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)