(12^th January 2025)

The internet was still down when we woke, so Jamie had to head to the restaurant to catch up on his emails, while I relaxed on the balcony in the sunshine, watching the boats drift by and reflecting on the Dubai skyline from my vantage point on the sixth floor.

It was late morning by the time we left The Palm to drive north to the Umm Al Quwain Museum. Our route took us past Sharjah, and the traffic was surprisingly light. Sunday, it seems, is a day when people rise late and feel no urgency to get behind the wheel and engage in a game of dodgems.

Umm Al Quwain is something of a conundrum. It appears earmarked for tourism, with hotels and clusters of apartment developments springing up along its beaches. Yet there are also signs of abandoned projects, and the entire peninsula has a feeling of limbo, poised between potential and stagnation, waiting for a significant injection of investment and a coordinated vision.

Our first stop was the Umm Al Quwain Museum, housed in a historic fort. The Nepalese curator seemed genuinely delighted to have visitors and welcomed us warmly. We strolled through the inner courtyard, taking time to explore each of the rooms. The only one that appeared to have been thoughtfully curated was the Royal Room, which featured glass display cases filled with gold jewellery, swords, and daggers inlaid with precious stones.

The items were likely genuine, as suggested by the presence of a large, solid safe tucked away in one corner of the Royal Room. The Armament Room housed a collection of old rifles and swords, though there was a noticeable lack of information to place them in historical context. The Prison was a small, stark room with a hole in the wall offering a view into an even smaller cell, where a chained mannequin was displayed to evoke the conditions once endured there.

A couple of kilometres further on, we stopped at the Pink Flamingo Hotel to take a look at its beach. The hotel had a lively atmosphere, with guests relaxing on the sand or lounging by the pool. It came across as a modest but cheerful three-star family resort. We briefly considered staying for lunch, but upon entering the restaurant, it became clear the buffet was reserved for all-inclusive guests, so we chose to move on.

A little further along the coast, we came across a Lebanese restaurant and hotel, where a couple of attendants cheerfully gestured us into a parking space. We decided to give it a try, and were not disappointed. However, as is so often the case in the UAE, the menu was only accessible via a QR code on the table, requiring a smartphone. There was no paper alternative, and connecting to the restaurant’s Wi-Fi meant authenticating through a code sent by text or email. You can see the problem. In the end, the waiter kindly lent us his phone so we could make our choices.

The food was outstanding, beautifully prepared and a fraction of the cost of a similar meal in Dubai. Before long, the restaurant was bustling with families, reminiscent of a typical Sunday back home. That said, the warm sunshine and balmy air stood in stark contrast to the -6°C chill lingering back in Harborough.

We continued further down the coast, stopping at beaches whenever the mood took us. Near Al Hamriyah, we paused to admire a once-impressive beach house or palace. Once grand, it now stood empty and forlorn. We found ourselves wondering what misfortune had befallen its owner, and what future, if any, awaited the abandoned property.

In Sharjah, we stopped along the corniche for a stroll along the beach and rocky breakwater, where many locals were fishing. Sunday afternoons in the UAE mirror those in many parts of the world, with families gathering at the coast for barbecues, relaxation, and fun.

The journey back from Sharjah was another exhausting dash through chaotic traffic, with cars weaving unpredictably between lanes, often without reason or indication. It was a relief to return at last to our familiar Dubai retreat and unwind with a calming cup of coffee.

With the apartment’s Wi-Fi still down, Jamie soon headed back to the restaurant to check his emails, while I settled in to write this blog.