Let’s talk about Khat – and to talk about it is only natural, since Khat and conversation go hand in hand in Yemen. Sure, it might strike us gringos a bit odd that the whole country would just throw in the towel after lunch time and spend the next two to three hours chewing these leaves of stimulating effect. But the main reason to do so is largely social. This is the time when men gather together to make decisions, talk politics and ponder the mysteries of life.

Such gatherings are something that is missing from our culture – or is at least they are very occasional and even then, they aren’t as large as the typical Yemeni ones. The Khat parties we attended had dozens of people there, talking about all aspects and problems of their lives with each other. Nobody was overtly intoxicated (except perhaps yours truly, because the rush from the leaf was a bit too much for unaccustomed), the effect Khat had on the chewers was more coffee- or mildly amphetamine-like stimulation that kept the conversation going and the mood positive.

Like anything natural, the fresh produce is always more enjoyable. The khat you can buy from the cities tends to be less than fresh and more dry, so if you have the chance to travel to the valleys and mountains where khat is being farmed, this maximizes the enjoyment. And don’t just chew it in your own company – strike up a conversation and become a part of true Yemeni tradition!

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Want to see our whole trip in Yemen? Order the DVD here.

Gulf of Aden kind of hit the headlines globally at the same time as we sailed to Yemen. The pirate activity was soon to hit its height but we managed to avoid the cut-throats on our feeble tub. I tell you, the “ship” in question would have been useless in outrunning their guns and boats. Madventures does not recommend sailing too far into the open sea without proper horse- and firepower.

We were loaded in a car as soon as our feet touched the ground in Aden and we started the jeep ride to the capital city of Sana’a. We heard about the recent US embassy bombing by Al-Qaeda and wouldn’t you know it, our first real scare was soon to follow. I made the mistake of pointing my camera to the presidential palace.

Next thing you know, the car door was yanked open and guard screaming loudly in Arabic jumped into the backseat, pointing his assault rifle in my general direction. I didn’t need a translator to understand I was meant to put down my camera and put it down RIGHT NOW. I did as my gut feeling (Read: soiled pants) told me to do and turned the camera off.

Thinking back, it might have made some interesting material for the show, but they would have confiscated everything anyway, if we had got arrested. And honestly, jail time was least of my worries right then, I truly believed this guy was about to put a bullet through the back of my head in the name of national security.

We avoided the incarceration. There was a bit similar situation a couple of days later, when our driver asked if we wanted to see the house where Osama Bin Laden’s father was born. We thought he meant from the high cliff, where we had a perfectly nice view of the village anyway.

No, our driver pulled over right in front of Muhammad Bin Laden’s childhood home’s door. I don’t know if the guys who started to gather at the scene with their AK-47’s were family, but cousins or not, we felt better to hightail out of there before they got too interested in who the two white boys with cameras were…

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