national holiday chapter 6: a congested wadi tiwi & a 3-hour pedicure

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Oman, Travel

Sunday, November 27: This morning, after having coffee in Sur and then driving north for about 30 km, I enter Wadi Tiwi, a wadi with a narrow and winding uphill road between lush green plantations and emerald pools.  This wadi is also known as the “Wadi of Nine Villages,” because the road cuts through numerous small villages.  Apparently there is an overnight hike that can be done to Wadi Bani Khalid, where I went yesterday, but I am not attempting such today.

The lower part of Wadi Tiwi

Driving in to the wadi, I can see there is quite a bit of traffic as holiday-makers are out in droves for picnics with their families.  I am in my GMC Terrain, of course, and I find very soon upon entering there is a narrow road, with room for only one car at a time to pass, going through the first village.  There is a lot of backing up and pulling to the sides while the cars going up have to make way for the cars coming down, and vice versa.  I sit for quite some time, backing up, inching forward, backing up again, pulling into side alleys, and squeezing past other 4WD vehicles. Finally I reach a wide clearing past the first village and I think maybe I’m home free.  Then I come to another bottleneck that is worse than the first, and people are all getting out of their cars, shouting that cars need to back up or pull aside. I ask someone walking past, “Is there only one road up and down?”  They tell me yes. I see the futility of all of this with these crowds and so decide to park my car near a wide stream and take a walk up the mountain.

more of Wadi Tiwi

I start walking up a steep incline, with cars squeezing past me going up and down, and I walk and walk until I come to another cute little village.  All the roads along here are lush with tropical greenery, and I don’t really know my plants but I think some are banana trees.  Suddenly I come across a Bangladeshi boy carrying a very sharp machete.  I think to myself that if I ran across a guy like this, carrying such a weapon, in someplace like Southeast Asia or Central America, I’d be afraid for my life.  But I’m in Oman and I have no fear here.  Besides, with these crowds of people going up and down this narrow road, how on earth would the guy get away with chopping me to bits with a machete?

the machete-wielding Bangladeshi

When I encounter this friendly knife-wielding fella, I ask him how far it is to the top of the mountain.  I’m ready to tackle this thing!  But he bursts my bubble by telling me it’s 5 km to the top and most people drive up.  I am exhausted from all my travels this holiday weekend and I think no way am I going to walk up a mountain for 5 km.  I finally give up and decide to leave this place.  I’ll return another day when the crowds are not so thick.

the stream in wadi tiwi

So. I eventually make my way back out of this hornet’s nest back to the main highway, where I can either drive 350 km back to Nizwa, or I can drive 175 km north to Muscat where I can get a pedicure and then drive 140 km back to Nizwa.  It’s almost the same distance either way, but if I go to Muscat I’ll be driving on a brand new coast highway which I’ve never driven before, with a pedicure as reward at the halfway point, OR I can drive nonstop back to Nizwa on a crappy road with no break at all.

I decide the former. I drive up the coast, which is a beautiful drive overlooking the Sea of Oman to my right and brown mountains to my left, and then through a lot of brown mountains more inland.

another shot of wadi tiwi

Finally, in Muscat, I have no idea where to find a pedicure, especially as it’s that time of day when most Omani businesses are closed for nap time.  I end up at the shopping mall Markaz al Bhaja, where I find a salon on the lower level.  The salon has just opened apparently and when I ask for a pedicure there is a lot of scrambling around as they try to find someone to give me one.  Finally, they find a Filipino girl who I’m not sure has really ever done a professional pedicure before.  She’s very friendly though and she does a painstakingly thorough job on my feet, which I admit haven’t had such special treatment since I left America in early September.  This pedicure lasts a solid three hours as the girl spends literally over an hour just trying to sand down the rough skin on my heels.  I keep telling the girl, “It’s okay!  It doesn’t have to be perfect!” But she won’t be swayed and keeps going at it until my heels are as smooth as apples.

Goodbye Wadi Tiwi….to return another time….

After all this, it is getting quite late and I hop in my car to drive the long drive to Nizwa, where I happily crash in my villa, exhausted from all the exploring I did on the National Holiday.  I decide I will stay home and relax all day on Monday, so I can at least have a short one-day vacation from my vacation.  Back to work on Tuesday & Wednesday, and at the crack of dawn on Thursday, an Italian friend will be dropping in to Oman.  Let another journey begin.

national holiday chapter 5: a breeze through sur to the turtle beach resort

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Oman, Travel

Saturday, November 26: After my side trip to Wadi Bani Khalid, I drive 150 km to Sur, a beachfront town known for its beaches, forts, and dhow-building.  On the way, I try to make a reservation to stay the night but am unable to because of the National Holiday.  As a last resort, I call the Ra’s al-Hadd Beach Hotel, about 45 km south of Sur, where they tell me they have one “cabin” available.  When I arrive at this desolate and dreary place at the end of the world, they show me what amounts to a giant metal container that contains a long line of dingy and dark rooms.  Looking at this pathetic excuse of a hotel, I decide it is better to drive nearly 350 km back to Nizwa than to stay here. Depressed and tired after such a long day of driving, I meander up the road and come to a sign for the Turtle Beach Resort, which Vicki’s boyfriend Hilal had recommended the previous night while we were all at Al-Areesh. I figure it is probably booked as well, but I drive in anyway just to check and see if they have a room.  Surprisingly, they do.  I pay the hefty price and check in to another kind of barasti hut, similar to the ones at Al-Areesh Camp, but more spacious; it has a fan and a light that operates any time you need it, unlike at Al Areesh, where they turn the generator off every night at 1 a.m.

Turtle Beach Resorts at Ras Al-Hadd

I change promptly into my bathing suit and go out to the little lagoon at the resort, but there are swarms of flies lighting over my entire body and it gets to be mighty annoying.  I wade into the water, which feels like a giant bath, and have to wander out quite a way to be in waist-deep water.  Back on my beach chair, the flies descend again, making my arms, legs, stomach and face their home away from home. Finally, I give up and take a nice warm shower, relax for a short bit in my room, and then go out to the expansive outdoor dining area, in the shape of a wooden dhow, where I make myself a cup of tea.

the beach at Turtle Beach Resorts at Ras Al-Hadd

Sitting here at the cafe, the flies are still swarming, but they’re not as annoying as they were at the beach.  I look through my map of Oman and my guidebook to determine my plan for tomorrow.  Ras Al-Hadd and Ras Al-Jinz are on the easternmost point of the Arabian peninsula.  Ras Al-Jinz, a short distance from where I’m staying at Ras Al-Hadd, is an important turtle-nesting site for the endangered green turtle.  Apparently, over 20,000 female turtles return yearly to this beach where they hatched in order to lay their eggs.

my humble little hut, #404, at Turtle Beach Resorts

Oman plays an important role in protecting these turtles and has harsh penalties for disturbing the females or their eggs.  The only way to visit the beach is through the Ras al-Jinz Scientific and Visitor’s Centre, where you must make a reservation to visit the site with a tour guide after 9 p.m.  Sadly, I called this morning to make a reservation, and again, because of the National Holiday, all the tours were booked.  So I have come all this way to Ras Al-Hadd and I don’t even get to see the turtles.

outdoor dining at Turtle Beach Resorts

As I’m sitting and enjoying my tea, a British couple sitting at an adjacent table strikes up a conversation and then asks me to join them.  It turns out that the man, Ian, is a teacher at the Royal Guard of Oman Technical College in Muscat (RGOTC).  His girlfriend Charlotte is visiting from the south of London, where she works as a prison guard.  I assume that it’s a women’s prison, but she says, “Oh no!  I wouldn’t work at a women’s prison.  Women prisoners are crazy!”  She goes on to explain that women prisoners take on all kinds of familial roles in prisons, becoming sisters or mothers or daughters to each other. She says it’s really too weird.

Charlotte from south of London

We spend quite a bit of time talking and talking, with Ian telling me all about the good deal he has at his college, with a much bigger salary than mine, 60 paid days of leave a year, and only a small number of teaching hours.  It sounds like a dream job.  They tell me they only met about 9 months ago, and she has been to visit Ian numerous times during that period.  It is clear they have a nice romance going.  I tell them I am about to give up hope on finding a romance, that maybe I’m too old, but they say NO!  It’s never too late!  They are about my age after all, maybe a little younger.

Ian

We eat the buffet dinner at 7:30, which is quite extensive and delicious.  Ian mentions he knows of a place where I can go to see the turtles.  He tries to explain to me where it  is, so I can go on my own, but then Charlotte says she’s never been and she’d like to see them herself.  Ian has had some car trouble so I offer to drive all of us there.  Funny thing is, the place he is talking about is the same place I called this morning to make the reservation, Ras al-Jinz Scientific and Visitor’s Centre.  When we get there, I say, “Oh no!  This is the same place I called earlier.  They told me they were all booked!”  Ian, not willing to accept this, goes into the building and somehow manages to secure 3 tickets for us to go on the tour.

the dining area shaped like a dhow

With a large group of Indians and a few Omanis, we follow the guide for about a half-hour walk out to the beach.  The guide continually has to shush the Indians, who don’t seem to know the meaning of the word quiet.  He also tells everyone numerous times that no cameras or flashlights are allowed, yet the Indians seem to have trouble understanding those instructions as well.  They keep taking flash pictures and turning on little flashlights.  Finally we get out to the beach, where the guide is still having trouble keeping this group quiet.  It’s so annoying, Ian and Charlotte and I keep saying “Shhhhh!!” But they are constantly chattering and giggling.

we couldn’t take photos but this is what i saw….

We have to wait quite some time before a turtle is spotted and finally, when one is found, the guide takes us over to the hole that the turtle has dug.  She is in the hole, tossing out sand with her flippers and laying her eggs.  Finally the Indians manage to quiet themselves slightly.  We watch as the female continues with her process and then she climbs out of the hole and heads back slowly into the sea.  It’s quite amazing to watch this and I can’t help to get a little choked up.

my room at Turtle Beach Resorts

Sadly, this one turtle is the only one on the beach tonight.  The guide tells us that it’s the end of the season for the turtle-nesting; the high season is in July and August, the hottest parts of the year in Oman.  Ian says he came before in the summer and saw literally hundreds of turtles much larger than the one we saw.  I guess I will have to make another trip here during the summer months.

We slog through the sand again back to the Visitor’s Centre and then I drive us all back to the Resort.  I am tired from my long day at Wadi Bani Khalid and the long drive, so I just get in bed early and fall sound asleep.

in Sur, Oman

The next morning I get up and eat the great breakfast, take some parting shots of Charlotte and Ian and the resort and head up the coast.  I make a stop in Sur at a coffee shop overlooking a little lagoon and then take a brief walk down the corniche.  I will need to one day figure out what there is to see in Sur. Possibly it’s just the forts and the beach, I don’t know.  But I head on through Sur and up the highway where I will explore my next spot, Wadi Tiwi.

a little coffee in Sur

national holiday chapter 4: wadi bani khalid

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Oman, Travel

Saturday, November 26: From Al Areesh, I continue my road trip heading down the 23 road to Sur.  I’m on the lookout for a place my colleagues told me about, Wadi Bani Khalid, just north of the town of Al-Kamil.  It’s about 203 km away from Muscat.

Adil stands on the falaj leading to Wadi Bani Khalid

I come across the sign for the wadi, where I turn to the north and start my climb high into the Eastern Hajar Mountains.  I zigzag and chug uphill through some colorful rock formations, green with copper oxide and rust-red with iron ore.  Wadi Bani Khalid is a series of plantations and villages that lie close to the floor of the wadi.  From the upper reaches of the wadi, a natural spring flows year round, nourishing the vegetation that makes this spot so lovely.  Most people who visit this spot head for the source of this water, which collects in a series of deep pools in the narrow end of the boulder-strewn wadi.

the big green pool at the wide opening to Wadi Bani Khalid

For people who don’t know what a wadi is, here’s a description from the Sultanate’s Ministry of Information: A wadi is a dried up riverbed found in the mountain valleys. Wadis come into their own after heavy rains, when the rivers start running again and the vegetation is restored. However, some wadis have year-round running water, with deep, cool pools in which it is quite safe to swim if the currents are slow. Wadis are green, lush oases of palm trees, grasses, and flowering shrubs.  On the whole, wadis are only accessible with a four-wheel drive vehicle, as the terrain can be extremely bumpy. (Wadis of Oman)

Adil, me and two of his non-English speaking Omani friends

I see a sign for tourist information before I get to the entrance to the wadi, so I turn off the winding road to see what it’s all about.  Another car follows me into the turn-off.  The tourist information is just a shut-down building, so I do a U-turn. The car that has followed me is full of about 6 young Omani men.  One of them speaks English and asks where I’m going.   I tell him.  He says, “Follow me.  This place (the tourist information) is closed.”

So I follow him into the wadi where there is a too small and overcrowded parking lot.  We park alongside each other and he introduces himself as Adil.  He tells me he’s from a town called Rustaq, about 175 km SW of Muscat, and he’s a high school teacher there, teaching computer technology.  He’s married and has three children and is 30 years old.  He invites me to come along with him and his friends.  I love how Omanis just take you under their wings, just like that, without any hesitation!

more of the wadi

We walk along a falaj, which is a water channel that collects water for irrigation purposes.  This type is a Ghaily falaj, dug close to the ground surface and a normally open channel.  At the end of the falaj is a lovely green pool surrounded by lush tropical plants and palm trees.  Hordes of Omanis are here today because not only is it the National Holiday but also the Islamic New Year.  It’s strange that there are mostly groups of young men hanging out together, away from their wives and families.  There are also families here.  Some of the men wear dishdasha, but many are wearing shorts and t-shirts. All the Omani women are covered, as usual, in their black abayas and headscarves.  No break for them even on holiday.

one of the swimming holes at the wadi

I ask Adil about his wife.  Why is she not here with him?  He says he’s on a holiday with his friends.  His wife is at home with their children, their parents, the whole family who shares a house together.  Besides, he says, it’s hard for Omani women.  I can see that.  They have to remain covered even when they’re at a place where all the men and boys are swimming to their heart’s content.

Adil and his friends, all of whom are under 20, tell me to follow them up a path through the narrowing the gorge.  He tells me I should go swimming, but I don’t know how I would change into my bathing suit.  He tells me it’s okay, I can hide behind a rock to change, or he and his friends will hold up a towel in front of me.  I certainly don’t feel comfortable with that.  The deep green and blue pools along the path do look inviting though.  Sometime, if I come with another Westerner, I will swim here.  Possibly when my son comes to visit in January.

my companions at Wadi Bani Khalid

As we climb along boulders and rocks, Adil takes good care of me, making sure I’m okay and that I’m enjoying.  At one point the whole group of us sit on a kind of small cliff overlooking a pool and they pull out a bunch of egg burritos.  They offer me one for breakfast.  I sit with them on the rocks in easy companionship and eat my burrito.  They give me some water as well.  I feel totally comfortable with them, as if I am one of them, but of course I’m not.  I will always be an outsider here.  But they all do their best to make me feel welcome.

deeper into the wadi

We continue our walk up the narrow gorge, scrambling over boulders, squeezing down narrow crevasses.  I take off my shoes twice to ford the stream.  Adil asks me about myself, wonders why I am traveling alone.  I tell him I like to travel alone, I actually prefer it.  I had plans originally with two women from another college, but the plans were cancelled and I wasn’t going to just sit home because I didn’t have anyone to travel with. He feels sorry for me, I can tell.  But he doesn’t understand that Western women are very independent and don’t mind doing things alone. We are nothing close to the cloistered and powerless Omani women.  We are anomalies Omanis will never understand.

adil takes a break on the rocks

Actually, I love to travel alone just for this reason:  I meet many interesting people along the way that I would never meet if I was in a group or even with another companion.  I love this aspect of my travels and I don’t want to ever give that up.  I wouldn’t have met Adil today if I were with even one single other friend.  When I’m alone, people will approach me; when I’m with anyone else, the locals don’t approach.  This is pure and simple and true.

Adil suggests that I come with him and his friends for their whole 3-day trip.  I thank him for his offer, but I have plans to go to Sur and Ras Al Hadd and then to explore more of Oman.  He’s disappointed I won’t consider coming.  He says he wants to invite me to his home sometime to meet his family.  I tell him I would love that.  I’ve never yet been invited to an Omani home and I look forward to seeing the inside of Omani family life.

one of Adil’s friends takes a flying leap into the pool

We continue on to the deepest part of the wadi.   On the way back, we stop at several swimming spots along the way and Adil’s friends jump off of rocks into the swimming holes.  I do wish I could swim here.  Next time, for sure, but I’ll have to be with another Westerner to do it.  As a woman, I just wouldn’t feel comfortable swimming with gangs of Omani young men!

We take our time walking back along the same path we came in on.  We get back to the area where there’s a wide open green pool surrounded by palm trees and lush vegetation.  There I find a public toilet and a coffee shop.  I sit at the outdoor cafe and drink some coffee and watch a group of black Omanis playing wild music in a pavilion.  When I was at Al Areesh last night, the British guy John I met told me there are three kinds of Omanis.  There are the pure Omanis and then there are the Omanis that come from Zanzibar, the darker skinned ones.  Finally, there is the old slave stock.  I don’t know if he’s totally right about this categorization, but here it is anyway.

yours truly in the wadi

Soon, I part ways with Adil and his friends, after exchanging telephone numbers. Adil says anytime I want to go anywhere in Oman, call him and he will take me.  I don’t know if he means for me to hire him as a guide or if he’s just offering out of the kindness of his heart.  Somehow I think he wants to be paid for this; I’m sure as an Omani high school teacher with a big family to support, he could use the money.

Fast forward to the evening of Tuesday, November 29.  I get a text from Adil: ‘Good evening. How r u? If you have free time come to my home to have lunch in thursday.”  I’m disappointed that he asks for this Thursday because I already have plans.  I write him back: “ah adil u are so kind! i would love to come but i have a visitor from italy coming tomorrow for one week.  maybe u might invite me again after my guest leaves?? i hope…”

Time will tell.  I really hope he does invite me again.

the beautiful wadi bani khalid

national holiday chapter 3: sharqiya sands & al-areesh desert camp

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Oman, Travel

Friday evening, November 25: Friday afternoon, I decide to go on a road trip, with my first stop being the Sharqiya Sands and the Al-Areesh Camp.  Kathy and Anna tell me it will take about 2 1/2 hours to get there from Nizwa and that I should try to arrive before sunset so I can find it.  I pack enough stuff for 2 overnights and 3 days and head out at 2 p.m. into the far-flung territories of Oman.  Well, maybe not far-flung, but definitely new destinations for me.

Al Areesh Camp in Sharqiya Sands

I drive about an hour on the nice highway between Nizwa and Muscat and then turn off onto the two-lane highway that goes through Ibra and on to Sur, the 23 road.  I drive and drive and it’s a kind of desolate road once I’m off the main highway.  Once I get to Al Qabil, about 30 km past Ibra,  I follow the camp sign near the Al Qabil Rest House or some such thing.   I can see the sand dunes to the south, so I know I must be heading in the right direction. I turn right down a paved road for a while into the sands of the desert, until I see the camp situated on a dune on the left side of the road.

my barasti hut #36

The camp has bunches of barasti huts, tent-like rooms made of palm fronds.  They provide shelter from the sun and allow breezes, if there are any, to cool the insides. Charpoy are scattered around the camp area outside the tents. A charpoy is a bed used especially in India consisting of a frame strung with tapes or light rope.  These are obviously for sleeping outside under the stars.  There is also one huge rectangular communal hut that has a huge dining area and another communal area covered in carpets; one of the areas is for prayer and another is where the nightly entertainment takes place.  As I come upon the camp during the waning sunlight, these huts seem like a natural outgrowth to the red desert sands.

the inside of my little barasti hut

I can see the camp up a steep sand dune and a number of vehicles are parked at the bottom.  A bunch of four-wheel drive vehicles are parked up the dune at the camp.  Anna, who has been here before and who has a Jeep, gave me this advice: “At the bottom of the dune, just put your foot to the floor and gun it with all you’ve got to get up the hill.  I mean like 60 mph; you’ve really got to put it all the way to the floor.”  She told me she got stuck the first time when she didn’t do that, but when she gunned it she made it up.

the dining room in the communal hut

So, what do I do?  Like a little pansy who’s not used to driving a 4WD, I push my foot partly to the floor and get up a decent speed, but nowhere near the 60 mph Anna recommended.  Of course, I get stuck and have to back down the dune.  I think for a minute.  Maybe I should just leave my car at the bottom.  But then I have to haul up my bag.  Besides, why did I spend all this money to buy a 4WD if I’m not going to use it?  So, I back down the dune with a running start, and I floor it with all the gusto I’ve got.  And!  I make it up the dune, drive over the sand to the reception tent, and get assigned barasti hut #36, a kind of sad lopsided hut within a short walk from the communal bathroom.

another part of the communal tent, where the Bedouins play music after dinner

I tell the guy at the camp that I just got this 4WD vehicle and the manual is in Arabic and I don’t have a clue how to even use it.  He gets in the car and tells me the car is always in 4WD mode and that if I want to use it manually I can.  He shows me how and then shows me some other buttons to push to get better traction in sand, etc.  Thank goodness for him!!  I start to feel a little emboldened about my new vehicle, which I admittedly felt a little tentative about before.

After parking near my tent, I head to the communal tent to take some pictures of sunset and drink some tea.  It’s only about 5:30 and dinner isn’t served until 7:30.  I sit at a terrace table overlooking the edge of the dune to the desert below. I read that these beautiful dunes were formerly known as Wahiba Sands and are home to the Bedu (Bedouin).  The sands give a glimpse into a traditional way of life that is fast disappearing as modern conveniences limit the need for a nomadic existence.  The Bedu specialize in raising camels.  Bedouin women wear colorful clothing, unlike the simple black abaya of the Omani women.

I sit here before dinner chatting with a bunch of Danish architects

Later a bunch of Danish guys start filling up the 4 tables beside me.  They overflow onto my table and I end up having a long conversation with one of the Danish men about their study trip. They are all architects and engineers studying architecture and helping to consult on the new international airport that Muscat is spending millions of dollars to build.  He says that Muscat wants to be a hub for all the major airlines, much like Qatar and Dubai are now, and the country wants to expand the airport to achieve that capability.  We talk about all our travels and the Danes share some of their gin with me.  Later, dinner is served and it’s quite good, and warm, unlike the food at I had at the Seven Wonders Bedouin Camp in Jordan.

yummy dinner at Al Areesh

After dinner, I have a seat in the communal area where some of the Bedouin boys are beating on drums and singing.  After a bit, two young Omani guys and an older British guy named John, who says he’s lived in Oman for over half his life, join me.  John says he loves England but hates the weather there.  Here in Oman, it’s always warm and sunny, which he likes.  And he says, sweeping his arm over the view of the desert below us, “Look!  The scenery here is marvelous!  I never get bored with it. Never.”

One of John’s friends is named Salim, and Salim keeps saying he wishes he could speak English.  He wants to know do I have a tent all by myself tonight, could he come and join me in my tent later?  I say “No!  I don’t even know you!”

Bedouins play music for the guests in the communal hut

It never ends, these kinds of approaches by Omani men.

As the night progresses, I note at the other side of the communal tent that my office mate Vicki is sitting with a group.  I see some other people from the university I’ve met briefly before, Francois and Giles and some other familiar faces from the other colleges in Nizwa. We all exchange greetings and I’m finally able to meet Vicki’s Omani boyfriend Hilal. The Bedouin boys are playing their music, very mellow yet with a nice beat, and the Omanis start dancing.  The other groups in the tent join in and everyone is dancing around in circles to the rhythm.  John and his friends share a beer with me and I’m just soaking in the ambiance and loving every minute.  This is probably one of my favorite nights so far in Oman.

my GMC 4WD and my little barasti hut 🙂

I go to bed eventually and sleep soundly in my little hut.  The camp has a generator which they run only in the evening until 1 a.m.  After that, there are no lights and no electricity.  The only shower it will be possible to take in the morning is a cold one.  I’m not keen on that idea.

In the morning, I get up and throw on my clothes, eat the breakfast buffet that’s included in the 20 rial price (single) and take off for the next chapter of my National Holiday adventure, Wadi Bani Khalid.

the communal bathroom ~ it looks like a cartoon character to me 🙂

If you want to make reservations at Al-Areesh, you can call: 99450063.

national holiday chapter 2: al hoota cave

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Oman, Travel

Friday morning, November 25:  I call Al Hoota Cave at 8:30 a.m. to reserve a spot for three of us to go there at 10 a.m.  I find, as always at holiday time in Oman, that they don’t have many openings; luckily, they can squeeze us in at 10:45.  As with holidays in Korea, or even in America for that matter, everyone is on the move, entire families stuffed into vehicles and headed to some relaxing or interesting destination.  However because everyone is on the move at the same time, it rarely makes for a relaxing journey as traffic congestion and crowds create bottlenecks wherever you go.  This is the problem with being a teacher on a school calendar.  When the kids are out of school, EVERYONE is on the go.

the sign to Al Hoota Cave

I pick up Antonio, my South African colleague and office mate, and Kathy.  After making a stop at Bank Muscat (we just got paid yesterday!), the three of us head at the Souq roundabout toward Bahla.  About 30 km from Nizwa, at the Oman Oil petrol station, we turn right into the sloping Hajar Mountain range.  We stop for snacks at the Oman Oil station only to see a small van overflowing with a family consisting of parents, grandparents, and about 100 kids of all shapes and sizes.  People in Oman have huge families.

Me and my GMC Terrain… First American vehicle I think I’ve ever owned. Loving it so far!

On our way to the cave, we stop to take pictures of a gorgeous view of a desert valley flanked by two mountain ranges, with a tall dramatic, but hazy, mountain in the distance.  Oman’s landscape is really stunning.

the view of the mountains leading up to Al Hoota Cave

I’m impressed by the modern facility at Al Hoota Cave, which sits at the foot of Jebel Shams, Oman’s highest mountain. It has a geological museum displaying some of Oman’s famous geology, the Karma gift shop, Zajal Restaurant with Lebanese and local cuisine, and an outdoor cafe with views of the surrounding hills.  We wait in a waiting area for a train to take us into the cave.  Once in the cave, we are not allowed to take pictures.  Guides explain the history of Al Hoota Cave, which I think they say is as old as 1-2 million years old.

the entrance to the Al Hoota Cave facility

We walk along safe and modern walkways through stalagmites and stalactites forming fantasy creatures such as a huge lion, an elephant, a lady seated on a chair, an old man, a dinosaur and SpongeBob SquarePants (!).

As we get deeper into the cave, it gets more hot and humid, unlike most caves I’ve been in, which get cooler the deeper into them you go.  We climb many steps into big softly lit chambers where we see impressive columns and other formations.

Antonio & Kathy on the train into Al Hoota Cave

We see a unique lake created by the underground ecosystem, where apparently blind, transparent fish thrive in large schools.  We look into the lake, but all we see are tiny little fish and there’s no way see if they’re really blind or not.  They feed on organic nourishment carried in by rain and water. We’re also told that within the cave live 8-legged spiders with 8 eyes.

After we finish the 40-minute walk, we wander into the geological exhibition which showcases over 150 items of rock, wood, corals and other materials unique to the area.  We check out the life-like exhibits of wildlife as well.  All in all, it’s very tastefully done.  In the gift shop, I buy a couple of postcards of the interior of the cave, since we’re not allowed to take pictures.

Kathy and Antonio getting on the train into Al Hoota Cave

On the way home, I quiz Kathy about a Bedouin camp called Al- Areesh in Wahiba Sands because I am forming the idea to go there this afternoon.  I originally had a plan to explore the east coast of Oman, including Sur, with two friends from another college, Lazina and Gretchen, but those plans were cancelled because our Omani driver’s wife had to have surgery.  So, left without plans, I must devise my own on the spur of the moment.  While Kathy and I chat about this camp, which she’s been to before, Antonio sits in the front seat, earphones in his ears, listening to music that is apparently more interesting than our conversation.  Hmmm…..

brochures & postcards of the inside of Al Hoota Cave ~ since I couldn’t take pictures!

 

national holiday chapter 1: cathy takes kathy to muscat

Tags

Muscat, Oman, Travel

Thursday, November 24:  Today is the first day of our 5-day National Holiday and I am taking my Canadian/Filipino friend Kathy to Muscat.  I find out as we’re driving that she hasn’t yet been to Muscat at all, despite having been here for 2 months! I’m surprised about this, as I’ve been to Muscat too many times to count during this same period.

the corniche in Muttrah

the entrance to the mutrah souq

Our first stop is the Mutrah Souq, one of my favorite places in Muscat because of its traditional winding alleys, its textile, silver, pashmina and frankincense shops, and its picturesque location along a corniche overlooking a balmy little harbor. We park quite a distance away and then wander along the corniche, where we pass by the Mutrah Fort, built by the Portuguese in the 1580s.

me on the corniche with the Mutrah Fort in the background

We make our way into the covered market, where I buy a couple of scarves and two khanajer, the traditional daggers of Oman, curved and sharpened on both edges and held in a sheath decorated in silver.  These are gifts for my sons for Christmas (a surprise ~ luckily they never read my blog!).  Of course, being unable to escape my mothering tendencies, I can’t help but worry that one or both of them will get hurt if they play around with these extremely sharp weapons. I guess I will have to attach a caveat to these gifts that they are not to be used to fight duels or for hand-to-hand combat or to poke each others’ eyes out.

in Mutrah Souq

I also buy two Indian kurtas for myself that I can get plenty of wear out of in Oman.

a shopkeeper in the Mutrah Souq

Kathy enjoys wandering about as well, and she buys a wallet and some white Indian cotton pants.  She’s a hard bargainer and comes away with greater discounts than I’m able to get.

the traditional Omani daggers in the souq

After a long while in the souq, we take a drive to the Oman Dive Center where we’re hoping to swim.  We don’t plan to swim long, so we’re put off by the 4 rial entrance fee, double the normal fee since it’s a weekend day. We decide instead to go to Qurum City Center where there is a Carrefour.  I need to return a DVD I bought there last week, The Tourist, because it doesn’t work in my DVD player.  Come to find out the reason why is that it’s Blu-ray and I don’t have a Blu-ray player!  Hmmm….  They don’t have the normal DVD version of The Tourist, so I get 3 other DVDs in its place.  I guess Blu-rays are expensive (!)

Qurum Beach and the little hut-like thingies

We then take a drive down to Qurum Beach where we bake in the sun for a bit under a little thatch-top umbrella thingy.  We don’t really feel like swimming as there is no facility where we can shower off.  Instead we just sit and talk and cook until we’re well toasted.

Finally, we go for an early dinner at Zanzibar Island Restaurant, a little hole-in-the-wall with Zanzibar paraphernalia littering the wall.  There’s a little buffet in a small room and we tell the proprietor what we want.  My food is good but Kathy is not so pleased with hers.

Kathy inside the Zanzibari Restaurant

Everything we did today I’ve done before, except for the Zanzibar Island Restaurant, which I found in the Budget listings of “Restaurants and Cafes” from Time Out Muscat magazine.  Little by little, I want to get to know EVERYTHING that Muscat has to offer.

Zanzibar Island Restaurant

National Day and the Birthday of Sultan Qaboos

The celebration of Oman’s National Day takes place every year on November 18 as a celebration of independence from the Portuguese in 1650. National Day coincides with Sultan Qaboos bin Said al Said’s birthday, which occurs November 18, adding additional significance to the day.

Flexing their superior naval tactics and technology, the Portuguese took control of the ports of Muscat and Sohar, and then rest of the coast of Oman in 1507. The Portuguese saw the ports along the coast of Oman as valuable stopping points in their Indian spice trade routes.

Unsatisfied with the Portuguese exploitation of resources in Oman, the Al-Ya’ribi clan wooed the British East India Company in 1646. Under an agreed treaty, British merchants were guaranteed legal rights while operating in Oman’s domain, effectively weakening the influence of Portugal in the region.

On November 18, 1650, Imam Sultan Bin Saif and others led an uprising that effectively expelled Portugal from Oman and its ports.  Oman has maintained its independence since and is generally recognized as being the longest continually independent Arab state in modern history.

Fast forward to the 20th century.  Sultan Qaboos bin Said al Said was born in Salalah in Dhofar on November 18, 1940.  He rose to power after overthrowing his father, Said bin Taimur, in a palace coup in 1970.

Today, people celebrate both Oman’s independence from the Portuguese and the Sultan’s birthday on November 18. Fireworks displays, images of the sultan, and Oman’s flag can be seen during celebrations that focus on the progress the current sultan, Qaboos bin Said, has made for the people of Oman.  Cutouts of Sayyed Qaboos bin Said al Said and the royal flag of Oman line streets and highways throughout the country.

Since November 18 of this year was on a Friday, already a weekend day in the Sultanate, an additional 3-day holiday was to be granted to the general population. This holiday is never set in stone, but rotates every year.  It wasn’t announced until several days before it was granted and the University of Nizwa, a privately owned institution, didn’t announce the holiday until Sunday, November 20th.  My students already knew they were going to get a full 10 days off, beginning the weekend of November 24-25, plus Saturday-Wednesday, November 26-30, plus the following weekend, December 1-2.  Within that holiday period, the Islamic New Year fell on November 26.

HOWEVER.  The teachers at the University of Nizwa were told that we didn’t get the same holiday as the students.  The Chancellor required that teachers come to work on Tuesday and Wednesday, November 29-30, effectively cutting our holiday into two unequal parts.  We had a five-day holiday though, and I’m thankful for that, especially as we just had 10 days off in early November for Eid Al Adha.

Al-Hamdullilah!

an afternoon outing to jabrin castle

Tags

Oman, Travel

Thursday, November 17:  I decide it’s time to take my new GMC Terrain out for a spin to Bahla Fort and Jabrin Castle.  Before I go, I have to wait for my long-overdue furniture to be delivered by the university.  I’ve been without a coffee table, end tables, a desk and a chair for two months now, and I’m not about to rush off and miss this delivery.  However, by the time it all arrives and is assembled, it’s near noon, much too late to get started doing anything in Oman.  Usually the afternoons are too hot for anyone to do anything, and businesses and attractions often close around 1:00 so everyone can go home for a rest.

the entrance to Jabrin Castle

Jabrin Castle

Despite this I think that maybe, because it’s a Thursday, the things I want to see will be open.  I’ve driven through Bahla before, and I’ve seen the big fort there from the road, but I want to see the inside.  So I drive to the town and when I come to the imposing 12th century fort, built by the Bani Nebhan tribe, I look all around for a place to park.   I can’t even find an entrance to the fort.  Sadly the fort doesn’t appear to be open at all.  Belatedly, I check my Lonely Planet Oman, UAE and Arabian Peninsula, and find that it has been under restoration as a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1987.  Twenty-four years on, and it’s still not open to the public.  Considering we’re in Oman, that doesn’t surprise me at all. No one in Oman is in any rush to do anything.

the cozy carpeted and pillowed rooms in Jabrin Castle

So, I drive on to Jabrin Castle, which is right on the edge of the town of Bahla. Jabrin Castle sits isolated on a flat plain, so it is an impressive sight even from a distance.  Imam Bil-arab bin Sultan built the castle in 1675, and it was a center of learning for astrology, medicine and Islamic law.  The castle is simple, void of fancy furnishings or elaborate decor, yet tasteful.  It has numerous levels of cozy rooms with high ceilings, carpeted floors and silk pillows around the perimeters.  The view from the top of the Castle to the plains dotted with date palms is lovely set against the backdrop of Oman’s brown wrinkled mountains.

the view from Jabrin Castle

It’s really warm as I wander leisurely around the castle.  I like the rooms with their inviting carpets and cushions and am really tempted to curl up on the carpet with my head on the pillows.  Maybe I’m becoming part Omani, craving these naps in the afternoons.

one of many painted ceilings in Jabrin Castle

I finish my little tour and hop back in my car and drive back to Nizwa, where I do what everyone else in Oman is doing on any particular afternoon.  I take a nap.

a cool “library” room

Foreign Policy magazine recognizes Oman as “the world’s hostage negotiator”

November 14, 2011: Today, Foreign Policy featured an article titled “Oman: The world’s hostage negotiator,” after the magazine learned that the Omani government helped negotiate the release of three French aid workers held by al-Qaeda militants in Yemen.  This isn’t the first time Oman has helped in a hostage situation.  In both 2010 and fall of 2011, Oman paid large sums to Iran for the release of 3 American hikers.

America’s friendly relationship with Oman dates back to at least 1841, when Oman became the first Arab nation to recognize the U.S. The sultanate has a free trade agreement with the U.S. and has permitted American forces to use its military bases in the past.

Here is the article from Foreign Policy magazine:  Oman: The world’s hostage negotiator.

getting wheels in oman

Tags

GMC Terrain, Hyundai Sonata, Oman

Sunday, November 13: Today, I closed the deal on a car in Oman.  I bought a 2008 GMC Terrain, a four-wheel drive vehicle commonly sold in the Gulf, for 5,550 rials, or around $14,415. The vehicle has about 90,000 km (56,000 miles) on it.  I wanted a 4WD in Oman because much of what there is to see here is off-road. The vehicle was previously owned by an Omani, and expats who have been here awhile tell me that is a dangerous thing.  Maybe it is.  And maybe I’m too trusting. But the deal is now done.  There is no turning back.

My 2008 GMC Terrain

It was a big debate for me whether to buy a used or a new car.  The cost of a new car is exorbitant here, especially for 4 wheel drives, which are in high demand. But of course, a new car gives an owner peace of mind, and that’s a worthwhile investment. It honestly doesn’t pay to buy a car in Oman unless you’re willing to make a 2 or 3 year commitment to stay here.  I decided I could stay in here in Oman for that long, assuming the university will have me. Life is good here.  I like my job and the university, I enjoy my colleagues.  I love Oman and there’s a lot to explore within the country, as well as outside the country on extended holidays: to Europe and the Middle East, even to India and Africa.  Oman is a modern country and Muscat has everything any Westerner could want. The only major drawback to Oman is the heat.

the rear view of my GMC Terrain sitting in front of Jabrin Fort

The other debate was whether I should rent a car rather than buy.  Many expats here do just that.  But to rent a car is about 150-170 rials ($390-$440) a month, and that’s for a small car.  To rent a 4WD is much more.  I rented a mid-size car (a Hyundai Sonata) for one month and it cost me 200 rials ($520).  Transportation in Oman ain’t cheap.

while in Jordan at Wadi Rum, I found this graffiti on a rock… Before coming to Jordan I had put a deposit on my GMC Terrain. Thought this appropriate…. 🙂

I was here in Nizwa for two weeks without a vehicle. That was way too long.  I am a person who loves my independence and without transportation, I felt trapped.  I spent a year using public transportation in Korea, but Korea has a great public transport system. Public transportation in Oman is sparse, especially in Nizwa.  Mostly you must depend on taxis, although there are some small buses too. I could stand out on a busy road for a long time without a taxi stopping.  One night I came out of the Lulu Hypermarket with a cartload full of groceries.  No taxi was in sight.  I called the 5 taxi drivers I had on my cell phone, and of those, one was in the hospital after just having an accident two days before.  Four told me they were in Muscat.  (Taxi drivers make their biggest fares by driving people to and from Muscat, at 8 rials ~ $21 ~ a pop).  Within Nizwa, they can charge about 200 baisas, or about 52 cents.  It serves them well to drive back and forth to Muscat rather than trying to scrounge up business within Nizwa all day.

So there I was waiting at the Lulu, with my cartload of groceries, sweating and hoping, just hoping, a random taxi would come along and rescue me.  I waited a good 20 minutes before any taxi appeared.  Twenty minutes doesn’t sound like much, but it feels like an eternity when you are waiting for an unknown future. It also feels like a long time in Oman’s heat, as you think about your groceries slowly starting to spoil.

the Hyundai Sonata I rented from Al Maskry, sitting in the university parking lot

That was the end of the line for me.  The next day, my friend Marcia offered to take me to the airport in Muscat to rent a car.  There, I was frustrated to find that no small cars were available for rent because the tourist season had begun.  I checked with every car rental agency at the airport, then I called a slew of numbers other people had given me.  Finally I found the Hyundai Sonata available from Al Maskry.  I told the guy on the phone I’d take it and I went immediately to his office by taxi to pick it up.  I was thrilled to have wheels.

Once I got the Sonata, I started my search to buy a car.  I went first to the Kia dealership because I heard they have a buy-back program for expats who buy new cars.  I was interested in the Kia Sportage, but they didn’t have a single Sportage for me to test drive.  The dealer wanted me to put a deposit down for the next shipment that would come in three weeks later.  I couldn’t bring myself to put a deposit on a vehicle I couldn’t test drive.  Then I saw the Toyota dealer about a small sedan called the Yaris, but I felt it was made of cardboard on the inside and had no pick up. Later I drove a Diahatsu Terios, an adorable car that has the smallest engine imaginable and thus NO pickup.  I checked in Muscat for a used 4WD but they had nothing in my price range.  Only a Ford sedan which I didn’t really want.  My heart was set on a 4WD.  I had seen the GMC Terrain on the Toyota dealer’s used car lot in Nizwa and I kept going back to that.  It handled nicely, the mileage was low, and it was a 4WD.  It was everything I wanted really.

the rental car from Al Maskry

Finally, I put a 100 rial deposit on it before I left for Jordan.  On November 13, I went to Bank Muscat to pick up checks I had ordered and to withdraw the cash for the deposit.  Those two simple things took me over an hour to do because of the slowness and incompetence of Bank Muscat!  I had to put down 25% because it was a used vehicle and because I’m an expat (and probably because I’m a woman too!) which was about 1,400 rials (~ $3,650).  I took the money to Shyam, the Indian salesman, and then he made me sit and sign all 36 checks for my 36 payments of 141 rials ($366) a month.  We drove to the insurance company to buy insurance for 220 rials (for one year).  And then I gave him 5 rials to register the vehicle with the Royal Omani Police.

There was another hassle earlier in the process with the Royal Omani Police.  When the dealer and I were making the deal, he told me I had to have an Omani driver’s license.  I had heard as Americans we had 3 months in Oman before we had to convert our license.  However, to BUY a car, a person must have an Omani license. This is just a matter of going to the zoo of a police station and converting it for a fee.  However, my Virginia license expired while I was in Korea so when I returned home to the USA in March of 2011, I renewed it.  In America, our driver’s licenses do not specify the original date of issue.  It only shows the last date it was renewed.  As far as the Omanis were concerned, it appeared I had only had my license for 6 months and they require that you have been driving for at least one year.  I protested that I’ve been driving my whole life, almost 40 years, but they wouldn’t believe me because the license said otherwise.  I said, “Look at me!  Look at my age!! I’ve been driving my whole life!!” They were unfazed. They told me I’d have to go to my Embassy and get a document showing the original date of my driver’s license.

I remembered that I still had a copy of the license that had expired in October of 2010.  I asked if I could bring that in as proof I’ve been driving longer than one year.  After much hullabaloo they agreed to accept that photocopy.

the surprise dent on the front hood of my GMC ~ was it there all along??

Finally, when Shyam drove me to the insurance office in my own Terrain, he parked the car with the hood facing the sidewalk in front of the office. As I was sitting there, I looked up and I saw a dark green 4WD sitting in front of me with a dent on the hood.   I was just sitting there staring absently when it registered.  I jumped up and I yelled, “What the heck!  Is that my car??”  Shyam said, “What?  What’s wrong?”  I said, “Is that MY car with the dent in it??  What the heck!!! My car did NOT have a dent in it before I went to Jordan!”  He said, “Yes, that car has had a dent in it since I bought it from the previous owner.”  I said, “NO!  That car did NOT have a dent in it!”   We went back and forth, arguing heatedly, while the insurance guys looked on in surprise.  For the life of me, I couldn’t remember that car having a dent in the front.  I said, “What happened?  Did you let someone go out driving it after I gave you the deposit, while I was in Jordan??” He insisted no, that the car was sitting in the lot the whole time I was gone.  I searched inside my brain for a picture of the car as I saw it last.  In my mind, I MIGHT HAVE seen a small dent, but no, no, I really couldn’t see a dent.  Or could I?  I couldn’t remember for the life of me.  Shyam said, “Ask anyone at the dealership.  Anyone will tell you that dent was there all along.”  I thought and thought.  Honestly I didn’t remember a dent, but then I did seem to remember some small flaw.  Wow!  Am I getting Alzheimer’s??

After the deal was closed, that evening I took the car to Precision Auto, the mechanic who checked out the car before I put down the deposit.  He had given me a list of small repairs that needed to be made.  I asked him, “Do you remember this dent in the front of this car?”  He didn’t remember seeing it.  He said maybe the smaller one toward the center may have been there, but he couldn’t remember the larger one.  He asked the mechanic who checked it out.  That mechanic only remembered the smaller dent as well.

Later that evening I texted Shyam and said that the mechanic did not remember that dent being there.  He called me right away and we went around and around about it again.  What could I do?  It was my memory, which is not so dependable any more, and the memory of these two mechanics who saw it for one short hour, against his word.  Shyam said we could forget the whole deal if I wanted.  But I didn’t want to go back to the drawing board searching for another car.  I took the car, dent and all.  It’s mine now, with all its imperfections.