The Falcons (and the villa)

Currently, in Liwa, there is a sort of desert festival happening. The glossy brochure promised events like camel, horse and falcon racing (not at the same time, of course), as well as ATV and 4x4s on the dunes.

A few days ago, just back from our trip around the UAE, we jumped at the chance to go see the falcons. About 25 km of winding asphalt from our hotel (winding between dunes that threaten to take over the roadway), past a few desolate shack-like farms, we found the collection of dunes where it was all supposed to take place.

Flags snapped in the breeze above signs for VIP parking, and directions to permanent looking tents, but there didn't seem to be anything else going on. Parking in the empty lot, we gazed out at a sand valley between inumerable sand dunes, and wondered where to go next. Spotting a sign for shopping, I ran off towards a small collection of open tents, hoping for a bargain of some sort.

The first few tents, a collection of packaged perfumes and bundles of synthetic blankets were a bit disappointing, but the next one, staffed by a friendly Egyptian man and his son was more interesting, with its small collection of sadly overpriced antique looking scales and pots (everyone here is from somewhere else, and it's perfectly polite to ask where even the shopkeeper is from, since they are probably not Emirati). They gave us some tough, buttery corn on the cob and invited us to shoot a bow and arrow. Fun, but not what we came for...

Finally, after a shwarma and falafel from a Syrian man, we figured out that we needed to be about a kilometre away. Hopping back in the car and driving, unbeknownst to us, on the camel racing track, we found our way to a collection of SUVs and Emirati men (and a small cluster of tourists), standing around a police barricade and looking at a few guys playing with a small GPS receiver.

It was quite a sunny day, and I have now come to appreciate the necessity of having some sort of scarf, pashmina or hat to protect myself from the sun. It's not a case of modesty, but of shade that had me standing about with my head and arms covered. More SUVs were arriving, and men hopped out, wearing long brown, white or tan dishdashas (aka thobes, the long dress-like garment that men wear), usually with a white scarf tied elaborately on their heads, and the regulation expensive dark sunglasses. Short and slim, with handsomely carved features, Emirati men are almost never, it seems, without their sunnies.

Finally, and suddenly, a man walked past me, carrying a hooded falcon on his arm. About the size of a large cat (and keeping in mind that all my cats are large), these falcons are beautifully patterned brown, white. They all have tags on their legs, and the racers have GPS antennas attached just above their tail feathers. Their hoods cover their heads completely, with just their curved beaks sticking out - actually, you can buy the hoods to cover, say, the gear shift of your SUV - but the birds always seem alert, with their heads cocking this way and that, and wings stretching out and flapping every few minutes. Some of the handlers' gloves have a strip of astro-turf for the bird's long talons to cling to, and all of the men were extremely attentive to their bird's wellbeing. They stroke their feathers, and even nuzzle and kiss the birds before setting them off on their flights.

One by one, the competitors came to the starting post - a small area, enclosed on three sides with the audience behind (unless you have a nice camera, and are a tourist, and just wander past the police gates and stand where you can see the birds starting off). Each bird flies alone, across a large expanse of hard-packed desert to the other partner, a man who is hooting, jumping and swinging a large bag-thing around to attract the bird. Crouching down, the main handler takes the falcon's hood off, at which point the bird's head starts bobbing up and down, turning this way and that, until he spots the 2nd partner across the field. Then, like an explosion, he takes off, wings pumping, flying low across the sand. Some of the birds focused flew straight and low, but most of them flew a bit off course, some even over our heads.

One of the security guards struck up a conversation with me, and offered me tea, or to stand in the shade while Ty was taking a ton of pictures. After letting him look at some of the great shots Ty got (we're trying to use one as our blog header, but aren't sure if it's turned out or not), he walked us behind the starting chute where the next competitors were waiting. I felt kind of shy, but everyone was super friendly, with one young guy (with braces on his teeth) even letting me pet the falcon he held. I can tell you that the birds feel solid, their feathers are soft, but they aren't fluffy birdies at all.

After an afternoon in the sun, and with a camera full of gorgeous shots, I called it a day. We don't know which of the falcons flew the straightest and fastest, winning his owner some kind of fabulous prize (a car, maybe?), but it was still an unforgettable experience.

And... as for our villa... it's going to be a few weeks before it's clean enough for us to move into. Empty villas here are commonly and promptly taken over by pigeons, so we've got to wait for them to be cleaned out before we can even think of moving in. I've suggested that we get a falcon to chase them away, but at 50,000 UAD (+/- $15,000), I think it's slightly out of our budget....