Tuesday, June 12: This week’s topic for FrizzText’s A-Z ARCHIVE Tuesday photo challenge: the letter “X”: introduce one photo of your own archive with an “X” keyword for example Xmas or Xe Kongh River – Xholsa Ceremony – Xmas Tree – Xóchitl – Xrated – Xray etc.
My first photo is a big “X” I found on a rock at Wadi Damm. Oman’s rocky landscape is considered a geologist’s heaven because all the rock formations and various striations are open for study; there is no greenery to cover up the abundant “evidence.”
X marks the spot
Because Oman is a desert country, there are endless varieties of xerophytes. A xerophyte is a plant that is adapted to an arid environment. Many xerophytes have specialized tissues for storing water, as in the stems of cacti and the leaves of succulents. Others have thin, narrow leaves, or even spines, for minimizing water loss. Xerophyte leaves often have abundant stomata to maximize gas exchange during periods in which water is available, and the stomata are recessed in depressions, which are covered with fine hairs to help trap moisture in the air. (The Free Dictionary: xerophyte)
Thursday, June 7: With temperatures ranging these days from 42-46 degrees Celsius (107-115 Fahrenheit), I have decided that there are only a few activities that are even remotely appealing. For the months of June and July, I will limit myself to the following activities:
1. Explore wadis where I don’t have to hike too far to find a swimming hole.
we start into the wadi by walking along the falaj
2. Visit hotel swimming pools where I can pay a fee to use the facilities for the day.
3. Do indoor activities such as eating in restaurants, visiting museums or art galleries, watching movies at the cinema, or wandering around the shopping malls trying not to spend money. (There really just isn’t that much to do in Muscat!)
4. Go out on boats where I will be offered a chance to swim.
5. Hang out at the Oman Dive Center beach, where I can read and lounge under an umbrella, swim and then shower after.
6. Go for short drives (don’t want my tires to melt or burst because of the hot road surfaces!)
7. Stay at home in my air-conditioned flat and read/sleep/watch movies/cook healthy meals.
Sound fun? Oh yes!
On this fine Thursday, with my short list of possible activities in hand, a couple of friends, Kathy and Tom, and I take a trip to Wadi Damm, which is supposed to have a gorgeous swimming hole. I’ve been enticed for some time by this picture from Oman Off-Road, but though I’d been to Wadi Damm before, I had never found this elusive paradise.
the enticing picture of Wadi Damm in Oman Off-Road
Today we are determined to find this pool, so following the directions and description in Oman Off-Road, we forge ahead: “Follow the water from the springs back down the wadi until it reaches a broad carpet of mosses and grasses above an aquamarine pool. You may drop down to this little slice of heaven on either side of the moss and maidenhair curtain, which contains a waterfall all across its length.”
the walk along the right ledge of the wadi
Tom, Kathy and I get an early start and drive 1 1/2 hours, arriving at the wadi around 10:00. We have been told we must hike up a ledge on the right overlooking the wadi in order to bypass certain points where the wadi seems to be impassable. It’s quite a challenge to find any kind of path on the right side, but by clambering over rocks and up and down the sides of the wadi, which are quite steep in places, we slowly make our way into the far reaches of the wadi. Below, I can see that we are passing the spot where I came to a dead-end before and despite the frustration of not being able to find a clear path, we continue to gingerly make our way.
the dead end I’ve met before… this time we bypassed it on the ledge above
At one point we find a shady spot under a ledge and have some snacks and drinks. It is now quite hot and I’m getting irritable. Where is this elusive swimming hole? As we continue on, Tom sees it down below. He looks at it and says, “There is your photo-shopped swimming hole.” Here’s what it looks like from above.
the moss-covered waterfall and the tiny pool below
We wander all around the spot, trying to figure out a way to get down to it. We think we might be able to follow the book’s advice and slide down the waterfall to the pool, but the pools look very small and shallow and there doesn’t seem to be an easy way back out. Ultimately, after taking this long and arduous hike, we decide to backtrack to a bigger and deeper pool we passed earlier. Along the way, we pass some small but not terribly shallow pools, one of which we slide into. We float for a bit, enjoying the refreshing reprieve from the heat. Kathy is afraid to get in because she’s concerned about leeches, following our encounter with a leech in Wadi Muaydin.
one cooling pool….
a close up of the little pool, in the shade no less…
Finally, we decide to walk back toward where we parked, as Kathy had seen an inviting pool close to the recharge dam. Again, we have to clamber up and over rocks and gravel up the side of the wadi. Finally, we make our way down to a lovely little pool with a warm waterfall, probably heated by the hot rocks it flows over, and we slip and slide our way over a moss-covered table of rock into the refreshing water. We meet an Omani guy swimming in the pool, and his uncle and uncle’s friend watching from above.
an Omani back in his dishdasha after a cool swim
Here we swim for over an hour. It’s a wonderful treat.
Kathy and Tom in our refreshing pool. 🙂
our special pool with a warm waterfall
After swimming and enjoying our temporary escape from the heat, we walk the short and level path back toward the recharge dam and then along the falaj to the car, where we fish ice drinks out of the cooler and drive back home in Tom’s air-conditioned Kia to our air-conditioned flats.
Friday, April 27: This week’s A-Z challenge by Frizztext is the letter R: “introduce one photo of your own archive with a “R” keyword for example RAINY DAY or RIOTS, REVERENDS or RESTAURANTS, ROYAL WEDDINGS or ROUGH, RUSSIAN dolls, RAINBOWS or REVOLVERS etc.”
I’m featuring the RUINS I visited this weekend in Al Ayn, Oman. These 21 tombs are an amazing collection of Bronze Age necropolises, spectacularly set on a narrow ridge top with the dramatic Jebel Misht, “Comb Mountain,” in the background.
the 21 Bronze Age tombs of Al Ayn with the jagged, comb-shaped Jebel Misht behind
This is the third time I have visited these tombs; the most recent time was just last week after Oman had a week of heavy rains. That time I was unable to walk up the ridge because of a flooded wadi between me and the ridge. This time the wadi was dry, so we were able to climb up the ridge to observe the ruined tombs up close.
the beehive tombs up close & personal
Ancient ruins.....
"It makes the heart to tremble when you open an undiscovered tomb." ~ Zahi Hawass
Friday, April 27: After leaving Sohar, we head down the recently built highway leading inland toward Ibri via Yanqul. Yanqul is only about 110km from Sohar and we figure it will be a fast drive, but at one point we come to a police checkpoint where there is a road going right. No one at the police checkpoint seems to want to move from under their shady tarp, so we proceed straight ahead. We seem to be driving quite a distance and we start to get a little worried because we don’t see any signs for Yanqul.
a waterless wadi with dead palm trees ~ abandoned...
At one point we stop to take pictures of a wadi filled with dead date palms and an abandoned village and we wonder what happened that led to the demise of this place. We figure that, at some point, the water source must have been diverted from this town because other towns are still flourishing along this route.
a pretty little mosque in a random town
At some random town that has a pretty little white mosque with a mint-green dome, we stop and ask a boy about Yanqul. He says something in garbled English about the police checkpoint. He seems to be gesturing for us to turn around and go back to the police checkpoint and turn there. But the police checkpoint was so far back!! For some bizarre reason we think he doesn’t know what he’s talking about and we decide to continue on our way. Surely if we continue we will hit Yanqul!
Bait al Marah in Yanqul
We wind up and around a mountain for quite some distance and end up in another small village where we ask two more men about Yanqul. One of them says he speaks French, but little English, and the other keeps gesturing and saying “police checkpoint.” I guess now we have to face the fact that no matter how many people we ask, no one is going to tell us we’re going the right way to Yanqul.
another side of Bait al Marah
Dejected, we turn around at this point and head back to the police checkpoint which is probably 40-50 km back in the direction from which we came! There we see the sign that we missed the first time around that told us to turn right. Finally, we head off in the right direction!
We drive to Yanqul, which is really just a remote and quiet little town in the shadow of Jebel al Hawra. We drop in to see the town’s nice mudbrick fort, the Bait al Marah, built at the beginning of the 17th century by the Nabhani dynasty. The fort has more than 4 sides, possibly 5 or 6, but I forgot to count how many!
Table top mountains between Yanqul and Ibri
We head out of Yanqul toward Ibri, passing fascinating rock formations such as thin rock pinnacles, craggy ridge tops and table mountains. This reminds me of the southwest USA, where tablet-top mountains are quite prevalent.
Thursday, April 19: This morning Mario and his Omani friend Sultan are to meet me at my flat at 7:30 a.m. for a trip to Ibri, the Beehive Tombs at Bat and Wadi Damm. I am awakened by a vicious thunderstorm at about 5 a.m., and I think, OH NO! Our trip is going to be spoiled by the rain! Mario, who lives in Izki, over a half-hour from my flat, texts me around 6:15: “Hi. We may have to delay our departure time. It’s really stormy here.” By this time the storm has already passed through Nizwa but has apparently landed in Izki. We adjust our departure time to 8:30 and I happily go back to sleep, still recovering from my night of rakı.
a raging wadi between Nizwa and Bahla
At about 8:30, Mario calls to tell me that the wadi behind the Al Diyar Hotel is overflowing, a swift and deep river, meaning he can’t get to my house. Neither can I get to him. He advises me that I should drive the back road from my house to the Nizwa souq, where he and Sultan will meet me.
Mario and Sultan stand on the wadi shore….
Before I can even leave my house he calls again to tell me that the entire parking lot at the souq is a roaring river. “You won’t believe it!” he said, with incredulous excitement in his voice. He tells me he will meet me near the book roundabout and we can take off from there to Ibri.
“The river delights to lift us free, if only we dare to let go. Our true work is this voyage, this adventure.” ~ Richard Bach, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah
It takes me awhile to drive the back road to the souq, but when I get there I see to my right that the ENTIRE parking lot at the souq, which is HUGE, is a tumultuous brown river, churning and flowing with incredible force. If anyone left their car in that parking lot overnight, it was certainly carried away! I am shocked by the depth and force of the water trampling over that sedate and always-dry parking lot!
the other side of the road…. “All the water there will be, is.” ~ Anonymous
Little do we know that our whole trip will be one misadventure after another of precarious wadi crossings in my tough little GMC Terrain, which, at least since it’s been in my possession, has never crossed a swift flowing river! On our way to Ibri, we encounter a kind of road-bridge (at the same level as the highway) with an underpass built-in, under which a thick and muddy river is churning and roaring. We get out of the car and take photos and videos of this crazy wadi. Thank goodness that the road was built over the river, or the river would probably wash the road away with its torrential force.
We continue driving along the road, crossing many more wadis along the way. At one point we follow a truckload of chickens across a wadi, one of the shallower ones we go through.
After all our driving and crossing these hazardous waters, you would think we would have enough sense to turn around. But no…. We continue on, loving the adventure of it all! As we are driving along, enjoying our adrenaline surge, we happen upon a gargantuan traffic jam.
a traffic jam at the big wadi near Ibri
Whereas at other wadis, people are either pulling off briefly and then plowing through, at this wadi the entire long queue of cars and pickup trucks and semis are sitting at a dead standstill. No one is coming from the opposite direction except people who are turning around. We park the car and trek quite a distance to the wadi itself. Once we get there, we see the reason no one is crossing. This wadi looks deep, wide, rough and downright dangerous. One truck is stuck up to its chassis in mud and a number of men are trying to dig him out.
a truck stuck in the mud
“The song of the river ends not at her banks but in the hearts of those who have loved her.” ~ Buffalo Joe
some intrepid Omanis dare to cross the wadi of all wadis ~ this is the shallow side!
We finally decide this wadi is not going to subside any time soon, so we reluctantly turn around and head back in the direction of Nizwa to find the exit to Wadi Damm. I guess we’ll have to save the Beehive Tombs of Bat for another day. Along the way, we pass a small local restaurant where we stop for a lunch of chicken masala and chapatis.
a little restaurant we find along the way in some unnamed town
the guys hamming it up at the restaurant
a table decorated with yellow label tea
After finishing our tasty meal and leaving the hole-in-the wall establishment, we head for the beehive tombs of Al Ayn, which are on the way to Wadi Damm. We can see the tombs up on a hill with the spectacular Jebel Misht behind, but when we park the car to climb the hill, we traipse through a muddy field to encounter yet another deep and fast-flowing wadi. The last time I came here with Sandy and Malcolm over Christmas, the wadi was bone dry and I parked my car directly in the wadi!
Sultan tries to walk to the edge of the wadi to see if he can cross over, and gets his feet stuck in a quagmire of mud. I have to lend him a hand to pull him out.
Sultan’s feet covered with mud after I pull him out of the quagmire
the beehive tombs of Al Ayn on the hill in front of Jebel Misht, out of our reach because of the wadi between us and them!!
Once again, foiled by a wadi!! We wonder whether it’s a waste of time to go further, but we decide we’re on this adventure till the end, whatever that end may be. We continue on, crossing over piles of rocks and gravel strewn jauntily across the road by some earlier flooding. We cross one very wide wadi, where we can’t even see the other side clearly, following in the wake of local men in pickup trucks. We cross several deeper wadis, following another group of Omanis who waves for us to follow them all the way to Wadi Damm. We barrel on in my trusty GMC, luckily making it through safely. Finally, we make some rough crossings over a couple of wadis filled with bumpy rocks; at this point I am becoming too worried about possible damage to my car. I tell the guys I just don’t see the point in continuing. I know from having been to Wadi Damm before that we must drive directly through a boulder-strewn wadi in the end, and with all the water we’ve seen today, it’s unlikely we will be able to do it.
the farms in the village of Al Hayl
At the point we decide to turn around, we see a little town with some ruins and plantations on the right side of the wadi. It turns out it’s the little town of Al Hayl. We drive up the road and park by the mosque and then set out on foot to explore the village. We run across some locals who pose glumly for a picture.
the townsfolk of Al Hayl… 🙂
The first thing we encounter is a cemetery similar to other cemeteries I have photographed in Oman. It looks like a rock-strewn field, but this one is covered partially in water and has a few upright stones that resemble tombstones. Mario is singing a song by Natalie Merchant, “When They Ring the Golden Bells,” as we make our way gingerly along the muddy border of the cemetery:
There’s a land beyond the river
That they call the sweet forever
And we only reach that shore by faith’s decree
One by one we’ll gain the portals
There to dwell with the immortals
When they ring the golden bells for you and me…
the cemetery in Al Hayl
Mario is determined to climb up the mountain behind the village, following in the footsteps of some goats he sees up there, in order to get a good photo of the village from above. He and Sultan climb to the top of the solid rock mountain and he’s thrilled that one, he does it without killing himself, and two, he gets a great photo of the village. Sadly, I don’t climb up, so I don’t get the picture!!
Sultan and Mario head back down the mountain, saying hello to their friend the long-haired goat on the way down
the ruins in Al Hayl
the palm trees on the farm
ruins and palms
a watchtower amidst the ruins
the falaj running through the farm & the ruins
We leave the village of Al Hayl after exploring the ruins and watching some village children trying to cross the wadi. After our drive back, we stop at the Nizwa souq to check out the flooding there, and though it’s still flooded, it has subsided quite a lot since the morning.
the souq, still flooded, but not raging, in the afternoon…. “We call upon the waters that rim the earth, horizon to horizon, that flow in our rivers and streams, that fall upon our gardens and fields, and we ask that they teach us and show us the way.” ~ Chinook Blessing Litany
Mario and Sultan join me at my house, where I make chicken fajitas with peppers, onions and eggplant, topped with avocado and salsa, on pita bread. We hang out and share conversation, laughter and wine throughout the afternoon and evening. We are all happy despite the fact that we never reached our destination. We had an adventure, and that was enough.
Sultan tells us that he received a “broadcast” over his phone: “You cannot add days to your life, but you can add life to your days!” And that’s just what we did. 🙂
Sunday, April 15: Sherene at Print-Sense Photography & Design posted her 52 pick up challenge for this week: Growth. She says: “Signs of spring are an obvious choice in interpreting this challenge, but please feel free to let your imagination soar! As always have fun!”
One of the rules to this photo challenge is the following: “Each image must be taken during the theme week. No scrounging back through last year’s photos for “a good one”. That would be cheating and the challenge is about taking new photos with new inspiration!”
Last week, when I posted my photos for this challenge, I forgot that rule and posted pictures from my archives! Oops! This week, I will post a picture from a farm in Al Hayl near Wadi Damm on the way to Ibri, Oman. We couldn’t figure out exactly what this plant is, going through a spurt of growth brought on by our recent rains, but we thought it might be garlic.
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.
Friday, October 21: I’m sure I’ll hear from the Ibri people on this posting because it isn’t going to be good. I should have listened to my colleague Cece, who lived and worked in Ibri for a year. She told me she thought she wasn’t going to make it in Oman because in Ibri there is NOTHING. Ever the optimist, I think there is no way there could be NOTHING in Ibri. After all, I saw some cool and funny YouTube videos of Ibri and the astounding castle and the souq where they sell goats. And I subscribe to a blog by RuralRouteRunner who lives in Ibri and she makes it seem like the cutting-edge running capital of Oman. Well, maybe not. But she makes it seem like fun anyway, especially when she posts pictures of her camel friends.
Ibri Castle from the outside looking in
But the thing it all boils down to is this: I’m never very good at listening to anybody and I generally have to find things out the hard way, on my own.
Besides, I also read a great article in the Oman Observer that tells about all the things in Ibri, including numerous famous oil and gas fields, which provide the sultanate’s main source of income, along with a wealth of minerals such as gold, copper, sulphur and salt. Ibri is also famous for the cultivation and production of different types of dates, as well as mangoes, vegetables, fruits, clover and wheat. Other attractions include handicrafts such as pottery, leather work and palm-woven items. There are also other ancient sites around Ibri, such as the ruins of Bat.
The entrance to Ibri Castle
I am actually psyched to take a drive to Ibri on this Friday morning because I have absolutely nothing else to do. I get out my trusty map of Oman and I figure out that it will take about 1 1/2 hours to get there. As I woke up a little late, I spend some time waffling back and forth about whether or not I should go. Finally, after taking a long hot bath and puttering around the house, a normal Sunday morning routine for me, (after all, Friday is Sunday in Oman) I finally get on the road at 10 a.m.
a part of the village outside the Ibri Caslte
Now, I know in Nizwa that if you don’t get up early on Friday to get to the souq or the Fort or WHATEVER you want to do, it ain’t gonna happen. Because generally around 11:30 on Friday, EVERYTHING closes down because all the shopkeepers go to the mosque for Friday prayers.
So, yes, this trip is ill-advised. And yes, I get a late start. And YES, I even know in my heart of hearts that EVERYTHING is working against my having a successful trip. YET. I do it anyway. This is what sheer boredom will do to a person.
the “other” entrance to Ibri Castle. Oops, I mean to the mosque!
So, I set off around 10:15 or so. The drive to Ibri starts out like a promise. In Nizwa, I get on the main highway, a beautiful modern four-lane interstate-like highway to head toward Bahla. I drive on this for 38 km. Suddenly, in Bahla, the interstate ends. After driving around in circles for quite some time in Bahla, trying to figure out which direction to go to get to Ibri (Bahla really needs to put up more signs!), some young Omani guy sees me driving around and around in circles on several different roundabouts and beckons me to pull up alongside him. He asks me where I’m going. I say to Ibri. He says, “Follow me!” So I follow him to a main 2-lane road and he tells me to go left and then go straight, straight, straight. No turns! And I will end up in Ibri.
At first I am thinking, wow, these mountains are so beautiful. I love Oman! And yes, they are, the Oman mountains are beautiful in their brown undulating jaggedness. But after a long while of driving along, I am a little worried about staying awake. The only thing to keep my interest are some scrubby bushes scattered throughout the desert, endless lines of brown mountains, and numerous Omani drivers overtaking me in their brand-spanking new white SUVs.
on my way into the mosque
I arrive in Ibri a little before noon, after this very long and excruciatingly boring drive through the middle of nowhere. There are not even any radio stations to be found on my car radio. I remind myself, once again, that I really need to burn some CDs for my drives in Oman.
Well, I am looking for the Ibri Castle and, as in most towns in Oman, I figure it’s impossible to get lost. So I might as well just drive through the town until I see a sign, which I do. I follow the sign down a long convoluted road, through what looks like an old and partially abandoned village, toward Ibri Castle. I feel that in following these signs I am just making a bunch of circles, because everything looks alike. Finally I see the Ibri Castle looming before me. I made it!
In the parking lot of the castle, I take a few pictures from the outside. But when I walk to the main gate, I see it is closed. Bolted shut. A big wooden door with black wrought-iron door handles and fittings, as closed as closed can be. However, there is another entrance to the left of the main gate through which some people are walking. It doesn’t really register that these “people” happen to all be men.
I am following these pilgrims and suddenly I come to a little courtyard where some men are milling around. I happen to glance to my left and I notice a lot of sandals lined up neatly on steps going into some shadowed place. A Omani man in dishdasha is reclining on a mat and he says, “What are you looking for?” I say, “Ibri Castle.” He motions over the wall behind him. “The castle is over there,” meaning the other side of the wall. “But,” he says, “it is closed! It closed at 12:00.” Ouch.
back outside the castle…going home without seeing a thing 😦
The men in the courtyard are staring me down. It dawns on me a little too slowly what I’ve done. I’ve followed them into the mosque, at Friday prayer time, and I am the only woman in their midst. I feel incredibly uncomfortable. All I want to do is disappear underneath all the sandals lined up on the steps to the mosque.
I apologize profusely and immediately start heading out the way I came in. After I get out, I head straight for my car. I must get out of this place because I definitely don’t belong here!
So I drive back out the convoluted route and drive some more around Ibri looking for the souq I saw in the YouTube video. Actually, I am looking for anything of interest. Granted, I don’t know what I should be looking for in Ibri, and maybe I missed something astounding. But after driving up and down the main road and some side roads in this sleepy little town, I decide that this has been a foolish trip after all. All for naught. And now I have a 1 1/2 hour drive through the scrub-bushed desert and mountains back to my quaint little town of Nizwa.
This is when I realize how lucky I am to be living in Nizwa and not some other place in Oman where I COULD be living. I like my little town of Nizwa with its beautiful fort and souq, it’s sprawling Lulu Hypermarket, its little roundabouts and greenery planted in the medians. Granted, it’s not New York City, or even Muscat, but it really is a fine and dandy place to live.
