A delightful month of totally Nix*

(* Nix, the family we stayed at, sounds like nothing in Dutch).

We only left Fujairah three weeks ago, cycled in Oman en still it seems an eternity ago that we left paradise.
After a long day of cycling we ride from Oman to Hatta, again over the Hajar Mountains and dive into Fujaira after a wonderful descent. Armed with a box of tasteful chocolates we knock at the door of the Dutch Nix-family, who welcome us heartily, like promised some weeks ago. Two hours later we fill our tummies with a real Dutch meal of potatoes, gravy, carrots, meatballs and leeks with Gouda cheese sauce. Paul and Henry (the latter is a friend of the Nixes) help us carry the heavy panniers to one of the apartments rented by Royal Vopak. Paul, the manager of the Vopak terminal facility in Fujairah, arranged for us to stay in the three bedroom/three bathroom apartment, with fully equipped kitchen and an air-conditioned living room with TV and dvd. How will we ever be able to leave again?

Yesterday the sheikh of Dubai died, who was also the vice-president of the Emirates. This means forty days of mourning (no loud music, no festivities) and all governmental services to be closed for a week. In our daily lives we don’t really notice: business goes on as usual and all shops are open, even during the celebrating of Eid.

Via the contacts we made here, like Vopak end their relation Fairdeal (an overseas shipping company belonging to a Greek owner), we try to get into contact with ship owners that sail to Iran, Pakistan of India. We didn’t succeed in getting a passage in Durban after four weeks of trying hard; maybe we’ll succeed here. If you don’t try, you get nothing. This time the lobbying is being done for us, by James, one of Paul’s employees. However hard he tries, it is to no avail: the new regulations are so strict that even pulling strings doesn’t help.
In the meantime we indulge in the hospitality offered by Paul and Marleen: we phone our family in the Netherlands, chat for the first time in our lives and see via the web cam what our beloved ones look like nowadays.
A visit at our old friend Major Ahmed of the Fujairah International Marine Club results again in free meals in the Armada restaurant.

Friday the 13th we’re going fishing with the Nix family. Son Marijn, Henri and Peter each catch a nice big barracuda; it’s a lucky day for them. But not for me; lying half inside half outside the boat I keep feeding the fish, involuntarily.

The next day Paul gives us the grand tour of the Vopak facility. The Dutch company is the biggest storage firm for oil products in the world. The safety measures are extreme. Since Paul’s arrival three years ago, the terminal has grown considerably and has become a lot safer. Wearing heavy safety shoes, a hard hat and special glasses, we visit the whole plant and it looks impressive.
Vopak not only works at the safe storage of dangerous products these weeks, but also to provide two cyclists, longing for India, with visa. We have decided to skip Iran for the moment because of the nuclear tensions, just like Pakistan that suddenly got bombed by “peace angel” America. Our next country is definitely going to be India!

To prevent having to start learning how to cycle all over again, Peter and I make some excursions through the Hajar Mountains. We cycle through sleepy villages, are being greeted by yelling children and reach the hot water spring of Ain Al Ghamour. Here the 60 degrees warm water heats our hot bodies even more. The spring, in a modern way wrapped up in concrete basins, isn’t really special. The camels we see on Kalba’s garbage dump a little further are a lot nicer actually.

At night we eat a lavish meal, prepared by Mazen Azizah’s mother. This Syrian family and house friends of the Nix family, show us Syrian hospitality we remember from three years ago.

R egularly Vopak Fujairah engages Dutch experts for specialized work at the plant. Besides friend Henry we get to know Jan, Aad, Robbie and Engel. Some of them bring us special deliveries from the Netherlands. Others drop journals and superfluous things at our family. We’re being spoiled and spoiled… and are not allowed to pay for anything.

It is never too late to learn. Peter always considered tennis to be a rich people’s sport. Now, that he is actually doing it for the first time in his life, he enjoys it! After having been on the Hilton’s tennis court for two hours, he still hasn’t had enough. Unfortunately he gets punished the next days with heavy legs and muscle ache: cycle legs don’t like running.
Skiing in the highest indoor hall of the world, in the middle of the Dubai desert, is something we wisely only look at, for fear of breaking an arm or leg. Astonished we see Arab men with tea cloths pulling snow sledges with their children.

While I study five books of Marleen about India and write down all the interesting places we want to visit, Peter writes stories for the website and reads thrillers, provided for free by Chris and Jean. Jean owns Simon’s Bookshop at the Marina; because we cycle to raise money for War Child we are not allowed to pay for the books.

Suddenly four weeks have passed. Four weeks of hanging around, being lazy, playing cards and talking to our wonderful hostess and friend Marleen, watching movies in Paul’s private cinema and letting old Dutch cheese, Gouda syrup waffles and real meatballs melt in our mouths.
Paul, in Vopak’s name, has arranged and paid for our visa, a new saddle for me, and bubble plastic to protect our bicycles for the flight. At the Fairdeal office we gratefully –and also embarrassed by all the attention- accept the tickets for our flight to India, including the overweight of panniers and bicycles.

In the middle of the night our hearts ache when we say goodbye to Marleen, Paul and Mazen at the airport. They didn’t mind having a very short night’s sleep, to finally get rid of us.
Not nix (not a small thing to do).