Ajman

An eighteenth century fort houses the museum with its old cells and armoury intact. Pearl diving and fishing tools follow one another by period.

A yard beside the lagoon still builds boats in timber. The curves are judged by eye without drawings, and that practice continues.

A promenade follows the white sand and fills in the evening. At weekends families lay mats out on the beach and stay into the night.

As the boats land at first light the bidding begins beside them. Cleaning carries its own charge, and the cutting follows whatever size you name.

Boardwalks were laid through the mangrove where the lagoon narrows. On the falling tide the crabs appear across the mud together.

Flocks settle on the lagoon in winter and feed in the shallows. A hide stands there and brings them close enough without a telescope.

A square watchtower of the 1930s survives among the modern blocks. A narrow stair climbs inside and the openings look out over the street.

An outlying piece of Ajman in the mountains, ninety minutes off. Even in summer the air here beats the coast, which brings weekend visitors.

An old market beside the harbour sells spice, cloth and household goods. The first price invites a counter offer, and paying in cash improves it.

The shore looks west, and the sun finishes in the sea. In the evening the promenade benches fill first and the rest take the sand.