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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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 |
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! |
Will post again soon- inshallah!
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