Spring Break '11: Oman

            My Spring Breaks in general tend to be a tad more subdued than the rest of the world’s Spring Breaks. I don’t go out and party like I’m a n00b and rarely do I go to exotic places (for general lack of funds/worry about future lack of fund when the world market dies). Normally my break consists of copious amounts of sleep (that is much needed, apologies brain for the deprivation), lots of tea, and reading a book that will not be discussed in a classroom until any enjoyment that could have been gotten out of it is killed swiftly by the small, but powerful word ‘grade’.

            Needless to say, while all of you were vacationing in Cancun and sipping on margaritas (infinitely jealous), I was in Muscat, Oman. Clarification for those who didn’t read the banner of this blog/were confused about the difference just like I was when I decided to meander around the idea of studying abroad. I am in Amman (city) for my program. I took a short spring break visit to Oman (country). Okay.

            We had originally intended to go to Egypt but the whole military state thing didn’t seem to fly with my life insurance plan so we rerouted. Plus, there was the added bonus that SIT runs another program in Muscat so we would get to me up with other SIT kids. At this moment in time, I would like to take a brief intermission to explain to you blog friends that the staff at SIT from the first moment we got here made a point to appropriate the tribal culture of Jordan and tell us SIT students that we should emulate that awesome tribal love and take care of one another. I didn’t think I had latched onto this idea too heartily until we interacted with the other SITers (to be discussed).

            I’m going to go through this chronologically because otherwise I just know I’ll leave something out. But then again, I’ll probably do that any way I go about this, let’s try anyway!

Day One

            We get to Hotel Naseem in Muscat after an expected flight of sleep and music time. Oh, Hotel Naseem. For the record, Megan, the girl in most of the photos attached was my spring break roommate. We had a good time. I know you’d be jealous if you knew of all the fun we had. Just try and imagine. Keeping in mind that we brought 2 bottles of wine with us and I had been a sober sally up until then for oh 2 months now I think?

           Also- this hotel had a framed photo of one star at the front desk. One might wonder why you would advertise one star, as I did. But then, maybe it’s better not to wonder, and just better to think that Oman works on a two or three star scale instead of the normative five. This is how I rationalized the one star. I think I got a slight placebo effect from this choice. 

            Plus there was an English channel on the TV (which was so close to Megan’s bed that at night I’m sure it felt almost like spooning for her).

            Who could complain?

Day Two

            This morning after a breakfast of fried eggs and white toast (at which I once again lamented at the utter lack of vegetables, most importantly spinach, from my life) we checked out of the hotel because for that night we were staying in what had been described as a hut at a turtle reserve.

            Before going out, Megan and I pack our ‘turtle bags’ to prepare for our ‘turtle hut’ fun. Being the planner that I am (and knowing myself) I only packed one outfit in my Oman bag (I mean, jeans don’t count as dirty unless vomited upon and in some cases oil gets on them. Maybe butter too…and after working at Marble slab, ice cream too…okay dairy products in general. And if a shirt is white and you intend on swimming as a cleaning method then it’s as good as clean!) Judge all you will…Megan never once complained of me smelling and was totally jealous of my small bag (I saw it in her eyes). Needless to say, for these reasons my turtle bag was even sparser than Oman bag. Which basically meant nothing.

            A lecture was to be had before leaving for said turtles on Oman in general by the academic director of the other SIT program. At said lecture I felt like the regular Middle East idiot that I was the first week of Amman. Purrrrrfect (said exactly as spelled and with the face you would imagine on a disgruntled cat). Of course, if you know nothing, you can learn so much, right? ….Right?

            So after a morning of schooling, off to turtles.

            I would sound more excited but I wasn’t. There’s something in me that cringes about watching a turtle lay eggs/generally interfering with said crucial portion of turtle lifecycle. It was late at night and there were lots of people/flashlights/voices involved and all I could do was sit there and feel really…really sorry for the turtles. If there is a hell, my own personal version will be all of the animals I’ve ever eaten or disturbed personally getting to annoy me as much as they want, pencil tapping and all. Alas, after some good fresh ocean air, turtle disturbance, and star gazing, we head to the turtle hut!

            Now I’ve had my fair share of huts. I even built one with some other people down in Dominica this one summer. This was far above my ‘hut standards’. And far below everyone else’s (I think). However I got no sleep this night as the creators of said turtle hut thought that we who do not live in huts would like a fan, a noisy, cold, fan. BUT AT BREAKFAST THERE WAS BEANS. And there was FRUIT. And more than egg and wonder bread!

            I am happy.

Day Three

            After said awesome breakfast, we go to see this place where they make boats. This is where I sort of spaced out. I’m not a boat fan really (except when there’s the prospect of pirating something/wearing an awesome pirate outfit) and these were way out of my price range/visa restrictions. Plus the sweltering heat of Oman has this drugging effect (it’s no wonder protests there are farther and few between, and appear quite languid). So I checked out.

            Then to hiking in Wadi Shab to go to one of the more beautiful places I will ever be in my life. I jumped into an oasis of gorgeousness, climbed into and up caves with friends, got a piggy back ride from Megan across a river, ate the best lentils I’ve ever had, threw rocks at Megan from top of said cave, and just generally had an amazing time. You know those moment sin your life where you look around, take a second, and decide this is amazing, you’re completely aware that you’re actually aware, and you can take full advantage of the situation, calm the hell down for a second, and just enjoy the moment? This was not one of those moments. Unfortunately I was too wound up in climbing and jumping and silliness to slow down and try to live it Eat, Pray, Love style (of course, who can do that but Julia Roberts and someone who’s very good at crafting esoteric “life changing” montage clips anyway?). Alas, it was an amazing day despite the shui-fail.

 

The walk to the oasis of awesome (wading river, pre-hike)

Day Four

            A wholesome breakfast of fried egg and wonder bread toast left us all energized and ready for our museum time…

            Megan, Andy, and I went to an Omani historical museum that was in a house that had been converted to a museum by the owner. I found it wonderfully (taste that sarcasm) segregated by gender, the front foyer being devoted to males and “male endeavors” and the second (back) foyer being devoted to women and “womanly endeavors”. Let’s play a little game. There were four mirroring painted large posters in the foyers. Here are the male paintings:

And here are the female paintings:

Painful, no?

            Though perhaps I’m being too harsh. Post museum we all went to the SIT Oman school to meet the students and discuss our experiences. Upon discussion, we came up with the topic of museums here reinforcing a nationalist pride and attitude that is craftily tied to historical records and archaeology as well as reinforcing a cultural status quo (patriarchy, modesty, politeness). Here’s the thing. Apparently Oman is sort of the new guy next door. His majesty, Sultan Qaboos came to power and basically built the Oman infrastructure up (roads, buildings, Internet, and anything you could think of to put in a desert where nothing had been before, or practically nothing). So in 41 years Oman came from literally next to nil to what it is today. Impressive sultan, impressive. So we discussed how the discourse of Omani museum would inevitably attempt to reinforce what is still a growing sense of national identity, blah blah blah. I could bore you with our whole discussion but that just wouldn’t be nice now would it. Needless to say, even with the discourse of necessary promotion of national culture and identity and the fact that Oman is far more conservative than the already conservative Jordan, I, Sarah, am still going to judge the museum for its gender segregation. I’d like to not care or notice. But I do, and I did.

            Speaking of meeting the other SIT students: Sit Amman is a tribe. As is SIT Oman.  Perhaps it was the preconceived ideas, perhaps the fact that I judged everything on the baseline of ‘omg, I almost did this program because I really didn’t know anything about the Middle East to preference a program”, whatever it was, I’m sure they’re all wonderful people. But I like my tribe.

Day Five

            Egg and wonder bread. And I’m still trying to think it’s one out of three stars.

            I’m also getting tired of how long this post is. And I’m sure you are too. Because this is just a litany. I’m not even being funny or anthropologically awake. I blame the long plane flight. Anyway, short and sweet.

            We go to Nizwa and visit the university, tour around, go to Jabreen castle, pretty cool, walk around. Back to Naseem ‘one-star-home-sweet-home’ where Megan and I crash from sun and exhaustion.

Day Six

            Egg and wonder bread. Throw on a hijab to be appropriate and we head out to the Grand Mosque. It’s impressive, no lie, and I’m on board with the whole no shoes thing. Sarah Dawn and I discuss religious tourism along with the beautiful walk we had through an old village that’s specially been opened and built up for tourism as a weird sort of living museum. Were I more able to give you an anthropological discussion on these topics I would, but sleep is calling and you should be creative enough by now dear readers to think of the ethical quandaries of these things now, yes?

            We both just sort of discussed wondering how okay it was to do these things, really. I mean on the one hand, religious tourism from Sarah’s point of view (as I understood it) was that religion was a very serious thing for a lot of people and thousands of tourists rummaging around in your church/mosque/whatever cheapens it and insults it depending on how you feel about it. When it comes to the old village, I suppose it’s a similar feeling of ‘these are people, living their lives and we’re walking around in their city as tourists on a trial made just for us’. I mean, these people had to put no camera signs and do not enter on their doors because apparently there were some people in the past who didn’t know it wasn’t capiche to just walk into someone’s house. And yes, they receive money from the tourism and that makes it feel okay for us and for them (sort of). But the thing is, the money is sort of an external coercive factor in my eyes that makes it easy to rationalize that you’re walking around in someone’s village treating it as if it’s a living museum but at the end of the day doesn’t really make that act okay. I might be over thinking this a bit but this just felt icky. It was like the turtles but times 12 because they’re human beings. And after writing that I feel like a tad anthrocentric (is that the right word there? Help me out here latin people). Animals are just as important as human beings. I AM AN ANIMAL. But then what about bacteria and viruses and bugs. Oh god, it’s DEFINTELY too late for this sort of philosophical (anthropological?) quandary. Halas.

At said "living museum" listening to land before time and hiking a cliff in very dangerous but fun fashion with Anne.

            Megan and I hit a sweet Indian restaurant with some gals and then Souk it up to spend some Rial! We have a ball of a time. Highlights of the night?

-A splendidly lovely Arab man told me I was “his vanilla”.

-I got a free scarf from an Arab man with a good wink (total free tally: cab ride, belly dancing skirt, scarf)

-Megan, Laura and I got an invite to lunch on a boat with several Omanis (unfortunately we were leaving tomorrow)

-so much more that’s just not blog appropriate/I’m also surprised this blog even has limits.

Moral of this story

            Well, I have learned to stop blogging late at night for one, and you, dear reader, have probably learned to skip the first 8 or 10 paragraphs.

            Really though, I have a few more things to tack onto this post at a later date that are more general thoughts rather than Omani bound anyway but that’s the basic fun of the trip. I promise you it was more ridiculous, hilarious, tiring, and memorable than I’ve expressed above. I’m sleepy. And Nick Drake is not helping the tiredness (but is helping the musical wonderfulness of tonight).

            The longer I’m here, the harder and harder it is to convey how ridiculous entire days can feel sometimes because everything makes you laugh and transliterations fail and Arabs in general are just so happy and willing to joke with you/be awesome with you. You just have to come here to really get it, you know?

            Until next post everyone, keep Libya, Bahrain, and Japan in your thoughts (and everyone really). I don’t do prayers, but if that’s what works for you, you go for it. I’ve heard it’s pretty fun and exceedingly helpful. I wonder if the thing that hears all the prayers (if there is one) gets really annoyed of the person who’s lazy/practical/applicable to life now and just prayers for everyone and everything. Come to think of it, why would you ever not pray for everything, or at least wrap up with a quick “everybody else too”? I feel like we all could use it these days. Well that was certainly tangential. Anyway, love you all, apologies for the failblog. 

My favorite shot of the trip. I'm lovin' the graffiti. 

Oman.  Gotta love it.

Also-I do indeed realize the font in this post is infuriatingly not the same size as normal posts. It's killing me inside believe me. But it's one in the morning and I'm lacking in some serious sleep. Forgive me this once?