Once Nathan left for the US, Jules and I decided to spend a short holiday in the neighbouring country of Oman. The bus company said it would only take 6 hours and cost only $30 roundtrip. We booked a hotel in Muscat over the phone and we were set. We were going to Oman.
Just a short drive west out of Dubai, you are plunged into the wildnerness of the Arabian Desert and the Hajar Mountains. Our bus was your typical dilapidated and smelly type, but whatever...it was cheap. The border between the United Arab Emirates and Oman was some dinky little outpost standing in the shadow of the towering mountain ranges. We got across the border with no problems and sped our way across the empty desert towards Muscat. It's pure wild country out here. The Bedouins still cling to their old, simple way of life in the desert. Although, some of them have upgraded from camels to 4WD SUVs.
At the Oman-UAE Border
My illegal picture of the Oman-UAE Border
Welcome to Oman
Muscat, Oman
We got into Muscat at 330pm local time. For the first time on my study abroad, I actually felt that I was in the Middle East. At least, Muscat is the stereotype that most Americans have of cities the Middle East. There are no skyscrapers. The tallest building in town is 5 stories. The city is surrounded by open desert and mountains. There no tourists and there are Arabs everywhere dressed in shining white for the men and all-black for the women. The cars are old and are all imports from Asia and Europe. Arabic writing is everywhere. Everyone speaks Arabic. The men spend most of their time sitting on street corners drinking tea or coffee and having lively conversation.
The first thing we noticed though was that all the shops and businesses were closed. It was 330pm on a Wednesday and everything was closed. The weekend wasn't until Thursday and Friday, and we were sure that it wasn't a holiday.
We didn't have any Omani Rials so the first thing we did was look for an ATM. We found a bank and it wouldn't accept any of our cards. And then it took my Notre Dame debit card and wouldn't give it back. So I walked around to the door and go figure, the bank was closed and wouldn't open until the next day. Not cool.
We walked like a block to another ATM, and my brother's card worked. We then asked a taxi driver to take us to our hotel. He kept asking us, in his poor English, 'When? When? When?'...we gave him a confused look and said 'Now please...al'an min fudluck'. But he kept asking us 'When? When?'...then he asked, 'Corniche or Ruwi?'. He was practicing his apparently poor English on us and when he asked 'when' he actually meant 'where'. Well, his English is probably as good as my Arabic. Anyway, he ended up overcharging us $8 for a 5-minute ride to the our hotel by the water. It should've only cost $1. Not a good way to start off in Oman.
After checking into our lovely 1-star hotel, we set off to explore Muscat by foot. Except everything was still closed. We had lunch at a nice Arabic cafe (the only one open) by the water for $1. We walked into the nearby Mutrah Souq and the stalls were all closed. Sweet. This trip to Oman is really going well, just like our trip to Abu Dhabi.
View from our 1-star hotel
Fortunately, things got better before they could get any worse. At 4pm, all the shops and stalls in the souq were coming alive again and opening. It was weird. The sort of scene of stores opening up shop signifies morning in other countries. In Oman, this sort of scene was taking place late in the afternoon. Apparently, Omanis take a sort of siesta during afternoon prayers. All the shops and businesses close so the faithful Muslims can do their afternoon prayers and have afternoon tea or coffee. After managing our way through the labrynith of shops and howling alibabas ('my friend! my friend! you want cheap DVDs?'), we walked a few kilometers along the Gulf of Oman's coast to the walled city of Muscat.
Corniche and the Gulf of Oman
Old Portuguese fort. The modern Omani military still uses the old forts as current bases.
Gate to the Walled City
Walled City
For many years, the Portuguese had occupied the city of Muscat for its strategic trade position halfway between Europe and Asia. They built a wall around the entire city and the only way in or out was through two gates. They built a number of forts and watchtowers on top of the cliffs above the city, which are actually still in use today by the modern Omani military. The walled city is also home to the Sultan's palace, where Sultan Qaboos resides in the Omani version of the White House. There wasn't much security around. And the few security guards present were quite lax. We were walking on the top of the wall and this once security guard had his M16A2 rifle propped up against the wall, while he was on the other side with his back to us and his rifle while he stared off into the city. We walked between him and his rifle, and the guy didn't even flinch. Man, I could've just taken that thing and ran. And if we wanted to, we probably could've jumped the fence into the palace. There was no one at the gate and certainly no rooftop snipers.
Sultan's Palace
Some museum
Sultan's Palace
Entrance to the Palace
Sultan Qaboos
Notice how the Pope's picture is higher
Our room's wall. Welcome to Muslim country.
We spent the rest of the night walking back to the corniche and having dinner on the top floor of the tallest building in town. Up on the 5th floor, we had a view of the entire waterfront. The beer was cheap too. We went back to the hotel to watch Al Jazeera and Baghdad TV, before falling asleep. I set my alarm to 8am.
5am, we woke up to the local muezzin singing the morning prayers away at the mosque next door to our hotel. We couldn't go back to sleep until he was done. No wonder this place is a 1-star.
First thing that day, we had to go back to the bank and get my ND debit card back. We didn't want to take a taxi because we didn't want to get gringo'd again. And we thought it would be a nice morning walk. Wrong. It took us almost two hours to walk under the hot Middle Eastern sun. Sweaty and tired, we entered the bank and got in the long line. 40 minutes later, I get to the teller and ask to get my card back from the ATM. He tells me to go upstairs. Sweet, all that waiting for nothing. I get upstairs and get in line again. 10 minutes later, I ask the lady at the desk and then she goes off to ask some other guy. This other guy told me to go back downstairs and ask for Mr Ali. Just super. I skip the line back downstairs, despite the glares from the Arabs in line, and ask one of the tellers for Mr Ali. A large man appears and I tell him about my ATM card. No I don't want to open an account here, I just want my card back you jerk. Mr Ali tells me to go upstairs and talk to them. The Middle East and dealing with Arabs takes a lot of patience. After some talk, he finally disappeared into the back and came back with my ND debit card. Something that took him 15 seconds to do ended up taking us an hour to do.
Omanis who did't know we took their picture
Omani Special Forces
We thought the beach would be a nice place to relax the day away, so we decided to take a taxi to the Al-Bustan Palace Hotel, one of the biggest sights to see in Muscat. It's 5-star hotel and an architectural wonder, with its beautiful domes and columns. It also hosted the GCC (Gulf Cooperation Council) summit a few years back. 20 minutes and $10 later, we get to the hotel. The security guard at the gate waves us down and in perfect English (he was Filipino), tells us that the hotel was closed for renovations. Wow. Just our luck.
Drive through the mountains to the beach
Our trip was taking casualties, and we were losing patience with being in the Middle East. Our last hope was some beach (Bandar Jissah) that my travel book recommended and it was the last thing on our list that we wanted to see. I bought a travel book for $35 (a 2004 edition of 'Arabian Peninsula') that covered all the countries on the Arabian Peninsula: United Arab Emirates, Kuwait, Qatar, Oman, Yemen, Saudi Arabia, and Bahrain. Besides Yemen, I wanted to visit every country the book covered, so I figured it was a good investment even though I overpaid for the book. Our taxi driver drove us through the mountains (beautiful views of the Gulf by the way) and he dropped us off at some 5-star hotel that wasn't in my book. I asked if this was the right place and he insisted that it was, in his poor English. Turns out that it was the Shangri-La Hotel and that it was actually built in 2005. So, that explains why it wasn't in my book. We were expecting Bandar Jissah to be an underdeveloped wilderness. Instead, we found a 5-star hotel. It was a pleasant surprise. Not to my brother though. He wishes it was still a natural beach. Anyway, we hung out here for a couple of hours, enjoying the hot sun and the gorgeous beach. When I thought of the Gulf of Oman, I didn't exactly have this in mind:
Gulf of Oman
As usual, the hotel staff was mostly Filipino and so were the waiters at the restaurant. We struck up a nice converstation with our Filipino waiter (Filipinos stick together). Julian started telling him about his report on Catholicism in the Middle East and asked our waiter why Oman didn't have a Catholic church. Our new Filipino friend englightened us and said that Oman did actually have Catholic churches. There are actually two in the area of Muscat. Another pleasant surprise. We immediately decided to attend the next Mass. We left the hotel and took an expensive cab ride back to the city.
Omanis at the beach
Someone drowned =(
We ended up at another beach, this time in Qu'urm, on the outskirts of Muscat. Now this was what a Middle Eastern beach really looks like, without tourists or any sign of Western influence (besides the one Starbucks). Hundreds of Omanis were out at the beach since it was their weekend (Thursday). Men still wore their traditional white robes to the beach. Women still wore their traditional black burqas to the beach too. But their traditional dress is so highly regarded that they make every effort they can to keep them clean, especially on the beach. And despite the signs saying that soccer was forbidden on the beach, there were dozens of soccer matches going on anyway. We walked up the beach for an hour or so, until it was time for Mass. There was a gathering crowd on one part of the beach. Apparently, someone had drowned in the water and there was a seach and rescue operation currently underway. Police and crowd stood offshore, divers and boats patrolled the water, and a UH-1 Huey helicopter circled above in the skies.
UH-1 Huey aids the search party
Illegal soccer on the beach
Muslim women still wear their traditional dress to the beach
A taxi dropped us off at the Holy Spirit Church in Ghala, although we were about two hours early for the 715pm service. A few minutes after arriving, a middle-aged Filipino man, noticing we were also Filipino (Filipinos can always tell their own kind), approached us in front of the church and introduced himself as Carlos, from Manila. He asked us if we lived in Oman, and he was pleasantly surprised when we told him that we were visiting American college students. But to his disappointment, we did not speak Tagalog. We talked about our families, his job, what we were doing in Dubai and Oman, the Catholic Church in the Middle East (he used to live in Saudi Arabia where Catholicism is banned), the Filipino community in Oman, etc. This went on for over an hour. Before we knew it, he was introducing us to all the Filipinos showing up to Mass. The meetings developed a routine. He introduced us by name to someone who would then acknowledge us and shake our hands. Then we'd tell them we're visiting American college students and they would would gasp and then suddenly be so interested in us, asking us dozens of questions. This went on for about 30 minutes until the Mass started and we had already met about a dozen Filipino expatriate workers. As usual, the only ones in Mass were Indians and Filipinos, with a Filipino priest presiding.
What the heck language is Western...?
Catholic church in Ghala
Every church in Arabia has a grotto
Yet again, the only ones in the crowd are Filipinos or Indians. The priests are also either Filipino or Indian
After Mass, Carlos and the other Filipinos invited us to their post-Mass dinner and gathering. We hadn't eaten yet and we were being offered free Filipino food so of course we joined them. Most of the Filipino expatriates are professors, businessmen, or managers. By contrast, most of the Filipino expatriates in Dubai are waiters, cashiers, or hotel clerks (still a level higher than the Indians and Pakistanis, who are all drivers and construction workers/manual laborers). One of the Filipinos grew up in San Diego and was retired US Navy, who was currently in Oman as a US Defense Department contractor working with the US Air Force in the region. Around 11pm or so, they invited us out to town to get shawarmas with them. Carlos drove us to the shawarma restaurant and the place was booming. It was around midnight on a Thursday night but Omanis were out and about everywhere (Oman's weekend is Thursday and Friday). The restaurant was packed. The streets were full of pedestrians and traffic. Oman's nightlife doesn't quite compare to Dubai's but we were impressed. After another free meal from the local Filipinos, we thanked them for their overflowing hospitality and genorisity and Carlos drove us back to our hotel, and we fell asleep after watching more Baghdad TV.
Filipino feast
Midnight shawarma run
After the shawarma run
After 4 hours of sleep, at 5am we wake up again to the muezzin in the next door mosque wailing away on the loudspeakers. It's pretty cool if you've never heard Muslim prayers before. It's not so cool if they wake you up at 5am.
Friday morning, me and Jules went shopping in the Mutrah souq, which was only a 5 minute walk from our hotel. Besides the howling Arab men (my friend my friend! you want cheap watch? rubber shoes?), I love Arab markets. You can haggle everything down significantly if you know what you're doing and know how to work the system. Forget about those clean, fancy, expensive malls. I'd rather hang out here with these Arab guys. After some haggling I ended up buying an Omani Khanjar dagger and an Omani Shamshir sword (the two make up Oman's coat of arms).
Oman's coat of arms
Carlos picked us up to take us to the other Catholic Church in Ruwi that was having a Mass at noon. Again, it was packed with Filipinos and Indians, with a Filipino priest presiding. After Mass, the Filipinos invited us again to eat and hang out with them. The Filipino community is extremely close here in Oman, which accounts for their super hospitable attitude and kindness. Maybe I'm just biased, but I can't really think of any other nationality that would do this to two random strangers visiting a country. We exchanged contact info (email and facebook), hugged, and said our goodbyes. Carlos drove us to the Grand Mosque to take some pictures. It has the world's largest carpet. It took 600 women over 4 years to weave.
Souq
Sneaky pictures so they won't get mad
Mass at the other Catholic church
Grotto
The church...Filipinos and Indians. No bell tower or crosses because they're illegal.
Filipino feast
Filipinos are so hospitable
We're going to keep in touch through email and facebook
Grand Mosque, with the world's largest carpet
After leaving the mosque, he dropped us off at the bus station and waited for our bus to get there before leaving. We thanked him for his kindness and assured him that he and the other Filipinos made our trip to Oman really special and worth it. As soon as we met them, we didn't feel like tourists anymore. We didn't feel we were alone in a strange Muslim country anymore. They had made us feel at home and welcome. Viva la Philippines.
7 hours later we were back in Dubai. Julian and I went to the Dubai Desert Rock Festival on Saturday, March 8th. We saw Muse, Velvet Revolver, Marky Ramone (of the Ramones), and Julianna Down. The concert made me feel like I was back in the US for the first time I've been here. It was a lot like Lollapalooza 2007 in Chicago, except there was nobody smoking pot and since this was a concert in the Middle East they would take 5 minute silent breaks during the show so that the Muslims could do their prayer. How cool is that. And Muse just so happens to be my favorite band. I've seen Muse play live every year for the past 4 years: DC 2005, Philadelphia 2006, Chicago 2007, Dubai 2008...but this is my first time I've seen them play in the middle of the desert. The concert itself was one of the best I've ever been to. And we didn't bother buying beer because it was $10 for like half a can. I'll upload the other videos later.
Anyway, we got back from the concert past midnight and Julian left at 6am to catch his flight back to Notre Dame. No worries though, I am going to meet up with him and Eric (as well as a few other friends) in Rome on the 19th. Julian left Dubai on the 9th but we were going to see each other again in 10 days.
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