Ye-om Wa-hed

This morning we had our breakfast in a private room of the hotel; lots of coffee and tea with white toast and a fried egg. What followed was an introductory meeting where we received approximate schedules, our school administered cell phones, etc. Our first assignment was to visit Mutrah Souk down the street and find something unusual that’s purpose was unbeknownst to us, find out its use, and barter with the shop owner to sell it to us for 3 rial. We are in a hotel basically right on the Muscat harbor along Corniche, private and sultanate yachts of ridiculous sizes dock at the industrial pier. My roomy Rachel (who is Austin College friends with Miss. J. Jennings!!) and I stopped in the first clothe shop we found in order to buy a hijab for visiting the Grand Mosque Sunday. Everyone here speaks English very well, and likes to use it which makes for an ironic sitch when we are trying to improve our skills in Arabic. We both got him to sell us black silk hijabs for 4 OM (9ish dollars) instead of 6 OM and spent a good amount of time in front of the shop mirror being instructed on how to appropriately wrap the slick fabric around our face and head. Down the same street an antique shop had various curios and I purchased an intricate metal henna ink-holder for 3 OM. A few shops later Rachel bought an antique secret-message-scroll cylinder, haha those shop keepers saw us coming and thought “There’s a sucker born every minute…”

Because it’s Ramadan, the Souk was very empty (restraint from making superfluous purchases during daylight hours), making the two of us American tourists even more vulnerable to the salesmen standing at every shop entrance. “Welcome! Hi! Come!” “Hello, 100% silk, incense?” “Enter! Come now! Come now!!” “T-shirts, shaws? Pashmir! Welcome!” Needless to say, Rachel and I were pretty happy we at least knew to say “la, shook-ran” (no, thank you). We also had to find our way to a post office in order to purchase a stamp.

When everyone was back at the hotel we got on the bus to visit our “large villa” in a northern residential area of Muscat that would serve as our classroom compound. This labeling was entirely appropriate. The house-converted-school building is gorgeous. Everything is tile and columned and white or beige or mint and so shadowy cool with intricacies and details left out from even the most fabulous US homes. The gulf is visible from an upstairs balcony, maybe a half mile away. Lunch was ordered in and we were holed up in the kitchen until we finished our mixed rice/chicken/steamed cabbage dishes. The. Food. Is. So. Good. It probably helped that I didn’t have to hide the fact that I was eating it. In spoonfuls.

Later we spent time in an upstairs loft talking about our observations of the Souk and one another’s unusual objects. We took an Arabic level placement test (AHHH.) and went over the schedule for tomorrow. It’s super important that we follow the rules when visiting the Grand Mosque and our program leader Elizabeth made it very clear that if we weren’t dressed appropriately we would spend our day OUTSIDE the building. And let me just tell you how hot it is here. In the shade.I don’t remember the 45 minute ride back to the hotel. I’ve never slept like I do here. There is no energy for dozing or dreams. Either you are awake or you are asleep and when I say asleep what I really mean is dead.

Rachel and I went directly to bed when we got back and were woken up by Sarah at around 9 pm to go out in search of dinner. Now, because no one is allowed to engage in any form of pleasure during the daylight hours, night time is a big deal. All the restaurants, closed during the day, just get slammed with patrons. Everyone everywhere is out walking, shopping, eating. It’s like a holiday every evening when the clock rocks 6:30. I had a mutton sharwama which is like a lamb pita-wrap with sauce and cabbage. Delicious. After dinner we returned to the Souk, now packed with people. It may to ten or eleven or twelve but everyone and their child is out and about. We bought pins for our hijabs, spent considerable time browsing in the first “grocery” store we had come across thus far, and managed to make it out of the labyrinth of looping back streets and winding alleyways tight enough to force single file in order to head home. Ye-om wa-hed: complete.