Living in Abu Dhabi's quiet Al Raha: What makes this canalside spot so special?

You don’t forget the sight of your first home in a new country. 

Neither do you forget what it took to make it one. 

I won’t forget the first sight of Al Raha—the first real home that we moved into, in 2021. The building was still relatively new when we moved. It didn’t have the Fresh Landia supermarket right below the building that would become my go-to for ‘ice-cream please’, to the point that the people working there would remember my order well. When we first moved, the building was relatively empty. Over the next few years, the building filled slowly, even with people leaving. But yet, this apartment complex was quiet, and calm. As anyone would visit us would always say, “It’s so quiet here.”

It was. Situated somewhere almost on the edge of Abu Dhabi, with the ever-reliable Yas Island 15 minutes away, Al Raha gave me the silence that I needed. It wasn’t too eerily quiet either. Just mellow enough to muse, with the occasional noises of some traffic and the sounds of people jet-skiing across the canal. 

Yes, a canal. 

Situated on the sixth floor of the building, it overlooked the canal, and had a ‘partial’ sea-view, that was later eclipsed by another building. I might not have had the sight of the sea anymore, but I had the canal and that became my friend for the five years that we lived there. 

I didn’t know a canal would leave me with so many memories, but it did. In the evenings, with my headphones or earbuds, I would walk down everyday, regardless of whether the day had been a good one or a bad one. For a good 45 minutes, I enjoyed walking down the canal route, listening to music, and somehow, the humidity didn’t matter much, either. I learnt how to skate there too—thanks to my husband—who bought me my first pair of roller-skates. The ground was a little rough so I had many falls, but I somehow didn’t stop trying. When I gave up trying to skate on the canal, I skated on the smooth floor in front of the supermarket. 

I would pass cafes—some familiar, some new, and others still finding their footingThere was a cat cafe too, a couple of minutes away from us: A 10-minute walk and a road-crossing would lead us to another set of shops in Al Muneera, which was next to a Costa Cafe, where I sat and worked remotely. Closer home, a Joe Pizza’s just minutes away, a Baqala and a cafe that sold pastries and hot chocolate. Once, my friend and I bought hot chocolates from there, sat on the stony ledge and watched the canal—watched people come by with their children in prams, dogs, and once even a determined little kitten following its owner on a jog. 

Over time, you start recognising people, even if they don’t live in your building: I started recognising their dogs too, during my morning walk with my dog. You start threading familiarity with people, you’ve never known and with whom you would never go beyond a few words of ‘Hello, good morning!’ too—but you somehow, just know them. You know the time they will come for a walk—beyond 6:30 am would be too late, and you see them rushing back. There was the lady whose dog got into a fight with my Loki, there was another lady who would jog at 6 am and try to make friends with Loki—but Loki was too nervous to be friendly. 

Loki loved this canal too: It’s where she first learned to overcome her fears of the world. A traumatised rescue, she trusted nothing outside our house. She disliked the outside intensely at first, and we had to coax her regularly. Gradually, even she, couldn’t resist the walk near the canal. Five minutes bloomed into 45 minutes, and a happy dog.

We moved eight months ago, to a different community, between Dubai and Abu Dhabi. I have grown to love it, but I still point to Al Raha, every time we pass by, and say, “That’s home!” I recognise our apartment even in a fleeting car drive: The balcony that once had our swing, and a few plants. 

After all, you don’t forget your first home in a new country.