Holidays

Christmas coincided with Eid Al Adha, the holiday when Muslims slaughter a sheep to commemorate the sacrifice of a sheep as a substitute for Abraham's son. My neighbors, however, chose to flaunt their wealth by slaughtering a camel. The hapless beast was tethered in their compound and tormented by their 10 (count'em!) unruly children for days before he met his end. On the holiday, the executioner arrived in a bloody dishdasha (traditional white garb for males) bearing a long, curved sword. The camel did not go quietly; he bellowed, moaned and snorted as the children shrieked and threw firecrackers. (My cats hid in the closet during the din.) When the executioner departed, his dishdasha was totally red and blood was dripping from his hair. Silence prevailed briefly, followed by the sound of chopping and more firecrackers. Hardly a quiet or peaceful holiday.

After taking a friend to the airport in Muscat, I risked life and limb on Christmas Eve driving alone nearly 200km on a rocky track through the mountains along the coast. On the map there was no indication that it was not a proper road, and once I had set out, there was literally no turning back. I drove through thousand year-old villages that cling to the cliffs over the sea and through rocky wadis, dry wadis and wet wadis. At least twice, I thought that the jeep would flip over and plunge me to my end at the bottom of a gorge. Though it took a full day to recover, the destination made the journey worth the effort. Sur is on the coast where the Gulf of Oman meets the Arabian Sea (or the Indian Ocean, depending on which map you're looking at.) Our hotel was on the beach and we slept with the door open listening to the waves. The beach is full of broken coral, deposited by the cyclone last summer and crabs of all sizes and colors.

The free-range goats made the rounds of rubbish bins and cleaned the beach of paper plates and other picnic debris. From my room, I could watch the oyster catchers and various herons stalking their meals, and 4 kinds of terns plunging into the surf in pursuit of fish. We're back at work now for final exams, but I'm planning a trip to Salalah in Oman's far south over semester break to see migrating sea birds and the only green part of Oman.

Vacation in Sur

Typical beach house at Sur

Dawn at the beach in Sur

Locals enjoying a stroll on the coral-strewn beach.

The call to prayer from the local mosque can be heard over the roar of the waves.

Winter in the Desert

Nizwa, the nearest sizable town

Local folks engaging in the national pastime, hanging out



















In the 3+ months that I've been in Oman, the afternoon temperature has gone from 115 to 75. It's no longer too hot to go to the beach or hike the hills looking at birds. Now I sleep under a quilt with the windows open listening to the wind rattle the palm fronds. A few days ago we had our first sand storm. I was distracted in class by the sound of what I thought was rain beating on the roof, but it turned out to be rocks hurled against the building by the gale. I'm told the storm wasn't much by local standards, but I'd left the windows open and when I got home, I was amazed to find my bed under an impressive dune. The fine brown grit, so different from black, sticky New York dust, is everywhere.

The Homefront

I live between a date palntation and the Department of Agriculture Research Station (more dates) so my neighborhood is shady and full of birds who live in the trees and eat the dates. Like all Muslim houses, mine is surrounded by a 7-foot wall for total privacy, so I can sit on the verandah in my nightgown to drink my coffee, watch the sun rise over the mountains to the east and listen to the birds and the call to prayer. I have 5 big rooms, lots of light and 3 (!!!)bathrooms (male, female and male visitors) with shocking fixtures.




























Omani doors are often elaborately carved.