Missives from Muscat: a-Sharqiyah Desert Trek

View from the old mosque

Friday we left Muscat and headed south towards the Sharqiyah region. On the way, we stopped at one of the oldest mosques in Oman. It actually has two qiblas, that's how old it is. The qibla in the mosque tells Muslims which direction to pray in, towards Mecca - but during the first years of Islam, Muslims prayed towards Al-Quds (Jerusalem). This mosque had a qibla towards Mecca, and one towards Jerusalem.

We then stopped for lunch in Ibra, and it was Omani-style (read: eat with your hands). Yes, that is rice in the picture. Eating rice with one's hands, when a novice, is quite the ordeal...I wished I had brought a bib. After watching us make a huge mess, our instructors Salih and Mohammed took pity on us. Salih showed us the trick: you grab the rice and chicken, ball it up in your fist (palm upwards) and then use your thumb as a "shovel" to pop the ball into your mouth. Preliminary attempts at this improved the mess-making, but it was still nowhere near tidy.

the remains of the dinner (see pile of "missed-my-mouth" on bottom left)

We then headed to Wadi Bani Khalid, which is a beautiful oasis in the mountains. To get there, you actually drive up over the mountains and down into a valley completely encircled by mountains, so it's absolutely gorgeous. We girls had been told we could swim provided we wore knee-length shorts and t-shirts over our swimsuits, which meant we went out before the trip to buy shorts and t-shirts, since most of us hadn't brought any with us - assuming we wouldn't be able to wear them. The delightful (sarcasm) shops in Al-Khoud didn't offer us many options, so I ended up buying men's workout shorts. As you can imagine, we looked super hot.

But at the Wadi, no other women were swimming. There weren't even women at all; the people there were mainly teenage boys. While we tried to find a private spot for our group of 15 to swim, they quickly spotted us and basically followed us around. At one point, they were standing on the rocky outcroppings above the pool we were in, ringed all around us looking down. It was pretty disconcerting, and the girls were uncomfortable and mainly just sat in the water,  not swimming. Our Omani chaperones were also uncomfortable. As we were walking back to the bus, one of them apologized, saying, "They were Bedouin." Pretty telling remark: Julia, my roommate, noted that this comment could be a way of deflecting the (perceived) poor behavior of these guys by making them not as Omani as our Omani hosts. While this is really interesting to me, and it was frustrating and uncomfortable (especially when my teacher forbade me from jumping into the water like all the boys in our group were - another way in which I am not accustomed to being a woman in this place and chafe at what feels restrictive to me)...there were no women swimming. That was a sign. It would have been much better, albeit painfully hot and sweaty, had we just stayed out of the water or sat by the edge with only our feet in and not wearing swimming gear.

Back on the bus, we drove to our camp in the desert. I wasn't quite sure what to expect when the Omanis said "camping," but it turned out to be just pretty basic accommodation: there were beds and bathrooms in little cabins. Our had a fence that enclosed a little "yard" (of sand) and there was a large metal bed frame in said "yard."

Outdoor sleeping area in "yard"

 Inside the cabin, there were four beds with easily portable bedrolls and sheets, which we dutifully trekked outside to sleep on. Despite having both doors and the windows open, the cabin grew stuffy with no A/C or fan. Sleeping outdoors, after taking an anxiety pill to quell fears of scorpions (heard about), massive flying beetles (saw), and other such delights of the desert, was the only way to get any sleep in the heat.

Our cabin opened on the side to a little enclosed area and an attached bathroom. It was actually pretty great, because the lights in the bathroom didn't work, so to shower in the dark would have been creepy (especially being aware of above-mentioned scorpions' existence). Also, the desert is hot, so having the option of air-drying post-shower was pretty fantastic.

Enclosed sink area between bathroom and bedroom (ideal for air-drying post-shower)

Basics: the shower

 We had a lovely buffet dinner in our dining hall, which we promptly devoured after hours on a hot bus and outdoors at Wadi Bani Khalid.

Dining "hall"

 The next morning, Julia and I woke up at 5a...sleeping outside, it's hard to make it past first light. We climbed to the top of the "tilal a-ramal" (sand dunes) to watch the sun rise. Turns out climbing sand dunes is no easy business. The sand eats 2/3 of each step, and you have to go sideways (think: slalom) to make any headway at all. I counted it as my workout for the day, since I was so out of breath after the 30 minutes it took to slog to the top. It was so beautiful and peaceful, though, and worth every second. The view was spectacular and it was so still.

After showering up, our guides took us "dune-bashing." This is basically taking a 4x4 and driving across the dunes in a way that my mother would not approve of. I was a little nervous, especially as I got into the back of the 4x4. Our driver, Salim, laughed at me and shook his finger when I went to buckle myself up and discovered that there were no seatbelts in our car (Mom, skip down past this part). He was a very good driver, and I was really impressed with how well the 4x4 drove on the shifting dunes (remembering how hard it was to haul myself up them earlier!).

Photo-op at the top of the dunes

Pre-dune-bashing: what have we signed up for????

 So...you will note that in the below video, it's very shaky and at a few points you can see the tracks ahead, where we'll drive, and basically be surfing the dunes via car. Also, at about the minute mark, you can see the other car behind us start to come down the dune we just went down. You will also notice that we start freaking out in the car...because the driver of the other car opens the door, puts one foot on the open windowsill and the other on the steering wheel, and holding onto the roof and steering with his right foot, drives the car down the dune. It was incredible. Dune-bashing turned out to be really fun, and I didn't feel scared after I got into the car and we started going. It was like...a seatbelt/safety-harness-less amusement park ride.

IMG 4082 from beth harrington on Vimeo.

Dhows under construction

We then took off for Sur, where we visited a dhow "factory." When I say factory, I mean place on the banks of the river where a bunch of South Asian workers build dhows. And when I say dhows, I mean boats - dhow isn't even an Arabic word, even though this type of boat is associated with and critical in Arabian history and culture. The Arabic word is qarib.
After that, we stopped at a restaurant for lunch. It wasn't quite ready yet, so we got to put our feet in the Indian Ocean and hunt for seashells while we waited. What can I say, it's a rough life.
 

So clear!

On the way to Sur, we passed a bus stop on the highway filled with goats (they were sitting there because of the shade the shelter provided). One of them was standing on the bench, as if watching to see when the bus would arrive. Then, in the pagoda at the main roundabout in Sur, goats had taken over.  And as we came out of the sinkhole, a goat came up to Julia, ever so sweetly. Then 8 more came around the corner, their hooves making a padded clicking sound on the bricks. They are actually really cute animals! Back on the bus, I asked our teacher Mohammed if the goats are branded - I'd seen them wandering the hillsides grazing, and wondered how people kept track of them. Mohammed said, and I quote, "No they are not branded. The goats just know. They just go to their home at the end of the day." Apparently, goats can find their own way home, thank you very much, and recognize their owners. Presumably they'd start bleating if someone tried to abduct them.

Julia's sinkhole buddy

Goats in Sur Roundabout

On the way back north, we stopped at Hawiyat Najm (or Bimmah, for foreigners) sinkhole. Compared to the previous day, swimming here was a breeze. There were only 3-4 people swimming who weren't part of our group, so it was a relaxed swim. We took the steps down into the sinkhole and eagerly jumped in, overheated from two hours on a bus whose A/C grew feebler by the kilometer.

 The water was gorgeous! The sinkhole is only a km or so from the ocean, and it is most definitely saltwater. In parts, you can climb up on the side of the cave walls and jump in, which was tremendous fun. At first, we wanted our non-swimming friend AJ, who was sitting on the spit of sand poolside (see above) to take a picture of us jumping all together, so we all clambered up out of the water and across the slippery rocks to the ledge to jump. All of a sudden, John shouted, "BEES!" and everyone jumped - in better synch than if someone had actually counted - simultaneously into the water to avoid the beehive he had angered. Watching from the safety of the water (I hadn't made it up the rocks yet), it was pretty hysterical.

It was so magical be immersed in water - my whole time here in Oman, I've wanted to do this so badly. Partly because I miss swimming and I love swimming; partly because it is SO INCREDIBLY HOT HERE. I think I spent most of my hour and a half in the sinkhole just floating on my back, enjoying the feeling of the water (even through my swimsuit, knee-length shorts and T-shirt ensemble/modesty garments) and staring up at the sky.

 It looked kind of like that. And it felt like heaven. Floating like that, in peace and not able to hear anything with my head half under-water, everything calmed down and I felt whole again. I felt at peace with the heat, with the awkwardness of being an outsider, with the visibility of being a Western woman, with the prohibitions and restrictions of being a woman here, with the frustrations with the poor administration of my program, with how hard it is to learn Arabic despite my best attempts, with missing Rob so much it hurts...all this frustration seeped away and acceptance flowed in. I do not always make it easy on myself (in fact...I rarely make it easy on myself), and I certainly have not chosen a fairly straightforward career or life path for myself. But I wouldn't be happy otherwise. All this, this makes me grow. It makes me learn. It challenges me. And in the end, I have to wait for it sometimes longer than I hope, but I find that zen again - that even-ing out when the world goes quiet and everything is harmonious and I think, "Yes, this is what it means to be alive. In this moment, I am here. For the good and the bad. Together." 

Jumping-from-bees ledge visible at the back left