Monthly Archives: October 2010
No particular order. Some shots of our housing, and the campus and the students and Mary Ann’s library. Enjoy and please comment.
I have not written on this bloggie thingie for way too long. Mainly because we have not traveled for like a whole month!
Life on campus is better than I imagined it could be.
Mary Ann is enjoying her job and the people she works with. She gets tired by Thursday (virtual Friday, the Moslem week is Sunday through Thursday) but that is to be expected. She is taking a Yoga class and getting all nimble.
We are both taking a class together called beginning Arabic. Emphasis on beginning. After the hour class is over my brain cells are fried, deep fried. I keep telling myself this is no way to learn a language. I believe that only necessity and immersion are motivators for learning a new language. Jumping into the deep end and dog paddling to stay alive is the only way. Here in the UAE I do not need to speak Arabic. Only 20% of the population are Emiratis. Everyone I deal with speaks English. I have no one to practice with besides Mary Ann, and yes, she tries, flash cards and everything, but she is just learning as well. The New Jersey accent does not help. You must pronounce things accurately in Arabic, and some sounds have absolutely no equivalent in a romantic language. Let me give you an example.
I, as you might imagine, am the class cut-up. Basically, in a class with professors from around the world I am Jeff Spicoli. So I revel in it. The other night, the scene went like this:
Teacher: “this how you say where is the hospital. Ayna moustafa”
Everyone repeats Ayna Moustafa.
I raise my hand. The teacher, who happens to be woman, but treats me like Mr. Hand treats Spicoli, grudgingly says “Yes Forrest”
“Excuse me, but I truly do not believe I will ever have to ask anyone were the hospital is. Can you teach me how to say something useful like where is the bathroom?’
She says “OK repeat after me AYNA ALHAMMAN”
I repeat AYNA ALHAMAN”
Notice that I spelled them different. My Mr. Hand starts laughing at me.
Startled by her finding me humerous I say “WHAAAT, what did I say”
She then tells me “In Arabic, we have a sound for a M and a different sound for MM. What you just asked me was “where is the pigeon.”
Now everyone is laughing, at my expense. Cool let them learn how to ask where the hospital is, I can now find out where the bathroom is, or a pigeon. My three to their one. All I have to do is figure out how to say MM instead of M. The only example I can think of in English is ham sandwich opposed to Hamms beer. (Either one of which I would almost kill to get my hands on) Here in the UAE, they say” toilet” so the whole embarrassing episode was academic.
I am also taking an upper level History class Called “The History of US Relations With the Middle East” or something like that. I am not a real student, so I do not have to turn in papers or any of that rot. I just sit in class and watch this united nations of students discuss the readings. I do my Spicoli act from time to time. Sometimes I even make an intelligent comment. The prof tolerates me because I think he needs comic relief in his life. He is from Massachusetts and has been here six years. We have a Palestinian guy, a French girl, a girl from no telling where, maybe Pakistan, and guy from Saudi Arabia. There is one American. He is the only blonde on campus. He is an exchange student from the American University in Washington DC. He works summers for USAID. I am quite sure he is on his way to full employment with a certain three letter acronym soon. Then there is, I swear, a princess. She is a member of the Bahrain royal family. She is very well prepared for class, and she secretly laughs at my jokes. In my dreams she invites Mary Ann and I for a weekend in the Palace in Doha. But, why should she. Unless I write her term paper for her. Hm. Or is that Hmm.
I have entered three writing contests, short stories. The first is about my History prof going time travelling, the second is about Yetis actually being extraterrestrials and the third is about Social Networking. You FB people would not like that one. Grand prize is a trip to NYC, in January, for four days. Second prize is a whole week.
OK, unless something absolutely amazing happens, like a day under 90 degrees, or it friggen rains, I will not be posting for maybe three weeks. Mary Ann and I are off to Thailand on Nov 12. That is the start of another EID, so Mary Ann gets 10 days off, without having to take any vacation.
Thanks for reading, please comment, I need the attention.
As related in my last post, this trip was a last minute present from my wife. We both wanted to see Muscat and it is a mere 45 minutes by air from Sharjah. We made use of the Sharjah Ruler’s airline, AirArabia once more and his modern airport. The flight was 5 minutes taxiing, 20 minutes up and 20 minutes down. Barely time to fasten your seatbelt and turn off your cell phone.
When these two rulers get together to discuss heavy matters of the day, I wonder if they ever sit around the hookah at night and brag about their respective countries. One thing the ruler of Sharjah has bragging rights over the Sultan of Oman is his airport. But the Sultan is building a new one, and in 3 years the Ruler will have to play catch-up. For now the Oman airport is antiquated, small, and has just a few flights to places other then the middle east. It is one of those airports I would avoid if given the chance. You know the kind, no jet-ways. I hate getting on those little buses out on the tarmac and then dumped off at some basement entrance to the terminal, with a long boring walk through grey hallways to face the immigration man. But such is life, beats staying home.
Muscat, the capital of Oman is a beautiful city.
In a couple years Muscat will boast an Opera house on par with any in the world. On our flight home Mary Ann and I sat next to a lovely young student at AUS who just happens to be the daughter of Hamid bin Abdulla Al Ghazali, project director, Royal Opera House, The Royal Estates-Royal Court Affairs. In other words, the big kahuna on this project.
Knowing the way these ruler types enjoy bragging rights, I will bet that there is a bigger one in Abu Dhabi before the end of the decade.
Muscat is also very expensive. Backpackers, flashpackers, trekkers, whatever hip name you have this month, stay away. One night in a hotel here costs as much as a month in my hotel in Chiang Mai. Yeah sure, nicer hotel, but paying for a hotel for a month here would buy a small house in Kansas.
Sometimes locals get better deals than tourists so I tried becoming Forrest Bin Omani.
It did not work.
I went back to wearing my western garb and we took our first tour. It was Friday, Holy Day in the Muslim world. The streets were quiet. Nothing truly commercial opens until about 4 on Fridays so we went to places that cannot close.
Our first stop was a fish market. If Al Gore had invented the internet correctly he would have included the ability to send olfactory sensations. You really cannot experience a fish market without them. This was not just a market. It was on the beach. Small (under 30′) boats pulled in with everything from sardines to black marlin. The fishermen then submitted their catch to a “public” auction. Everyone seemed to know what to do. Fish were only on the auction block for a minute or so. Then they were taken for sale in the market behind the auction area or thrown on ice and taken as far away as Dubai to be sold to restaurants. Our guide knows a couple of “Omani Boys” (his words) who do this every day. They have to buy a new vehicle every six months or so, but they make a good living.
From here we went to a fort. There are an awful lot of forts in Oman. Some were built by local rulers back in the day when Oman was split into separate small Sultanates. Some were built by the Portuguese when they occupied Oman. This fort was of the Omani type.
I have many more fort photos, more than you have the patience to look at, so I’ll move on.
Oman has a lot of fresh water that is supplied by springs in the mountains. Lucky them. These days of course they have to use Desal to supply enough water for the population. But back in the day, it came from springs. We went to one of course. There was a nice stream flowing away from it. Omanis use it for a picnic spot.
I decided I had to ride this donkey. Don’t ask why. I guess another year older and another year dumber.
From here we went out to the coast. Oman has about a million miles of coast line with some beautiful beaches. Because were still close to Muscat, there were some very nice 5, 6 and 7 star hotels. This one is where The Dick Cheney stayed while he was Vice President. I call it Hotel Undisclosed Location. A broom closet goes for $500 a night. The best Villa? You’ll have to ask Cheney.
Close by here was the Oman Dive Club which had a great beach, pool and restaurant. It was open to normal folk. A word to the wise…remember I said Oman is expensive? Lunch was over $50. All we had were a couple of sandwiches, a beer, and oh yeah, this.
By now things like the renowned Souk were open so we went shopping. We had not planned on buying much of anything, but we found a carpet store and ended up buying a carpet from Kashmir. The salesman was quite good without being aggressive. I walked into checkout a wall hanging, Mary Ann walked in and he went to work. I thought he was wasting his time until Mary Ann spotted one rug she really loved. I decided to make him work some more. If you have never been in a rug shop, you can really make these dudes hustle. They pull down these heavy rugs and spread them out for you by the dozens. Then they have to roll them back up and put them away. It is almost cruel if you do not buy one. This store is part of co-op run out of Kashmir, which is going through some heavy war type crap right now. He also had some Iranian rugs, but he has to hide them because of the sanctions against Iran at the moment. He only had three left, we considered saying “bring them out”. We have now bought 7 carpets, not one from the Middle East. Soon.
The most interesting thing to buy in the Oman Souk is Frankincense. Yup, the same stuff one of the wisemen brought baby Jesus. They also sell Myrrh. And gold. You could have quite an authentic Christmas here. I learned a lot about Frankincense. For instance;
-It is harvested from a tree that looks like something that barely survived a forest fire in the Sierra mountains.
-To harvest the sap you cut it like you would a maple tree. The sap drips out, then crystallizes.
-The closer to clear, the better. The dark is not so good.
-It is put on top of burning embers to give off a gas, which is used as incense.
The entire souk reeked of the small of Frankincense. This is another time I wish I could send my readers olfactory images. It is a pleasant odor, but not something I would want my house to smell like 24/7/365. This is a photo of a Frankincense store with the proprietor sorting his raw materials by shades.
We were bartering to buy an incense burner and some Frankincense when the salesman made us an offer we could not refure. He threw in some Myrrh, some Sandalwood, and also some Saffron. So we broke down and bought his whole package. If you google the price of Saffron, it can be as expensive as $315 an ounce, This guy was handing us about half an ounce, just for buying his Frankincense. In Oman it is plentiful and cheap. I am considering filling a suitcase with it and heading for NYC. Like most our souvenirs, I have no idea what to do with them now that I am home. If anyone hears about the second coming, let me know, I’ll hop on a camel, try to look wise, follow a star which will probably turn out to be a satellite, and go give gifts.
Thanks for reading, tell a friend, and make a comment. I love comments.
My wonderful wife gave me a trip to Oman for my birthday. It was kind of a last minute thing. I dropped a hint that my B’day was coming in a week, and I think she had forgotten.
Mary Ann is the designated travel agent in our house. She finds the best fares, hotels and tours like a tornado finds trailers. At first she was planning a trip to Cairo so I could check off the pyramids from my bucket list. It was going to be a five day trip. She had not requested any time off of work. She has the vacation time accrued, and her office would have been cool with it, but I wasn’t. My insecurities left over from the working world said “lets do Cairo another time.” Instead of just cancelling plans she said “we could do Muscat for a weekend”. Wow, great idea.
Muscat is the capital city of Oman. Oman is right next door. It is also another world. Yes, it is a Muslim country, but the culture is very different.So is the History. So is the Geography.
Oman is a Sultanate. The Sultan is named Qaboos ibn Said.
Qaboos took power at the age of 31 from his father with the help of a social upheaval in Oman. I wont go into the long fascinating history of the rule of the Said family (Qaboos was the 12th Said to rule) except to say that even with the influx of petrobucks, Oman was wallowing in the middle ages when #11 was replaced by #12. For instance…#11 closed the gates to Muscat at night, no one could enter or leave.
In 1970 there were only three graded roads in the entire country. There were three schools. There was not a single newspaper. No radio or television There was no civil service. All of Oman had only one 23 bed hospital. Life expectancy was 47. Qaboos had his work cut out for him. He had been educated at Sandhurst. In fact at the time he took over, in order to get a decent education, Omanis had to leave Oman. Many, most in fact, did not come back. It was a classic brain drain.
He inherited a country that had just started accumulating big bucks. Make that BIG bucks. But the country was at war with itself. The people were tired of living in the middle ages. #11 wanted no western influence in Oman. He forbid anything that could taint his world. This included cigarettes, for which the penalty was death, and he even forbid sunglasses. In the desert. No wonder the people rose up.
His son #12 started to transform the country. He brought back Omanis trained abroad to run the country. He built roads, opened schools and built hospitals. The WHO ranks Oman #8 in the world for healthcare. His desire, which has panned out, was that Omanis run Oman. They do the work, have the jobs. This has resulted in a country with a population that is 80% Omani and 20% foreigners. This opposed to the UAE which is 80% foreigners and 20% Emiratis. And now, the people can enjoy a cig and wear sunglasses!
Also, he has developed a music appreciation program. He has encouraged that Omanis learn to play music of all types, and at the present time is building an Opera House, which I am sure will be world class.
So, big petrodollars streaming in has let Qaboos develop his country and bring it firmly into modern times. He has used what is HIS money to improve the lives of his people. Literacy is at something like 90% Omanis get free medical care and an education. He gives out free land if you are going to build a house and Oman has full employment. However, with the amount of money coming into his accounts, he cannot give it ALL away.
But he does not spend all his excess income on fun and games. The following pictures are of the Grand Mosque in Muscat. I have never been in the Vatican, the Sistine Chapel, St. Peters Cathedral. I will someday, promise. So up to now I must call this Grand Mosque the most impressive religious building I have ever seen. It has the worlds second largest carpet. It is absolutely beautiful. It has over 1,700,000,000 knots. It weighs over 21 tons. It measures over 70 x 60 meters in size. 6,600 faithful can and do use it to pray on. My photography cannot begin to capture the grandeur of this Mosque, or the carpet, or even the central chandelier. The pictures will not show you that the chandelier itself is over 14 meters tall. The area sroounding the mosqu has another 40,000 square meeter for the faithful to gather, during the highest holy days, the place is a sell out, kneeling room only.
OK, enough on history and culture. My next post will take you along on our whirlwind tour of the Muscat area. A fish auction, forts, a nice beach and Cheney’s bunker.
So stay tuned. Thanks for reading and please make a comment!
I know I have not posted for a while now. I have taken some crap for that, thanks sister.
OK, so we are back in Sharjah. Mary Ann is working and loving it. Now that we live on campus in our spacious apartment (condo?) she has a 71/2 minute walk to her office. Some people who live in the same block as us actually drive the three blocks to the main part of the campus. I forgive them. It is always about 100 degrees f. I don’t think the aircon in the car could possibly cool it down in the 2 minute drive, but heh, it is the thought that counts. We have still not decided to buy, lease or rent a vehicle. The university gives us a free bus ride to the Sharjah Co-Op to shop for groceries twice a week, and every other weekend we have a driver who takes us to Dubai. We go to any one of the huge malls and window shop(all we can afford), see a movie (about US$8 for the ticket and the popcorn is always stale) and have dinner. We also do a lot of people watching. There is a fascinating collection of expats and Emirates to watch go by. Sometimes we laugh, sometimes we just shake our heads.
Both of us just started an on-campus class in spoken Arabic. They have a class to learn how to read and write it, but there is absolutely no way I could ever decipher that writing, and much less of a chance of ever doing the calligraphy needed to write it. I cannot read my own handwriting in English, so just forget it. Last night I tried to repeat in Arabic that I live in Sharjah, the teacher laughed and told me I just said I live in a shoe box. I have a long way to go before I can do anything important like order a pizza.
I am enrolled in an upper level history class titled something like America and the Middle East. Classrooms are like playing tennis. You never want to play tennis with someone worse than you, that is no fun. I am in a class where everyone is smarter than I am, so I am having fun. There are only six people in the class, but these people actually study and come prepared to discuss the readings. I throw in a few impertinent comments for comic relief, but intellectually I am outclassed. OK, it has been 30 years since I had to be prepared for a classroom situation. Luckily I am only auditing the class so I won’t have to go on academic probation and embarrass Mary Ann. I think my prof is relieved that I will not be turning in any papers, so he won’t have to grade my dribble. In this class, there is one Palestinian, one Saudi, one girl from France one girl who says she can’t be defined by any geopolitical borders a guy from Chicago (yup, the Chicago by the lake) and one girl from either Bahrain or Qatar.
This last girl and the guy from the KSA got into a friendly argument about a sword that was returned to the Saudi’s last week by her country She said “that sword was given to mt grandfather and passed along to his father. It was a present from the King of Saudi Arabia, we should have kept it.” The guy said something about the sword being mythical and magical, or maybe just worth a lot of bucks. Everyone was leaving the room and I missed it. So I have a meeting set up with this girl for Monday to get the whole story. She is going to bring pictures and tell me all about it. I will post on Monday or Tuesday and entertain you with a little ME lore, so stay tuned.
By the time you read this I will be another year older. Mary Ann is taking me to Muscat for my birthday and the weekend. Where? Google it.
I will put up a post on Sunday (this time with pictures, I know you like pictures) all about our weekend in yet another country.
One last thing. I have a good buddy who is in Afghanistan at this moment embedded as a historian, journalist. If you find him on FaceBook (John R Bruning) you will be treated to some amazing photography and stories. I have known him for 20 years. We are oil and water politically, but I admire his gumption to go where he is, zooming around in helicopters and writing about it. So check it out. If like me you think FaceBook is just too insipid to be involved with, then he has a blog at http://theunawriterslair.typepad.com
Stay tuned and tell a friend, and for goodness sake, make a comment.
OhMan off to OMAN