Friday, December 30: After going around and around with the university housing department about the shortfalls of my “villa” for months, I could see that no resolution was in sight. The landlord of the villa adamantly refused to fix the problems there, including grimy walls and ratty carpet, a shared electric & water meter with the Indian family upstairs, and a dumpster outside my front door that smelled like a sewer and was swarming with scores of mangy cats. I finally accepted that nothing would ever be done to fix the problems, so I put out the word to Issa, our housing guy at the university, that I wanted to move to a new place.
heading for the mutrah souq to buy some home decor!
I finally got wind of an available flat in a building in Nizwa. This building houses some of my close friends at the university, including James, Malcolm, Stephen and David. Before Christmas, I went to a party at David’s flat, and on New Year’s I also was able to see James’s and Malcolm’s flats. During this time I heard from Malcolm’s wife Sandy about a flat available in this building with the same layout as the other flats. With my sons both arriving on January 10, I pressed Issa to let me vacate the villa and move to the new digs as soon as possible. He relented and we agreed on a move date of January 4.
Indian wall hangings at Mutrah Souq
On this final Friday of 2011, the last weekend day before my move, I go on a shopping spree in Muscat with my friend Christian, who just recently moved into a new villa himself. Fun times! I am finally excited to spend a little money to make my house a home.
Christian shopping in the souq
We go to Mutrah Souq and then to Home Centre and Zara at Muscat City Center. At Zara, I buy a beautiful turquoise and purple paisley duvet cover, lavender sheets and square throw pillows. I buy lamps and pictures for my walls. At the souq, I purchase a wall hanging with turquoises and purples, to match with the duvet cover. We have a great time shopping together as we both love decorating.
Christian, withdrawing money for our shopping spree
We pile all our goods into the back of the Terrain. When I get home to my villa, I unload all my stuff into the living room, a temporary holding spot. I will move into my new flat in just 5 days. Hallelujah!
Thursday, December 29: Malcolm and Sandy, intrepid fellow explorers, accompany me this morning to Wadi Tanuf, which is only about 19 km west of Nizwa. We pass by the ruins of Old Tanuf at the mouth of the wadi, but we decide to visit these after we explore the wadi. We are driving in my GMC Terrain, which we hope will take us to the deepest reaches of the wadi.
Sandy & Malcolm, my fellow travelers
As we go further into the wadi, we pass by the recharge dam, which is dry as parchment. This dam serves the vital purpose of filling the local wells and aquifers after rainfall. The main purpose of this recharge dam is to slowly release water over a period of one to two weeks so that it can sink into the ground and recharge the underground reservoirs. This helps to supply the local falaj networks through intense periods of drought and intense heat, from which Oman is known to suffer. The main goal is to store water underground, as evaporation from above-ground reservoirs would far exceed present rainfall. The slow release from the dam significantly increases the amount of water that is stored underground. Water normally accumulates only 3-5 times/year behind the recharge dam and lasts about a week. Today there is no water to be seen. Interestingly, most of the recharge from the dam occurs downstream from the dam and not behind it.
the road into wadi tanuf
We drive 4.2 km down a dirt road to the village of Al Far, which is actually on Wadi Qashah. It’s so beautiful, this drive, through the wadi and the sheer canyon walls on either side of us. Apparently, this canyon, which is very narrow, sometimes is prone to flash floods. The carpark at Al Far is the end of the line, so we get out and start a walk past terraced plantations toward the village. The terraced plantations are rich with banana trees, date palms and small fields of emerald grasses and other vegetation.
the date palm plantations along wadi tanuf
As we’re walking along, we encounter a herd of about 60 long-haired goats, who seem a little peeved that we’re blocking their trail. I don’t know why they’re irritated as it seems no strain at all for them to bypass us on the rocky ledges above. I’m surprised how much these cute little bleating goats look like miniature humans, giving us looks like we are such bothersome creatures. Interrupting their daily walk like this… How dare we?
the goats aren’t pleased that we’re blocking their path
We continue along the trail until we reach the little village of Al Far, which is a working and living village. Its occupants include women in black abayas hanging out their wash to dry, a vicious little dog who barks and bares his teeth as we walk past his territory, and women carrying buckets of water on their heads. We see a kind of earthen building that looks like a large hut of some kind and we ask one of the villagers if it is the masjid or mosque. He says no, it’s a majlis, or a meeting room for the men in the village, a community center of sorts.
the village of Al Far in Wadi Tanuf
We try several trails to get through this village perched on the side of the wadi walls, but we can’t find a clear path through. We decide we will turn around and take a drive back to find a picnic spot as it’s getting close to lunchtime. Some other time I will have to go back to do the hour and a half hike to the abandoned village of Ar Rahbah. Today we are all tired so we decide we’re just not up for a long hike.
the majlis, or meeting room, in Al Far
We drive back down to the wider part of the wadi and find a large rock where we set up the picnic lunch that Malcolm and Sandy have brought: feta cheese, black olives, bread, cheese samosas, spring rolls, nectarines and orange juice. Yummy. As we’re standing around our big rock, some goats come over to sniff around and try to steal some of our olives. I take a video of these little goats and try to get one to bleat for us by making some bleating noises myself.
the terraced plantations of Al Far in Wadi Tanuf
Later, I find another group of very large goats all standing, literally, on their hind legs, munching on leaves off of the trees. It’s so weird how they stand up to eat. Again, they remind me of oddly deformed human beings, or aliens from another planet.
After our picnic, we drive out of the wadi and make a brief stop at Old Tanuf. This town was bombed extensively during the mid-1950s by the British RAF under the orders of Sultan Sa’id bin Taymur, father of the present-day sultan of Oman, Sultan Qaboos. The town was bombed as a reprisal against the “Lords of the Green Mountain” (Al Jabal al Akhdar) and the dissident Beni Riyam tribe under Shaikh Suleyman.
me at the bombed-out village of Old Tanuf
Old Tanuf was demolished with several 1,000-pound bombs, but the tribesmen escaped using routes through the wadi behind. They gained temporary respite on the Sayq Plateau, but were later rooted out during the Al Jabal al Akhdar War in 1958-1959.
Malcolm and I climb about on the ruins for a bit. It’s quite scenic really with Wadi Tanuf as the backdrop and the town’s mangled, yet proud, ruins in the foreground.
a painted door in the village of misfat
Finally, we take another drive past Al Hoota Cave and Al Hamra to Misfat al Abriyyin. This is a charming ancient village about 5 km up the road from Al Hamra. “Hamra” means “red” in Arabic, and as we drive up the mountain from Al Hamra to Misfat, we see the surrounding mountains and soil painted a deep rich red. The village is set in a stunning landscape above terraced plantations of date palms. This is a sight rarely seen as date palms are usually grown on the plains and not on mountain terraces. Ancient houses, colorfully painted metal doors and a watchtower perched on a rocky mountain complete the scene.
the lush plantations of Misfat al Abriyyan
As we walk down into the village, we come to cool water running in a falaj that snakes past banana, lemon and date trees. It’s soothing to stand in the midst of this lush greenery listening to the sound of running water. It’s funny, I’ve only been in Oman for 3 1/2 months, but I’ve come to appreciate the rare gems of greenery and water found in the hidden wadis. Oman is a brown and parched land, so when I come upon these little oases, I am captivated. These spots are refreshment for the soul.
the hidden bed & breakfast in misfat
Malcolm wants to show us a bed & breakfast, Layali Shahrazad, where our friend James stayed over the National Holiday. We finally find it hidden away among the date palms and banana trees. We walk around the grounds, poking into the rooms and the common areas. We come across two Omani men who run the B&B sitting on a kind of terrace. They invite us to sit with them and have coffee and fresh dates and doughnuts. One of the men, Ahmed Al-Abri, a peaceful and gentle man, is the owner of this place as well as a desert camp, Desert Palm Oman, in Sharqiya Sands near Al Areesh, where I stayed over the National Holiday and again with Guido. Ahmed says his family is spread over 40 houses throughout the town of Misfat.
two omani men who own the bed and breakfast in misfat
Finally we climb back up through the village amidst the music of running water, until we arrive back to our car. I was sleepy driving here but now on this warm afternoon, I am really about to drop off into the Land of Nod. We drive back to Nizwa and I retreat to my little villa to take a long-awaited nap.
We are a pretty small group today in Voice, the university’s drop-in shop for English conversations. Sometimes we can have 20-25 students in the room, conversing about all numbers of topics, but today, at the outset, there are only a few stragglers who have wandered in.
Suddenly, four girls sweep into the room and one of them tells us this is her first time in Voice. First-timers are usually shy and subdued, but this one is feisty and energetic and VERY vocal. She talks and talks about how she loves to watch films, especially Bollywood films. She loves Korean films as well, but not American movies so much. She makes it a point to say she has no desire to meet Tom Cruise, who is too old. She swoons about several Bollywood actors, whose names I don’t know, and says, clasping her hands together and looking heavenward, that she LOVES these films. “Teacher, teacher, I LOVE these singing and dancing and love story!”
Everyone in the room is mesmerized by this girl, who is adorable and bubbly and enthusiastic about life. We can’t help but laugh, not boisterously as one does at a comedy routine, but in pure pleasure. We are swept up by this girl’s enthusiasm and by her innocence, by her pure joy and her smiling face. At one point she says, very shyly, as if she will retreat into silence if we don’t give her the right answer, “Why are you laughing?” We all say that she is very cute and so excited about sharing herself in English, that we can’t help but just to have fun and laugh. We enjoy her love of life, her high energy.
All this talk about Bollywood films, which are chock-full of music and dancing, makes me wonder about the idea in Islam that music is “haram,” or sinful. Apparently there is much debate about this topic. According to Muslim Access website: In the subject of musical instruments, scholars disagree on the matter. Some of them permit all sorts of singing, be it accompanied with musical instruments or not, and even consider it recommended. A second group of scholars permit singing only when is not accompanied with a musical instrument. A third group declare it to be prohibited whether it be accompanied with a musical instrument or not; they even consider it as a major sin. (Is Music Haram? Is Music Halal? Music, Haram or Halal?) Another website, Muslim Ways, says that music is definitely “haram.” “These people of ignorance listen to and use musical instruments that are prohibited and which lead the hearts to abandoning the Qur’aan. These hearts are indulging in sin and disobedience of Allah. Music, then, is Satan’s Qur’aan and the barrier between one and Allah.” The general belief is that music fuels passion and thus makes people less passionate about the Qur’aan. It is interesting in my conversations with the university students that there are all ranges of beliefs. Some of them NEVER listen to music, while others love it and indulge in listening and dancing as part of their daily lives.
In a change of topic, one girl says that when she tries to speak English outside of the Voice room or the English Bridges Club, her fellow students laugh at her and say, “Why are you speaking English?” She feels they make fun of her, but she is determined to learn English and knows that speaking the language is the best practice.
Somehow the conversation veers, as it often does in Voice, careening from one subject to another, to the boys at the university. The cute girl says she doesn’t like the boys in her class. I’ve heard this sentiment voiced by many of the girls in the university. She says they never do any work, they act up and create problems, they are not smart. She thinks the girls are more clever than the boys. I would tend to agree that the girls are very hard workers and very bright, and since I have only a few boys in my classes, I can’t make a real judgment about boys in general. But in my few interactions, I am leaning toward the same opinion.
Omani men ~ the privileged ones
There are two boys in the room, one of them with perfect posture, looking so bright and fresh in his snow-white dishdasha. He says, with great certainty, “Men have more power and are more clever. It is the way it is. That is so in our culture.” It’s not my job to cause trouble at the university, so I keep quiet and let the girls talk. Some of them surprisingly say, “Yes, it’s true, men are more powerful. And yes, they’re more clever.” But most of them disagree. They protest, “No! The girls work hard and pay attention and are very clever. The boys just goof off. They think they don’t have to do anything!” I ask them if this idea about men having all the power will change in the future, because I see evidence of restlessness in the girl students. The boys declare, “No, this will never change. This is our culture.”
This is a true thing I observe in Omani culture. There are few expectations for men. They can do whatever they want to do and if they fail a certain class, they will probably be passed by the Omani administration. They shouldn’t be expected to work hard because just by nature, and probably by Islam, they are superior and thus don’t have to prove themselves.
There is much argument between the girls, feisty and argumentative, pushing for what they believe, and the self-assured boys. As my hour is almost up with them, I make a summary point, always making sure that what I say is politically correct: “I don’t think you can say that all boys are more clever than all girls. As with making statements about any group of people, there are all ranges of capabilities. Some boys are certainly more clever than some girls, and some girls are certainly more clever than some boys.” They nod in agreement.
the VOICE room at the university
I find this kind of attitude in Omani culture quite often. Omanis I meet often make these sweeping kinds of statements, that all of one culture is very clever or very good or very bad or very stupid. I always point out to them, whenever they make these kinds of judgments that there is much variety within a group, and that you cannot make generalizations about a group of people. Once I point this out, they seem mildly shocked and dismayed, but end up thinking about it and then nodding agreement. It’s almost as if no one has ever challenged these beliefs of theirs or challenged them to think in a different way.
As always, another interesting hour in Voice. I learn something more about Omani culture every time… 🙂
Sunday, December 25: Today is my second-ever Christmas abroad, and I can tell you right now this one is about 963,214 times better than my last one in South Korea (the christmas that wasn’t). I love my life in Oman and so, likewise, I love my Christmas. The only thing missing, and it’s a big thing, is being with my children. I do get to talk with all three of them online though, so that makes it a merry Christmas indeed.
me beside marcia’s tropical garden on Christmas day
I start out my day in a weird way by getting up at the crack of dawn and making a little holiday greeting video. In it, I give everyone a tour of my shabby flat in Oman, which I’m sure most people will be thrilled to see. My flat… well, it ain’t no celebrity crib.
Inge, James, Barbara & Stephen
After making this exciting film, I promptly hop in my car and drive to the Oman Central Post Office near the airport in Muscat, a 1 1/2 hour drive each way, to pick up a box containing some Christmas presents from my family. This box is being held in Customs for some reason I don’t really understand. In the box are a few NEW clothes and maybe 5 new DVDs that I asked for from Santa. The remaining contents of the box include some of my wardrobe from home and my entire DVD collection, a total of 38 DVDs! I had asked my family to send me my entire DVD collection, but I had no idea I had 38 DVDs!! No one at the Central Post Office can really explain to me why Customs has stopped them, but they all keep mentioning the DVDs, so that obviously has something to do with it. I think they are going to charge me a big chunk to collect them, but they only ask for 300 baisas, the equivalent of 78 cents! Sometimes I cannot for the life of me understand the Omani mentality.
my goat cheese and red pepper frittata
I rush home and get to work making my famous Martha Stewart goat cheese and red pepper frittata, which I have made for the last 20 years (except last year in Korea) for my family. We have a Christmas BRUNCH tradition in my family, and we have stuck to that tradition through the years. Our entire brunch consists of the aforementioned frittata, a cheese grits casserole, chicken-apple sausages, pancakes and cranberry syrup. Today I’m only making the frittata. I have to make a few substitutions, namely putting in feta cheese for the goat cheese, and using yellow as opposed to red potatoes. I am even surprised to find some wilted tarragon in the Lulu Hypermarket. After it’s all cooked up nicely, I go to Marcia’s house for a lovely Christmas party.
our Christmas dinner at Marcia’s
I take some still-life photos of Marcia’s table with food contributed by all the teachers. Marcia requested that we all bring something from our home countries. The food is amazing, from whole chickens, stuffing balls, green bean casserole, red cabbage, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, scalloped potatoes, and salads of various hues. I’m happy to see my frittata disappear quickly.
This is such a relaxed and laid-back group of people. Marcia of course always sets the tone at her own gatherings, welcoming everyone with her Aussie hospitality, open arms and hugs & kisses. Everyone is in a fine mood today and we all wander around and chat amiably with each other. It’s warm in the afternoons now, but not oppressively so, and we sit outside on the patio; we gather on the front steps and in the living room, dining room and kitchen. People are sprawled out everywhere inside and outside the house.
Marcia, our amazing hostess 🙂
At one point our colleague Matt, who I happened to meet in Petra in November, gets out his guitar and starts singing away. Everyone sings along with him, even those of us who can’t sing worth a lick. It’s so much fun to belt out these familiar tunes: “Peggy Sue,” “To Sir with Love,” some Elvis songs, and many others. Then Malcolm takes over the guitar and does his rendition of Little Feat’s “Dixie Chicken”… What a blast!
Helen and Derek leave to go smoke shisha at Layila, and she asks some of us if we’d like to join her. Marcia’s party seems to be winding down a bit, so Christian, Stephanie, Christian’s Sri Lankan friend Faraj, and I join them there. We sit outside, smoke shisha, drink lemon mint drinks and eat the tortilla chips and Velveeta cheese dip Christian has brought along from the party. At the table we share stories about people at the university who we think may be a little “mad.” Or maybe “odd” is a better word. We talk about our jobs at the university. We all decide that people who teach abroad are generally some mighty, umm, “interesting” characters. Including ourselves of course… 🙂
maurio & faraj on the steps of Marcia’s villa
By this time, which is around 4:30, I’m tired, so I go back to my flat to rest for a bit. I try to catch the boys online, but the connection is not good and we decide to try later tonight. At 7:30, I meet Christian, Stephanie and Faraj again at the Falaj Daris for a beer. We sit in the Western bar, where we always sit, and then Christian tells us about the Arab bar and the Hindi bar. I’ve heard of these bars, but I’ve never been in them before, so we make the rounds.
gail, sarah and inge’s daughter who teaches in UAE
In the Arab bar, Stephanie and I are the only females in the audience. At least 30 or so Omanis and Bedouins sit watching three chubby young ladies walk down a runway and move slightly in an unbecoming and kind of spastic attempt to dance. We can’t help but laugh at this scenario. All the Omani men just sit and gawk at these unattractive girls in their pathetic attempt to entertain.
christian and me outside marcia’s villa
Finally we have enough of that, so we go into the Hindi bar, where things are much more lively. There are actually four colorfully decked out girls, dressed in typical Indian textiles, dancing Bollywood-style on stage. The music is energetic, the dancing is entertaining and fun, and there is even some decent singing. Christian, who used to be a ballet dancer and choreographer, gets up and does a crazy dance in the entryway to the bar, because there’s a sign on the door that says “NO DANCING INSIDE.” Faraj does the same. Both of them are amazing dancers. It’s great fun!
smoking some shisha…. a very Omani thing to do
I leave early to go home and talk to my kids online. My daughter Sarah is at her father’s house and enjoying her Christmas. I’m so happy that she just completed a successful semester at Virginia Commonwealth University. It’s been a long and difficult process for her in making progress on her education, so I’m really thrilled she’s finally decided to dedicate herself to her studies.
Christmas in my house in Oakton, Virginia
After Sarah, I talk to Mike and Alex and Adam, and my mother-in-law and sister-in-law, who are all at our house in Virgina having MY Christmas brunch, the one I originated and made all those years, minus the meat. The boys are now vegetarians, so they’ve eliminated the chicken sausages from the Christmas brunch. Both the boys got a bunch of backpacking equipment for Christmas this year, and both now want to take a semester off from college to backpack all over the country. I’m not thrilled about this plan, but I am thrilled that Adam is planning to start off his backpacking quest by coming to stay with me in Oman for 3 weeks, starting around January 10. Tonight, they tell me Alex is considering coming along with Adam, but that’s not been decided. I’m excited about either or both of them coming to Oman, although I personally don’t plan to do any backpacking! Camping maybe, but I don’t plan to be carrying all my belongings into the wilderness…
my three little lovelies: Adam, Sarah & Alex
Matt rocks out on his guitar and we all sing along… 🙂
What a great time I have on this, my first Christmas in Oman… 🙂 Happy Christmas and good cheer to all this holiday season!
Thursday, December 22: This morning, Malcolm & Sandy and I venture out to explore Wadi Damm and the beehive tombs of Al-Ayn. We have my handy book, Oman Off-Road, Guido’s gift to me before he left. I know that we have to drive to the west of Nizwa, toward Ibri, and we’ll need to get off somewhere before that. I’ve studied the book but the maps are confusing, and I’m hoping signs will guide us to our destination. As a back-up, in case there is no signage to be seen, I put Malcolm in charge of navigation. He spends a great deal of time turning the book this way and that trying to make heads or tails of the necessary maps.
at Wadi Damm with Sandy and Malcolm
We see a sign for Wadi Damm about 87 km outside of Nizwa and make a right turn toward Al-Ayn. We have another 35 km to go on this road. We pass the town of Al-Ayn. Driving along this road, we spot some beehive tombs up on the ridge of a hill, with the beautiful jagged ridges of Jebal Misht (Comb Mountain) behind. It’s a quite impressive view. Malcolm notes them on our way, but we figure we will stop here on the way back. I tell Sandy and Malcolm it’s best if we explore the wadi first as I’ve had too many disappointing experiences where I’ve traveled long distances to a wadi, only to have the sun set before I can fully explore it. We’ll make a stop at the beehive tombs on our way back.
the falaj at wadi damm
We finally get to a place on the map called Barut, and we drive a half-circle at the roundabout. We go straight and then the paved road ends. We follow a dirt road for a short distance until we come to a dead-end. All the guidebooks and the directions say “Stay in the wadi until you reach the rubbish bins and parking area after 1.3 km.” There are no rubbish bins at this dead-end. Isn’t funny how you can never find a rubbish bin when you need one?
Wadi Damm
Finally, VOILA! Malcolm figures out the map. He’s been turning this map every which way and suddenly, it all clicks for him. He tells us we must go back and do a U-turn near the beginning of the dirt road, and sure enough, we backtrack and find it. We begin a bumpy ride until we reach a small village bursting with palm trees. Shortly after that village, we drive through the wadi strewn with smooth but hefty rocks. I’m a little worried about taking my car through this. Then we seem to come to a dead-end again. The wadi path to the left looks narrow and treacherously bumpy and the path to the right ends up against a wall of stone. We decide we took a wrong turn, so we turn around and head down another dirt road on and on and on. Our map says from the town of Damm to Wadi Damm is only 1.3 km, but we have probably gone 3-4 km. We come to another dead-end but, much to our dismay, there are NO RUBBISH BINS to be found!! I’ve never wanted to see a rubbish bin so much in my whole life.
malcolm & sandy ~ two fun-loving Brits
Malcolm gets out of the car to ask some Bangladeshi boy directions and what follows is a painful and fruitless conversation as the boy knows little English. Malcolm asks the million dollar question about the village where we find ourselves: IS THIS DAMM? The boy nods, Aywa. (Yes in Arabic). Now we are getting somewhere. We stop the car back at the wadi near where we originally got stuck. I feel like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz when she reaches an intersection in the yellow brick road. We see a truck of Omanis coming down the road, dust billowing behind. We wave them down. They gesture for us to follow them and we follow them right down through the wadi, down the narrow and treacherous left fork in the path, and suddenly, there we are in a clearing and in front of us are the elusive rubbish bins we have been searching for!
more of wadi damm
Here we park the car and see the Omani guys squatting in a long horizontal cave with a low overhang. Some of them are walking along the concrete walls of a falaj flowing with water. We try to follow them, feeling like acrobats on a tightrope. Sandy ends up getting her feet wet because there are a couple of impassable spots; I climb over some rocks to avoid getting my feet wet.
the overhang where the omani guys hang out
At the end of the falaj, there is a large concrete wall slung between two canyon walls. I would say it’s a dam, but it doesn’t seem to be damming anything. We cross the “dam” and keeping to the RIGHT as I was instructed by my colleague Giles. We walk farther up, climbing and slipping over rocks, sliding down steep inclines on our behinds, and trying to find the path alongside the various pools and waterfalls. Giles had told me if we came to a point where we couldn’t go any farther, we would know we had taken the wrong path. This happens too many times to count. We keep trying to stay to the right, but it seems the easy route is on the left. And that isn’t even that easy.
so many cool rock formations here
We decide to stop for a picnic lunch on the rocks. Malcolm and Sandy have brought French bread, feta and gouda cheeses, vegetable & cheese samosas and spring rolls. Malcolm pulls a carton of milk out of his backpack and says he always drinks milk when he eats. They have so much food, I can’t even believe they carried all this on our walk. They’re like magicians pulling rabbits out of a hat, with food, containers of food, drinks, and cups coming out of their packs. While we eat lunch they tell me the story of how they met and I tell them the story of my marriages and about how two films, The Hours and the Italian Bread and Tulips, led me in the strange direction I have taken in my life.
the pool that we mistakenly think is our destination
After our long leisurely lunch, we clean up and head on our way. I am still determined to find a route to the right of the pools. Finally, as we can see no route to the right, we go as far as we can on the left until we come to a pool with a huge squarish rock balanced precariously on one corner.
We have been searching for a kind of buried treasure at Wadi Damm. This “treasure” idea comes from a photograph in my Oman Off-Road book of this huge boulder covered in lush green grasses with a waterfall flowing through the grasses. It is such a cool picture and we’re determined to find this place. Or maybe I’M just determined to find it and Malcolm and Sandy are just being good sports. We have reached a dead-end and now we have to face the fact that we’re not going to find it. Sandy says, look at that big boulder. Imagine that boulder covered with grasses. I think, Ahhh! This is it!
the rocky overhang that we think might be covered in grasses in springtime
The huge boulder hangs over a pool, but there is not a shred of grass to be seen dangling over its face. Malcolm and Sandy think that maybe in the springtime there are grasses that grow and hang over the rock. Sandy says she showed the picture in the book to someone at the university and they told her that the place won’t look like the picture at this time of year. So. This is it. I can see the shape of the boulder probably is the one in the book, sans grasses. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
Later, I read my Oman Off-Road book and find that we didn’t go far enough. “Damm” roughly translates to “hidden” in Arabic, and it turns out the place we are seeking is truly “hidden” from us. Damn! We should have sought a way past this apparent dead-end. According to my book, which I should have read BEFORE I came here, “After 15 minutes you will drop down to a large pool with a huge rock perched on the far side and no apparent route beyond.” We reach exactly this point, and what do we do? We throw our hands in the air and turn around. This place is what we see as our end destination.
i think the cave behind malcolm is where we’re meant to go
According to the book, we should “venture into the cave on your left and then pop back out to a well-worn and polished shelf with a rope dangling down.” We should have then walked another 30-40 minutes to reach “what may be the most beautiful pool in all of Oman.” Damn again!! We gave up prematurely in our quest to reach this hidden gem, a little paradise on earth.
Clueless that we have totally missed what we came to see, we head back down the path we came, climbing and slipping over rocks again, back to the “dam,” and along the falaj. I take a video as we’re walking along the falaj.
And then, unbeknownst to me, my camera is still on as we continue our walk. Sometimes I am one of the goofiest people imaginable.
By now we are sore and our legs are tired and Sandy and I have both gotten our feet wet in the falaj. We climb into my dust-covered GMC and begin our ride back home.
me at the beehive tombs
Near Al-Ayn, the beehive tombs beckon from the ridge in front of Jebel Misht. We stop and pull into another wadi and hike up to the top of the hill to inspect the tombs close up. Not much is known about these tombs except that they were constructed between 2000 and 3000 BC during the Hafit and the Umm an Nar cultures, whatever those are. They are cool multi-layered rock tombs shaped like beehives. They are in various states of disrepair, with the outer layers of stone lying in piles around the tombs; underneath are many more layers of stone. The tombs almost look like solid structures and we wonder where people were buried, since there don’t seem to be empty spaces on the interiors.
the beehive tombs at al-ayn with jebel misht in the background
While we are up on the crest of the hill in the midst of these tombs, we hear the call to prayer coming from the Al-Ayn mosque. It’s like a call from the dead, a plea for immortality, from these ancient tombs.
Wednesday, December 21: Tonight I go with my colleagues, Christian, Stephanie and Spencer, to see the opera Carmen at the Royal Opera House in Muscat. It’s an unusual thing that we all happen to be Americans. Usually, we have a mixture of multiple ethnicities whatever we do in Oman. We leave Nizwa at 5:00, which should be plenty of time to get to the 8:00 performance. Christian drives us in his brand new Volkswagen Jetta and on the way we rock out in the car to Michael Jackson’s “Billy Jean.”
Billy Jean is not my lover
She’s just a girl who
says that I am the one
But the kid is not my son…
We need to make a stop at Muscat City Center because Stephanie wants to exchange a comforter she bought and buy a new one. While she looks for a new one, Christian, Spencer and I look around for things with which to decorate our flats, especially Christian, who just got an amazing new flat that he’s keen to deck out. After we finish our browsing and shopping, we run to the food court and buy some food to eat in the car…McDonald’s and Subway are our fast-food chains of choice. By the time we finally get on the road and head toward the opera house, it is 7:35! Christian is driving like a maniac and we’re cheering him on, because we have heard if you don’t arrive exactly on time, they will close the doors. They don’t allow latecomers in.
making a mad dash for the Royal Opera House
We make it with just five minutes to spare and find our tickets on Level 3, Row C. I’m in seat 38. Sad to say, we find that our 13 Omani rial seats are horrible! We are on the very top tier on the far right of the opera house and if we sit straight back in our seats, we can only see the left quarter of the stage. If we want to see 3/4 of the stage, we must lean forward over the seats of the people in front of us, and if we want to see the ENTIRE stage, we must practically get up out of our seats and dangle precariously over their heads. Well maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. Whenever we do lean forward, which is almost constantly, we are right in the path of a continuous cold stream of air from the air conditioning. We freeze throughout the entire four-hour performance. Well, four hours total, including three 25-minute intermissions.
inside the gorgeous Royal Opera House
The great thing is that there are little video screens on the seat backs in front of us where we can follow the opera in any language we choose. Of course I choose English as my French is pathetic. It’s great to be able to understand all the words in the opera.
The Royal Opera House is Oman’s classy venue for musical arts and culture. It was officially opened on October 12th, 2011, with a production of the opera Turandot, conducted by Spanish tenor Placido Domingo. The opera house is located in Shati Al-Qurm in Muscat. Built on the royal orders of Sultan Qaboos, the Royal Opera House reflects contemporary Omani architecture, and can accommodate 1,100 people. From the opera house website, “the vision of the Opera House is to serve as a centre of excellence in global cultural engagement. We strive to enrich lives through diverse artistic, cultural, and educational programs.” (Royal Opera House Muscat)
Carmen is the French comic opera by Georges Bizet. The opera premiered at the Opera-Comique of Paris on 3 March 1875, but its opening run was denounced by the majority of critics. The story, revolving around the fiery-tempered gypsy named Carmen, is set in Seville, Spain around 1820. Flirtatious and free with her love, she woos the inexperienced soldier Don José, who falls so madly in love with her that he rejects the lover his mother picks for him, rebels against his superior, and joins a gang of smugglers. When Carmen betrays him for the bullfighter Escamillo, he stabs and kills her in a fit of passionate desperation.
the Seville facade that acts as a curtain ~ the view from our nosebleed seats
The director and Oscar-winning set and costume designer is Gianni Quaranta. He won an Oscar for the set design of the 1986 film, Room With a View. He did an amazing job with the sets in the four acts, especially the first act which has a real fountain in a village square set in romantic Seville. In the scene the villagers and Carmen herself actually wade in the fountain and splash water on each other. The scene in the third act, where the gang of smugglers is operating under cover of nightfall, is dark and depressing, with its monstrous rock formations and dreary colors. This is my least favorite scene, but the rest are phenomenal.
Stephanie and me in our high-altitude seats
The conductor, Patrick Fournillier, is a boisterous and lively performer himself, gesturing wildly and even jumping about as he conducts the orchestra.
Julia Gertseva from Leningrad, a mezzo-soprano, is lovely as the tempestuous red-headed Carmen. I love Carmen’s voice and her flowing flamenco dresses in their feisty reds, purples and pinks. One of them in purples and reds is so beautiful I find myself lusting after it, trying to think of where on earth I can find something like it for myself.
at intermission I run into Lazina and Megan ~ Diana takes the picture
I really don’t remember if I’ve even seen an opera before, and so it’s amazing to see this performance and to recognize tunes that I’ve heard over the years in different guises. For instance, I’ve heard the rich and fluid “Habanera” before, but I never knew it came from Carmen, nor did I know what the words meant. Having the little translation screen in front of me helps me to follow the story and to appreciate the meaning of the songs, and thus the deeper messages throughout the opera. I love the words of this song which talk about the elusiveness of love. No matter how much you seek it, it may never come and when it comes, sometimes you are not prepared for it, or ready to accept it.
christian, stephanie, me and spencer at the decadent Royal Opera House
Some of the words from “Habanera” are below:
Love is a rebellious bird
that nobody can tame,
and you call him quite in vain
if it suits him not to come.
All around you, swift, so swift,
it comes, it goes, and then returns …
you think you hold it fast, it flees
you think you’re free, it holds you fast.
This song captures the elusiveness of love, as well as the uncontrollable nature of the emotion. We call all relate, in our own experiences, to this personification of love with its capricious whims and sometimes heartless nature.
Carmen is a complex character, passionate and flirtatious and tempestuous. As a gypsy woman she lives by her own code and belongs nowhere. She follows her heart wherever it leads her, which makes her fickle and destructive in the eyes of many. But I love how she embraces all that life throws at her. She’s strongly independent and throws herself, heart and soul, into whatever her passion is. These things I love about her.
intermission
Tenor Giordani Marcello has the role of Don José and baritone Nicholas Cavalier plays the bullfighter Escamillo. This “toreador” is so dashing, I can understand why Carmen falls for him over the pot-bellied Don José. I love the song he sings that starts out “Toreador…” The tune is in the overture as well, and all I can think of is the similar-tuned song “Neither a borrower nor a lender be….To thine own self be true….” which are Shakespeare’s words included in a song I heard in the distant past. It’s possible that song was even a commercial, but I can’t remember for the life of me. When I try to find this Toreador song later on YouTube, the song is different from the one the toreador Escamillo sings, so I don’t really know what it is called! All I know is that on the way home, Stephanie and I keep singing “Neither a borrower nor a lender be…”!
Oman is such a small world: we run into Marcia and Linda Sue at intermission!
It’s a lovely performance and we enjoy it immensely, despite fighting off frostbite in our horrible seats. I really believe when designing an opera house, or any entertainment venue, each seat should be checked for sight-lines, so that every seat has a full view of the stage. People in the center seats told me they also had to lean forward to see over the balcony railing. Why would the architect put balcony rails right in the sight-lines?
Oh well, you always get what you pay for! I will be certain next time I go to the beautiful opera house to get a center seat and to pay MORE than 13 Omani Rials…:-)
some nice (& handsome) Omani men who work at the Opera House
The night ends in a royal way for me. After leaving our seats at the far reaches of the opera house and making a stop in the ladies’ room before our long drive back to Nizwa, we end up being some of the last people out. As I am taking pictures in the nearly-deserted lobby, a woman approaches and asks me, “Excuse me…Are you the Nizwa blogger?” I am taken aback! The woman introduces herself as June and tells me she teaches at a University in Sohar. She says “I LOVE your blog. I read it all the time and I tell everyone I know to read it!” I am so flattered by this!! I tell her she should contact me with her email address so we can keep in touch. I personally LOVE writing my blog and I’m always pleased to find someone who actually reads it! This really topped off my night at Muscat’s Royal Opera House!!
Sunday, December 18: Malcolm was one of the first new teachers I met when I arrived at the University of Nizwa in mid-September. He’s a British chap with a great sense of humor and a fun-loving nature. I’m always poking my head into his office, which he shares with James and Steven, to give them grief about one thing or another, and they do the same to me. I consider these guys some of my dearest friends at the university.
“Mal” and his wife Sandy, a couple of cool Brits
Malcolm is married and his wife Sandy works in Great Britain teaching performing arts. She just arrived this week to spend Christmas with him. She’s got the same fun-loving spirit as Malcolm does. On Sunday, they invited me, along with a few other people, to meet them at the Falaj Daris for a drink to celebrate Malcolm’s birthday.
James, Lazina and Steven at the Falaj Daris
Sandy calls Malcolm “Mal;” I’m a little baffled about this “Mal” business, because he introduced himself as Malcolm when I first met him. It’s so difficult to start calling someone a different name once you’ve been calling them by another name.
me with my Scottish friend James….
We all go to the Falaj Daris to have a few beers and celebrate Mal’s birthday and Sandy’s arrival in Oman. James and Steven come and we run into Lazina, who bought me a cake for my birthday in October. She joins us and we have a lovely time shooting the breeze and enjoying each other’s company.
How I love a birthday celebration with great friends… 🙂
Happy birthday, dear Malcolm. And welcome to Oman, Sandy!!
Monday, December 12: Tonight a big group meets at the most high-class restaurant in Nizwa, Peppercorns, for Marcia’s birthday. Marcia is a lovely and lively lady who takes care of everyone. She has had parties at her house for both long-time and new teachers. She invited me over a couple of times, once to watch the amazing movie Melancholia and another time the British sitcom Ab Fab at her cozy red villa. I’ve gone there for coffee and her amazing chocolate cake. In October, when I was desperate to rent a car, she offered to drive me to Muscat; there we had a lovely dinner together. She’s an Aussie with a heart as big as a mountain. She says she loves people and she loves to entertain. It’s no wonder she has so many friends who love her dearly.
Happy birthday, Marcia!!
Marcia has been in Oman for about seven years and her dream is to buy a little cottage on an island off the coast of Australia and retire there. Even though she’s saving money to realize this dream, she’s never stingy with her money, her time, or her kindness…
lots of folks from the university come to help marcia celebrate at peppercorns
She has a big turn-out for her party, as she is well-loved! Happy birthday, Marcia!! You’re the best!!
Saturday, December 10, 2011: A lunar eclipse occurs whenever the moon passes through some portion of earth’s shadow. This can occur only when the sun, earth, and moon are aligned exactly, or very closely, with the earth in the middle. Hence, there is always a full moon on the night of a lunar eclipse. The type and duration of an eclipse depend upon the moon’s location.
Every year there are usually two to four partial lunar eclipses, although total eclipses are rare.
Tonight, according to OneOman.com, we can see a total lunar eclipse in Oman.
This eclipse is expected to have around 50 minutes of totality, where the earth completely eclipses the moon, but the entire event should span close to three and a half hours.
My friend Anna called me to tell me about it, but she was just a tad bit late. I missed the “total” part of the eclipse; the shadow of the earth on the moon had already moved partially off-center. It was still a cool thing to see, and I’m sure lots of people in Oman got to see the whole kit and caboodle.
Thursday, December 8: During the National Holiday, I met a 30-year-old Omani guy named Adil at Wadi Bani Khalid. Adil saw I was traveling alone to this wadi and he took me under his wing, along with his other 10 or so friends. (See national holiday chapter 4: wadi bani khalid)
the amazing nakhal fort
On that day, Adil invited me to come and meet his family at his home in Al Awabi, near Rustaq, as soon as possible. I couldn’t go last weekend because Guido was here, but this week, after Guido is gone, Adil invites me to visit him on Thursday. He actually invites me to come ANYTIME I want, to spend the whole day at his home, to have dinner and spend the night! I tell him that I have been going nonstop with a guest for the last week, and I spent the previous week traveling as well, so I probably will stay only for lunch.
nakhal fort
When I embark on these journeys I never really have any idea how long they will take. Oman is a much bigger country than it looks, partly because of the multitudes of mountains and the dearth of roads. Sometimes in Oman it is possible to walk someplace faster than it is to drive. For instance I find out later today at Wadi Mistal, which is a 3 1/2-hour drive from Nizwa, that it’s possible to walk directly from the top of Wadi Mistal to Jebel Akhdar, near the university, in a little over 1 hour.
inside the gates of nakhal fort
After I drop Guido at the airport early this morning, I return immediately to the hotel and go back to sleep until 8:00. I enjoy the great breakfast buffet at Safeer Suites and by the time I leave it is quite a bit later than I intended. I drive past the airport (again) to Seeb and then in the direction of Sohar on the north coast. Before Sohar, at Barka, I turn inland on Route 13 toward Al Wasit and Nakhal. I told Adil I would try to arrive at his house by noon, but when I get to Nakhal I get a sudden urge to stop and check out the fort there.
I love this fort!
The town of Nakhal is about 30 km inland from Barka and about 100 km from Muscat. Its name comes from “nakheel” which means date palm. The fort here, which has been restored and is a maze-like castle, has superb views of the countryside and town from the watchtowers. The Hajar Mountains and date palm plantations surrounding the fort provide an amazing backdrop. This is one of the largest date palm plantations in Oman. The country boasts over 8 million date palm trees (phoenix dactylifera) spread out from Musandam to Wahiba Sands. Palm trees usually have their lower, dry fronds removed in order to be more fruitful and to look more appealing. Palm fronds make excellent basket material and are suited for other woven goods. They are also used as a roofing material known as barasti.
the view of the date palm plantations and the Hajar Mountains from Nakhal Fort
The Nakhal Fort is really impressive, built as it is on the foundations of a pre-Islamic structure. The towers and entry way to the fort were constructed in 1834, during the reign of Imam Said bin Sultan. The interesting thing about this fort, besides the amazing view, is that the entire structure is built around a rock, saving the problem of constructing a sound foundation. It actually appears as if the rocky foundation is grasping at the fort, holding on to it for dear life.
Nakhal Fort is built on a solid rock foundation
I poke my head into a majlis (seating area) on the top floor, where windows are aligned to catch every wisp of summer breeze. Each majlis is covered in sumptuous Oriental carpets, and colorful silk cushions line the walls. I love the rooms in this fort.
one majlis at the fort
Wandering through Nakhal today is a tour group of Italians. I hear them speaking their native tongue, which makes me think of Guido who just spent a week with me and babbled in incoherent Ital-ish the entire time.
more of nakhal fort
When I’m finished at Nakhal Fort, it is 1:00. I feel bad because I still have a half hour to drive and I had told Adil I’d be there at noon. But I didn’t want to come all this way and miss Nakhal Fort, which after seeing it, has become my #1 fort in Oman.
See below a short video clip of the fort with the call to prayer sounding in the background:
When I finally get to Adil’s house at Al Awabi, I meet his family of 6 brothers and 2 sisters, his wife, his brothers’ wives, his mother and father, his two children and his nieces and nephews. They all live in the same villa in Al Awabi.
“snacks” at Adil’s home
They promptly have me sit on the carpet in a kind of common room (there is no furniture so I have no idea what room it REALLY is) and they bring some snacks of dates and fruit and unusual beans that I’ve never tasted before. It’s delicious and I think it’s lunch so I eat and eat. The next thing I know they bring out a huge dish of rice and chicken and vegetables, which Adil tells me they eat with their fingers, although he kindly gives me a fork and knife. By this time I’m no longer hungry, as I stuffed myself with the “snacks!”
Adil’s little girl
Adil bids me farewell, telling me that the men and women eat separately. So I am left in the room with the women and children. We eat mostly in silence. One of Adil’s sisters speaks decent English, and she speaks some to me, but mostly the women sit and speak in Arabic with one another. This is when I wish I had been studying my Arabic, which is one of my goals while living in Oman. However, I’m ashamed to say I have barely studied at all and I’ve forgotten almost everything I once knew.
the actual lunch
It’s interesting to me that the women in Adil’s family all have on colorful and flowery long dresses and matching headscarves. I ask them if this is the way they dress only while in their home, if they wear the black abaya when they go out. They say, yes, in the home they can wear colorful clothes. I ask about their headscarves, as I have heard before that inside the home the girls can wear anything and can go without headscarves. However, since one of the sister’s husbands lives in the household, and he is not a blood relative, the women still must cover their hair.
Adil and me and my GMC Terrain at Wadi Mistal
I sit with them for awhile and try hard to eat the wonderful chicken and rice they have brought, but I just cannot eat much. I wish I had known the other food was just a snack!! I always get in trouble with appetizers!
I ask if it’s okay to take some pictures, and all the women move out of the way. They allow me to photograph the food and the babies, but they don’t allow me to take pictures of them.
Before long, Adil comes in to suggest that he and his friend Mahmoud, who I also met at Wadi Bani Khalid, should take me up to Wadi Mistal. Soon, we’re on our way. They don’t have a 4WD vehicle and apparently one is needed to go to this wadi. So I drive and they are my guides.
in Wadi Mistal
We drive about 20 km back toward Nakhal, and soon we turn off the paved road onto a dirt and gravel road. This dusty road goes 33 km into the wadi and at first I’m driving on this bumpy road quite gingerly. After awhile I step on the gas with great enthusiasm and bounce over the road through a valley surrounded on both sides by rocky peaks covered in wisps of clouds. The view is magnificent and I stop and take pictures several times. We are in the Al Ghubayrah bowl that leads to hidden plantations where figs, dates, apricots, pomegranates, mulberries, alfalfa and limes are grown.
Wekan at Wadi Mistal
After we’ve driven about 20 km, Mahmoud tells me to look high on the mountain before us. There is a tiny village perched precariously on the steep mountain. He says, “See that village up there? That’s where we’re going!” It looks dangerously impossible, so I’m excited. They ask if I’d like one of them to drive my car but I decline saying I need to learn to drive my car over these kinds of roads. So, as we climb the mountain, I put my car to the test and climb the dirt roads higher and higher, alternatively putting my car in first gear, second gear, first gear. It gets to be slow going the farther up we go, but I’m undaunted.
a little village below Wekan
Finally, we reach a small village called Wekan. It doesn’t look like much but it’s the one we had seen from the valley floor. I’m thrilled that we made it up here.
We park the car and Adil and Mahmood lead me through the village and up a path where, behind the little town, is the Garden of Eden. A little paradise in Oman. Wekan roughly translates as “it used to be,” and with the lush oasis we find, I can only wonder what more “used to be” in this lovely spot. We walk along a falaj with running water, in the midst of yellowing mango trees, date palms and verdant plantations of green onions and alfalfa.
the view from Wekan at Wadi Mistal
A falaj is the Arabic word for a channel used to irrigate palm plantations and farm fields. The plural of falaj is “aflaj.” These channels can run for many kilometers, from the source of the water to the plantations in outlying farms and villages. Aflaj in mountainous areas typically run above ground, weaving a meandering path while hugging the walls of wadis.
the plantations at Wekan
I love this place that these new found friends have brought me. With the sound of the water streaming through the falaj, and the emerald green and yellow foliage, and the cool mountain air, the whole place is soothing to the soul. My Omani friends in their white dishdasha and kumars add an ancient, even Biblical, mood to the scene. It is truly beautiful and I feel as if I’ve stumbled upon the true Garden of Eden.
the little garden of eden
By now it is starting to get dark and I say we better start our long descent back down before dark. I don’t want to drive these treacherous roads after dark, with their precipitous drops at the edges of the road. I know I will have to use my 4WD on the way down and it will be slow going.
So we head back down, slowly but surely. I’m sad to leave this peaceful spot. Down at the bottom, Adil asks if I can make a stop at a place that looks like some kind of water or electric plant. The sun is going down and it is time for them to pray. So I pull my now-dusty car into this place, and they get out and face Mecca and say their prayers. I wait patiently. I’m a little unsure about these prayers as they also prayed at a little mosque on the Wekan plantation, which was less than an hour previous.
the view from paradise
I know at this point that I’m very tired, as I’ve been traveling almost non-stop for the last 2 weeks. I know I will want to drive straight home to Nizwa tonight. I also know it’s a 3 hour drive, at least. Adil tells me I should stay at his home for dinner and then spend the night, but I am determined I want to spend the night in my own bed, and wake up Friday morning in my home. He doesn’t give up trying to persuade me, and when we get to his house he says, “Please, come in, sit.” I say no, I really appreciate all he has done for me, but I really want to go home now.
way up high above wadi mistal
I really do think Adil feels sorry for me being alone, but he doesn’t understand that it doesn’t bother me. He asks me how I like being alone, and I say I actually quite like it. He says he could handle it for a couple of hours only, but he wouldn’t like it day after day. I can see today, from visiting his huge family, why he would never have time to be alone, and so has probably never come to understand the joys of being alone.
a scene right out of the Bible
In the end, I don’t get out of the car and I drive the 3 hours back to Nizwa, where I arrive home around 9 p.m. I’m happy to be at my little villa, and to have it back to myself after having my visitor for the last week. In the evening, I climb into my bed, and dream of the soothing paradise of Wekan, its running stream, its cool and calming breezes.
overlooking the village of Wekan from the plantations
If you would like Adil to show you anywhere in Oman, he has access to a 4WD vehicle and would like to offer his services as a tour guide. His phone number is 99582569.
a nomad in the land of nizwa 