more of that omani flavour

It was Thursday, the first day of the weekend in Oman, and Gil was free to wander with us. We began our morning with some kayaking in the Arabian Sea— which sadly, I have no pictures of, as I feared I would send my camera to a watery grave. The experience was nothing short of magical— the sky, a deep cerulean, met the blue-green sea in a sharp line, that was occasionally broken by the shimmering silver body of a leaping tuna. At first, as it was so quick, I didn't believe my eyes— but then every minute or two, another tuna would rise up into the sky, followed by the less graceful flapping of an acrobatic ray. Rose-ringed Parakeets laughed across the sky, and the rocks to our right held wild pigeons and a couple of herons.

We paddled over to a little cove for a snorkel, which revealed a world of colourful and curious fish, along with one evasive sea turtle. I can't remember the last time I swam in the sea. Surely I've recorded the experience on this blog, but oh how good it felt— the delight of floating in cool, salty water! Upon the rocks, I saw my first mudskippers, and those crabs with the eyes that rest on stalks above their heads— I don't know what they are called, but they were so beautiful.

We reluctantly made our way back to the beach when it was time to return our kayaks, while plotting what we might do with the rest of the day.



While driving along the coast, it was only a matter of time before we found ourselves seated at a little roadside restuarant, where once again, I was the only female— but it didn't seem to matter. Our table was laid with a chart illustrated with fish named in Arabic and English, to which the man serving us pointed to. Everything was good, according to him, but what I wanted was that delicious looking fish the men were digging into at the table behind us— and was that curry?



Though we were kindly offered cutlery, we used our hands, much to the delight of the men at the table to my right. This was, in my opinion, the tastiest meal we ate in Oman. Lime, curry, chili, and goodness knows what spices... but the fish! Oh, the fish. Tender, succulent, and according to the chart, an Emperor. While digesting with a little cup of tea, I pulled out my sketchbook to draw the remains of my feast, which intrigued our neighbours at the table next to us, and won their approval.

Eventually we were called back to the sea, where we negotiated a deal for a boat ride from a wiry man with leathery hands.

salaam, oman

I've just returned this morning from six days in stunning, sunny Oman, where I delighted in summery weather and plenty of its perfect complement, minted lemonade. The blue skies, pinkish ochres of the desert, gleaming white dishdashas, and brilliant splashes of crimson, fuchsia and emerald on the scarves and dresses of some women (others were head to toe in inky black)— was nearly too much to bear for a colour-starved girl coming from a dismal, wintry Istanbul.

We arrived in Muscat around six in the morning on a Saturday. It was already warm, and my wool coat was beginning to itch. Blinking in the sun, a bit dizzy from our red-eye flight, we waited for our friend Gil, who generously offered us a home during our stay. Once we dropped off our bags and changed into something more appropriate for the increasing heat, Pedro and I headed down to a little nearby beach in search of Sooty Gulls and whatever else we might find.



Sooties we found, casually strolling in the sun, competing with House Crows for dismembered crabs. I kicked off my shoes and dreamily followed them to the shore, where the Arabian Sea spit out shells of all colours mixed with chunks of sanded green glass. I was six again, brown-skinned and curious, my toes coated in fine pebbles and glittering with nacre— my mother collecting shards of coral and cowries nearby. This little beach was so much like the beaches from my early childhood in Dubai, before it was Dubai. A desert sweeping into the sea— the waves and laughter of gulls, its only sounds.



Salaam means peace in Arabic.
Oman was beginning to feel so very good.