From Dubai to Oman

I should have known that Oman would hold a special place in my heart when I bought my bus ticket in a stationary shop in Dierda, Dubai that doubled as a bus station.


More amazing than the “stationary bus station” (I don’t know if that is a pun or a double entendre or what….) was the bus itself. Here I am pictured with the “castle” that delivered me to the magical land of Oman. I am pretty sure Howl’s Moving Castle was not a Japanese anime, but rather, a different bus that went from Dubai to Oman.




The ride was just fine, except that I had an Omani guy that was trying to be overly helpful sitting behind me. Not a problem just a bit annoying. At the border, we all had to get out of the bus and stand around our luggage while dogs inspected it. It must have been at least 50 (120) degrees outside…but other than that, the castle was less of an experience than I expected it to be.

Since it is such a small world, I had a friend from University in Oman, and I was able to spend time with him. I also met Issac, a recent graduate from Ohio in Diplomacy and International Relations. He mention to me that he wanted to live in every continent before going to grad school to pursue international diplomacy. "I think you have to live everywhere to understand where people are coming from, you know?" I hadn't thought of it before...but yes, it makes perfect sense. Probably more sense than most international relations.

I loved Oman...with the exception of the men. Walking anywhere, I felt the penetrating stares. It wasn't the stare I get in other countries cause I am a random white girl--- it was a lusty, depraved stare. I assumed the stares would be as far as it would go...till one day I went to Mutrah.

Everyone else was at work, so I wasn't going to sit at home. I decided to embark on a walking tour of Mutrah. I began at the fish market and walked along the Corniche. I wandered around the souq and found it a bit more intriguing than those that I had seen in Bahrain or Dubai, and climbed up to the fort.







Around mid-day I went to a restaurant. Normally, I don't worry about sitting in the family section (a special area of a restaurant where only women and their families are allowed to go) but I decided it would be a good idea in this case. So I walk into the family section, sit down and begin writing postcards to my family. Some fellow has the gall to follow me in and begin asking if he can practice his English. I politely mention that I am writing to my family, and don't have much time. He finally admits, "I saw you walking and I though you are the most beautiful woman I had seen."
Four. Hours. Walking. In the blistering Oman heat. Bull. Shit.

Before I go any further, I would like to clarify that the riskiest clothing I wore covered everything but my forearms. That still didn't deter Ahmed.

After lunch, I decided to go to the beach, but needed a taxi to do so. We agreed to go to Qorum beach for 500 Baisa. It was on the way home for the folks with whom I stayed. They could drop by and pick me up....or that was the plan until I let Ahmed the cab driver convince me that I should go to Qantab beach instead. "Ahmed welcome"

Ahmed seemed nice enough...but we were going pretty far from the city and winding into the mountains. Not a big deal...I have my cell phone...I kept thinking to myself...

He asks if I need anything to eat or drink. "Ahmed welcome" I politely mention that I just ate lunch and have plenty of water. So when we stop at a gas station. I am a little confused....is this normal?

Ahmed walks out with a snickers bar and guava juice for me. What the hell? When I remind him of the refusal he starts making angry leaking air sounds. "Pshhht" "Stttttsss" "Ahmed welcome" So, I provide an obligatory swig of Gauva juice.
...I am pretty sure that means I am married to Ahmed according to Omani culture...
Each moment was getting more and more uncomfortable...I was still in the mountains, with a semi-pissed cab driver heading god knows where.

Suddenly, one left turn later I see possibly the most beautiful beach I had seen at the time....and then we make a right. And stop at the top of a cliff. He points and says we should go down there. Down there is a valley that curves around a boulder so the beach is not visible from the road. I tell Ahmed I want to go back down to the beach with people. "You decide." He motions for me to follow him out of the car and into the valley. "Ahmed welcome" At the same moment, a black car with tinted windows pulls up next to us.




This is how human trafficking movies start. Screw this. "You decide" he keeps saying. I HAVE DECIDED, asshole. I grab my stuff and start walking to the beach. He pulls up next to me....makes the same angry, leaking air noises, and agrees to take me back down to the beach. "Ahmed Welcome" It was as if he couldn't believe that I would feel uncomfortable..cause he was there to welcome me. He plops down on the sand, and tells me to go swim. He will wait for me.

Like. hell. I will prance around in a bathing suit in front of this guy. So I make up some excuse that I need to leave cause my friends are leaving the office early. It works. Thank you Jesus...and Mohammad too.

The next day, we went back to Qantab...without Ahmed