Barcelona to Abu Dhabi: A Very Fine Day in Muscat, Oman
Overnight, Christmas has begun to happen on the Nautica. As I head up for my morning coffee in the Horizons Lounge, a decorated tree has magically appeared overnight. As the day goes on, more and more trees will appear. I am such a believer in Christmas. Today, we are approaching Muscat, a city I love, and there is a Christmas tree in Horizons! How can the day get any better?
A fabulous early morning sunrise is icing on the cake.
Coming in to Muscat.
We had been so disappointed to be in Muscat only for a few hours and to know that on Friday the Muttrah souk would not open until late afternoon. We had signed up for a dhow ride. We like dhows, and we are only in Muscat for such a short time! Once we discovered the souk would be opening early, and closing at the mid-day call for prayer, we decided to skip the dhow ride and take the shuttle into Muscat. Changing our plan changed everything. Our disappointment lifted; we felt empowered once again! We could choose our own adventure!
I head back to the cabin to check on AdventureMan. He is not there! Natalia, our cabin attendant, tells me he just left looking for me, he went THAT way, and I go to the cabin. I knew we could spend a lot of time chasing one another and that the best thing was to stay in one place. I spent a short time putting together a GO bag, water, etc, then he was back.
We went for breakfast and decided we are ready to go.
We meet with the local destination resource who gives us a good map, and we head for the shuttle, which arrives just as we leave the ship. There are Hop On Hop Off buses all lined up to take others on their adventures, too!
It takes us 300 yards to the immigration building, we get our little card and we get back on the bus. The driver takes us another mile and we are at the Muttrah Souk.
Much to my surprise, there is a lot of local activity. We are among the first to arrive, but there are local women doing their shopping, shopping for gold, with their babies, some with their husbands.
This man was so kind. He had just bought some freshly cooked Felafel, and AdventureMan asked him how much they were. He immediately went and bought some for AM, and refused to take any money for them. They were delicious. Of course, we bought from his shop.
We keep to the smaller back streets at first, and I look longingly in the beautiful gold souks, remembering days of long ago when I would admire, but know that nothing I was seeing (mostly bridal and dowry jewelry) would be anything I could wear in my life.
We also saw fabric shops and notions shops which made me drool, and I had to stop to admire – but not to buy. I know where my granddaughter gets her love for glitz – the gold trim dazzles me, but I have nowhere to wear it.
We wander around, nothing looks that familiar, and then suddenly, it does. We shop the back streets for perfume bottles, scarves/shawls for gifts, and something for the postman – we find him an Oman snow globe. We stop for drinks, in a central, shady restaurant where I have pomegranate juice and AM has strawberry – delicious and refreshing.
And it is HOT. We have been thinking it would be hot once we hit Haifa but were lucky to have cooler weather through Haifa and Luxor. Even at sea in the Red Sea, it has been comfortable. It didn’t get HOT until today.
The souks begin to fill up; the tour buses have finished their trips and are dropping the riders at the souks.
We were actually back on the boat by noon – the souks are just minutes away – and there was another fish soup for lunch. It tasted a lot like the bouillabaisse but was a zarzuela. After lunch, we hit the spa. We lay out on the divans for a short while but it was HOT. The Nautica departs at four.
Tomorrow we will arrive in Dubai, but not until noon or so, and then we have a trip to Sharjah, a small emirate that I have never seen. Then we have dinner and make sure our bags are packed and ready to go because our next stop is Abu Dhabi and disembarkation, which they say is very uncomplicated.
AdventureMan is restless, we go up for tea and to watch the ship depart. Joined by friends from England, we chatted about our day in Muscat. As we chatted, dolphins swam back and forth across the wake in the back of the boat.
Back in the cabin, at sunset, Ashok brought appetizers – egg rolls and two scones. We’ve been eating all day – lightly – but we will save the scones for dessert.
Barcelona to Abu Dhabi: Salalah, Oman
We have a history with Oman – we love it. Once, when my husband and I were visiting in Oman, we traveled to an oasis, where a small boy asked to guide us. The path was clearly marked, but this young man was so charming and spoke such good English, we hired him. On our way into the falls, he asked us if we knew John Thomas. LOL, we knew John Thomas!
On that same trip, in our lovely hotel, I bought a silver thimble. It cost way too much for a lowly thimble, but it was exquisite, beautifully crafted, and to this day I am thankful I overcame my frugality and bought it, because it has given me years and years of heavy usage, and I feel joyful appreciation every time I look at it.
I visited Oman again, later, with the Kuwait Textile Association, visiting craftspeople all across Oman.
We are thrilled to be visiting Salalah. Neither one of us has ever visited Salalah, a port city, famous for its lush greenery, bananas, coconuts and its long history as a trading crossroad between Africa, the Middle East and India.
The day is off to a hilarious start. It’s been so warm, AdventureMan had decided to sleep on the balcony and early in the morning got thoroughly soaked as the ship was hit by errant wave. He dries off and crawls into bed as I head up to Horizons to catch up on e-mail. I come back down later to see if he wants to hit breakfast, then we head off for Salalah trip; Scenic Salalah.
Bus #1, full, heads off for “souks.” Ship is docked 14 miles from Salalah. Shuttle bus takes people to gate, then you can pay $27 to go to Salalah to a taxi driver, then $27 back.
We are given a special card to keep on our person, which we must turn in when we come back to the ship.
It’s a long drive. We stop first at a mosque, which we are told has restrooms. We are free to enter the mosque as long as we take our shoes off and leave them outside. The guard near the restrooms won’t let us in; he tells us they are closed. The guard at the entrance to the mosque won’t let us in. One woman has her shoes taken while she is trying to get into the mosque.
We drive into town to “souks” which are all primarily frankincense, signs in English and Arabic, all pretty much the same merchandise. I bought some rose perfume and two keychains for gifts.
The restroom is very clean, with six regular stalls and two “traditional” squat stalls with hoses.
Next is Biladi Museum, really nicely done, the entrance is like coming into a fortress. Inside are rooms with displays of very early history, meteorite hits, and maritime history with all kinds of boats, bows, and knots. I went to find the books and crafts shops, which were closed, but found some beautiful spaces still being built, with waterways, facsimiles of old boats, picnic areas, shady areas, and seating areas – this place has a lot of potential.
This cannon, below, blew me away. It is probably the earliest example of a cannon I have ever seen, and although it is primitive, it is amazing in the advantage it could give to the one who could wield it.
Then we go to drink coconut water, from a small open shop full of bananas, coconuts, and other fruits. There were many similar small shops, but somehow this entrepreneur seems to have a contract with the cruise ship lines. I think he had figured out how to get us in, give us each a coconut and get us out in time for the next bus to pull up.
Miguel, our next-door cabin mate, bought bananas for Marguerite, his wife, who is ill with a stomach bug. He had shown us a scarf he bought her at the Frankincense souks, camel colored, and told us he had known Marguerite in Cuba from the time he was twelve years old. They have been married now 59 years. They are so sweet with each other. Miguel also told us that his new heart medicine is also a diabetic medication and has helped his health greatly, also it helped him lose a lot of weight.
The coconut water was not that tasty, but the shops were full of so many different kinds of coconuts and bananas, and behind the shops are acres of banana trees bursting with bananas, and coconut trees with coconuts, in a dry and arid land, with wonderful places where water is abundant.
All in all, it was a short excursion. We were back at the Nautica for lunch, where they had a wonderful bouillabaisse. Next to our boat was a specialized boat, fueling our boat. It took a long time, and we could smell the petroleum. We imagined that we probably hadn’t fueled since Haifa, and were happy Salalah provides that service to these large cruise ships which have begun to stop in Salalah.
We would have been interested in time on our own in Salalah, but the cruise ship port is far from the actual city, and the ship’s shuttle only takes you to the gate, where you can catch a taxi – $27 each way into Salalah, and back to the ship. We are headed for Muscat and Dubai and Abu Dhabi – we can wait.
Back before I ever dreamed of blogging, we lived a while in Saudi Arabia. AdventureMan would come home from work, pick me up, and take me to the Souk Dira where I might buy buttons to teach my little students names of colors and shapes, or I could comb through the antique (junk!) souks for old camel milking bowls, afghani beads and jewelry, old silver leg bracelets, etc.
Saudi Arabia taught me a lot about assumptions. I had always told AdventureMan it was my one big NO, I wouldn’t go there. So he invited me for a visit, and I had a chance to rethink. Then I went to live there and discovered that there were many layers. Saudi Arabia was complex. It could be brutal. I also met Saudi women who were educated, and began a whole new kind of education for me, as I listened, observed, and broadened my understanding. One of my favorite things about Saudi Arabia was those evenings at the souks. We would get there shortly before the sunset call to prayer. We had a favorite felafel stand where we would get a sandwich and a fruit drink, and find a place to sit while all the shops closed. The call to prayer is magical in itself, and as the sun set, the sky would go purple and then get darker and darker shades of purple until it was black. The stars were brilliant, even though Riyadh was a highly neon city. Those moments eating our dinner as the sky went purple, and listening to the call to prayer, left an imprint on my soul.
As the sun went down, and we departed Salalah, the sky went purple.
“Has Your Wardrobe Changed?”
I was on my hands and knees, sandwiching two new quilts when AdventureMan seated himself near me and asked if he should take his grey-green pants on the upcoming trip. With all the baggage insecurity going around, we’ve made a decision to take a carry-on bag and one personal item, and skip checked luggage altogether.
Being the kind of person who used to over-study for tests, this is causing me some anxiety. I told him that the pants did not coordinate with enough of his wardrobe to make them useful, to stick with the tried-and-true khakis which used to be his staple, and his blue jeans, which will get him through some of the more rugged places.
More than once, we’ve had luggage go missing. It always caught up with us, but once – in Lusaka, we were headed out into the bush the next day and had only our traveling clothes and night clothes – and, thank God, some shoes. We grabbed a taxi and found a street mall with a combination grocery and department store, stocked with camo and green clothing from China which was more or less apropos. We couldn’t be choosy, and we were thankful to find something that would get us through until, we hoped, our baggage showed up. I still love the thick green socks I found; they have worn like iron.
But this is different, this is not the bush, it is a lengthy cruise, and I am trying to pack enough cool-weather clothing for cooler places, warm-weather clothing for places that are pretty hot even when they have cooled off, and clothes for dining in specialty restaurants with a dress code. I need clothes which will be modest. I need something for just hanging around. I’ve saved old swimsuits I can wear and leave behind, so that’s one thing solved.
“We’ve never lived in one place this long, ever,” AdventureMan continued, “and I have clothes I never wear anymore, things that have just become irrelevant. I keep thinking I need to get rid of more, like the pleated pants and the dress shirts, but it’s hard, I wonder if I might need them. Does that happen with you?”
I pause in my pinning and laugh. I have one dress in three different colors, another dress in two colors, and two jean skirts. I have a winter hooded dress in five colors. I am not a big shopper, so when I find something that works, I go with multiples.
Meanwhile, yes, AdventureMan, I have that other closet full, like you, with just-in-case clothes. I still have what is left of my evening dresses. I have clothing for in case I have a business meeting, or a funeral, things maybe I’ve worn once or twice since moving here. I have the odd specialty pieces, like Christmas clothing. When will I be ready to part with my cold-weather clothing, so beautiful and once so expensive?
I laugh and tell him all the above, and then tell him that of all the clothes I wear, I still have the clothes which were made for me in Qatar and Kuwait, copies of one particular Coldwater Creek linen dress which I had copied in both linen and cotton. I have three left. I’ve been wearing them for fifteen years, and they still look like new.
“I’ve taken them in,” I tell him because I’m smaller than I was when I was relatively sedentary in Kuwait. “And I’ve taken the hems up at least twice as I’ve gotten more used to being back in America. People tell me I look nice – they used to ask me if I was a missionary wife,” I added, and we both laughed. When you live in a different culture for a while, you become adapted to local ways. I remember how disconcerting it was in summers coming back to the USA and finding all the women shockingly and scantily dressed in their sleeveless dresses and shorts and T-shirts, even respectable women and I knew the change was in me and my perceptions, not in my culture.
I am thinking the backpack will be my Godsend. I am hoping I still have the strength and energy to run through Charles de Gaulle airport with the backpack on my back, lifting the carry-on if we need to run up or down stairs. I am thinking I can strap the backpack onto the carry-on handle in the straight places. I am thinking whatever I take will be enough; I am hoping it might even be a matter of discovering I have overpacked a little less than before.
It’s a curious mentality you develop when you’re nomadic. You become aware of so many possibilities, things that can go wrong, and things you might need, so you are always thinking “just in case.”
We have a backup plan. We know there is a Carrefour (large French supermarket) in walking distance to our hotel, so we can stock up on things we don’t have room to pack, or which we can’t carry on-board an airplane – manicure scissors, needles, sun protection, and some good bottles of dry red wine for our cabin. My list gives me a small illusion of control.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that this is our get-away, our escape, and that anxiety is counter-productive. We will be fine. Enough is enough, it will be a grand adventure.
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