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Spectator
30-07-2025
- Spectator
The other side of Yemen
In the western imagination, Yemen exists as a byword for terrorism and death. Its appearances in international headlines are flattened into a trilogy of suffering: Houthis, hunger, hopelessness. The civil war has dragged on for over a decade, leaving much of the nation in ruins. Life is punishing for the millions who navigate daily existence amid chronic instability. The Houthis – entrenched in the capital, Sana'a – continue to tighten their grip on power in the northwest. Their attacks on Red Sea shipping have drawn international reprisals and fuelled regional tensions. The Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office still advises British nationals against travelling to the country. Yemen is not therefore your conventional holiday destination. But Yemen is more than the Houthis. On the edge of the Empty Quarter, in the nation's northeast, lies the Hadhramaut. It is here that I came to glimpse a different Yemen, far from the front lines and well beyond the reach of Houthi control. It has been spared the war's daily tumult, and so – eager for an adventure and travelling as a tourist, despite the warnings – I boarded an ageing Yemenia Airbus to the city of Seiyun, a gateway to the region's hinterland. The Hadhramaut stretches across desiccated wadis carved deep into the desert floor. Escarpments that trap the harsh Hadhrami heat surround it, and architectural marvels rising in dreamlike defiance punctuate its landscape. The city of Shibam is the most magnificent of these relics of mud and time. It was once the capital of a bygone kingdom and a crucial caravan stop on the incense route across southern Arabia. Today, Shibam – a Unesco world heritage site – is renowned for the jagged mudbrick skyscrapers that dominate its skyline, built on the ruins of its own foundations. Often cited as the world's first example of vertical urban planning, Shibam is a testament to Yemeni imagination. Freya Stark, who travelled through the region in the 1930s, dubbed it the 'Manhattan of the desert'. Many of the 444 towers, which can reach 11 storeys high, date back to the 16th century. Trapezoidal in form, they are baked from the wadi's mud and capped with pale limestone plaster, their surfaces a patchwork of ochres and whites. Ornate woodwork frames the doors. The city, which sits atop a hillock, is ringed by a fortified wall, once a bulwark against marauding Bedouin raiders. I spent a blistering summer day wandering its alleyways, shepherded closely by a Kalashnikov-wielding military escort. In the early afternoon, a labyrinthine interior – suspended in time and devoid of life – unfurled within. The air was thick with the scent of sun-baked mud, and the 3,000 Shibamites had sought silent refuge in the shade and shadows. Any signs of modernity blended seamlessly with the ancient geometry of the city's towers. Now and then, a building stood derelict, as the mud crumbled back into the earth, its former occupants long since departed for Saudi Arabia or further abroad. Only the bleats of goats echoed from darkened recesses. Yet the silence of the city did not mean solitude. Behind latticed windows, a hushed audience kept watch over the outsiders. [Marcus Ray] But as the sun began to set, Shibam began to stir. Children emerged to play in the alleyways, clustering in giggling groups. Old men lumbered to the square clutching bushels of khat – the psychotropic leaf that softens speech and stretches time – ready to commence their evening chew. Games of dominoes clacked on wooden crates outside cafes in the main square. Shibam's rhythm returned in quiet pulses. The city moved to its own elegiac choreography, momentarily disrupted by the foreign footfall. The Hadhramaut is home to many other places of storybook grandeur. There is the religious city of Tarim, the village of Haid al-Jazil and the grand Bugshan Palace, whose mesmeric colours contrast with its lunar surroundings. Beyond this region too, there is richness – no less storied than in Sana'a – though much of it remains at risk of destruction and is, for now, out of reach. [Marcus Ray] Striking as they were, the Hadhramaut's marvels almost felt too cinematic to capture the dynamism of modern Yemen. Life proceeded instead at full tilt – and in all its colour – in Seiyun, where motorbikes weaved between honey stalls and minarets carried the call to prayer. The scent of cardamom and diesel hung thick in the air while gentle recitation drifted from a nearby madrasa. Children trained on sandy football fields, and mechanics crouched beneath battered cars, cigarette smoke curling above the chassis. A girl roared into a fan, thrilled by the staccato rasp of her voice, then toppled over laughing. A man tuned his old oud beneath a date palm. This sort of ordinary does not make the news. But in a country so often seen through the lens of collapse, normalcy itself can feel revelatory. The Hadhramaut's daily rhythms and architectural wonders resist the easy narratives imposed from afar. Not everything here conforms to the image of a beleaguered nation. Yemen is more than the headlines that define it. It is a country where history lives alongside hardship and people persist without spectacle.
Telegraph
15-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
On board Europe's most luxurious new train, with tickets from £2,600
Is there a station exit in the world that can match the coup de théâtre of leaving Venice Santa Luca, with the Grand Canal and the Pantheon-modelled San Simeone Piccolo laid out before you? ' Venice never loses that magic of appearing as if for the first time,' as Freya Stark observed. We had arrived from Rome on La Dolce Vita Orient Express, Italy's first luxury train, intended to create the glamour and care-free spirit of the 1960s, as portrayed in Fellini's film, with its unforgettable images of Anita Ekberg cavorting in the Trevi Fountain and Marcello Mastroianni driving round the city in a Triumph TR3. Under a full moon we boarded deeply varnished launches to breeze down the Grand Canal to Palazzo Nani Bernardo, one of the few palaces still owned by the family who built it, in this case in the 1550s. A dark candlelit corridor from the landing stage led to glasses of champagne and a courtyard garden with Venice's tallest palm tree. Upstairs, dinner was served at a long table festooned with white flowers, while a harpist played in the window overlooking the canal. The itineraries on La Dolce Vita Orient Express combine the pleasures of scenic routes with quintessentially Italian off-train experiences that would be hard or impossible for a tourist to arrange. The train has been created by Italian luxury brand Arsenale in partnership with Orient Express, and the pampering begins before departure from Rome Ostiense station in the palatial reception area Arsenale has fashioned out of unused spaces. There's a modern twist to the Art Deco feel of the lounge areas and bar, and showers are provided for anyone coming straight from a plane or train via the complimentary transfer service. We all thought the train looked new, but it isn't. Instead, 1970s carriages have been completely rebuilt to the designs of a Milan studio to create 31 cabins, lounge and dining cars, and accommodation for the train's 35 staff. Cabins are masterpieces of compression, but sumo wrestlers wouldn't do well in the space between shower, washbasin and lavatory. Cleverly contrived storage has been created behind one of the opposing mirrored walls, giving an illusion of greater space. Deluxe cabins have a single chair and a sofa which converts into a small double bed but suites, larger by 60 per cent, have a fixed bed, sofa and two chairs. An ambitious programme of eight one- and two-night itineraries covering 14 Italian regions has been devised, most starting and ending in Rome and the most elaborate entailing a transfer of the train across the Straits of Messina on a privately chartered vessel to Sicily for visits to Taormina and Palermo. Some thought two nights was the right duration, others wanted longer, but all agreed that more time at our destinations would have been welcomed, and that will be reflected in tweaks to tours. As invariably happens on hotel trains, guests from half a dozen countries soon bonded in the lounge car, where the bar and piano were placed between an area of sinuous banquettes and seats arranged in twos and fours. The youngest in the surprisingly wide age range were a couple from South Korea, evidently on their honeymoon. Other passengers included an investor who had been successful enough to retire early and become a professional bridge player, and a couple from Delhi in the legal profession. Most of us matched the glad rags of the pianist, saxophonist and singer entertaining us after dinner. The near extinction of proper dining cars on so many national railways has increased the pleasure of eating in one, and we began lunch to views over a glittering bay to the island of Napoleon's first incarceration, Elba. Our creative and high-quality six-course tasting menu with paired wines was created by Heinz Beck, who runs Rome's only three-Michelin-star restaurant, and produced by one of his protégées, Walter Canzio. The train stops for four or five hours every night, and over breakfast it was evident that the world divides into those who can sleep on moving trains, and those who can't – however comfortable the bed. Italy had the wit to retain many of its cross-country railway lines, which often venture into its equivalent of la France profonde, so it was a pleasure to reach Siena by the single-line route from Montepescali through remote countryside. Between woods, an avenue of slender cypresses led to a characteristic Tuscan farmhouse with arcaded veranda on the upper level, surrounded by fields of artichokes, vines and apple orchards. On distant hilltops, a jumble of pale brown houses rising above wooded slopes recalled a turbulent past, when villages were safer on high ground. Another form of endemic rivalry was the subject of our visit by minibus to meet the winning jockey of last year's Palio at his stables and training fields just outside Siena. Remarkably self-effacing for the man who had become the city's hero until the next Palio, Carlo Sanna took us through the Byzantine rules that govern the world's oldest horse race and the highlight of the Siena calendar since 1283. So fierce is the rivalry between the contrada, neighbourhoods traceable back to medieval guilds, that he has to be protected against malfeasance by four bodyguards from the moment he is selected until he enters the bare-back race around the Campo. The three circuits took him just 75 seconds. Before lunch in the kind of unpretentious restaurant that Italy does so well, we had time to admire the jewel in the city's glorious Gothic cathedral, the Carrara marble pulpit sculpted in the 1260s by Giovanni Pisano, with its seven narrative panels of Christ's life and a cast of almost 400 figures. He also sculpted the statues encrusting the lavish façade, which still looks astonishingly crisp and unweathered. Because the train has to dovetail with passenger and freight trains or replenish water tanks, there are occasional longueurs in stations, but that is all part of slow travel. The train never exceeds 75mph, and – unlike on high-speed services – this lack of velocity makes it possible to actually admire the landscapes. As we headed back to Rome, morning mist was rising over the broad plain flanking the Tavere river. A long double avenue of umbrella pines shading a farm track spoke of the forethought of past generations. We skirted the lagoons enclosed by the peninsula of Monte Argentario, where the rackety life of Caravaggio came to an end in 1610, and as we approached Ostiense station, a large section of the Roman walls still stands beside the line. All this luxury and exclusive access comes with a steep price tag, of course: a single-night itinerary costs from £2,662 per person. But strong forward bookings suggest there is healthy demand for this sort of five-star experience, and I was told some celebrities have booked the whole train. Arsenale certainly expects it to continue – a second train will be finished later this year, intended for a Rome to Istanbul journey, among others, and it is building a train for Saudi Arabia with plans for others in Egypt, UAE and Uzbekistan. The sweet life is going global, for those who can afford it. Anthony Lambert was travelling as a guest of La Dolce Vita Orient Express on its Venice and Tuscany tour, which costs from £6,447pp. One-night itineraries start at £2,662pp, departing Rome Ostiense station on multiple dates. Prices includes private transfers from other stations, an airport or a hotel, all tours, meals and drinks.
