All good things must end

Al Hoota Caves: Visited here with Liv, Lili, Val, and Emily on our last full day in Oman
(This picture is actually from online, as cameras weren't allowed in doors)

Tonight, we return to America. 4 flights, 6 cities, 38 hours of traveling, till I arrive in SLO. It has been a remarkable two months- from the sites we've seen, to the immense amount of work we've done, and most importantly, to the ties we've made and relationships we've cultivated. There are so many things, but especially, so many people, I am going to miss terribly. From Omani friends, to our teachers (literally, 3 of my favorite people in the world), to the fellow students on this program.

There is not much to say now. We made it through finals and presentations and OPIs and we withstood hardships and frustrations, all which were more than worth it. I can't even begin to thank all the people who have made this trip what it was. Just for the record, Omanis are the loveliest people ever- all so sweet, so attentive, so incredibly invested in every relationship they make. And my fellow students have served to continuously inspire me- everyone has and is doing such fascinating things. 

Thanks for reading!

Time Flies

Its been a jam packed few weeks. We journeyed to the beautiful city of Nizwa, where we explored even more forts, went to a renowned souq full of pottery and khanjars (Omani daggers), and explored a small village built around the irrigation systems.

At the Souq in Nizwa

This past weekend, I spent in Salalah with Lili and Liv, and a handful of other groups of students from our program. Salalah is in the south of Oman, a chilly 12 hour overnight bus ride away from Muscat. Salalah is widely considered to be one of the most beautiful destinations in Oman. The weather is significantly colder, somewhere in the 70s, and is misty, foggy, and Mashallah, GREEN. The beaches are unsafe, as the waves are ferocious at this time of the year, but beautiful nonetheless. I tend to feel at home whenever I find myself on the beach, even when halfway across the world.

Fruit Stalls in Salalah

The culture of Salalah differs from that of Muscat. In Salalah, while almost the entire female population was covered, and many more cover their faces as well, the women were out and about, milling through the souq, along the beach, walking the streets. In Muscat, women tend to stay indoors, and while this is partially due to the weather, it doesn’t stop the men from venturing out.

Two surprises (in the sense that I didn’t think these were possible) were that the people were even friendlier and we got even more attention. There is not a significant expat population in Salalah like there is in Muscat, and so barley a person walked or drove by us, without staring, and the cat calls and such were unceasing. The people were incredibly friendly however in our interactions, and we were amazed at the ease with which we found ourselves in conversations with locals. Also, in Muscat, partly due to the expat community, English is much more widespread. Often, people constantly insist on speaking to us in english, even if we repeatedly reply in Arabic. In Salalah, we were able to naturally chatter away with locals in Arabic. We also barely had to negotiate at the souq or with taxi drivers. They didn’t jack up the prices exponentially for foreigners as they do in Muscat. They would offer us relatively reasonable, but still negotiable prices, from the beginning. I am sure that our ability to communicate in Arabic helped.

Frankincense (below) and frankincense burners (above)

Another note on the appearance of women in Salalah. In the Middle East, there is a market for facial creams that make a woman’s skin lighter, or rather, whiter. In Salalah, it was much more common to see women whose faces were washed out and clearly had used some cream of this sort. The style of drawing in distinct, dramatic, black eyebrows over one’s eyes was popular as well.

We had a pretty sketchy taxi driver, who tried to offer Liv pills for the “head ache” he seemed to think she had, wanted to pull over at a small shop on a deserted road to enjoy some tea, and offered to take us to the mountains the following day. Chances are, he was just being hospitable, yet it based on our culturally shaped instincts, we were pretty freaked out. In regards to such interactions in Salalah, one of our Omani male friends was distressed. He said he felt so ashamed of his people for treating women like this, for talking to them like this. These instances were rare, not at all usual. However, while in Oman there is more gender segregation, the respect shown towards women is incredible. In Cairo, women are often free to roam the streets and have a slightly elevated degree of independence, however men take to constantly harassing women in the streets, without provocation, no matter how conservatively she is dressed. In Oman, women are shown the utmost respect, such behavior isn’t tolerated. While men will occasionally push the limits with foreign women, as a general rule, men are very respectful.

A concert showcasing traditional dance styles,
which we stumbled upon while exploring Salalah

Recently, I have had more encounters with men regarding me and any friends inappropriately. Another taxi driver asked Liv and I if we would marry him, and later if we liked to drink alcohol (remember alcohol is forbidden in Muslim law). In the airport in Salalah, two men asked us all about our program, and then asked if they could see us and spend time with us in Muscat (both were at least 45 years old). I had assumed that as we assimilated into the culture, as our arabic improved, as we navigated Oman with more assurance, we would be respected more. Rather, it seems, that such confidence makes us seem more approachable, and thus it has brought on more inappropriate attention.

As I said before, there is this assumption that Western women are easy. And with this in mind, it is absolutely sickening when we are treated in such a way.

On a lighter note, I picked up a copy of Cosmo’s Middle East edition. As you would imagine, the magazine is radically different. The fashion, beauty etc. articles are similar, although middle eastern readers stories are included in the “Your Juiciest Secrets” section (about as juicy as Seventeen magazine would get, not quite classic Cosmo), and middle eastern women and their feedback are featured throughout the magazine.

One of my favorite quotes (on interviewing men): “One guy takes a shirtless shower. And we were there with the camera!” (Shirtless? In the shower? Whaaaaat? Men baring their chests for Cosmo, SCANDAL).

It gets pretty racy in the “Love and Lust” section, where the following topics are addressed: how to make your man commit, what type of girlfriend are you?, petty fights, and.... “His 9pm Cravings”- such as “low-key physical attention” and a “great scalp massage.”

And tips for achieving pleasure? wearing “happy” colors, listening to uplifting songs such as “Don’t Stop Believing,” massaging a pressure point in the center of your hand, and hugging your friends more frequently.

I couldn’t find the word sex once. Well played Cosmo, keeping it munasib.

Women are essentially dirty

Especially when being, you know, especially biologically women-y, and all that dirty stuff. In fact, women aren’t even supposed to pray to Allah, or touch the Quran, during those times. Or shortly after pregnancy for that matter. They are just dirty. Despite the daily (five-times-a-day-DAILY) ritual of washing your hands, mouth, nose, face, right forearm, left forearm, head, ears, right leg, and left leg, three times each, women, at the end of the day, are just too dirty sometimes to connect to Allah.

A small group of students and I visited the Grand Mosque on Sunday. Sunday afternoons we meet for “Interest Groups,” (I’m in the religion themed group), in which we discuss various aspects of the broader topic with a local expert or leader in the field. We discussed prayer in depth this week. The Sheikh brought us to his office where he served us dates and coffee, before we entered the information center, where books and pamphlets on topics ranging from “Women in Islam” to the “Jihad” were available in a wide variety of languages. 

We learned the motions and regulations of prayer, and discussed the greater symbolism behind a number of the actions.

For example, while Muslims have a prayer shortly before sunrise, they are not supposed to pray during sunrise, as that is when Satan’s followers are believed to be praying. 

While traveling, Muslims can combine the noon and afternoon prayers, and the sunset and night prayers. 

Men should grow beards for a number of reasons. One, is to imitate the prophets. Another, is to distinguish oneself as a man. Actually, if women have facial hair, they are obligated to remove it, so that they don’t resemble a man.

(Side note- while the Sheikh is certainly respected in Muscat and is an incredibly well versed and intelligent Islamic scholar, I don’t know whether the last part is just one interpretation, or if it is largely respected)

It’s time. Let’s do it. Let’s begin the discussion on women.

I’ve been so good. I’ve been so open and accepting, and even defensive, of the role of women in Oman. I have focused on the historical bases of today’s gender segregation. I have strived to maintain a sense of cultural relativism, and not pass judgement.

Sometimes, it feels like absolute rubbish.

Just because women were taken as hostages in tribal warfare hundreds of years ago, doesn’t mean a women should have to cover herself, don all black, and refrain from engaging in platonic relationships with men. 

This isn’t by any means a cultural comparison between Oman and the U.S, (Allah knows gender equality hasn’t been reached in the U.S. either). Women are men are biologically different. And with the exception of one or two secluded, small, indigenous cultures that anthropologists love to point to, women and men have played distinct roles in nearly every human culture. That may explain, but it certainly doesn’t justify inequality.

Sometimes I want Omani women to want more for themselves. 

They are educated through high school, and many go to universities as well. We’ve been taught that with education comes enlightenment and empowerment. Yet while Omani women are participating more in their societies, specifically in women only domains, and while they are certainly respected, its hard for me to not understand female empowerment in an American way. I’m doing my best to shed that ethnocentrism. Growing up in the society I did, I have difficulty reconciling gender segregation with any degree of gender equality. Especially when I see men doing so many things that women can’t. Men playing endless hours of soccer, men constantly going out- whether it be to sporting events, restaurants, or cafes- men being able to comfortably roam the public sphere. 

Yet Omanis on the whole, seem content with their lifestyle. Of course, the keyword here could be “seem.” And there are exceptions. There are some (although relatively rare) Omani women, who don’t cover their hair. I have a friend who refrained from covering till sixteen, till her dad forced it upon her, and who refrained from wearing an abaya till she was eighteen. She is vibrant and curious and daring; she loves to belly dance and swim, and when comfortable, will joke around with some of her male peers- that is, once you get past her conservative and shy exterior. For the most part however, there is minimal resistance to the way things are. And I’m learning, but it’s hard. I’m learning to realize that what is right for me, within my culture, isn’t right for everyone. Not everyone wants what I want. This lifestyle works for Omanis, they are a pleasant and generous population, and if this works for them, if this is what they want, then who am I to tell them what is best for them. 

In other news, we grilled hamburgers and (chicken) hot dogs in honor of fourth of july! Our fireworks will be a little belated, we’ll just have to wait for the Omani National Day, coming later this month. 

Rasha (Left) with a number of cousins and siblings

This weekend, Rasha invited a number of us to her village. Lili, Liv, Shannon, Brett, Greg, Travis, and I joined her. Rasha lives in Ibry, which is an inland city, about an hour from the border of the Emirates. Rasha said we would be taking a bus. The system is a little different here though. Taking a bus is like commissioning a big taxi. The driver of a van, with four rows of seats, drove us the 2 1/2 hours to Ibry, and picked us up the following evening. Side note- gas is incredibly cheap here (think Middle East). A liter is .114 rials, which is about $1.12 per gallon. 

Upon arriving at Rasha’s village, we met a whole slew of her extended family members. We were immediately served coffee, dates, and fruit, and then spent some time with the family. For dinner, we drove out to a deserted area, spread out a mat about the size of a small room, and had a picnic. While we were expecting to stay at their house, her father put us up in a hotel room (girls and guys together, sccccccandal!)

In the morning, her father picked us up (while Rasha continued to sleep), and brought us to an animal souq, were cows and camels, but primarily goats, were being auctioned off. There were a number of women at the souq as well; almost all were entirely covered. We then visited the Ibry Castle, which resembled the forts of Nakhl and Muscat, and Rasha’s father toured around different parts of the city, as if we were his personal guests, not merely friends of Rasha. 

Beehive Tombs at Bat

After breakfast, we embarked with the family (women in one car, men in another), to the city of Bat, in order to see the ancient beehive tombs, dating back to 3000 BC (It is in fact a UNESCO World Heritage Site). I’ve noticed in Oman, that even gorgeous, National Geographic status, famous natural or historical sites, are very unregulated. Whereas there would be security checkpoint entrances, guards milling about, areas fenced off, etc. in the States, such things are left to themselves here. There was merely a sign saying not to harm the tombs. 

 We then stopped at a mosque, for noon prayers, and to use the restroom. For Omanis, a mosque is a mosque. While Omanis tend to go to the same mosques regularly, out of convenience, they will use any mosque. If it’s prayer time, they will just pull over to a mosque on the side of the road to pray. 

We later visited a smaller wadi, ate lunch (at 4pm, much to the dismay of our stomachs), and then we bussed it back to Muscat. 

Jumbo Trip

This weekend we endeavored upon a three-day escapade around Eastern Oman. (Heads up, this post is primarily just a play by play of this weekends adventure)

View from Jebel Akdar

Thursday morning, we clambered into 4 wheel drive vehicles. Each vehicle was driven by a guide from a tour group, and there were staff members and teachers from the World Learning Center in each car as well. Also, a number of the Omani peer facilitators joined us. First stop was Jebel Akdar. Jebel Akdar is the highest mountain in Oman. We made a number of stops along the way, to appreciate the view, take pictures, and once even to explore the village of Ayn. Ayn is a mountainous village, built around a natural spring. When Sultan Qaboos first came into power, and declared that he would educate the population, students were helicoptered weekly from these mountainous villages to attend school.

For lunch, we ate at an Omani restaurant, where we were split into groups of about eight (one gender only), into stalls to enjoy rice, chicken, and lamb.

We drove several hours, stopping only to glimpse the ruins of the old portion of the city of Ibra, to a mechanic’s shop on the edge of the desert, where air was released from the tires. We then headed into the desert, 4 wheel driving over sand dunes, driving by camels, freely meandering. Our car was driven by the leader of the expedition, and thus he took extra liberties and drove even more audaciously than his colleagues. We stopped for a bit to play in the sand, before heading to our campsite. The campsite was comprised of huts, resembling small cabins, and was run by a Bedouin family. We drank extra sugary tea and Omani coffee, along with camel’s milk. We sang, drummed, and clapped to Omani songs with our peer facilitators, before eating buffet style with kabobs and rices, chicken and fruit. Later that night, as my roommates Liv, Julie, Lili, and I chatted by lantern light, a number of our friends piled in a few at a time, and we had a solid few hours of girls’ time.

My peer facilitator, Rasha

I barely slept that night. It was so hot without air conditioning, that even without covers, stripped to the basics, I kept awakening, sweaty, and from weird dreams about Yemen invading Oman, (don’t worry I’m not clairvoyant) and trying to negotiate with Yemeni soldiers in Arabic.
Lili, Liv, Julie, and I woke at 5 to watch the sunrise. We thought we were about to miss it, so we sprinted (or as much as was possible) up the dunes, as the campsite was in a valley of sorts. We eventually watched the sunrise over the dunes (there wasn’t exactly a horizon, the dunes went on for days). Then, we enjoyed a scrumptious breakfast, showered, etc. in our open air bathrooms, and ... RODE CAMELS. I was in the first round of camel riders, (I was a little too effusive about it), and me and Lili’s camel were besties. He kept nuzzling me as we trotted along. Afterwards, we packed up, and drove to visit the home of another Bedouin family, where they discussed their customs and migration patterns, and sold us their traditional goods.

Riding camels!

Before continuing on to the town of “Al-Sur,” our driver decided to do a little showing off. Having all nine other cars lined up as an audience, he drove up a massive dune, and went mad at the wheel. He made 360 degree turns in seconds, drove/flew over hills and dips in the sand, and as we raced parallel to the ground, we were simultaneously sliding down. We then ghost rode down the hill, with him standing out the door, merely maneuvering the wheel with his toes. If he hadn’t informed us he had been doing such tours for 14 years, we would’ve been scared for our lives, but rather, it was a thrill.

Sand Clouding Our Windows, while 4 Wheel Driving

We had lunch in Al-Sur, and then arrived at our lodgings for the night, a resort in “Raas Al-Hud,” which is the first place the sunrises in the Middle East (although unfortunately the next morning was overcast). We had several hours to frolick in the Indian Ocean, collect shells, and relax. After dinner, we visited a major turtle reserve, where we were able to see (very sneakily of course), massive green turtles laying eggs. They generally lay hundreds of eggs each time they nest, yet only one or two will survive. We also got to see a baby turtle, about two by three inches big, scuttling to the ocean.

Our Lodgings in Ras Al Hud!

Saturday morning, we drove to Wadi Sham. A wadi is essentially a river bed. Wadi Sham connects directly to the ocean, and while parts of it are dry on the surface of the ground, beautiful pools pop up as you go along. The water in the wadi was the color of the ocean, if all the sand, seaweed, and all that discolor it were removed. It was a pure turquoise.

Walking along the Wadi

We hiked, climbed, and trekked for approximately an hour, in a towering canyon, along the wadi’s path. There was a portion of the wadi where fresh water was available. The water tasted as thought it was straight out of the bottle- significantly better than tap, and perfectly natural! When we arrived at our destination, we swam for a bit, and then a group of us continued on to the farthest accessible point of the wadi. At the end, there was a massive cave, upwards of twenty feet tall inside, accessible only by a thin entrance, that we had to slide sideways along to enter. Light was able to peak through in a few small openings along the top of the cave, and it was possible to climb up on one side, and slide down back into the water. After spending an hour there, we trekked back to the entrance of the wadi, picnicked by the cars, and drove the 100 something kilometers back to Muscat.

Wadi Sham

Reevaluating

China is out. The Omani men’s soccer team beat China for a second time in the 2012 Olympic qualifying match we attended. With Kelley and McDonough blood pumping through my arteries, I of course relished the game in and of itself. However, it was also culturally fascinating. To start, there were two sections- the men’s section, and the “family” section, in which we were sitting. The men’s section was packed, with men in dishdashas and kumas, beating drums during heated plays, and playing bagpipes to celebrate goals. The “men” vs. “family” separation is prevalent throughout public Omani spaces. Nearly every restaurant, including those run by expats, seat men in the front, and escort any families, or female or mixed groups to the back. It isn’t entirely an issue of sexism, as most Westerners like to assume about everything from marital relations to hijabs in the Middle East, although it is certainly a manifestation of gender relations. Many women here prefer the privacy and anonymity, and as platonic relationships between the sexes are rare, this set up is the most comfortable and ideal for Omanis. There was also no women’s bathroom at the game; there was a mens bathroom and a handicap bathroom. The public sphere isn’t always welcoming to females, and despite children, and a security guard (all of whom were in purple camouflage), I saw no women at the game. 

China didn't even see it coming

Players and Officials Celebrate Oman's Win

On the way back, we rode in a tricked-out van. It was roughly a 12 seater, the size of a VW bus, and decorated inside with punk stickers placed on peeling paint in the faint outline of flames, blue christmas lights along the ceiling, a heart shaped pillow hanging in the back, and inches of dust soaked into the seats. The driver played a number of remixed American punk songs, and techno that lay somewhere between European and composed by an elementary school child playing with the sound effects on their new keyboard. Finally, the driver put on Akon, and we all broke out in dancing, to the point that the bus was as bouncy as a trampoline. 

Sri Lankan food this week! The best yet- the flavors without the spice of other regional cuisines. My friend Julie teases me, as I frequently make burritos out of the varied cuisines we indulge in. Most meals are served with some sort of bread- somewhere between pita and tortilla. Thus, I frequently mix the rice, meat, veggies, lentils, etc. and make a burrito out of them. What can I say, I’m a California girl at heart.

Saturday after classes, Liv, Shannon, and I cooked with our peer facilitator, Rasha. Rasha brought a number of ingredients, half of which were spices. First, we cooked a chicken, marinated with spice after spice, leaving the chicken a yellowish color. Then, the rice was cooked in the same pot, and benefited from the spices as well. The next dish was Egyptian besbusa, a delicious cake like dessert, spongy, and incredibly moist from its simple sugar glaze. The stovetop in the kitchen of the World Center however, could not work simultaneously with the oven, and thus Liv and I brought the besbusa over to the home of the Center’s director, just down the block. We had the opportunity to speak with his wife, who has been studying public health in Oman. The Omani government provides all Omanis with healthcare. As a largely developed country, the main concerns of health for Omanis are chronic diseases such as diabetes and heart disease, and child malnutrition, which remains a paradox.

Test Tasting! (Photo Cred: Shannon Mich)

The only other glaring exception from exceptional healthcare, is that within the expat population, as they don’t have access to free care. The same thing is apparent with poverty. While I’m sure there is poverty outside of the expat community, it is not usual. This stems from a number of things, but a large piece of it is familial relations. Families are incredibly close, and often extended families live under the same roof, with other relatives close by. No one is left on their own, to find their own way, to struggle alone. The family structure provides a strong network of support. Often, there is no distinction made between cousins and siblings, and varied aunts and uncles. 

The Sultan has worked wonders with Oman. When he deposed his father 40 years ago, he insisted upon educating the entire population, even girls, saying that he would helicopter students to school if need be. He also fostered a sense of Omani nationalism. Religious differences, between Sunni, Shia, and Ibadi people, are largely irrelevant. People identify as Omani first. There is no religious segregation in the ministries, in the schools, in the workforce, and thus, although people are often aware of one’s religious sect based on name and tribe, they don’t treat people differently or self segregate. 

The Sultan has also developed the country, as I mentioned previously. Yet he did so at an Omani pace. He fit development and globalization into Oman, as opposed to trying to fit Oman into the West. All buildings are still built in traditional fashion and none are particularly tall, the education style and curriculum is Omani based, and the country, while technically a dictatorship, is responsive and based solely on what is best for the people. The Sultan travels around the country annually and anyone can appeal to him personally if there is an issue. When riots occurred during the height of the Arab Spring, the Sultan immediately replaced a number of ministry workers and cabinet heads, and granted further benefits to students and the unemployed.

As Americans, we are taught to think of democracy as an absolute right. And not only that, but we invade weaker nations and undermine foreign governments in the name of democracy. One of the hardest lessons for humans to learn, something I am constantly trying to internalize, is that what is right for one person, one country, one society, isn’t right for everyone else. College isn’t right for everyone. Having a family isn’t right for everyone. Marrying someone of the opposite gender isn’t right for everyone. And democracy isn’t right for everyone. A benevolent dictatorship is what works for the current Oman state. Of course, that takes an exceptional Sultan, but it can work. The people aren’t too interested in politics. Their priorities lie within their own families, their own relationships. The Sultanate is often more responsive to individual people than the American government is. It certainly helps that Oman has a population of about 3.6 million, but regardless, this system is what works for them. 

Anyways... Saturday, Liv, Lili, Travis, and I went out with Travis’s friend Muhammad, and we met up with three sisters, friends of Muhammad. We went to a gorgeous and massive park, with fountains, several childhood fantasy sized play structures, a field of water spouts for kids to run through, and acres of grass. There was a group of boys break dancing, venders selling mangoes and cotton candy, drummers, and horses (one of which I rode!) Of the three sisters, two attend Penn State on scholarships, and one is hoping to attain a similar scholarship. They were a ton of fun, and insisted that we come over for dinner. 

Water spouts at the park!

The Center of the Park

Monday night Muhammad picked us up, and Lili, Liv, and I found ourselves on the steps of a mansion, or rather, a home bordering a palace. There were individual bedrooms, but also a number of large open sitting rooms, with couches extending across the walls, drowning in throw pillows. The house was a work of art, with arches as doorways and a luxurious pool. At dinner, servings of various dishes were layered on our plates, and while we were served 4 times as much as the family members, after shoveling a good portion of it down, they insisted we barely ate. Classic Omani hospitality :)

After dinner, they gave us a tour. One of the maids in the kitchen was so surprised to see Americans, that she asked to take a picture with us on her phone. Throughout the tour, our guides were constantly switched out. It was as if we were personal guests of every member of the house, as opposed to just the three (of many) sisters. We practiced arabic a TON. They were constantly giggling as we talked about our struggles trying to learn scores of new vocab words daily. They appreciated that we were interested in their culture and were learning Arabic, and in particular, studying the Omani dialect. No one ever tells foreign students- hey, THANKS for studying English, for being interested in our culture, our government, our politics. Yet Omanis are so impressed, so surprised, and provide us with such positive reenforcement. 

Various Omani Rooms

Tuesday, we attended the aerobics class again, however this time it was a deeper workout, and we were all feeling it today. Then we wandered around the mall with Rahma, where we saw burkinis, a selection of elegant abayas, and a corn stand. Yes, a corn stand. There isn’t much street food in America outside of concerts and fairs, but it usually consists of coffee or hot dog stands, maybe ice cream or swirling, rainbow, face-sized lollipops. However, at the mall, there was a corn-to-go stand, with the option of varying levels of spice. We then ate dinner at a Lebanese restaurant, and sorry Tarboush, but I have a new favorite. The Hummus Beiruty, Kebbe, and Falafel, were killer. The Kebbe was perfectly crispy on the outside, yet the meat inside remained medium rare, whereas the Falafel was softer than usual, and the inside was smooth and oily. 

I often feel that I have two very different career paths ahead of me, waiting for me to decide. At the same time, I can’t imagine I’ll have one career for the rest of my life, however there seems to be a large divide. I still want to be teach abroad, become a forensic investigator, and excavate Egyptian tombs as an archaeologist.  However, the two main paths ahead of me are reflected in my studies: International Health and Arabic. Part of me wants to work for the as an Arabic translator, or for the CIA as an analyst, maybe go into Foreign Service- essentially work with politics and intergovernmental relations in the Middle East. The other side of me wants to strap on knee high boots and wade into filthy water systems, to take samples, and find the source of some exotic disease that is plaguing a third world village, with a fancy latin name that means nothing to the ill. Or break all the rules about remaining professional and unattached, while working with victims of sexual violence in a war wrecked landscape. I don’t know what I want. Real talk, I’m 19, I don’t have a damn clue. Although, sometimes I wonder if I’ll choose the former path, because it would provide a greater sense of security, of comfort. The state department is sending me to the Middle East to study Arabic, and if I excelled in and pursued that path, I’d have a greater sense of job security, and stability, knowing I had become invaluable, knowing I was “in.” Maybe I’ll rock a blazer everyday and take the same route to work, yet take philanthropic vacations and sabbaticals, and litter my coffee tables with continent shaped coasters and end table books of amazon tree houses and foreign locations of worship. Sometimes I fear I’ll lose sight, or have to sacrifice. That’s life though, and the best way to prepare for the future is by doing your best today, and maintaining that self-awareness. Constantly reevaluating where you are at, and whether thats what you want, whether thats whats best, whether thats actually you. 

I don’t know what path I’ll follow. I don’t know what I want, or what is right for me. Maybe I’ll compromise, mix my varied interests, find a balance. In the meantime, I’m going to take as much out of the opportunities in front of me, and pursue every varied passion that strikes me. 

It's getting hot in herre

Too much to say! To commence, a recap.

Class class class, of course. Pakistani catering for lunch this week! Saturday after classes, I ventured with a group of friends (vague pronouns are getting bothersome, name dropping from now on)- Greg, Travis, Liv, Lily, and Maggie, to a little juice shop near our hotel. More banana shakes. We have gone three times this week, a lovely discovery. There is a small popcorn stand outside, and inside is the tiny interior, is a glass display of the fruits available for juices and smoothies, aging photos of Oman and fruits on the walls, along with tacky and tinsly decorations, fit for a New Years party, and stalks of sugar cane in a corner. The juice is exquisite and fresh, simply the quintessence of the fruit itself. After that, we ventured to a jenky restaurant for burgers, where a small slab of meat was drowned in a massive bun, and adorned with cheese, veggies, and egg. As we sat outside embracing the evening humidity, a variety of customers went in and out. The most interesting however was a group of women, who pulled up to the restaurant as if it was In-N-Out, and requested the food be brought to their car, so they could remain in the privacy of their cars. We later ventured to an expat owned market for some groceries, where the mannequins wore layer and hijabs.

Favorite little Juice Shop

On Sunday, I couldn’t help but thinking about and missing my family, but particularly Daddio on father’s day.

Saturday evening we made our weekly trip to the hypermarket. I was hoping to get ahead on my homework, and thus I shopped with haste. I planned on returning to the bus to do homework on the bus, but the bus driver had left, and thus I waited outside on the most public bench I could find. Despite being modestly dressed, the group of 5 men coordinating taxi rides for shoppers couldn’t help but noticing a foreign student, pouring over an arabic book. They inquired about my studies, and asked to see my work, and complimented my work. I found myself stuck between a rock and a hard place. These men were just being friendly, it was light out, we were in public, etc., there was no reason to feel unsafe. However, in Oman, there is a certain degree of gender segregation. Also, an Omani man himself, when giving a presentation to our group, explained the way that Omanis think of Western women. They literally learn to see them as, to be blunt- easy, based on the American movies, TV shows, MTV Arabia, etc. I mean this is of course a generalization, but we’ve been fed horror stories about Western women interacting with Omani men, who after a completely harmless conversation, would ask “should we get a hotel now?” These men were just sincerely interested, maybe a little too curious, but just being friendly as Omanis always are, yet I had to unfortunately be on guard.

Trip to the mall

Monday, in our media arabic class, our teacher told us we couldn’t laugh. That class is always a riot. The teacher is so giggly, and he always teases us, and thus we tend to erupt in laughter. He said it was especially a problem if I started laughing (good luck preventing that), because then we’d all lose it. He also told us there are five parts to learning Arabic: reading, writing, speaking, listening, and laughing. Accurate. During our Omani Arabic class, we went to a mall to practice speaking with the shop owners. Our teacher helped us bargain, and referred to us as “binaaty,” in other words “her girls.” More on her (Rahma) in a bit..

Tuesday, we had a calligraphy workshop! I was hopeless, but it was a lovely opportunity to practice strokes using legit pens and glazed paper, not to mention discuss the art and history with a professional.

Wednesday in class Rahma offered to take us out this weekend. Thus, she picked us up at the hotel around 8, and we ventured to the cinema. Unfortunately, the one we went to had primarily English movies, and thus we opted for X-Men. (Side note- while I had low expectations going in, this installment was phenomenal). She kept on offering to take us elsewhere afterwards, anything we wanted. Rahma is lovely. She is so stylish, confident, and generous. The trimmings on her abayas and hijabs are intricate and vibrant, and she carries herself assertively. While westerners often assume that the attire and variety of coverings worn by Muslim women denote a nature of submission or meekness, but while there is often a subtle reservation present in Omani women around men, they are chatty and animated and vivacious in the comfort of women only spaces.

Thursday morning we had plans to attend an aerobics class for women at a local sports club. As Rahma has a membership at that club, she decided to join us, and picked us up (on laissez faire Arab time- in other words, she picked us up shortly after the class began, but fortunately there was a second class starting shortly after!)

The aerobics class. Priceless. Strictly women club of course. The class was comprised of upwards of eighty women, of all ages, stripped of their abayas and hijabs (real saucy) getting their groove on to D list American hip hop songs. The aerobics teacher (who was loosely followed) led us through an hour of moves ranging from standard areobics, to zumba and belly dancing, and to just outright flailing of the limbs (and no, thats not just because of my lack of rhythm). There was such a move-at-the-beat-of-your-own-drum vibe, and it felt like we were really welcomed into the private sphere of Omani women. We certainly stuck out, and got a fair share of sideways, curious glances. A few women stopped to speak with us at the end, and as always, whenever we tell Omanis we are studying Arabic, they are so impressed, so appreciative, and so complimentary, even if we absolutely butcher what we are trying to say.

Living Room at Rahma's

Afterwards, Rahma invited us to her house for lunch. Her house was exquisite. In her home, the dining and living room look virtually the same- there are couches that span across the length of the wall (as opposed to smaller, separate couches in a standard American home), and beautiful rugs on the floor. Other than decorations, coffee tables, or a TV, that is it. The rug replaces the table that would normally be in a dining room, as Omanis frequently eat on the floor. For lunch, we ate a class Omani meal of rice and chicken, with a salad of lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers, and dates to top it off. We ate on a plastic disposable tablecloth, placed on the floor. Rahma insisted we eat more, and served us more food, and as we continued to eat, she constantly asked us why we weren’t eating. She is incredibly generous, and not only welcomed us into her beautiful home, but fed and nurtured us as well. After enjoying our meal, we customarily slid the food off our plates and onto the mat, which was rolled up to be thrown away.

Lunch at Rahma's!

One last note, before I head off to the Oman v. China, Olympic qualifying, soccer match. Omanis, as well as most Arabs, frequently say “Inshallah” meaning literally “if god wills it” or rather “hopefully.” However, it isn’t used simply when discussing far off, optimistic plans. For example, when I say to a teacher “see you tomorrow,” referring to the class they will be teaching me tomorrow, they respond with Inshallah. Anything futuresque at all, is followed by inshallah. Plans that are set in stone, even occasionally things that are in the process of happening- inshallah.

Will post again soon- inshallah!

Forts & Factories & and Springs, oh my!

Another speedy and adventuresome week. Saturday (our Monday) we had a briefing by state department officials serving at the American embassy. They discussed issues of safety and security. Crime is low, indigenous terrorism is low, although with the neighbors Oman has, transnational terrorism is rated at “medium.” The embassy officials explained that the police are legitimate and professional in Oman. An interesting thing to note, is that in Oman, people don’t really express anger. Omanis remain calm and collected. In fact, it is dangerous to openly express anger. Verbal aggression or abuse is taken seriously, and is dealt with in the same manner as physical abuse.

Saturday evening, grabbed lebanese take out with friends, and had a picnic on the beach before delving into our studies. Sunday evening- weekly Lulu’s run. Monday evening- cooking party with amigos, just relaxing.

Tuesday evening was a lot more interesting. After classes, I went with a group of girls to an all women’s souq. The souq is put on by the Omani Women’s Association, and consists of hand crafted and donated goods, and the proceeds go to charity. It was an ideal opportunity to chat with Omani women and girls and practice our Arabic. After that, we went to sheesha cafe and restaurant in Sultan Qaboos city. One friend was wearing her newly acquired abaya, and the other two of us were dressed conservatively with hijabs. We had trouble acquiring a taxi (possibly because there were only women in our group), however we eventually did. The taxi driver was super friendly and thought we were Muslim! He was even more impressed when we told him we were American, and we were covering because it was “munasib” (appropriate) to do so in Oman. After chatting along the drive, he offered us his number and told us just to call him and he would pick us up afterwards. After delicious arabic food and rose sheesha, he picked us up, and gave us a free ride back to the hotel, and told us to call him any time!

Wednesday night, we went to a Moroccan restaurant, (and called our good friend Sayeed the taxi driver!), however the kitchen was closed for the week, so we simply sipped sweet Moroccan tea. We chatted at length with a Moroccan employee, who picked up our bill for us, but then tried to ask for a number so he could meet up with us again. After that we enjoyed delicious Indian food near our hotel (one of the benefits of having a large population of Indian expats in Oman) and sat on the patio of our hotel to watch a lunar eclipse.

We had a new teacher in our fosha (Modern Standard Arabic) class this week, as our teacher, Nasser, had had duties at one of the ministries the week before. Nasser speaks fast, but has an understanding of the Al-Kitaab textbooks, and thus tends to use primarily words that we know. He is an excellent teacher, even in Arabic, his grammar explanations are clear and comprehensive. Not to mention, he is engaging and is good at evaluating our understanding of a concept.

Media class can be frustrating- as we understand such a small portion of the vocabulary used in the news. However, the vocab we are learning will be super useful, and our skills for interpreting the news will benefit greatly. Already, listening to Al Jazeera today in the suite, my friend and I were able to pick out a number of the new words we had learned this week (delegation, crisis, etc).

Omani dialect class is a blast. It sometimes has a slumber party feel to it (although, don’t worry, we learn a ton). As the class is five girls, and the teacher is a young and excited woman, we are constantly playing games in order to learn new vocab, or improving skits and dialogues. She also is letting us borrow her Arabic scrabble game so we can practice and play in the hotel. She brought dates and Omani coffee (small doses, super strong) to class one day, and the sweet hellwa dessert another.

On Thursday, we took a day trip, as a group, to the village of Nakhl. First stop- an ancient fort. The fort was massive- with guest rooms, a jail, a number of posts and towers, courtyards, shops, a winter sitting room, etc. I kept on thinking I had been transported into a National Geographic magazine and was exploring the remains of an ancient fort abroad. And then I would remember I was. Everything is still so surreal. I mean, yes I have my routine, classes five days a week, staying in a hotel suite, etc., but every now and then I’ll step back and realize where I am. Like- this is not the Pacific I’m in, its the Gulf of Oman, Iran is on the other side of the horizon. This restaurant isn’t “ethnic” food, its local. I mean, it is of course apparent, but at the same time, at times it doesn’t seem real.

After exploring the fort, we visited a hellwa factory. The fresh hellwa was absolutely delicious, although seeing the men producing the hellwa was a different side of Oman. Next, we traveled through the lush date palm trees (a nakhl is a date palm tree) and arrived at a natural hot spring. It resembled a shallow river, and along the banks, were groups of young men and families burning fires, cooking food, and playing drums. The water was steamy and refreshing, especially as we endured temperatures likely in the 110s.

We enjoyed a traditional lunch of rice and chicken, served in communal bowls, and eaten with our hands. There is oddly enough a deeper sense of connection to what you are eating when its with your hands (only your right hand actually, the left hand is considered dirty), although don’t worry mom, I will certainly eat my rice off of silverware back in the states. Also, interesting cultural comparison- while in Modern Standard, the words for rice and bread are distinct, in Egyptian dialect, the word for bread is eyeesh, and in Omani, the word for rice is eyeesh, meaning “life.” This is of course indicative of the staple crops that sustained the local populations for centuries.

After a long Friday of studying and recuperation, I am refreshed and ready for another week of explorations!

Kaif al-hosh w al-bosh

Apparently a full week has gone by. I love practicing arabic. Omanis love greetings. They talk over each other and just say a whole series of greetings before actually getting into a conversation. Conversing is much more about building relationships, as opposed to finding out information. How are you? Peace be upon you. Any news? Any knowledge? And my favorite- kaif al-hosh w al-bosh? In other words, “how are your goats and camels?” Oman has modernized and has changed 180 since Sultan Qaboos took power about 40 years ago. Tribal relationships are still entirely relevant, even in the city. People can tell one’s tribe by their name, and when discussing a crime, newspapers don’t include a criminal’s name (just their initials), so as not to shame the entire tribe. 

During our weekly trip to the hypermarket Lulu’s, my friends and I covered our hair. The difference was tangible. The amount of stares, the amount of attention, the amount of stares, wasn’t a fraction compared to that of our original trip. We now cover much more- not at school, but when walking to a restaurant or going shopping, its just simpler. Modesty also opens doors. Omanis feel much more comfortable speaking with us, which gives us the opportunity to practice our Arabic more!

Tuesday night, I went to the Muttrah Souq (market) with a group of friends. There are so many intricate items, beautiful abayas and kumas (traditional attire) and jewelry. Also- new favorite drinks: lemon mint juice and banana milkshakes. I could drink them for days. 

Muttrah Souq

Kumas at the Souq

The food is incredibly cheap here. A local restaurant (a favorite), “Tarboush” has lebanese food. 10 pieces of falafel for half a riyal (about $2.30). Shwarma for $1.5 riyals. While some items are more expensive (foreign products especially), the food is super affordable. We are provided lunch at the World Learning Center, and each week has a different theme. Last week was Turkish food all week, this week is Zanzibari. 

Watched an Omani movie, filmed near Muscat. Somewhat of a soap opera. In the film, there was a woman who was adored by a number of men throughout the village. And you know what? She wasn’t a size zero. She wasn’t thin at all. Yes she was gorgeous and looked great, but she didn’t need to be the size of a model in order to be considered in such a way. Quite refreshing. 

The women are incredibly protected here. That is the idea behind the covering of women. Women wear abayas (cloaks) and hijabs (head scarves), thus, merely their face and hands show. The abayas are black, yet the more expensive ones have designs, often along the wrists and on the hijabs. Yet, the men also cover. The men where dishdashas, which cover just as much from the neck down. They also were “kumas” or caps. These articles of clothing are loose and protect wearers from the sun. Women wear black and men white. This is based on tradition. In the past, women were frequently taken hostage in wars between tribes. Thus, women could only go out at night, and would wear black to blend in. Men would wear white because they were outside during the day, and thus needed to wear a light color in the sun. The covering of women and seclusion of women in the household is based on protection. To this day, men will not refer to another man’s wife. They will never ask one another how she is, and if a man sees his friend with his wife, he will often pretend not to see the man, in order to avoid meeting with the wife. While women are educated, are often in the workforce, and can even serve in the government, there is still a strong level of gender based segregation. 

Fish Market

The Beach

Forts

Thursday, (our Saturday), was a ton of fun. My friend Greg and I went to Muttrah (downtown). We explored a fish market (not a classic tourist destination) where we saw living fish, manatees, etc., being sliced. Then we walked through the souq, waded in the water, and climbed up to the top of a Portuguese fort. There are TONS of forts in Muttrah, left from the Age of Exploration when the Portuguese colonized Oman. We then took a taxi to a beach, but then discovered that the beach was not open to the public. Next, as hitchhikers, we were picked up by a British businessman who took us to the beach he was heading towards for diving. It was some private resort for foreigners and (say it aint so) there were even women wearing bikinis. Almost a (not necessarily needed) escape from Omani culture. We swam for hours, easily one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. The gulf water was like a heated pool. In the evening, we walked around a little neighborhood and got to see the Sultan’s palace. Then, got dinner and delicious banana shakes, and returned. As we were heading back, there was a screen reading the time and temperature. It seemed as if it had cooled off. The sign however read “40 degrees.” Celsius. That’s 104 Fahrenheit. We had somewhat acclimated. 

Friday: Homework, homework, homework. Sleeping, Gym, studying. 

Also, me and my friend Liv decided we wanted to move on faster, so we got moved to a higher level and have been racing to catch up. Inshallah I might be able to move into 3rd year arabic for the fall. 

Pinch me, I'm dreaming

To begin. I’m still a novice in the culture of blogging. There are so many classic ways to commence... 

All this happened, more or less. (Opening line: Slaughterhouse 5)

Rather, I’ll take after Heller in Catch-22. 

“It was love at first sight.” Actually, it was love from the first google image search. Muscat is a sensation. The country of Oman should be declared one massive international park. From the lush Salalah, to the caves of Al-Hoota, from the desert, to the pristine beaches of Muscat, it is a country of geographical contrasts.

Upon arrival, my hands were instantly clammy. Those in the group wearing glasses, found themselves blinded instantly as their glasses fogged up. Muscat is one of the hottest capital cities in the world- in the summer it gets up to 50 degrees Celsius (122 F). And, as it is on the gulf, Muscat is humid. Fortunately, we were later informed that the night of arrival was significantly more humid than usual, which has proved to be the case as of yet. 

Arabic is everywhere, yet nearly always accompanied by English. There is a large population of expats in Muscat, in particular Southeast Asians. The Sultan is also ubiquitous. While in Cairo, I had seen Mubarak on billboards, walls, etc., however there is one major difference between this display in Muscat- the Omanis love the Sultan. Sultan Qaboos, as far as monarchs go, is the bees’ knees. Since deposing his father forty years ago, he has transformed this country. Supposedly at that time there was a total of 7 km of paved roads in the country. Now, Oman is a bustling nation, and even McDonalds and Baskin Robbins have reached Muscat. Not to mention the sultanate offers universal healthcare, education through the university level, and is responsive to his people. His face is everywhere, not to mention, our Hotel is just off of “18th of November street,” named after his birthday. 

One girl referred to Muscat as the Santa Barbara of the Middle East- it is incredibly clean, affluent, and it is beach central (although burkinis over bikinis are the style here). 

Fortunately, as I deprived myself of nothing but a few hours of sleep between the two eight-hour flights, I was quite sleepy when we arrived in Muscat at 10:30pm local time, and was able to largely avoid jet lag and develop a normal sleep schedule. 

On Friday we had orientation. The first adventure, was a trip to “Lulu’s,” called a “hypermarket” which is a mix of Costco, Walmart, and Albertsons. You can find anything there, including American products- foods (from Ritz to mangos), clothes, traditional Omani and Indian dress, camping supplies, etc. As we went on Friday, (as Friday is the holy day, the weekend here is Thursday and Friday) Lulu’s was a riot. Black Friday status. I got to practice my arabic with a few people, and as an apparent foreigner, we were constantly being stared at. The Omani women cover fully, whereas expatriots or other foreigners often wear their own traditional dress or more Western clothes. Thus with 2 other respectfully dressed Caucasians in tow, we threw off their game. Regardless, even with the weak dollar, everything was incredibly inexpensive, and 4 apples, 6 bananas, 2 mangos, cheerios, milk, bread, crackers, and 2 scarves later, I had spent under 8 Rials, about $21. 

Ladies only line at LuLu's

Friday night, I ventured to the beach with a group of friends, a short walk away, where the water felt like a bathtub (quite a change from the Pacific). I had gills in my past life, and thus merely wading felt like heaven. The trek their however was dangerous. Omanis are known for being atrocious drivers. The traffic is nothing like that of Cairo, but they have no regard for pedestrians. The World Learning Center, where are classes are held, informed us that over the past few years, they haven’t gone a semester without having a student involved in a car accident. Yikes. 

The Grand Mosque 

Saturday, we visited the Grand Mosque (hijab time, full Islamic dress required). Religious devotion is a beautiful thing. There is a complete absence of words. The opulence, grandeur, Allah- it was perfection. 

After that, we had our first day of classes, two sessions of Omani arabic. Omani arabic is fortunately pretty close to Modern Standard, and thus is widely understood and certainly transferrable. In the future, our day will be in three parts- MSA (modern standard), Omani Arabic, and Media Arabic. I’m super stoked for Media Arabic- we’ll be learning to utilize Arabic magazines, newspapers, news shows, television, the works, and learning fun vocab like the ICJ, Super Powers, money laundering, election rigging, bilateral, and guerilla warfare. After class, we have a variety of activities, and today we met with our Peer Facilitators- locals who chat and do fun activities with us three times a week so we can practice our Arabic, learn the local underground scene, and further understand the Omani culture. 

We’ll be taking trips, as a group, to Nizwa, Nakhl, and a Jumbo trip to explore the mountains and camp in the desert. Potentially a trip to Salalah inshallah, not to mention I’m hoping to visit caves and go camping with some friends. Much more to come!

Mas salama! 

P.S.- Just for the record, I am currently listening to the call to prayer from a local mosque, an absolutely mellifluous and lovely sound. (My omani phone also has “Prayer times” under settings, in which you can program the phone to alert you at prayer times depending on your location. Cuhlassic)