It’s now exactly a year ago since I visited Syria. This is a picture I took of one of the water wheels in Hama. All this spring – as I’ve been watching demonstrations in the streets in town after town in Syria on my TV screen - I’ve been thinking a lot about all the places I visited. One thing I do remember from Hama was the wailing sound of these large wooden water wheels. I can imagine how this wailing sound would have been mixed with the wailing from funeral processions passing by on days following demonstrations.

Here’s  a link to what I wrote last year about all the amazing places I saw in Syria in June 2010.

Of course I miss Sweden on Midsummer’s Eve, one of those major Swedish happenings that has no equivalence elsewhere in the world. I miss the Midsummer pole, dancing the Small Frogs’ dance, the herring and new potatoes, the strawberries and cream – and the bright summer night in the north.

I’ll make do with a pool on the eighth floor of a hotel in Dubai and a good book. My iPod. Maybe they’ve got strawberries downstairs. I can’t upload photos to my blog from my iPhone, I’ve discovered. Here’s a link to my hotel instead of a photo: http://www.mediaonehotel.com/

Glad Midsommar! Happy Midsummer’s Eve!

Not wanting to miss the longest lunar eclipse in a 100 years, I decided to hedge my bets and try the local beach first, before driving 85 kilometres into the red desert. However, there was not a single cloud in the sky here in Fujairah last night, and the weather report indicated that there would be clouds towards Dubai – with the humidity being higher there as well – so it looked like a good option to stay locally.

On my way towards Khor Kalba Beach, I suddenly got this urge to stop and take a picture of the moon with a palm tree in the foreground. I had to wait for ages before the camera lens had cleared – humidity was around 60% – but in the end I managed to get a couple of good shots.

Here’s the moon pre-eclipse in a picture taken at the same spot. Lots of light pollution in this area, but the shot turned out quite well anyway.

My second concern was whether there would be heavy traffic on the beach at Khor Kalba on a night like this. I didn’t want to have dozens of headlights constantly crisscrossing the dunes while I was focusing on the different stages of lunar eclipse. However, when I arrived, mine was the only vehicle there. Here’s my Daihatsu enjoying a bit of pre-eclipse posturing.

The conditions couldn’t really be better for the longest total lunar eclipse of the century. Full moon, no clouds,  local time being well after sunset and very little light pollution at this side of the beach. Around 9.00 PM, the moon was still relatively low and the light reflected beautifully on the surface of the sea.

I walked a bit and found the perfect spot on top of a small sand dune, with a great view of the moon and the sea.

Here’s the moon at the penumbral stage of eclipse. Apparently, this is part of the eclipse cycle, but I couldn’t spot anything. I might sound a bit like an expert when I say “penumbral”, but I just looked it up on Wikipedia while setting up my tripod in the sand.

At 10.22 PM local time, we entered the umbral stage and right on cue – to the minute! – the bottom left of the moon started to darken. This is breathtakingly beautiful, I think.

While watching this spectacle, I was also staying in touch with friends on Facebook – mobile reception is excellent on Kalba Beach – and my sister in Sweden told me the sun was still shining brightly in Karlshamn, so she was obviously missing out on all this. However, friends in Cairo and Malawi were getting a good view of the moon. A bit before 11.00 PM, the moon had reached this stage.

We entered the stage of total eclipse at 11.22 PM local time, and again – as if on cue – the whole moon went red. Awesome! I seldom use that word, but I think it’s the right one this time.

As the red moon turned darker and darker, I could hear prayers being chanted at a nearby mosque. The auto-focus of my camera wasn’t working very well at this stage, but I was still able to get some good pictures.

It was really only during this time that I had some company on the beach. A few cars drove by, with the music turned up real loud. As a nature-loving Swede who finds that words like “peace and quiet” have positive connotations, I don’t really get this. “Oh, we’re having a total lunar eclipse.  Let’s drove down the beach with the music on full blast.” Maybe the music is supposed to drown any sneaking fears of impeding calamities? I don’t know. I much preferred the chanting in the background.

As we were approaching 12.13 AM, the point of the deepest darkness, I was finding it difficult to capture the beauty of the moon with my camera. This picture was taken just after midnight.

However, around 12.13 AM, I was only able to capture anything on camera by using really slow shutter speeds. I think this picture was taken just a couple of minutes before the greatest darkness, and the shutter speed here was somewhere between 10 and 15 seconds.

I know there are a couple of other total lunar eclipses between now and 2018, but I’m very happy I was able to enjoy this – the longest eclipse in a 100 years – under such perfect conditions!

Fujairah is squeezed in between the mountains and the sea – two of Fujairah’s main assets – and both the beach and the mountains are terribly under-used. Many times I’ve wondered about the miles of sandy beach between Fujairah and the Omani border - and why I often am the only person there on a Friday morning. You have the unspoiled sandy beach next to a small area of real sand dunes – and then you have the wetlands with lots of mangroves. And in the background you have the mountains.

How it is possible – I just don’t get it! – that I’m the only one there on a Friday morning? I’m not talking about now, in this crazy heat, but in January or February, when it’s 25C and not a cloud in the sky. Anyway, the only people I see are young guys driving their 4x4s along the edge of the water for five minutes and then disappearing.

But this blog entry is not about the sea. It’s about the mountains. It only takes me twenty minutes to drive to the village Hayl from my flat. And just behind it – on the small, windy road towards the Hayl Fort - you’re at the foot of the mountains. 

I love these mountains. And again, I’ve never met a single soul when walking up the mountains here. I’ve seen a few donkeys and the odd (what looks to me like a) grouse. But no people.

Anyway, let me introduce me to one of my favourite spots. This was me two days ago, sitting under a tree.

Not a soul. Complete silence – except for what sounds like crickets. No flies or wasps. And a remarkably fresh breeze blowing in spite of the fact that the thermometer showed 37C when I left home. Here’s my view to the left.

And here’s what I can see straight ahead.

There’s something truly relaxing and wholesome about sitting under a tree. Getting into a serene and contemplative mood comes almost automatically. My sister tells me that we are way too tense and worked up in today’s busy lifestyle. We need just to sit down and do nothing for a while. “Just look straight ahead and do nothing”, to quote my sister. Which is something I find incredibly difficult to do if I’m at home.

But if I’m sitting under a tree, it just happens all by itself. Here’s the view to the right.

I have this hiker’s foldable seating pad (which says Ändhållplats) and which weighs only about 100 grams. But under this tree, it didn’t really need it. The rocks were flat and even, and just the right angle. If I had leaned straight back and turned my head back all the way, I would have seen this view upside down (but I actually sat up straight with my camera).

A whole hour went by and I didn’t really do anything but just sit there. Under my tree, like Disney’s Ferdinand the Bull. And the nice thing is that I can’t say I was thinking about anything in particular. I was just there. This picture is me using the zoom to get a nice shot of the small tree right in front of me.

Just below the big boulder I was sitting on was this tuft of green. Not sure what it was.

And then I just lay back and looked up into the tree.

It only takes 20 minutes to drive to the foot of the mountains, and to get to this spot, it only took me another 40 minutes of walking. So the mountains here in Fujairah are very accessible.

And looking up into my tree, I can’t help wondering why I never meet anybody up here.

Walking back home two hours after sunset with a strong wind blowing in my face, I’m wondering to myself whether there is such a thing as reverse wind chill. Today, we’ve had 49C.  It’s now around 42C and that wind really made my face burn. If there is such a thing as reverse wind chill, what is it called? And what would the “heat factor” make 42C feel like in this evening’s blustery weather?