I'm having trouble keeping track of what day it is, not only because they have their weekend here on Thursday and Friday. (Friday is the holy day.) Went for a swim yesterday morning, around 6am, which was lovely. It's been overcast since I arrived so the water was cooler than usual, but clear as always. Though, the beach is not exactly pretty. Sophie says everything will be prettier once the sky is clear and blue, which I can believe. We took the scenic route home today from another Toorak-esque shopping centre (which I am becoming sickenly accustomed to), and the rocky hills (not quite large enough to be moutains) with the water behind them were very picturesque, imaginably more so if the sky were clear. So yeah, Muscat is not designed for tourists... and as such, I haven't seen any. There are other Westeners around, but they most likely work here, and they're typically over 40. But yeah, I don't feel that I've had any authentic Omani experiences here yet, though that seems to be because I had a romanticised notion of what that would be. Did I mention that everyone here is quite friendly? It was funny at the airport, the girls at the currency exchange were giggling over my passport photo and asking me if I was a rock musician. And back at Bangkok airport the customs ladies were all having a good look, too... funny stuff. Actually, even the customs woman at Melbourne commented on it! Anyway, where was I... Oman... so you're probably already aware of the different rules for men and women in Muslim countries. As far as Muslim countries go, Oman is quite progressive: women can show their face and wear makeup, they study, have jobs, drive cars, etc. I hear that some Omanis think that the Saudis, for example, are barbarians. Omanis aren't allowed to marry non-Omanis, so if they wanted to, it would mean leaving the country. The first striking difference between men and women, is that on the whole, Omani men wear white and the women wear black. Indians on the other hand, are usually wearing their work uniform, as they have all the cleaning jobs, etc. But they also run restaurants and work in cafes, where I've noticed they just wear pretty ordinary slacks and a shirt. So practically every Omani man wears this white frock thing called a dishdasha, which covers them from the base of their neck to their ankles. And honestly, every man, from adolescence to elderly is wearing one, with their turban for formal situations or a cap for casual. And accompanying them or in their own groups are the women, usually completely in black, from the top of their head to toe. What's amusing is that the entirely black look is not a custom or rule, it's a fashion statement! Apparently the country women wear colourful outfits, which I hope to see for myself tomorrow when we go for a trip into the 'Interior'.
Then there is a large ex-pat Indian population here, who are largely here to scrape out a living doing, as I mentioned, manual labour, cleaning, etc. But also secretarial, as there's a lovely Indian girl that works here with Sophie by the name of Lakshmi, who is very funny, often in a naughty way. There was a card from her waiting for me on my arrival, welcoming me to Muscat. So there is a distinct racism going on, whereby the Omanis sit around running their business affairs, the Indians and Pakistanis do the shittest jobs, then Phillipinos do things like tailoring, gardening, etc. Sorry, repeating myself a bit, getting distracted.
Sophie's apartment is nice and spacious. Ugly furniture, though, which she has covered with what are essentially loin-cloths. They're just big rectangles of cotton with decorative and tassled edges that the Omanis wear underneath their dishdashas. I reckon I'm going to take to the loin-cloth + sandals look during summer back in Melbourne. Accidentally letting it fall off in front of old ladies, etc... whoops, no underwear! Manslaughter, no doubt. Yeah, anyway... otherwise the fashion here is tres boring, as I said, they all wear exactly the same thing. I did see a damn fine suit in the window of a shop the other day, though... I'm reluctant to inquire about it, because it will invariably look fantastic if I try it on and I'll feel compelled to buy it. So far, I haven't had to spend a cent (or rather, a baiza) since I arrived in Muscat. Some things here are cheap, others similar to Australia. Anyway... just waffling now...
Sophie's holidays start tomorrow, presumably I will be over my jetlag somewhat more than I am now, and we will start to see some real sights.

In the beginning...

"A good word is like a good tree whose root is firmly fixed and whose top is in the sky."

Strangely, I'm not sure what to say. I arrived in Muscat last night after eventless flights and a slightly eventful six hours in Bangkok. Since I had six hours to kill, I went into town and wandered around a bit - bought a fruit smoothie thingy from a street vendor but threw it away without trying it after panicking about tap-water in the sugar syrup that they used... yeah, probably paranoid... then I had lunch at some ramshackle setup where I took two mouthfuls of the stew and again panicked about malaria (even though that's from mosquitoes and what's in the water is something else, and I thought I was educated)... but I'm fine. When I got back to the airport, I realised that I had neglected to bring my boarding pass with me (though I had ticket + passport), and so ensued an excruciating half an hour or so of senior security looking at a computer about whether or not I really had permission to take that flight and be in the airport, etc. So after the stress of that little episode, I decided to let myself be ripped off by the hotel's "Authentic Thai Massage" service, as I was feeling a bit frazzled. Well, it's rather unlike Chinese massage, it's more about pressure points. It was pretty good, and I was chuckling to myself at the level of familiarity the masseur takes with the client, which would be totally unprofessional in Australia.
Anyway, evidently all I have to do is start typing and it just flows out. Actually, on my second-last flight I met Mohammed Abdullah, a salesman for a company that makes scales. You know, for weighing things. Industrial scales for big things, microscales for laboratories, etc. Anyway, he was interesting and philosophical, so we exchanged email addresses.
My Muscat experience so far has been a very... comfortable one. Turns out that Sophie's apartment is in the Toorak of Muscat, can you believe it? And her work is in the building next door. At which, I have met a number of people, all of whom have been hearing all about me and my imminent arrival for the past month or so... it's a flattering feeling, walking into an atmosphere of anticipation. We unintentionally went for a scenic drive to an older part of town, proper Muscat, I think, and there were some pretty sights of old buildings nestled amongst rocky hills on the water. Sophie reminded me that the Muscat of today is really only about 35 years old; before that the Omanis were still living as bedouins, etc (apparently). But after the coup by the current Sultan Qaboos, it's grown Vegas-style supermarkets and a Mercedes Benz around every corner. Funny stuff.
Anyway, as you might already know, I can be very verbose, so you'll have to skim the waffle to find what's interesting.
Queueing at Melbourne airport was a rather unpleasant experience. So many... people, and so much... suburbanism, consumerism, conservatism. Gross. Anyway, blah blah blah... I'm starting to bore myself... oh, our tour of Egypt, Jordan + UAE starts on the 8th July.