Can We Stop for Ice Cream?

Last weekend was the first SIT group excursion and, due to my late arrival in Muscat, the first time I'd spent a few full days in the company of the whole group.  Orientation for the Egyptian displacements, if you will.  It was AMAZING.

On the first day we drove southeast to the Sharqiyyah region, through two hours of mountains and palm groves.  Very suddenly, the desert showed up, and after a quick drive off the highway we arrived at the camp.

These camps, it should be said, are not portable-yet-photogenic living compounds assembled by real-life nomads who carry their water supplies on the back of camels.  They're very permanent, with toilets and electricity and running water.  That being acknowledged, the tents here were actual canvas tents with thatched roofs, the dining area was an open-walled area with rugs and cushions and pretty colored lamps, and to get anywhere you had to truck up and down hills of sand.  And there are camels.

Once we got out things stowed away we piled into three old SUV's and indulged in an amazing pastime called "dune bashing."  Let me explain: take one manual transmission SUV, preferably with no bells and whistles, like a 90's Jeep Cherokee.  Fill her to brimming with tourists.  Add one crazy Omani driver, take advantage of ridiculously cheap oil prices, and let loose on sand dunes.  The result is 45 minutes of the best roller coaster you have ever been on, interspersed with moments of tranquil sightseeing and utter terror.  It's amazing.  At the end we were dropped off at the top of one of the bigger dunes (did you know that sand dunes are 40% air?), where we took advantage of the beautiful lighting to take pictures (see the facebook album!) and watched the sunset.  That night we ate a huge Omani style meal (no utensils), listened to Bedouin musicians, and smoked sheesha while gazing at the moon.

The next day we fooled around the camp for a bit (and paid small children extortionist prices for camel rides) and headed off to the camp near Sur.  The ride was supposed to be over 5 hours but we made it there in less than 3, thanks to our driver Abdullah.  Is he a time lord?  Can he do the time warp?  The theories ran thick and silly.  Once there at the second camp we took advantage of the free time to go to the beach, where we swam and played soccer.  I scored the first goal of the day!

That night we ate in a similar style, and again, sat under the stars and the moon smoking sheesha.  This time, however, we were accompanied by Ali, the manager of the campground, who provided the sheesha and looked a bit like an Arab James Franco.  He was a really cool guy -the kind of guy who makes me love traveling, really.  One of those people who loves traveling and travelers, and who's always happy to share a story or show someone around.  When he wasn't poking fun at us he sang Arabic love songs while gazing into the flames of the campfire.  That night, with the moon, the conversations, the songs, the tea, the sheesha... everything, really... was one of the best evenings I've had in recent memory.  Getting dive bombed by the occasional bat was also kinda fun.

After a few-hour-long nap, we all piled into the bus at 4:00am to go to the turtle reserve.  We spent a few hours there watching a couple turtles digging nests in the sand, although to be honest, coming from Hawaii I've had more exciting turtle experiences.  The turtles were huge, though, and our guide was very knowledgeable and pronounced "turtles" as "tee-urtles."  This led to much speculation on the people's socialist party of tee-urtles, or whether communist tee-urtles in the gulf refer to each other as "comrade." 

Later that morning we left to go see Sur, and spend an hour in a dhao (wooden sailing boat) factory.  Those things are pretty freaking cool.  If I have the money to be ridiculously self-indulgent one day, I'm going to buy one and listen to the Pirates of the Caribbean theme non-stop.  After that we drove to the Wadi, and spent a few hours hiking into the back to reach a prime swimming location.

Again, I'm going to have to direct you to the photos on facebook.  It would be really difficult to portray the vast sense of space and beauty within the wadi, or how clean and clear the water was, or jaw-droppingly gorgeous the cliffs were against the sky, or how relaxing and refreshing it was to finally jump in.  Check out the pictures.  They speak for themselves.

Finally, our trip (which was only  a weekend but felt like so much more) came to an end, and we made the final stretch back into Muscat.  We were taken back to the learning center, where our usual bus drivers picked us up and took us back home.  But not before we all stopped at a Baskin Robbins for ice cream.  Because our perfect weekend needed a cherry on top.

Beginnings That Get Better

Starting an exchange program or departing on a huge trip has always made me a nervous wreck.  Going to France, leaving for college, going to India –every time, my pre-departure jitters leave me feeling sick to my stomach for days.  Thankfully, without exception, every trip has been completely worth the panic.

            Oman hasn’t been an exception to the rule, either.  I hadn’t been this nervous since flying to France all by my lonesome at the sweet young age of sixteen, but since landing in Oman things have been going wonderfully.  After spending my first night in a hotel, I spent my first day at SIT’s World Learning Center, meeting all the other students and getting an orientation crash-course.  I jumped into classes too –attending a two-hour long lecture on religion my first afternoon!

            After that I moved in with my host family, and hung out with them for the weekend. (The weekend in most Islamic countries is Thursday-Friday.) My host family consists of Ali, my host dad, who speaks Arabic and some English, his wife, Shamza, who speaks Swahili and Arabic, and Ali’s daughters from a previous marriage, Iman and Amani, who speak Arabic, Balushi, and some English.  Ho boy.  If I come back using completely obscure phrases that no one outside of Oman could possible understand, now you know why.

              While the weekend did have a couple of “augh what am I doing” moments of travelers’ angst, in general it went really well.  My host sisters, with whom I spend the most time, are giggly high-school age girls who probably think I’m really weird for wanting to learn Arabic, but who gamely take me with them when they hang out with their friends.  This mostly consists of going to the next house over, where the family seems to consist of whichever cousins and neighbors and babies are in the area.  I love it.

            I love the SIT group, too.  There are thirteen of us in the undergrad program, and even though I came several days after the other two Egyptian displacements and significantly later than the rest of the group, we’re all getting to know each other really well.  Between classes (which I started full-time to days ago) and on the bus, especially, things dissolve into hysterics as we crack up over whatever culture shock moment just came up.  Today it was the bus driver asking the student from Japan the most politically incorrect, culturally insensitive questions about China and Japan possible. (China and Japan, because they’re basically the same place, and everyone there looks the same anyways.  The driver’s words, not mine.)  Poor Taiki.  His Arabic sounded really good, though.

            This weekend the group is going to Sharqiyyah, to stay at a desert camp and ride camels.  We might go sand surfing and swimming in a wadi, too.  Panic = overcome.  Trip = totally worth it.

Fly Emirates

When you're traveling alone, to a new country, off on a new adventure, fly Emirates.


The longest flight of my life was just the most comfortable and enjoyable flight of my life.  Sixteen hours in a tin can and I would have extended it if I could. 


Let me start off by giving you a taste of my mood getting on this plane.  I had just flown overnight Kona to LA, had spent a strange hour in the international terminal lounge talking to an Israeli woman who started the conversation by talking about how much she loves olive oil (enough to carry some with her at all times, so she can put it on fast-food salad and sandwich bread.  She also told me that Virgos don't need love.  I'm not going to think much on that one.) and was swinging between panic and exhaustion every few minutes. 


First thing on the plane, I'm handed a menu (an actual menu!) and a hot towel, and I'm told that the first complimentary meal will be served in an hour.


My first in-flight meal started with a chatpatti alu appetizer (diced potatoes in a "tangy sauce"), followed by the lamb curry, which consisted of "tender pieces of lamb cooked in a flavorful curry sauce, with steamed basmati rice, and an okra tomato stew."  Accompanying this was a mixed berry ragout (with light mascarpone cream), cheese and biscuits, tea, juice, and a lovely little chocolate.


It was airline heaven.  Additionally, the flight was fairly empty, so I had a whole row of seats to stretch out and enjoy my multiple pillows, breathable cotton blanket, and complimentary sleep mask and organic fiber socks.  The flight attendants were wonderful as well, ranging from the extraordinary polite to the somewhat maternal.  When then one with the bright red lipstick called me "sweetheart" I felt so safe and cared for that I was able to sleep for hours. 


Alas, all good things must come to an end, and after my breakfast of scrambled eggs (served with crispy potato wedges, grilled tomato, a steaming hot croissant, a roll with jam, fresh fruit, orange juice, and coffee) my little taste of heaven was over, and we landed in Dubai. 


Someday I will fly Emirates again.  In the meantime, I'll have to console myself with an extended stay in Oman.  Oh well.