An extraordinary (yet somehow typical) evening in Muscat:
Tyler, Ethan, Linh and I reached our productivity saturation points, and after hanging out at the center for a little too long (watching Jackie Chan's Drunken Master, of course) we decided to go to Souq Seeb for some mushkek and a good time. After dropping off Linh at the main highway, Tyler, Ethan and I started hoofing it towards the souq.
"Hoofing it" in Muscat can mean any combination of hitch-hiking, taking taxis, and flagging down buses in Muscat. (The only time actual hooves might be involved is if you were to be dropped off next to one of the many herds of semi-domestic goats in the suburbs.) In this instance, we flagged down a baisa bus and squeezed in next to a crowd of Indian laborers for the ride.
A baisa bus is a privately owned van, usually a fifteen-seater, (although as many as twenty have been seen crammed in there) that follows a semi-set route at the discretion of the driver. They're cheap as hell, but if you're trying to get anywhere off the main highway you're going to have a hard time. Luckily for us, Souq Seeb is on the main drag.
We cheerfully piled into the bus, and realized shortly afterward that this particular bus driver had taken the care to personalize his means of living. The interior lights were a cool shade of pink/purple, like one might find in a dance club, but the crowning glory of the vehicle was the sub-woofer. Sandwiched in between sweaty guys just off the clock from the road repair crews, we bounced into the souq to the tunes of American R&B classics, our faces a-glow in the atmospheric lighting.
Stopping just past the gold and jewelry district, we hopped off the bus and, after the guys had complimented our driver on his excellent sound system (he stroked the sub-woofer appreciatively as Ethan and Tyler pointed to it saying "Hatha sub-woofer? Ma'shallah!") we started the hike towards our holy grail: Mushkek.
Mushkek is grilled meat on a stick. Never fail to appreciate the beauty of something so deliciously simple.
On the way there we walked along the beach, taking in the fresh air and people watching. In true Omani style, there were groups of men sitting together in circles on roll-out mats, drinking tea and coffee out of portable containers and eating dates. Passing a large group of twenty or so, Ethan called out "Salam wa lekoum!" "Lekoum wa salam!" was the overpowering response, as they all called out the proper answer. Continuing the polite exchange, the guys asked "Keifa halekoum?" "How are you?" As one, the Omanis called back "Alhamdellah. Tefadl!!!" "Well, thanks to god. Come, join us!"
I love the way that can be expressed in two words. God and hospitality -arguably the two most important aspects of Omani culture. And they meant it, too. None of this Anglo-American "Oh, won't you come over for tea? Oh, you can't? Oh, what a pity." No, these guys really wanted to have us join their already-huge group.
Well, they really wanted the guys to join. I probably would have been welcome too, but it would not have been entirely kosher for me to do so. So, in a courtly gesture that earned him applause from the seated men, (no joke. This actually happened.) Ethan said "Oh, but the lady, we're taking her to dinner." Impressed with our Arabic and our knowledge of Omani politesse, they waved us on our way.
Eventually, we made it to our final destination. This particular mushkek stand is frequented by the shebab in their fancy cars and designer sunglasses, so to the sounds of more American R&B and by the light reflecting off the mustangs, we ordered our food from a guy who thought our Arabic and cameras were the funniest damn thing he'd seen all day. After making a promise to post a video of him dancing behind the grill on youtube, we took our greasy grilled meat sticks and sat down on the sea wall for dinner.
A good night.
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