are” – Herman Melville

This is completely applicable to Socotra Island, one of the most fascinating destinations I have ever traveled to as a professional travel blogger. To say, that it is incredible, is like downplaying its beauty and the island is truly one of the last rarely discovered places on earth. Intriguingly isolated at nearly 220 miles from the mainland Yemen, the country to which it belongs, Socotra is home to legends, history, strange plants and some of the most beautiful beaches in the world. Any mention of this hot, harsh windswept island without fail draws two reactions and they are invariably either “Where is this?” or “Wow”. These reactions are well deserved for Socotra and the island is in the middle of nowhere. An UNESCO World Heritage Site, Socotra is Yemen’s largest island a very difficult to access destination.

This is Socotra Island

Famous for its extraordinary and endemic flora and fauna, legends claim that Socotra had once been a habitat of dragons and the Phoenix. Titled as the ‘Galapagos of the Indian Ocean’, Socotra’s mushroom shaped blood dragon trees have put this tiny obscure island on the map of adventurers across the world and time had truly stopped there. It is a kind of a place, where many residents still live in caves, you can call endless stretches of pristine beaches as your own and strong winds shut out the island from the world for many months. The island which is home to approximately 50,000 inhabitants has more goats than people and hitch-hiking is the most common mode of transportation. Crime is unheard of at Socotra and its capital, Hadibo is the size of a small dinner plate. Only a few hotels exist at Socotra and the island got its brand new airport a few years back.

This has increased Socotra’s tourism footfall to approximately 1,000 a year and the gorgeous island is definitely the most incredible place I have ever visited. In this photo series, I will reveal Socotra Island’s beauty as I had experienced it on a day to day basis and include travel tips, costs and other extras. Until then, let us allow Socotra’s time forgotten simplicity and unbelievable natural beauty to escape commercial tourism and hope that the marvelous one of a kind natural heritage destination is admired and protected by locals and tourists alike.

A destination in the middle of nowhere

Isolated, obscure

And wild

It is like

No other place on earth

For more photos of this incredible place

Stay tuned to my Socotra Island photo series

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE

The post Socotra photo series appeared first on Maverickbird.

Today, when I look back and think about Socotra, the only word which comes to my mind is surreal. Socotra Island had been indeed surreal and my stay there had been one long road trip. Incidentally, the island has only one road which goes through the length and breadth of the landform and public transportation is a joke there. Hitchhiking is the most common mode of transportation and apart from Hadibo (the capital), hotels/accommodations are not available throughout the island. Camping is the most popular stay option there and and you can also sleep under the stars in canyons, caves and Bedouin homes.

The residents of the islands (apart from the goats) are broadly divided into the coastal fishing folks and the highland Bedouins. The mountain people roam around the vast central highlands, live in stone huts or caves and sustain mostly on their animals, plant products and barter system. They know the misty blue mountains like the back of their hands and trekking the hidden canyons and gorges with them as guides is an unforgettable experience. My own camping expedition at the lost Wadi Dir Hul, Diksam and Moumi Plateaus had been with one Bedouin guide and he had shown me some of the most breathtaking sights I have ever come across in my life. Picture this ; lost canyons with sparkling emerald rivers, date palms, rose red cliffs and strange alien vegetation, all of which have been existing there as long as time and the surrounding mountains had been covered with mushroom shaped dragon blood trees and flowering desert roses. The landscape had gone drier as we had headed south and huge cave faces had pockmarked the stony walls.

The massive dunes of Arhar

Those caves too had been fantastic and I remember us driving straight into one, only to find it housing more cars, humans, goats and complete sets of picnickers. The dry Nojid and Arhar had some very beautiful cave systems and Qalanciya had been the most beautiful place I have ever seen. Surrounded by rocky mountains, which had been coated with sugar white sand dunes, Qalanciya had also been Socotra’s second largest habitat and the snow white stunning beach had been ringed by turquoise water of clearest warm shades. A shallow lagoon had floated on the beach with the rise and fall of the tide and in the evenings, the locals had stomped there for crabs, squids and baby sharks. Now, imagine the play of colours as I describe Qalanciya; chocolate brown stony mountains, snow white sand dunes, sea green lagoon, pristine dazzling beach, open sky and an impossibly blue ocean. The description, though sounding almost paradisaical still falls short in doing justice to Qalanciya and the shifting dunes of Zahak had been equally gorgeous.

The Moumi Plateau, Delisha and Arhar beaches which had been located on the other side of the island had been enchanting too and the central highland had loomed over them like a mighty king. All these places had formed my multi day Socotra itinerary and I had been perhaps the only Indian travel blogger and one of the handful solo woman travelers who have visited the unique place. This fact itself gives a lot of pride and pleasure to me, because despite its beauty Socotra had not been easy. The difficulty of access had seemed like a cake walk in comparison to surviving there and the harsh wind sun swept island had seemed like a venue out of a reality tv show. Because of lack of proper amenities, sleeping in caves, cars, on the beach and in canyons had been a part of my routine and my most luxurious accommodation had been a beach shack at Qalanciya. Food too, had been mostly camping grub and I had relied on the locals’ generosity for better meals. Showers and toilets had often constituted of going to lagoons, rock pools and small rivers and baby wipes had been used as the last resort to stay clean.

The stunning windswept Zahak

By the time, Socotra had been done with me, I had looked like a ragamuffin, smelled and dressed unladylike and a terrible war had kept me marooned at the island until the arrival of the rescue plane. All these had been teamed with a serious bout of malaria and I had come back home skinny, sick, afraid, stunned and with magnificent proud memories of a lifetime. After my return from the war torn Yemen, I had taken a long break to contemplate and evaluate my life and thus 2016 had been all about radical changes. The Socotra experience had been life changing for me and it had taught me to respect normalcy, stability and domesticity. I had ceased to be the fatalist radical nomad that I had once been and perhaps travel is the only thing which can make us appreciate regular as much as the offbeat. Every phase/situation/condition has its time, importance and place in our lives and I would have never been able to see life from a 360 degrees angle without this experience of a lifetime.

Such had been my Socotra Island memories in a nut shell and today if I had to do it all over again, I would jump at the first opportunity. There’s a saying, “Be brave, Take risks, Nothing can substitute the experience” because in the end we only regret chances that we didnt take.

The emerald pools of Wadi Dir Hul

The uniqueness of Diksam Plateau

And the loveliness of Qalanciya

Socotra is undoubtedly

One of the most beautiful

Places on earth

Isolated and

Difficult to access

Life is time forgotten

And difficult there

And tourism too

Is not for the luxury lovers

But it is one of a kind destination

An experience of a lifetime and

There is indeed

No place on earth

Like Socotra Island

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE

The post Socotra photo series II appeared first on Maverickbird.

The four islands group of Socotra are located around 217 nautical miles off the Yemeni coast and approximately 130 off the coast of Somalia. This well kept Yemeni secret is a treasure trove of botanical and zoological wonders and the legendary island of Socotra used to be the source of ambergris, dragon’s blood, frankincense, and myrrh during the ancient times. Now protected as an International Biosphere Reserve, the island which is also an UNESCO World Heritage Site is often referred to as the Galapagos of the Indian Ocean, and one of The Most Alien Landscapes on Earth. For centuries, the islands of the Socotra have intrigued early explorers’ and naturalists’ and by the end of the 90’s they shot to fame in the adventure tourism circuit too. However, due to its isolation, the trickle of tourists visiting Socotra is ridiculously low and according to local tourism industry, in 2013 only 1000 foreigners had traveled to Socotra. This figure had risen a tad bit in the following years, only to dip to nearly nothing in 2016.

While difficult accessibility to the islands is one of the reasons why Socotra tourism is not on a travel hit list, being a part of Yemen takes a toll on it too. The reality however, is that it is too far removed from any of the civil disasters happening on the mainland and life on Socotra is peaceful and quiet. In fact, I clearly remember how isolated and cut off I had felt during my last days at Socotra, when the mainland had been embroiled in war and all the embassies, airlines and civil foreign offices had shut shop. The only news I had received of my fate of return to India had been on television and media had as usual sensationalized the whole event totally out of proportion. While there’s no denying that Sanaa had been indeed been burning under air raids and bomb drops at that time, but at Socotra not even a murmur of the war had reached.

Beautiful isolated Socotra Island

As mentioned in my last Socotra travel blog post, the island, despite being one adventurous roller coaster ride had been a life changing experience for me and it is truly a destination unlike any other. So, presenting a brief note on Socotra tourism through the eyes of an Indian travel blogger and solo woman traveler’s perspective, as well as my trip costs. Please note that it is extremely advisable to check travel advisories to Yemen before embarking on a journey to this fantastic island and for the latest updates, check the Ministry of External Affairs page.

Visa – Yemen offers visa-free travel to only a handful of countries like Iraq, Syria, Jordan, and Turkey and most Yemeni embassies do not entertain direct visa requests. The requirements too are extremely changeable and the best option is to avail it through a local tour operator. They’ are also very adept in getting necessary permits required for moving around the country beyond Sanaa and taking care of any bureaucratic hassle. After a bad experience with a shady operator, I had used the services of Al-Hamed Tourism Agency Socotra Island and he had been both reliant and professional.

P.S – Though it is possible to discover Socotra in a very DIY adventurous manner, the best option is to either get a complete tour package with transfers, accommodation, guide, visa etc or join any of their small group tours. Also note that it is important, to find out about the kind of accommodation, English speaking guide/cook/driver and type of food the package will include.

When to Go – When visiting Socotra, keeping a consideration of the climate is important. For nature enthusiasts the best time to visit is from early October to late April and wildlife and natural viewing is best from the end of January through May.

Getting In – At the time of my visit in late 2015, Socotra Island could be accessed only by flights from Sanaa and there had been talks of direct connectivity from Dubai and Abu Dhabi. Felix and Yemenia airlines had catered to Socotra on a weekly basis and sometimes the Yemeni air force had carted passengers to and fro from the island. Because of the two annual monsoons (southwest from June-October and northeast from April-May), no natural harbor and a flourishing piracy, arrival by sea even from the closest port of Aden is next to impossible and it makes sense to depend upon the national carrier Yemenia’s flight schedule. A return ticket to Socotra from Sanaa by either of the two airlines can cost around $300, round-trip and Felix has a bad reputation of canceling their flights without prior notice at the last minute.

Getting Around – Public transportation being a joke in the island with only one road, hitchhiking is the most common mode of transportation and most travelers commute by their own four wheel drives. Transportation is always included in a Socotra Island package and it is also possible to rent a car there on a daily basis at very steep rates.

Accommodation – The capital town of Hadibo has a cluster of hotels like the Taj Socotra (not to be mistaken with the Indian luxury chain) and be prepared for basic amenities even at the most expensive property. Internet, television channels, great room service etc are spotty at Socotra and on the beach camping at the lovely Delisha Camp, Detwa Lagoon Camp or similar makes more sense. For the rest of the island, either sleep under the stars, in caves, in the shadow of sand dunes or at a Bedouin’s home. The Socotra Island tour packages include mattresses and tents and it is advisable to carry your own sleeping bag. My stay at Taj Socotra hotel had cost around 60 USD/day and my ten days itinerary had been for approximately 3360 USD. This had included visa, accommodation, food, transfers, guide, transportation, water and other beverages etc.

Eat – Local Socotri food is available at Hadibo restaurants and apart from goat meat, which is available in plentiful, it is best to opt for fresh seafood. Ful is one of the best options for vegetarians and the little town market sells stuff which arrives by planes or boats. You can load up on quick snacks, cereal bars, chocolates etc from home if you wish quick bites for the road. A good meal at a local restaurant at Hadibo is as low as 2 USD/per person.

Shopping – Local products like wild honey, goat hair accessories, blood dragon henna etc are some of the souvenirs you can buy at Socotra. Please be aware of buying endangered plant or animal product at Socotra as it can be a punishable offence.

Activities – Camping, trekking, snorkeling, fishing, windsurfing etc.

Places to Visit – For beaches (Qalanciya,  Shouab, Arhar, Nogid, Omak), For Wadis and fresh water pools (Homhil, Wadi Dir Hul etc), For Caves (Hoq), For trekking/hiking (Hagghier Mountains, Moumi Plateau etc), For Blood Dragon Trees (Diksam Plateau)

It is a lost world

The most alien looking

Place on earth

TRAVEL TIP – Socotra is the home to over 300 endemic plants along with nearly 200 species of insects and birds. The critically endangered Egyptian Vultures are also found here in large numbers. The most striking plants to watch out for blood dragon, desert rose and cucumber trees.

For information and travel blogs on Socotra, check out

http://foxnomad.com/2013/05/23/how-to-travel-to-yemen-and-socotra-island/

http://wanderingearl.com/video-why-you-should-travel-to-socotra-island/

Home to many rare species of life

Shy elusive culture

And incredible flora

It is like

No other place

On earth

Often referred to as

Galapagos of the Indian Ocean

Socotra is definitely

The most surreal looking place

I have ever seen in my life

Time have stopped

At Socotra many years back

And the incredible island

Full of friendly people

Is the closest

You can ever get

To your own paradise

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE

The post Money Matters Socotra appeared first on Maverickbird.

I first came to know of the Socotra island when I was in school. A brilliant TV commercial featuring the magnificent blood dragon tree, which is found only in Socotra made my jaw drop and I wanted to visit the island just to see that alien-looking plant. The image and the mysterious island never left my mind and more than a decade later in 2016, when a locale hunt took me to Socotra, I could not believe my luck. The opportunity which seemed too good to be true completely taken me by surprise and I rushed headlong into digging out Socotra island information. Internet, however, yielded very few results, and apart from a glaring TRAVEL ADVISORY on Yemen, I hardly found anything that was usable. It took a year from the day of getting the project to the actual travel date and the last traveler review of the island was dated 2010. Travel help arrived in the form of an ex-colleague, who is an avid angler. Being a commercial airline pilot, he has the opportunity to travel to the remotest corners of the earth, and his photo series of Socotra on a social media site caught my attention. He got me connected with his local Socotri friend and before I knew it, I was off to one of the most isolated islands on earth.

Socotra island is called the Galapagos of the Indian Ocean

Socotra island is isolation personified

Socotra island is isolation personified. Cut off from the Yemeni mainland and located close to the Horn of Africa, this archipelago of four islands is termed as the “most alien-looking place on earth”. Technically it belongs to the small Arabian nation of Yemen, but its language, culture, lifestyle, food habits, and demography differ completely from the mainland. Often referred to as the “Galapagos of the Indian Ocean”, this hard to access island houses some of the world’s rarest flora, which is not found anywhere else on earth. In fact, a third of the island’s incredible plants are endemic and this has lead to Socotra island being designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. At the time of my visit, Yemen was undergoing civil unrest and the entire government collapsed during my stay. The mainland quickly became a big political mess and I flew to Socotra island before to escape the situation. At that time, I had no idea how things would evolve and for me, the Socotra dream was finally coming true.

You may also like: YEMEN CRISIS AND MEMORIES OF OLD SANAA

A lonely Bedouin woman of Socotra

Ancient Gujarati mariners called it the “island of bliss”

Socotra at that time was accessed only by flight and only two airlines, Felix Airways and Yemenia flew there.  The flight to Socotra went via the arid coastal town of Mukalla and it is a brief journey from the Sanaa. The stark differences between the island and the mainland were clear the moment I landed at the brand new airport. Socotra island nestled in a cocoon of peace and normalcy and it was free from any restrictions and void of any signs of unrest. Socotris also looked completely different from the Arab Yemenis and they had a unique mix of Indians, Malays, and African features. Interestingly, that is not the only Indian connection of Socotra and for centuries, the sailors of Gujarat in India called the maritime route near Socotra, “Sikotro Sinh” or the “Roaring Lion of Socotra”. Many historians believe that the island had got its name from a Sanskrit word “dvipasukhdhara” meaning “island providing bliss”.

This is the island of precious herbs and plants

The island of frankincense and myrrh

However, it is the Arabic translation of its name (souq = market, quotra = dripping frankincense) that brings out Socotra’s real glory and that is the island’s abundance of frankincense, myrrh, and other valuable herbal products. In fact, frankincense and myrrh had put Socotra island firmly on ancient maritime charts ad Socotri folk tales recount bygone days when the island was a huge hub for traders, sailors, and pirates. Human evidence in Socotra island was traced to prehistoric times and inside one of the island’s huge limestone cave, multilingual inscriptions were found. From Indian Brahmi, Greek, Bactrian, Ethiopian to South Arabian languages, those scribbles were left by sailors who visited the island between 1st century BC to 6th century AD, and thus, it is not difficult to understand why Socotra was called the frankincense souq.

Recommended Read: MEMORIES OF SOCOTRA

This island seems to be frozen in time

Socotra island has a frozen in time quality

In modern times, only the Somalian pirates used the island as a refueling stop for hijacked vessels and all this weighed on my mind, as my rental 4 * 4 navigated out of the tiny airport area into Socotra’s vast open sunshine. A straight road went towards the main town of Hadibo and it was the only road on Socotra island. The first thing which struck me about Socotra was its uncluttered open space. The island had a misty cluster of highlands in the center and the blue ocean bordered the road, as it went past the date palm plantations and ancient-looking stone villages. It also had an almost unreal “frozen in time” quality and the simplicity of the islanders’ lifestyle is hard to believe. I stayed on the island for some time and Socotra mesmerized me every single day. Although it was the blood dragon tree, which drew me to the island, Socotra’s spectacular beaches, shifting sand dunes, massive yawning caves, open rolling meadows, and mist-shrouded blue peaks got me wanting for more. The biggest shock and delight was its utter isolation and it was hard to believe that in 2016, there existed a beach, a mountain, a stream, an island on earth, which most of the time, belonged solely to me. The isolation, however, came at a price, and the biggest challenge I faced on the Socotra island was to fight through the shroud of carefully cultivated lack of information about the island and the horrible tourism monopoly which exists there. During my trip, I had to unravel too many disheartening “Why’s, Where’s and How’s” and Socotra at times, pushed my endurance limit to the fullest.

The blood dragon tree of Socotra Island

The blood dragon tree of Socotra island

From sleeping in caves, calling a car home for days, going without a shower, proper food, battling harsh conditions, lack of hygiene, etc, my Socotra island stay tough on the body and easy on the soul. Nothing felt more gut-wrenching than to navigate through the litter choked lanes of its main town of Hadibo and it was equally heavenly to explore Socotra’s gold drenched sunsets, sugar-white beaches, and soft aquamarine water. While the island’s ugly mercenary system of haggling wore me down, I used to regain my life energy by simply hugging the timeless gnarly branches of blood dragon trees. Never before had nature touched me so deeply and I had never so happily detached than in Socotra. Nothing feels better than touching your dream or see it come true and touching or hugging the island’s blood dragon trees always uplifted my soul. There was something about them as they stood on the ancient mysterious cliffs, looking weathered, wise, and yet vital. At times, I spoke to them in whispers, sure that they take it in and I had a lot going on at that time. As crazy as it sounds, in retrospect, I am glad that I spent so much time being a tree-hugger on Socotra island because as a friend of mine said recently, “You do not know when the island will open up for the world again”.

Empty beaches of Omak

The vast sand dunes

Gorgeous lagoons

Timeless wadis

And solitude,

This is Socotra,

The island with just one road.

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE

 

 

 

 

The post How I ended up on the Socotra island appeared first on Maverickbird.

“You will be staying at the Taj of Socotra”, beamed my affable guide to me. We were out of the tiny airport and driving towards Hadibo, the main town of the island. “You must be knowing the Taj..you are from India”. Anwar’s proud words made start dreaming of a comfortable BnB sort of place; nothing fancy, but something cozy with beach access, some hammocks, and a garden, perhaps. After all, the entire island was more than half empty and my expectations seemed just natural. The reality hit hard when Hadibo arrived with generous piles of trash and the Taj of Socotra or the Taj Socotra shattered all my dreams of a comfortable stay. My room overlooked the market, so I could hear, smell, and see the buyers, sellers, and the trash at any given time. The shared bathroom that was located at one end of the corridor perpetually looked into someone’s courtyard and one had to precariously position themselves on the privy to guard the door since the lock was broken. The half-torn curtain brought in wafts of cold air from the mountains and the tap had a mug chained to it. Taj Socotra, however, had moody wifi, an in-room TV that played Bollywood soaps dubbed in Amharic (the national language of Ethiopia), and from my balcony, I could see the blue strip of the ocean.

Hadibo is the capital town of Socotra

My dashed hotel dreams at the Taj Socotra

The hotel breakfast consisted of locally made bread, cucumber, and tuna sauce, and lunch and dinner were also the same. Hadibo, despite being the main town of Socotra island did not offer much tourist infrastructure and the other Summerland hotel was a more concrete version of the Taj Socotra, albeit with higher rates. While the Taj Socotra cost 50 USD per night, the Summerland charged around 190 USD for the same facilities. Quite understandably, most of the islanders did not eat outside and the rich people of Socotra lived in large date plantation estates, had open kitchens in their courtyards, and roasted several whole goats when entertaining guests. Men and women were segregated and there was no alcohol available on the island. There were plenty of cigarettes available and most Socotris were addicted to smoking, fancy mobiles, and Bollywood.

You may also like: HOW I ENDED UP ON THE SOCOTRA ISLAND

View from my room balcony at Hadibo

Hadibo is a one road capital city

To call Hadibo a town would be a joke, however, it was indeed the biggest populated space in that otherwise pristine island. It had about 100 houses, one main road, and around 15 shops that sold whatever arrived by flight or boats. The town stood at the base of the stunning Hagghier mountain and Socotra’s biggest shops lined the main asphalt road.  These shops sold everything required for modern human sustenance: make-up, electronic goods, blankets, furnishings, utensils, groceries, ladies’ fashion, wild bees’ honey, canned tuna, mobile batteries, and tours. Hadibo also held a weekly market in the square and every Saturday, the little bazaar would get crowded with buyers and sellers jostling for space with old Socotri men drinking endless cups of tea, Bedouin ladies selling natural henna, coops of hens and lots and lots of goats.

Recommended Read: MEMORIES OF SOCOTRA

Socotra has only one road

The biggest town was an urban mess

The island was overrun with bleating, nimble-footed skippy creatures, and there were more goats than humans in Socotra. Apart from the goats, old tea-sipping old men, and Bedouin women, Hadibo had three short alleys, two kiosks that primarily sold candies and cigarettes, and the whole place was badly trashed. In the mornings, hawkers peddled fish, crabs, fruits, pottery, and vegetables from open baskets and the mountain Bedouins left the coast leaving trails of litter. Big, yellow Egyptian vultures swooped over garbage piles, and during my stay, I learned that these birds were named Socotra Municipality in jest. Endangered in most parts of the world, Egyptian Vultures were strangely plentiful in Socotra and they fed on the massive waste that the island produced every day. Thus, I began my Socotra adventure in the main town of Hadibo and it was a place where I escaped from as quickly as possible. My favourite place to go from Hadibo was Delisha Beach and I enjoyed the beautiful sunsets there.

Suggested for you: YEMEN CRISIS AND MEMORIES OF OLD SANAA

The pristine Delisha beach near Hadibo

The daily escapes from Hadibo

Delisha had been just a 30 minutes drive from Hadibo and most Socotra visitors begin their trip from there. It is like a small sneak peek of what is to follow and the preview itself is spectacular enough to get anybody hooked to the island for good. Socotra’s only road looped along the blue sea, past Hadibo lagoon, small boat sheds, and ramshackle hutments before reaching the broad Delisha Beach. The beach was beautiful with a small green crab filled lagoon, solitary powder white sand dune, and glistening pink sand. Seabirds swooped in and out of the crashing waves and it seemed surreal to spot only my footsteps being traced all along the entire beach. Trash left it’s ugly marks there too and Delisha indeed was the apt preview of what Socotra encompassed; sharp contrast between urban mess and natural beauty all packed in one of the remotest places on earth.

A Bedouin woman of Socotra

The pink-white sand of Delisha beach

Some beautiful shells

Seen at the Delisha beach.

To Delisha, my escape spot from Hadibo.

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE

 

 

 

 

 

 

The post Hadibo and the ugly side of urbanization of remote tropical paradise appeared first on Maverickbird.

Wadi Dirhur was a strange-looking peaceful place. We reached there by driving along Socotra’s only road through the Diksam Plateau and it was wonderfully empty drive. Diksam Plateau looked out of this world and apart from alien-looking plants, no signs of life were visible for miles. I had never before experienced a place so isolated and to my imaginative mind, it seemed like a post-nuclear aftermath world. The craggy granite mountains stretched in rows as far as eyes could see and amidst their deep folds and grooves stood bristly the shadows of the blood dragon trees. For some reason, these grand trees nearly always seemed to stand apart from the crowd. At some spots, though they grew like scrubby forests and created funny circular shadows on the rough rose coloured gravel at their feet.

Socotra has only one road

The hidden valley of Wadi Dirhur

Hardly any Bedouin villages could be seen at the Diksam Plateau and the blazing sun made the shepherds rest in cool flowery shades. At one point, a dirt track bifurcated away from the road, and Anwar drove headlong on it until he stopped at a precipice. Gorgeous Wadi Dirhur spread below like a mirage and from our bird’s eye viewpoint, it looked like a hidden world. A lovely slender stream ran through the valley and it sparkled like jewels in the bright afternoon heat. A short, steep downhill drive took us to the canyon and the world seemed more and more unfamiliar as we went downhill. Dry, harsh land peeped underneath white ghostly Cucumber Trees and potbellied Desert Roses bloomed like grotesque pantomime dancers.

A desert rose tree in Wadi Dirhur

The alien-looking trees of Socotra

Apart from being an alien-looking place, Socotra is also a terribly harsh environment to survive. The island is sunburnt and windswept and drought-like dry conditions pervade all areas. Some areas are particularly more arid than the rest and the island’s flora has adapted to its conditions in the most unique ways. When Sting had sung the sultry notes of the song “Desert Rose”, I am sure a squat, rather ugly looking tree with a swollen belly had not been on his mind and Socotra’s Adenium Obesum is as much a rose, as I am an elephant. Although these funny trees are found in some parts of the Arabian mainland and Africa, the ones in Socotra bulge larger than their African counterparts. They have wonderfully adapted themselves to Socotra’s harsh aridity and use their distorted, bloated trunks to store precious water. They supposedly do not require soil and their unique shapes are their means of anchoring on rocks, on which they grow. The desert roses bloomed earlier that year and the hard, brown monotony of the canyon was dappled with their pink blossoms.

A massive cucumber tree of Socotra

Desert roses and cucumber trees of Wadi Dirhur

Wadi Dirhur arrived in a steep gradient and in spite of my seat belt, my back got brutally jolted during the entire ride. Dry scrub forests provided shade in the valley/wadi where apart from Anwar, I was the only human. It was completely silent and the afternoon heat stifled the breeze that blew in from the stream. The little green brook was a sheer utter delight and I scrambled into its crystal clear water for a refreshing swim. The colour of the water was emerald green and it was free from any algae, oiliness, and muck. Date palms bordered it in lush forests and smooth golden pink rocks created beautiful natural stepping stones. The canyon walls rose steeply along the shallow stream and desert rose and cucumber trees covered the slopes in profusion. Their white ghostly trunks stood out in the harsh sun and I could locate cucumbers growing under their floppy thatch of green leaves. The cool, watery garden vegetable, which is usually found dangling from vines in every other place on earth, takes a whole new shape and size in Socotra and they are as alien-looking as the desert rose.

The green clear stream of Wadi Dirhur

The feeling of being alone in nature

Happily isolated and with the treasure of time on my hands, I the beauty of Wadi Dirhur to the fullest. I swam in the stream, sunned on the palm-shaded stones, and spent my time spotting different coloured crabs among the fishes in the stream. It was paradisaical and apart from Anwar, who was cooking lunch, further downstream, the gorgeous canyon was completely mine. Large yellow Egyptian vultures stared at me from their rocky nests and all-around desert rose trees bloomed in profusion. Now, I am a bit of a tree hugger and Socotra’s unique flora had made go a bit bonkers. I hugged as many rarest of the rare trees in the world as possible, knowing that I may never return there again.

One of the goats brought by the locals

And then came the happy picnickers

It was at lunch when a group of local Socotris came trudging down the slopes of Wadi Dirhur. A well-known picnic spot for the locals and visiting expat Socotrans, Wadi Dirhur in some places were scattered with hooves, horns, and discarded goat skins. Picnic is a very popular activity among the islanders and they usually include barbecuing freshly slaughtered goat meat, eating rice pulao (rice dish speckled with dry fruits and spices), drinking umpteen cups of tea and gossiping. Socotrans love gossiping and they huddle for juicy conversations at tea shops, at dinners/lunches at someone’s house, in the middle of the road, and on carpeted date palm groves on the island’s hidden wadis. The locals picnic in big groups, carry sumptuous lunch baskets (and personal chefs), and buy the festive meat from the small Bedouin villages. That was why perhaps I had spotted a few nomadic settlements in the initial part of our drive and why the Bedouins always ran up at the sight of a passing car. When I say, nomadic settlement, I mean it in the Socotran standard and that includes a maximum number of 4-5 houses/ families and maybe a couple living in caves with their 2-3 dozen goats and cows.

It is not too difficult to lose your time here

Losing time in Wadi Dirhur

The island’s biggest attraction was its isolation and at times, I pinched myself into believing that such a place still existed on earth in 2016. By the end of the Wadi Dirhur day, we were the only humans staying at the canyon and Anwar rustled up a cook dinner before it became dark. Dinner came from an assortment of tuna cans and tomato sauce jars, and food was definitely the biggest let down of Socotra. Dusk fell fast dinner and Wadi Dirhur got engulfed in complete darkness. Stars burst open in the vast inky sky like massive diamonds and silence descended like heavy sleep. We spread out our mattresses under the broad strip of the Milky Way and the only sound of the night was of our own breathing. The entire canyon seemed strangely devoid of any nocturnal creature and no buzzing of crickets, flapping wings of bats, or hooting calls of owls broken the dark heavy silence. Time got lost there; slipped through the crevices of the canyon and wandered off in the night and that was one of most liberating sensations of my life. Being controlled by our watch, we forget how easy it is to unwind and it is only when we lose time, that the real relaxation sets in. Time has no meaning when cocooned in the dark in the midst of an empty canyon on one of the most remote places in the world, and so I slept in a timeless, deep slumber among the canyon, stars, and desert roses of Socotra.

The beautiful desert rose flowers

Dusk falling in the canyon

The rare and big Egyptian vultures

Would you like to get lost in a place like this?

This was my travel dream come true

Follow the rest of the Yemen series here

• YEMEN CRISIS AND MEMORIES OF OLD SANAA
• MEMORIES OF SOCOTRA
• HOW I ENDED UP ON THE SOCOTRA ISLAND
• HADIBO AND URBANIZATION OF SOCOTRA
• THE MOUNTAIN BEDOUINS OF SOCOTRA

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE

The post Losing time in Wadi Dirhur: being all alone in a canyon appeared first on Maverickbird.

Our next stop after the beautiful Wadi Dirhur canyon was the massive Dogub cave. It was a couple of hours’ drive away from the canyon and we started early before the day got too hot. Socotra as I mentioned before, despite being drop-dead gorgeous, is a harsh place and blazing sun and strong winds make it a hostile environment. Dogub cave was located in the southern part of the island and though not as spectacular as Hoq, Anwar guaranteed that it was a very unique place. I did not disbelieve even once since Socotra island has a very interesting and complex cave network. In the past, many archaeological finds have been discovered in the bigger caves and these were telltale remnants of prehistoric humans to ancient sailors’ scribbles.

The drive to Nogid

Dogub Cave in Nogid

Dogub cave was in an area called Nogid and it was dry, red, and inhospitable. At the time of my visit, Nogid had recently received an asphalt road, and Socotra’s only highway connected it with the rest of the island. Huge rocky hills bordered the arid plains of Nogid and a beautiful blue ocean lay on its other side. Dazzling white sand dunes rolled along the coastline and in comparison, the rest of the area looked sparse with dry, leafless, scrubby bushes. Camels roamed Nogid plains in herds and only a few human settlements were scattered along the vast expanse. We were again close to the sea, with the cool highlands left behind, and most of the time of the year, harsh winds blew into Nogid.

The dry arid plains of Nogid

The dry arid plains of Nogid

Nogid was Anwar’s favourite place in Socotra and he simply loved the dry, inhospitable looking landscape of the south. The drive from Diksam Plateau to Doub cave was a very interesting one and the scenery changed rapidly as we neared the ocean. The mountain slopes slowly slanted down to plains that held dry river beds and sheets of grey lava rocks rocky slopes held swollen trunks of the desert rose trees. These grotesquely shaped flowering trees grew in neat rows as if in a plantation and a few small caves hidden behind them held actual homes. Small pieces of cloth strung at the mouth of the caves served as curtains and behind their privacy, standalone families with their entire herd of animals lived.

The desert rose trees of Nogid

The massive shelter of Dogub cave

The most beautiful part of Nogid was its stunning rock formations and Dogub Cave was a yawning hole in one of them. The access to the cave had been fairly easy and the size of the cave took me by surprise. Picturesquely twisted stalagmites guarded the mouth of the cave and the sweeping interior was large enough to hold at least 20 cars. Several small chambers bifurcated inside the cave and dripping thin streams created small natural wells of fresh water. This was a very precious commodity in Socotra and the water streams of Dogub cave attracted many herders, animals, and birds. A severe bat stench also pervaded the interior of the cave and as usual, I shared my mattress and lunch with many inquisitive goats, a lonely sheepdog, and a bunch of curious locals.

The second day at Zahak

Leaving for Zahak

As much as I liked Dogub cave, the bat stench along with some suspicious “turdy” looking things in its background appalled me a lot and I could not wait to get out of there. Our destination for that day was Zahak, an area known for its beautiful snowy white sand dunes and I was very eager to see them in daylight. Massive mountain-sized shifting sand dunes are one of the highlights of Socotra and these mounds shifted in position and size according to the island’s inland winds.

My last sight of Diksam Plateau

A Bedouin hut at Wadi Dirhur

The desert rose tree near Wadi Dirhur

The island gets drier towards Nogid

The stony mountains of Nogid

The dry part of Socotra

The ocean appears as we leave the central highlands

The beautiful Arabian Sea

The rolling dunes of Zahak

Socotra is all about beautiful falling light

Follow the rest of the Yemen series here

• YEMEN CRISIS AND MEMORIES OF OLD SANAA
• MEMORIES OF SOCOTRA
• HOW I ENDED UP ON THE SOCOTRA ISLAND
• HADIBO AND URBANIZATION OF SOCOTRA
• THE MOUNTAIN BEDOUINS OF SOCOTRA
• LOSING TIME IN WADI DIRHUR

RESPONSIBLE TRAVELING-BECAUSE I CARE

The post The drive-in cave escapade at the massive cave in Socotra appeared first on Maverickbird.