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Every developing country that has security problems always has one of THOSE hotels. The hotel where everyone always knows what going on all over the city, with the really odd mix of foreiginers and locals, with everyone on some seemingly shady business. Well, it would appear that the Hilltown Hotel is THAT hotel here in Sana'a. It has a very Casablanca in WWII feel. One day, the lobby will be filled with tribesmen in from the Hawdramaut, meeting to discuss their plans for the next session of parliament, dressed in sports coats over top of their dishdashas, with jambiyas shover in the belt. The next day, the elevator will open on the way down to the lobby and a Yemeni officer in full dress uniform, toting an AK-47 (which apparently do not need to be checked at the hotel desk), will get in. Or two Yemeni businessmen will be chain smoking in the lobby, while chewing qat, discussing the latest in Sana'ani real estate. And of course, the erstwhile hotel managers at the desk will always be smiling, and can hook you up with qat, and probably some substances or services otherwise illegal in this strict Muslim state. Then, not to mention, there is the two floors of Americans, not just us State Department kids, but assorted American scholars researching 10th century Zaydi munscripts and Arabian oud music. All of the Americans are suspect, because they think we are either CIA spies, or all the blond haired, blue eyed girls that are running around without covering are, umm, available, so to speak. The only thing really missing is a couple of crazy journalists trying to get to Sada to interview the leaders of the Zaydi rebellion and find out if they are, in fact, being supported by the Iranians like everyone here thinks. With it's slightly ramshackle appearance, and location right near the parliament, defense ministry compound, and Tahrir Square, the Hilltown is definitely the place to be. All the tourists and governmental delegations might crowd (well not really crowd since this IS Yemen after all), but the Hilltown has the real pulse of Sana'a

Yemen really is beginning to resemble the American Wild West in my mind. Just as the Wild West was not nearly as violent as people think, so too is Yemen. This probably has a good deal to do with the fact that Yemen is the perfect example of how an armed society is a polite society. Guns are everywhere, espcially with the armed forces and police, which seems to make up about 20% of the working population. Most store owners have one also. We went to Dar al Hajar yesterday, which is in Wadi al-Dur, and there is a place over looking the wadi where you can take pictures with Yemeni falcons and shoot off guns. Unfortunately, we arrived during lunchtime, and only the falcon people and beggars were there, which made me sorely disappointed.
The other overwhelming difference between Yemen and the other Gulf countries I've been to is the prevalence of qat. With the Yemeni accent, the qaf in qat becames a 'g' sound, like the way the Egyptians pronounce the jeem. Thus, qat becomes gat in the local dialect. The reason for this local adaptation of modern standard arabic is because it is almost impossible to pronounce the qaf properly with a tennis ball sized wad of gat in your mouth. Gat leaves litter the streets, and some Yemeni men have wads so large that the cheek is stretched to the point that you can practically see through it. Of course, a lifetime of chewing gat has destroyed the dental hygiene of most Yemenis, and it's pretty nasty to see bits of leaves stuck in teeth and dribbling down the beards of the men.
The last part of Yemeni society that I've been having quite a bit of fun with is the currency. The exchange rate is $1 US for 199 Yemeni rials. Consequently, we've gotten very good at dividing by 200 to get an approxiamate price in US dollars. The advantage of the exchange is that when you exchange money, you get a huge stack of rials. I exchanged a couple hundred dollars at the airport, and got back a two inch thick stack of rials. It looked like a Tony Soprano-style gangster wad. Most of that is locked in the safe at the AIYS now. While the likelihood of getting robbed is next to zero, its just physically impossible to carry around a stack of bills that sized. Between the money I've exchanged, plus the stipend we're getting from the program, I've suddenly realized that I actually have more money than I can spend, for the first time in life. It seems like the only way to spend it all will be to take a trip down to Aden, the Dubai of Yemeni society. Even then, the $700 combined between the stipend is a pretty incredible sum of money. I think I could get used to life in Yemen.

Human beings are wonderfully adaptive when faced with changing circumstances. Or at least so it would seem after one full week here al'Yemen. It seems hard to believe that getting up at 6 AM is now what passes for sleeping in, and going to bed at 10 PM is a really late night. Nor does it seem unusual for random people speaking another language invite me into their home to chew qat. The fact that chewing qat seems normal now also reflects how quickly a person can adapt. Of course, the change in sleeping schedules has become an absolute necessary, since the call to prayer here, for some unknown reason, goes off a little before 4 AM, unlike dawn like most civilized Islamic countries. Thus, it becomes impossible to sleep past 4 AM due to the speaker from the mosque next door is pointed pretty much right at my window. Our hotel is listed in the ´top end´section of my Lonely Planet guide, which really makes me wonder what passes as ´budget.´ My roommate and I finally got a fan, so we can close the unscreened windows and stop getting chewed alive by the bugs. That we are living in a hotel shows how much of a presence American students are beginning to have in Yemen. I would normally be staying at the Yemen Language Center, but with the State Department program, the YLC is hosting over 120 American students and scholars. Consequently, the dorms at the YLC, the YLC guest house, and the Bab al'Sabah house which the YLC owns are all full, which is why the YLC has now more or less taken over the Hilltown Hotel(yes, the Yemenis are very creative at naming stuff, there is also a Starbunny´s, which rips off Starbucks and Bugs Bunny symbols). The YLC is more or less taking over the neighborhood, and looking to expand, since it will soon become the College of Yemeni Middle Eastern studies, which will offer full year programs, and content courses. To a certain degree, this is very disappointing. As anyone who has studied in a place off the beaten path knows, it´s always a little bit disappointing running into other people with white skin while studying in an exotic locale. It´s almost as if they´re ruining your unique experience. On top of that, a rivalry has emerged between the regular YLC kids and us Critical Language Scholarship types. The CLS people are here on scholarship, having everything paid for us, taking the best teachers, and pretty much having the YLC bent to our will, even though we represent only 28 of the 120 odd people at the YLC. Furthermore, most of us have had prior MidEast experience and obviously prior Arabic experience, while most of the YLC´ers are just getting their feet wet. Consequently, we can go wherever we want, when we want, and interact with a much larger segment of Yemeni society. In response, the YLC kids have decided to give us the cold shoulder. To those of us with the CLS program, we couldn´t care less, since the YLC kids mostly speak English, which does us no good, and don´t get out into the street much. And mostly we don´t have time to deal with it, since the program is running us ragged.

As I mentioned before, we were in Salalah this past weekend. The city is the capital of the southern region, Dhofar, and the scene of some intense fighting back in the 1970's, as Communist rebels from Yemen fought against (at various times) the Sultan's forces, Iranians, and British SAS. It is also the frankincense capital of the world, as the frankincense trees are only able to grow in the unique environment that is Dhofar.
As soon as we stepped off the plane in Salalah, we could tell it was the frankincense capital of the world. Some cities have a very distinct smell, and Salalah is one of them. The entire city smells of luban, the Arabic word for frankincense. Everyone burns it, the hotels, the suqs, even the poor neighborhoods of South Asians. What might normally sell for $60 to $100 in the US sells for $5 in Salalah, there's just so much of it. Consequently, we bought the stuff by the kilo. Frankincense comes in small whitish green rocks, and consequently, we made numerous jokes comparing buying frankincense to buying crack rocks.
Salalah also seems like its on another continent. It has a heavy historical connection to Yemen and Somalia, and it shows throughout the city. Salalah is also the only place in the Middle East where the Khareef (monsoon) touches, and consequently it looks like a lush tropical rainforest for 4 months out of the year. Unfortunately, we were not there during the khareef, but the topography is nonetheless incredible. Salalah is built on a coastal plain, and after going inland 10 km, the mountains rise up at a nearly 90 degree angle. These were the mountains that the rebels were based out of during the insurgency, and I can only imagine, having looked at the terrain, how hard it must have been for British commandos to deal with. The hills and valleys in parts of Salalah make Afghanistan look like a minor mountain range.
While in Salalah we did quite a bit of touring. While in Mirbat, we stopped at the fishing port, and while we were there, the local fishermen hauled in a baby whale shark, still alive. Mirbat was the scene of one of the fiercest battles during the civil war, and the Sultanate bought up the part of town that was destroyed and preserved it as it stands, a reminder to what happens when you mess with the Sultan. The day after that, we visited Mughsail. The waves have eroded the limestone cliffs on the shore, and in parts, worn through to the surface. When a strong wave hits the cliffs, water shouts out like a geyser. Mughsail is also the location of an incredible beach. While a bit rocky in places, the water is an incredible shade of turquoise, and we had a great time swimming and getting tan. The beach is all the more incredible by the fact that it is utterly abandoned, even on a Friday when we were there. There were no tourists, or even locals, on the beach, we had it all to ourselves.
After touring the outskirts of Salalah by day, we would return to the city and hit the suqs by night. While a lot fo the stuff was made in India, we were still able to pick up lots of frankincense, and they had an incredible Yemenese restaurant. It sold lamb kebabs by the stick, great chipati bread, and excellent juice. We followed it up with shishah on the beach. All in all it was a very successful trip.
On our way back to Muscat, our plane ride was delayed by two hours. This might have been normal in the US, but the Salalah-Muscat flight was the only flight of the day. Flights in Salalah are not given by flight number or time they get in, they're given by which day they arrive, as in the Wednesday Muscat flight. Apparently our flight was delayed from Muscat, and thus the wait. I think Hopkins airport in Cleveland deals with more flights in one hour than Salalah deals with in a month. Still, Salalah was a great place to relax. I never thought I'd think of Muscat as a busy city, but after visiting the sleepy city of Salalah (Oman's second largest city), it's good to be back in the thick of things in Muscat.

This Wednesday we leave for Salalah, Oman's second city. It is the capital of the Dhofar region, and the historical center of the Omani frankincese (sp?) trade. We'll be there for three days, and SIT has been kind enough not to schedule us from sun up to sun down, so I might get a chance to just walk around for a bit. Anyways, Salalah is also where they make Omani traditional dhows, and they're pretty well known for the silver khanjar daggers also, so I'll probably be doing a bit of shopping. Look for pictures the next time I get a chance to do Internet.