Oman: The blog

Well, I've run out of pictures from my trip. I didn't post every picture I took, just a lot of them. 

To wrap my story up: I ended up coming back to America early. Rather than staying until late May, I came home at the end of February. There were a few reasons for this, first of all I missed Jenna and wanted to see her. Oman was also starting to warm up again, and the prospect of hot weather wasn't very appealing to me. I had a great time in Oman, but all good things must come to an end (especially with hot temperatures looming!). 

I'm really glad I came back when I did, not only to see Jenna but also to get my law school plans figured out. Coming back early allowed me to visit my top two schools again, and to pick the school I'm going to in the fall: Vermont Law School (located in South Royalton, Vermont). It's the top environmental law school in the nation, and probably the world. It's also not that far from where Jenna lives, just about 2 hours away. I start in just a few months, and have 3 long years ahead of me. Hopefully time will go fast and I'll find the career niche I've been looking for all of these years.

I hope you enjoy reading about what I did in my 2 months in Oman, looking back it was an adventure I'm glad I took. I met some great people, had some good times, and had an adventure that I'll remember forever. 

If you want to read my blog from the beginning of my trip, you should start from my first post. The blog isn't strictly chronological, but it does kind of move that way. You can click on any of the pictures to enlarge them, and they're all awesome so you should!

Steffen, Elizabeth and I go to Tiwi

Tiwi is a little town on the Omani coast. It is at the mouth of a wadi (Arabic word for 'valley'), one of the larger wadi's that I visited in my time in Oman. This wadi was known for its freshwater pools, which are a hike from the wadi's entrance. We left the car at the Wadi's entrance, down by the town. There were numerous Omanis out as well enjoying the water.

Heading to the pools:

The wadi was huge. It had sheer sides surrounding a winding path leading down from the mountains. It was super wide at the entrance, and gradually got more and more narrow as we walked up it. 

After awhile we reached a point where you either had to walk/swim through the water, or take the high ground. I didn't feel like swimming at this point (we had already swam in the ocean earlier) so I took the high ground while Elizabeth and Steffen chose to swim.

The water was crystal clear from my vantage point, you could see the boulders deep below the surface. Steffen and Elizabeth swam for awhile and I scouted ahead. There was a rock ledge over the pool, which Steffen decided would be a good place to jump from (and I encouraged him so that I could take a picture!)

Eventually I got too high above the wadi to see Steffen and Elizabeth below. But I took a picture anyway.

And that's about all I remember. 

Nizwa

After our night in the Wadi, we were in Nizwa. We found a pretty cheap place with spacious rooms and big beds. We dropped our stuff off and went to the center of the city, where the fort and souq were located.

Nizwa is located 100 kilometers or so in the interior of Oman. It's a conservative area, with a strong religious tradition. It is also known as an area that is full of 'jinn' or evil spirits. People say that the place is haunted and some people avoid the area for that reason.

Nizwa fort is a huge round structure, with plenty of defensive features to stop invaders. My favorite part were the 'murder holes' in the path leading to the center of the fort. What's a 'murder hole', you ask? A 'murder hole' is a hole directly above a secured door where defenders of the fort can rain down hot oils on top of intruders trying to break down said door. In Nizwa, they would use boiling date syrup, from the many date trees in the area. The corridors up to the top of the fort were heavily defended. They were narrow and had numerous turns in them, preventing battering rams from being easily brought through. At critical junctures they had thick wooden doors with spike pits immediately surrounding the doors. They also had murder holes above them, where the defenders could pour boiling hot date syrup onto the invaders. Basically it went like this: if you got to a door you might have boiling oil poured on you. If you managed to get through the door, you had to watch out for a spike pit on the other side of it. Once you were over the spike pit you probably had 6 more doors to get through, with defenses just like that. It wouldn't have been much fun to try to siege one of these forts.

Murder hole, looking down:

Some of the fort doors that we came across in our trip:

Big:

Small:

Nizwa has a really large fort, with an inner sanctum that could support numerous people. Here is a picture from the inside of the fort, showing just how large it is.

Just outside of the fort area is a large souq, or market. They have a souq for everything someone might want to buy. They have nicknacks for tourists, fruit, veggies, goats, and dates. I was craving dates for some reason (the only time I had ever eaten them before was in Jordan when I visited Steffen there) so I went in. The place was huge, and full of dates. However, there was only one guy in there working, I'm not sure where the other people were. He was old, had wispy white hair and a big cataract in one of his eyes. He didn't speak English, but Steffen had taught me the word for 'date' before I went in (not to mention that if I was going into the date market that I was probably looking for dates). He sold me a kilo (2.2 pounds) for one rial (roughly $2.25). We ate a few of them together, me and my new buddy, and he talked about something while I listened. Then he tried selling me date syrup, (which made me think of the 'murder holes' in the fort) for one rial. First he smeared a little on his hand which he licked off. After licking it off he made a whooping sound and slapped his knee. I think he was trying to show that date syrup made a man strong! He then offered a little to me, motioning for me to lick it off. I did, then I slapped my knee. I motioned that I wasn't interested (the universal open palm wave of "no, thanks") which made him try even harder, no doubt strong off of the date syrup. I smiled and busted out with my kilo before he could give me anymore of his pitch. 

Picture of Steffen in the goat souq, after their big weekly sale:

Selling vegetables in the souq:

In the area around Nizwa, we also explored some of the fortresses that dotted the hill sides. We climbed up to one that was near the road, and pulled out the metal detector. We didn't find anything at this particular place, but we didn't stay too long as it was kind of raining.

However, we did find an old silver coin at another site. It was a collection of ruins along the side of the highway. We stopped and after a half hour of searching we found what appears to be a silver coin with arabic writing on it (it was pretty tarnished). Steffen thinks he found what coin it was in a book at the book store - if it is it would be 500 years old.

After 3 or 4 days in Nizwa we headed back to Muscat. During our time spent in Nizwa, Steffen had arranged for a place to stay, with a guy he met on the plane flight to Oman. His name was Dave, and they had met in the Dubai airport. Dave invited Steffen to hang out with him once he was in Oman, and gave Steffen his phone number. Steffen had talked to Dave a few times in those first weeks and Dave was nice enough to let us stay at his place until we found something. He lived in one of the many nice compounds on embassy row, near some of the nicer hotels. It was a big place, with 3 bedrooms. Not only did he have a great place to live, but he hooked us up with the ex-pat network in Muscat. Through this network we met Elizabeth (who I've mentioned a few times in this blog) and my friend Christiana (who I met at a party over there). Dave was a great cook and we ate like kings while we lived there. He was also the one that told us about the Wahiba sands trip that I've already written about. What a generous guy, all around. It was a stroke of good luck to meet him, and all the good things that resulted from that meeting.

As an American, if you ever plan on moving overseas I would suggest making a connection with the ex-pat network in the place you are going to be. It's a great way to make friends, and to learn tons of stuff about the place you are living. You'll learn about places to live, places to eat, what to see, where stuff is cheap, where the jobs are, etc. I had nothing but good experiences with the ex-pats I met in Oman, and I was surprised just how quickly I made friends there. I'm not sure how you make that connection exactly, Steffen and I kind of lucked into it by the chance meeting with Dave, but people working in the US embassy would be a great place to start. Just some advice!

Some of my friends currently living in Oman

Here's another short update for my blog. These are some of the people I've mentioned, or are going to mention in upcoming blogs.

Ibrahim and Steffen: Ib is an Omani doctor, and was our roommate for the month before I left. I'm pretty sure that Steffen is intentionally blinking.

Dave: An American working for a contractor over in Oman. He was gracious enough to welcome us into his home for a few weeks and on many adventures during my time in Oman. Definitely a character! :)

The La Bellas: Elizabeth and her parents. I spent more than a few nights eating their food and talking about life in the Middle East. An great group of people and they make amazing spaghetti! (and they all look a little pissed off in this picture :) )

Elizabeth and I: She liked to punch me. Alot. 

Christiana: An English teacher who I met early in my trip. She tried to get me a job, and gave me the opportunity to volunteer in her class. It was a rewarding way to meet some Omani women!

I really enjoyed getting to know these people, especially the welcome feeling I got from the ex-pat community in Oman. It was amazing that once you meet one person from that group, suddenly you know everyone. Especially Elizabeth, who made me do stuff while Steffen was gone! Otherwise I might have just read books and eaten dried strawberries all day... though I did quite a bit of that anyway :)

In the area around Nizwa - week two in Oman

After almost a week in Mutrah, and living the good life in the Finar, we rented a car and busted out to Nizwa. Nizwa is one of Oman's major cities, and is approx 150 kilometers south of Muscat in the mountains. It was a scenic drive in our Yaris, weaving in and out of the mountain passes.

We headed for Nizwa in mid-afternoon, too late to do much site-seeing. So instead of staying in town, we decided to camp outside of Nizwa. Our first night was spent in Wadi Tanuf, one of the valleys surrounding the city. We parked the Yaris at the edge of the Wadi and walked in.

We hiked back on a small road, past a little hill top village. Goats grazed and kids ran around playing soccer.

After a few more turns of the road, we found an elevated area to pitch Steffen's tent (under the tree in the right side of the picture below). 

From another angle:

With the tent pitched, we started scouring the dry river bed for sticks and other burnables. A few trucks went past us, probably wondering what a couple of gringos were doing in their valley. Soon we had enough fuel, and Steffen (the former Eagle Scout) took the lead on building the fire.

It got dark quickly in the valley, soon the fire was the only light besides the moon and stars.

We had bought some meat and vegetables at Lulu (Oman's take on Walmart) before we left, which we packed in aluminum foil to cook. It was a good meal, sitting on the rocks around the fire. After that it was off to bed in Steffen's little tent. A cozy fit for two big guys like us!

The next morning I stoked the fire again. It had been a rough night for yours truly, I didn't sleep very well. I was so used to the lumpy beds of the Finar, not to mention all of the late night noises, that it was difficult to get used to sleeping on the ground and in the complete quiet of the Wadi. So I was up early, trying to get the fire going again.

We posed for some pictures:

After cleaning up our camp site, we hiked back to the car and the old city of Tanuf. There are two cities of Tanuf, the old city which is in ruins, and the new city built close to it. The old city was destroyed when the Sultan wrested control of the area from his father. Instead of rebuilding, the people there must have decided it would be easier to rebuild nearby. I had brought my metal detector all the way from the USA just for places like this!

Steffen surveying the scene, my trusty metal detector chilling in the shade:
We found some muscat (the old bullet, not the capital of Oman) balls and a bullet in the ruins of the old city. A man walked up with a herd of children surrounding him. They were a little curious what two Americans were doing poking around the old city with a metal detector. Steffen explained in Arabic, which brought more questions - why does he speak Arabic? They were suspicious, it was obvious even to the non-Arabic speaker. Steffen asked the man if his children would like the muscat balls that we found. The man said no, and that he didn't know what the muscat balls were. It was obvious that we were touching on territory we probably shouldn't. So we left, heading back to Nizwa.

 

Oman's first Gulf Cup victory

Steffen and I never made it to an Oman soccer game. It just got too crazy as they neared the finals and there was no way to get in unless you camped out all day. We were definitely fans though, and we made it known. I know that I got plenty of great reactions from people when I wore my jersey, even learning to say "Yullah Oman!" (Let's go, Oman!). 

Here is a picture of the guy that my jersey was a replica for (in red, trying to punch the other guy in the nuts):

Me, in white, always trying to defend my nuts from Steffen's punches: 

We watched two of their matches on TV, one in a hotel in Nizwa with the hotel staff and the other at a Shisha bar in Muscat. 

Shisha: (fruit tobacco is used (which smells amazing, by the way), not weed)

It was fun to watch in both cases, in Nizwa because the staff was so excited we got free sodas and had elaborate toasts and cheers for Oman, and in Muscat because that was the championship game which Oman won in a sudden death shoot out. It was very exciting! They were tied after the first five shots, when the Saudi player missed his shot on the sixth they crowd went crazy. But it wasn't over, the Omani had to make his shot. He did, and the entire country exploded in celebration. Not to mention that the Sultan gave everyone a day off the next day to celebrate. It was the first time that Oman had ever won the Gulf Cup, and I'm pretty sure that it means they are automatically in the World Cup now. For such a small country, it was huge. 

I still think soccer is kind of boring, but I appreciate the passion that fans have in places like Oman. Maybe the US will have that kind of passion someday, but I still probably wouldn't watch anything but maybe the World Cup. And if only for moments like this:

OWNED!

Iraq/Kuwait in the Gulf Cup

Oman was hosting the Gulf Cup right around the time we arrived in Muscat. The Gulf Cup is a tournament of all of the Gulf states soccer teams. Oman was dong pretty well at the time, they were undefeated, so Steffen and I got caught up in Oman soccer fever. We both bought Oman jerseys and planned on going to their next game. 

Being that this was early in our trip, we weren't very good with directions and locations in Muscat. It's a big, spread out city, and we just knew a few landmarks. We got on a minibus in Mutrah, just outside of the Finar hotel. We took that bus to Ruwi (fortunately just to the edge of Ruwi, not deepest darkest Ruwi) where there was a major minibus and taxi place. Steffen went around looking for a taxi willing to take us to the game which was set to start in just 30 minutes or so. He called me over to the cab of this little tiny dude. After some haggling, this guy was giving us a deal on our trip. 

As we drove to the game, Steffen and the driver chatted in Arabic. I obviously didn't understand anything, but soon Steffen turned to me in the back seat and whispered, "I don't think this guy is from here, he doesn't seem to know where the stadium is." This concerned me a little. The Arab cup was all anyone was talking about, how could any taxi driver, even one that had only been on the job a short time, not know where the stadium was? It was free to get into the games (yes, free, to all of the Arab cup games), tons of people had to have been going there! Steffen said, "He keeps asking me if I know how to get there. It's weird." That should have been our big tip off that something was going on, but what could we do at that point? Anyway, we eventually saw the stadium on the horizon, huge stadium lights lit up the night. The little dude dropped us well away from the stadium, on the edge of a dirt parking lot. He gestured in the direction of the stadium and then asked Steffen for more money. Uhhh, no. So we started hiking over to the game, wondering why he dropped us where he did and then watching him drive in the direction of the stadium anyway. It was weird.

We found a gate guarded by a few soldiers. We got the customary pat down and made our way into the stadium. I expected to see the entire city of Muscat there, but instead it looked like this:

 

Nearly empty. Just a few hundred fans. That's a little weird, we said. Steffen talked to one of the guards standing at the entrance and found out that we had been taken to the other stadium in town, the one that was holding the Iraq/Kuwait match-up. Basically the little dude had screwed us over and not taken us to the Oman game like he was supposed to. That's why he kept asking us if we knew where the stadium was, to see if we would notice the fast one he was pulling. The Oman game was in the large Sultan Qaboos stadium, well on the other side of town, while this game was a little closer (and less of a drive for him). 

Steffen and I fumed for a minute or so, then realized that we had been had by a little scrawny taxi-driving bastard, and laughed. We decided to root for Iraq, and sat in their vocal section of the stadium. 
I don't remember much about the game, except all the yelling. Steffen bought an Iraqi flag to wave. I took some pictures of the game:

At half time we decided to bust out. I know that I had gotten my fill of soccer. Unfortunately once we were outside the stadium we couldn't find any cabs or mini-buses. The side of the highway that we were on was going the wrong way. So, in the dark of night, we crossed about 8 lanes of high speed (70+ mph) traffic. It was a long and scary process of trying to judge which gaps in traffic were large enough to risk running through. But we made it, and got home before the Oman game ended, pouring tens of thousands of people onto the streets. It was a good night, Oman won! We knew that because the people were going crazy on the streets after we got back to the hotel, horns sounded and people were cheering. 

It turns out that the taxi driver probably did us a favor. We found out later that the stadium for the Oman match had filled up five or so hours before the game started. There was no way that we could have gotten anywhere near the game at the time we were trying. At least this way we got to see a little soccer action and not have to fight the crowds. So take that, little tiny taxi driver!

Our first weeks in Oman

First of all, here is a map showing just where Oman is in the world.

It's on the edge of the Arabian peninsula, bordered by the United Arab Emirates, Yemen and Saudi Arabia. It's capital city is Muscat, the place in Oman where I spent nearly my entire trip. 

 

Here are two rough street maps of Muscat (click to enlarge either of them):

Muscat isn't one continuous city, its more like many smaller cities that are linked up by the Sultan Qaboos Highway (which is the main route through town).  It's sort of odd driving through a capital city that has so many areas that are undeveloped because of terrain. You literally transition to different parts of the city through passes in the rugged hills, going from one part of town to the next with only the highway connecting them. Steffen said that the passes used to be how invading tribes from the inland would try to attack Muscat in the past. Those once useful defenses are now a hinderance to development. 

Steffen and I met in the airport after we arrived, I was just a few minutes behind him coming out of security. It was good to see a friendly face after so many hours of traveling. I was definitely a minority in Seeb International Airport and the sounds of Arabic washed over me. It was night and I was a little disoriented. Steffen grabbed us a taxi, and soon we were driving all the way across Muscat to Mutrah (or Muttrah), the port area of the city. Mutrah is in the far NE corner of Muscat, and is one of the older parts of Muscat. We passed the Sultan Qaboos Mosque, a large structure lit up at night:

 The Lonely Planet recommended the Naseem Hotel, at only 20 dinars a night it was a "steal!" It actually wasn't all that bad, and it was right on the corniche (which is what they call water front roads).

Mutrah from the hills above

The next morning we were up and at it pretty early, trying to fight off jet lag. Our first destination was the Mutrah Souq, (souq = market). This tunnel-like market place was covered from the elements and packed with shop after shop of trinkets and do-dads. Some specialized in jewelry, others in fabric, still others in frankincense (yeah, like the stuff in the Bible). Not to mention tons of other things you never knew existed and probably don't care that they do.

Part of the ceiling of the Souq

More of the ceiling

Steffen and I spent a good chunk of the day looking for places to eat and kinda browsing through the junk that was for sale. Then something strange happened, all of the shops started to close. It was like 1 pm, prime shopping time in my opinion. It turns out that Omani shops (not the large chain stores however) close during the hottest parts of the day, from 1 until 4. Even in the dead of winter (which it was in January and February - a chilly 75 degrees during the day!) they still close up and go home for 3+ hours. We were a little surprised by this, but took the time as an opportunity to walk down the corniche to old Muscat (the region of greater Muscat which houses a bunch of the government buildings) where the entire region got its name. This is where the Sultan's palace is located. It didn't seem that far on the map, but in practice it was quite a jaunt. My little feetsies hadn't worn sandals in months, leaving them torn up by the harsh straps as we walked. I soon developed some hard calluses, but that first week was murder.

It was a scenic walk along the coastline. On the hills stood the famous watchtowers that seemed to dot just about every other hill in Muscat. It was a reminder of the invaders throughout history in this region of the world. Soon we passed through the gates of Muscat and were on our way to the Sultan's palace.

The Sultan's Palace is a unique looking building, unlike anything I've ever seen before. It is flanked by numerous government buildings and has a long boulevard leading to it.

The day that Steffen and I were there, we saw a guy with one of those big floor polishing machines working on the marble along the parade ground. For outdoor marble, that's pretty serious maintenance.

One of the funniest things I noticed about the Sultan's Palace is the front gate's intricate lock. It appears to be a bike lock, check it out:

No doubt there are more defenses than this lone lock, such as the numerous guards around, but it's still kinda funny. I've been to Buckingham Palace - where the queen of England lives, and her front gate was a little more hefty than the same sized lock I use on my Schwinn. 

We hiked back to our hotel, both of our feet a little worse for wear. A few nights later we moved farther down the Corniche to the Finar Hotel, a relative steal at only 15 rials a night. What does 5 extra rials a night buy you (the Naseem was 20 rials)? Well, for one it buys you a tub to shower in. And a toilet seat. And includes toilet paper. And clean sheets every morning. The Finar lacked all of these things. The beds were ok though, which was the most important thing. 

One night stands out in particular. It was late, sometime in the early morning hours. Someone started pounding on doors down the hallway, yelling something in Arabic. The person soon was pounding on our door as well. I was more than a little freaked out that maybe the place was burning down and this was our fire alarm, so I pulled my pants and shirt on and opened the door. A little bald dude stood in front of me saying something. I told him (in English) that I had no clue what he was saying. He then started making a movement with his hands like he was trying to light a cigarette, and asked "lighter?" He just kept repeating this motion and saying "lighter?" while I stared in disbelief. This dude was actually going to wake the entire floor up to use a lighter? Steffen couldn't take it anymore. I'm not sure how awake he was (or how awake I was, for that matter) but he started shouting all sorts of threats and obscenities at this guy from the darkness of our room behind me. The guy got pissed and said something under his breath while walking down the hall. But it shut him up. I laid in bed for awhile wondering how long it would take for this dude and a bunch of his friends to come pay the Americans a visit, but it never happened. Just another night in the Finar.