It was one of the "at the spur of moment" thing. The Princess was cruising along Corniche with a friend of hers when he suddenly asked would she like a dhow ride? A dhow is a traditional Arab sailing vessel. All this while in the Gulf, she hasn't done anything remotely Gulf-like (except for the desert safari), so naturally she agreed. Bearing in mind she's in her sleepwear, she's probably the first person riding a dhow in pajamas.

After much bargaining (she just stood there, she's crap in bargaining), the price and duration of ride were agreed on.

And that precious 20 minutes provided a temporary escape from the maddening world. She left all the worries, commitments and shitload of problems onshore and hop onboard. Under the moonlight, the sea was full of dancing silver threads, reflected by the waves gently making their way to the shore. She took in lungfuls of the tepid air - salty and fishy. The occasional playful mudskippers were making tiny splashes across the water. The engine droned on and on like some tribal drums playing in the background. She was at peace with the world. She stopped making sense of things and just enjoyed the serene, tranquil quietness of the night as the dhow sliced through the waters of the Persian Gulf. For that short time, she slipped away from the world, watching it continue to revolve as a spectator for a change instead of playing one of the many characters. Facing the beautiful skyline of the Corniche, the dhow brought them further and further away from reality. And for that fleeting moment, she actually liked The Sandpit.

And then the dhow hit the shore and they're back to Earth. Pesky little thing, reality.