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Sana’a’s airport, one of the three countries where, according to the CIA, more terrorists seek refuge than any other.

Not one, but many. This year, sequined burkhas are in fashion. Chanel or Dior veils are always a classic, but now everyone prefers sequins. If somebody is asking what are we doing in a country like this, the answer is very simple: to save 200 euros per person. The flight from Addis Ababa to Cairo was a lot cheaper with a layover in Sana’a, Yemen’s capital, and so here we are. We haven’t left the airport, but the three-hour layover has been profitable.

We only know one person who’s been to Yemen and according to her it was the best trip she’s ever been on. And we’re not talking about just any other person. Menchu and Carlos have a lot of visas stamped in their passports and they’ve been vaccinated even more times than that. If we had more days we’d stay and visit the famous desert skyscrapers from the 16th century. Or the old quarter in Sana’a, perfectly preserved for a thousand years. Or one of the islands with hundreds of indigenous species, among them the Dragon Blood Tree, a tree curiously similar in form and name to the drago from the Canary Islands.

Even though we won’t see any of these marvels, the show at the boarding gate is plenty. In front of us are two women who could be Bin Laden himself in camouflage, since it’s impossible to see a single millimeter of their skin. Their faces are covered with a burkha, and gloves longer that the ones Gilda wore disappear underneath black tunics sweeping the ground. When the husband heads for the coffee shop, one of them removes the veil a little and looks as if she’s taking in breaths of fresh air. Luckily, they are the exception. The rest at least are able to show their eyes, so carefully made up they look like cabaret dancers dressed up to cross the border. Somebody told us that in Turkey the same women that walk around well covered during the day, wear shorts and tops and dance in private like the best go-go girls from Pacha Ibiza at night. We can’t imagine any of the women here doing that, though quite a few wear fashionable flared name-brand jeans under their habits. However, to drink their Pepsis, they have to use straws that disappear under their veils.

We’ve bought the Yemen Observer and learned that women in this country have had an association for a long time. They filed a complaint before Parliament to overturn a fatwa several imams have declared forbidding women to participate in political life. The originator of this commotion is the president of the chamber and his controversial decision to ensure that, in the next election, at least 15% of the members of Parliament are women. We’re no UN observers, but we bet our passports that things from now until then will be tough in Yemen. That is, if it ever hasn’t been.

When we landed we saw the remains of shot-down military helicopters as well as fighter jets hidden in camouflaged hangars scattered asymmetrically around the airport. With that image still in our heads, the name of their national bank doesn’t sound so strange: Bank of Reconstruction and Development of Yemen. And if we didn’t have enough evidence that this country isn’t stable already, we stumbled into badly camouflaged guerrilla fighters while walking around the duty free area. Five or six men, thirty to forty years old, in jeans, boots and t-shirts, showing their muscles and carrying duffel bags, but with neither emblem nor badge. Their boarding passes are different than ours, and in one of their laptops we glimpsed a picture that might explain it all, or might not: a group of soldiers posing for the camera with the famous Soviet AK33 hanging from their necks and a Beretta in their hands, some dressed as military officials without emblems, others dressed in a casual manner.

But these mercenaries look like the good ones. The bad ones, the newspaper says, are the ones who are up north making a mess. The government boasts about everything being under control, an example being that the main road in the country is open again. As if being closed were a normal thing. Needless to say, when we finally took off, we were grateful Israel didn’t attack Iran’s nuclear facilities during our layover in Yemen. Belén never liked drinking Pepsi with a straw, much less seeing the world through a veil, even if it was sequined.