Over the previous three months, I had battled my way through a tough half-semester’s teaching at a university in Northern Oman. And, over the previous three hours I had traversed the mountains of Eastern Oman as my friends and I drove to the coastal town…Read More

Over the previous three months, I had battled my way through a tough half-semester’s teaching at a university in Northern Oman. And, over the previous three hours I had traversed the mountains of Eastern Oman as my friends and I drove to the coastal town of Sur. As a consequence of work, I was in desperate need of a break. Hence driving to Sur. And, as a consequence of the long drive, I was in need of a few glasses of cold beer. Thankfully, for a small seaside town in Oman, Sur has a surprising amount of watering holes.

As with most towns in Oman, the bar options are largely restricted to major hotels. In Sur, these are the Sur Beach Hotel, the Sur Plaza Hotel and the Crowne Plaza Hotel. These two are by far the classier options. The bars are much nicer, the entertainment options are better – the Sur Plaza has several small bars with bands and dancing from different countries – and the views out to sea are also much better. They do, unfortunately, have their drawbacks. The Sur Plaza is away from the main part of the city and is a little isolated. This is fine earlier in the evening when you are on your way out as taxis are plentiful and easy to flag down. However, later in the evening, they become far more difficult to find, which means late-night revelers can often find themselves stuck in the middle of nowhere. The Crowne Plaza does not suffer from this problem as it is centrally located. Unfortunately, though, the prices there are very high – over 3.5O.R for a beer.

For the reasons cited above, my friends and I decided to confine our night on the tiles to the Sur Beach hotel – where we were staying – and the surrounding areas. We started out in Cheers Bar inside the hotel, which proved top be something of a shock to the system for a couple of reasons. The first was the fact that an entrance fee was required. The bartender asked for 1O.R before she would serve us a can of beer. This astounded me as nowhere in Oman, not even in the most expensive bars in Muscat, does this happen. The second was the volume of the music. There were two Fillipino girls on stage singing – or quite possibly miming to a recorded track – Arabic pop songs at frightening decibels.

Despite the blaring music, we found Cheers Bar rather welcoming because the prices were extremely reasonable. Cans of Amstel and Heineken were just 1.8O.R and bottles of Tiger were 1.6O.R. So, we stuck our fingers in our eyes, spoke to each other at elevated volumes and started to sink a few cold ones. For a hotel bar in a small Omani seaside town, Cheers was surprisingly busy. At first, the clientele was mainly Omani men, who all sat there remarkably quietly listening to the music and enjoying a beer. As alcohol is a bit of a taboo in the Gulf, they all seemed to be keen on not drawing too much attention to themselves. However, later in the evening, several Indians came in and things got a lot more rowdy. They were keen to dsnce along to the music – very badly – and pass requests to the singers for some famous Indian numbers. This was fine for a while, but the Indian pop songs and the sight of several Indian men gyrating close to our table was enough to convince us it was time to split.

We moved downstairs to the hotel’s lobby bar. Again, the prices were very reasonable. And, it had the added bonus of being equipped with two pool tables. However, there was no music, the tables and chairs were all plastic and it was empty. This gave it the impression of being more like a school common room than a bustling night-spot. So, after one beer and two games of pool we decided to move out of the hotel and to a dance bar down the street. This proved to be a bizarre experience. When I saw words ‘dance bar’ I assumed we would enter a bar in which we could also dance. How wrong I was. Instead, we entered a place in which four Indian girls were dancing on stage behind a glass screen.

The ‘Dance Bar’ was a strange experience. The ‘dancing’ girls did not actually do too much dancing. Instead they simply stood on stage and shimmied around a little. The clientele of the bar was made up almost entirely of Indian and Pakistani workers, and it was rowdy. As the girls danced there was plenty of whooping and shouting. Sadly, this eventually boiled over as two Indians came to blows and began to throw beer cans at each other. At this point, we decided enough was enough and to return to our hotel. On the way out, we discovered that the ‘dance bar’ was actually in two sections. There was an Indian section and an Omani section. IN both bars, girls were dancing, but in the Omani side, all the customers were locals.
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When I was a child, my parents often took me on vacation and on day-trips to sea-side towns in the north of England. I spent countless afternoons in towns such as Scarborough, Bridlington and Blackpool. These towns were characterized by a few common traits. The…Read More

When I was a child, my parents often took me on vacation and on day-trips to sea-side towns in the north of England. I spent countless afternoons in towns such as Scarborough, Bridlington and Blackpool. These towns were characterized by a few common traits. The sea was dark, deep and blue. It was often rough and the waves were almost always white-capped. The promenades were long, wind-swept and sparsely populated. Only during the very warmest days of the summer would anyone actually consider going for a swim. The majority of the time the cold, dark waves were left alone to crash onto the sands. I can vividly recall sitting with my parents drinking hot tea or coffee on the promenade huddled together to stave off some rather biting winds that were whipping in across the North Sea from Scandinavia.

In Oman, the majority of coastal towns bear no resemblance to those in my home country. The sea tends to be much calmer and a much brighter shade of blue. The promenades are lined with palm trees and the sands are wonderfully golden. When I visited places like Sawadi beach near the town of Barka or As Suwaiq - between Rustaq and Sohar – the waters seemed warm and inviting and the beaches were sweeping and golden. In both places, I saw children swimming and fishermen happy wade into the water up to their wastes. Whenever I take a trip to the coast, the hot tea is replaced with iced fruit juice and I spend far more time sun-bathing than huddling. The two places really do feel a million miles apart.

When my friends and I made the journey to Sur, I was expecting the view and the ambience to follow the Omani style of seaside town. Everything I had read in my guide-book told me that Sur was one of Oman's most popular beach resorts. Therefore, I was expecting palm trees, golden sands and balmy waters. However, I was surprised to find that it had just a little bit of the English feel about it too.

We drove there along the coastal highway from Muscat. For the majority of the journey, the sky was clear and the ocean was a dazzling shade of blue. However, as we drew closer to Sur, the wind began to pick up and the clouds began to converge. Suddenly, I began to feel much closer to home. The cloud and winds certainly gave Sur more of an English feel than I had been expecting. However, once I had parked my car and we set off on a stroll along the sea-front, the deja-vu became even stronger.

The first thing I noticed was the promenade, instead of palm trees it was lined with small concrete shelters that were clearly designed to keep out the wind. Inside these, we saw Omani families huddled together drinking tea and trying to stay warm. The wind made things pretty cold by Omani standards. It was below 20 degrees, which for me was great, but was a little too much for some of the locals – temperatures in Sur often top well over 40 degrees in summer months. The sea was also quintessentially English. It was a deep dark blue and the waves were crashing into the beach with great force. None of the locals seemed remotely keen on going anywhere near it. The whole scenario really made me chuckle. Scores of childhood memories came flooding back.

The comparisons between Sur and England were pretty temporary. The next morning, the sun was back out, the water was invitingly warm and the Omani families were strolling barefoot in the sands rather than escaping the wind. However, after asking a few locals we did find out that during the winter months (we visited in November) Sur can get quite windy and, when it does, the beach is not the most inviting place on the planet. It really did make me feel at home, at least a little bit.   Close

With the Eid Al Haj holiday approaching, my friends and I decided to take a road trip from our base in Rustaq in the North of Oman, down the coast to the beach city of Sur, and then, out into the desert. The first leg…Read More

With the Eid Al Haj holiday approaching, my friends and I decided to take a road trip from our base in Rustaq in the North of Oman, down the coast to the beach city of Sur, and then, out into the desert. The first leg of this trip provided some of the most spectacular scenery in the Gulf region as well as some of the most exciting driving I have ever experienced, taking in winding mountain passes, desert plains and stunning coastal views.

Even though our whole group agreed that the drive was a fantastic experience, it actually caused me plenty of headaches in the preparation stages. For those unfamiliar with the Gulf, I should explain that the road system in Oman is relatively new and under constant development, and, that information on it can be quite scarce – there are no full-scale modern maps of the country and the development of new roads has rendered the majority of guide-books on the country out-dated – I had an Oman Explorer guide published in 2009 that was useless as it did not include half of the new roads in the country. Therefore, prior to the trip, I was unsure what we would encounter on the way. It was not a case of being unsure of which road I should take. Rather, I did not even know if there was a road at all. The coastal road to Sur was only built at the start of 2010. Before then, the journey followed a winding inland route of over 300km. Sadly, it took me quite some time to amass this information as my guide-book had no trace of any coastal road and several sources on the internet were adamant that the only route was inland.

The first leg of the journey runs from Ruwi in Muscat to the town of Quriyat on the shores of the Arabian Gulf. The journey is roughly 80km and is spectacular. The first 50 km or so are a driver's dream – if you have a need for speed that is. They wind gently through desert plains and are almost completely deserted. As well as this, there are no speed cameras. Therefore, it is easy to hit top speed as some very pleasant countryside whizzes by. The final few kilometres, on the other hand, are far less conducive to pretending you are an F1 champion. As the road approaches Quriyat, it steepens to such an extent that drivers are forced into low gear as they inch their way up some impressive peaks. Then, as we reached the highest point of the mountain range, a stunning panorama opened out before us. The mountains fell sharply to a narrow plain of green land that melted into the deep blue seas of the Gulf. There are several spots on the way down for drivers to stop and snap the wonderful view.

Once we reached the bottom of the hill, we turned into the Quriyat and then sped onto the coastal highway. For the following 100km, we drove less than 100m from the crashing waves and golden beaches. I continuously found myself switching into the left-hand lane, regardless of the traffic situation, (The Fast Lane) as it gave the best view of the sea. Around half-way to Sur, though, things changed. The sea remained constant on our left, but we began to find several wadis (large valleys) to our right that emptied into straight into the Gulf. These proved to be something of a hazard as they were so eye-catching that I could not help but take my eyes off the road to gawp at the scenery – I imagine I was not the only one.

The most impressive of these is Wadi Bani Said, a 200m deep gorge full of wonderfully turquoise water that gently blends into the deep blue of the Gulf. Even though I was doing a steady 150kph – the benefit of there being no speed cameras – it was easy to spot as hundreds of SUVs were parked by the side of the road and scores of tourists were taking pictures. The wadi was truly beautiful. The sides of the valley were covered with deep rich vegetation and the bottom was made up of palm trees and golden sands that melted into the water. However, it did seem slightly sad that the mouth of such a beautiful natural phenomenon had been covered by a giant highway bridge.

It took just over two hours to drive from Muscat to Sur. It was a genuinely enjoyable drive, which gave us a chance to see some fantastic scenery.   Close

When I was a boy, my family lived on a rather steep hill. My mother still does, but I have long since moved out. One of my favourite pastimes all through my childhood and even into my early adult life was to watch the rain.…Read More

When I was a boy, my family lived on a rather steep hill. My mother still does, but I have long since moved out. One of my favourite pastimes all through my childhood and even into my early adult life was to watch the rain. There was little in life that gave me greater pleasure than watching a downpour stream down the hill in long gushing rivulets. It had an almost hypnotic feel. I could sit by the window and simply stare for hours. This is a habit that has stayed with me in later life. There are few things I like better than watching a good downpour. For example, when I lived in Korea, the month of July was monsoon season in the coastal town in which I lived. Duriong that period I spent much of my time looking out from my balcony – my undercover balcony – onto the street, which quickly took on the look of a rather dirty and disorganised canal. Similarly, when I was in China, I was 'lucky' enough to catch the end of two typhoons that had caused chaos in the South China Sea and left Tianjin, where I lived, drenched and sodden. Again, I was at my window watching contentedly.

When I moved to Oman, I was aware that my rain-watching habit was probably going to have to be put on hiatus. In my first two months, there was nothing. Not a single drop of rain fell onto the desert sand in the town of Rustaq. Then, around nine weeks in, it rained. Except, it didn't really rain in any way that someone from the UK or America's Pacific Northwest would consider 'real' rain. A few drops fell to earth and then evaporated as quickly as they had arrived. This false dawn disappointed me massively. However, a few weeks later, the Omani weather would rise to the occasion dramatically.

It was a Sunday afternoon just before the Eid Al Haj holiday. After returning home from work – the weekend in Oman is Thursday and Friday – I was taking a late afternoon snooze, when I was disturbed by a pattering sound from outside. It took me a few minutes to discern exactly what it was – rain bouncing on the outer part of my air-conditioning unit. This sound acted as a trigger. I was soon up and gazing out of my window. The skies were a deep dark grey and the rain was pouring. I was suddenly in the midst or a rather powerful storm. It was fantastic. However, as rain is such a rare occurrence in Oman, I decided that I would forgo my standard spot at the window. So, I jumped in my car and decided to get a close look. I am so unbelievably glad I did so, because the storm we enjoyed that afternoon was impressive and I got right into the heat of and saw some wonderfully exciting sights.

I began by driving down the main road from my house towards the main part of Rustaq town. My home and the town are separated by two mountains with the round winding between the two. As I drove towards the mountains, I could see the clouds swirling round the top of the two mountains and a thin sliver of sunlight beaming through the gap. It had the bizarre effect of making the mountains look frighteningly imposing, but making the thing road between look undeniably inviting. I decided that I had no choice but to head between them. As I did so, I found myself ascending into low cloud and heavy rain, making it almost impossible to drive. The surface of the road was two inches deep in water and stray rocks were falling to the road from the mountains. Once on the other side, I was forced to stop and snap pictures of the mountains that ring Rustaq that were disappearing into clouds.

I then decided that I would take a drive out into the wadis between Rustaq and the town of Barka. Wadis are rocky valleys made up of river beds and palm trees. For the most part, the river beds are dry and covered in gravel. Only when it rains do they come alive. And, I was in search of some of this new vitality. I did not have to drive far to be impressed. The first part of the road to Barka winds along the base of one giant wadi. Normally, it is a dry and arid landscape that is reminiscent of the moon. With the rain pouring down, though, things were different. The hills on either side were not longer dry, dull and grey. Instead they were alive with countless waterfalls gushing down to the river bottom below. The river itself was beginning to fill, transforming the whole situation. It was truly wonderful. I stopped my car and simply watched. I watched the waterfalls gush down the rocks. I watched the river begin to inch its way above the rocks and I simply watched the rain as it poured into one of the driest places on earth..
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Oman is dry, very dry. When I arrived in late August, the temperatures were well above 40 degrees (Celsius) and the panorama was one of cloudless blue skies falling down to a horizon of sand and dust, that stretched out and found … more sand…Read More

Oman is dry, very dry. When I arrived in late August, the temperatures were well above 40 degrees (Celsius) and the panorama was one of cloudless blue skies falling down to a horizon of sand and dust, that stretched out and found … more sand and dust. For the first two months of my life in Oman, the view remained the same pretty much continuously. Every now and again, I might spot the occasional fluffy white cloud floating above Rustaq, but the skies were rarely anything other than crystal clear. And, the sand and dusty? There was scarcely a day that was neither sandy nor dusty. Most of the time it was both.

Such predictability ensured there was scarcely any need to carry an umbrella or rain coat. However, after two and a half months of predictability and arid consistency, there was a break to the meteorological monotony. I was teaching a class at the university in which I work when I heard an unbelievable commotion in the corridor. There was the clacking of high heeled shoes and the high pitch squeals of clearly very excited students. As much of what was said in the corridor was in Arabic, I could not understand. However, my students could and the commotion quickly spread to the classroom. Apparently, it was raining.

Having grown up in the north of England, a little rain is not a big deal for me. If we stopped class every time it began to drizzle outside, the majority of the region would be illiterate, innumerate and ignorant. However, it appeared there would be impossible to keep my class under control if I did not, at the very least, allow them into the corridor to see it. So, I opened the door and out we all streamed. There was a hushed silence and a few gasps as the students looked out in excitement. They seemed transfixed. I, on the other hand, was less gripped. Outside, the individual spots could be seen on the ground as the faintest drizzle fell from the sky.

As far as I was concerned, the rain was certainly nothing to worry about. I raised my voice a little to try and get the students back into the classroom so that I could resume my lesson. They were having none of it.

"Ok, guys, back inside." I said.
"But, Mr Bacon, it is raining".
"I can see that, but the rain is not very heavy". I said, adding rather scornfully, "This is not rain. Where I come from it rains much more than this almost everyday. In my home town, we would consider this a very nice day."
"But, Mr Bacon." They replied imploringly, "It hasn't rained in Rustaq since March. It is a very long time since we have seen any rain. We want to watch it".

I must admit that their little plea was beginning to pull at my heart strings just a little. Had I not seen rain in such a long time I might want to stand and stare absent-mindedly at it for a few minutes. However, as I thought about giving them a few minutes to enjoy the rain, they managed to wash away all the sympathy the seven months without rain had earned them.

"Mr Bacon, we think you should cancel the lecture and let us go home!"

As it was an important class and we had only been going for a few minutes that day, the chances were zero. And, again, I began to think about home. I then decided that the few droplets of rain had disrupted my class enough and I shunted everyone back inside.

It was only a few days later, when I talked to some teachers who had been living in Oman for several years, that I learned that the students protestations were not as far-fetched as I had deemed them. Apparently, it is very common in schools and universities to stop classes for rain, because it is such an unusual occurrence. I guess that my students went home cursing their teacher and his rather British view of the rain. I decided, though, that when the opportunity next arose, I would take it and would allow the students and myself to enjoy an afternoon off. Sadly, my contract at the university is only for one year and there is a chance I will not get another chance!   Close

Having lived in China and Turkey, I am used to having to deal with censorship. In China, this impacted upon me both ethically and practically. I cannot really communicate just how much it grated my soul to see Wikipedia disappear for weeks on end when…Read More

Having lived in China and Turkey, I am used to having to deal with censorship. In China, this impacted upon me both ethically and practically. I cannot really communicate just how much it grated my soul to see Wikipedia disappear for weeks on end when someone in the vast bureaucracy of the Beijing government found something offensive about the entry on Taiwan or Tibet. Or, how much it appalled me when google.com.cn showed pictures of children playing in Tiananmen Square, whilst the British and American versions showed images on 1989's atrocities. It also boiled my blood that I was unable to use sites like facebook and, at times, hotmail because the government believed groups in Xinjiang were using them to spread dissent.

The situation was similar in Turkey. The censorship was nowhere near as widespread and it had far less impact on my daily life, but it was still deeply frustrating. Several sites that streamed video and showed photography were blocked. This was supposedly because they showed 'pornographic' or 'sensitive' materials. In reality, it was because they showed clips that related to Kurdish separatism or to political scandals involving the military. In both situations, it just incomprehensible to me that any government could limit its people in such a way.

As a conservative Islamic country, Oman also has its share of censorship. This was certainly something that I was aware of and was fully expecting when I flew out. I must admit, though, the Omani version of censorship has hit me harder than either of the previous examples. It was not the blockages that had greatest effect - the majority of news sites are left alone, as are YouTube and Facebook, and, most of the sites that are blocked tend to contain images and videos that one might describe as 'risqué'. Instead, it was the deeper motivation behind one or two selective blockages that hit me.

The blockage that has the biggest impact on my life in Oman is Skype. OmanTel, the state communication company controls the nation's entire communication network. It has blocked all Voice Over Internet Protocols such as Skype and Google's new telephone service. At first, I was not sure why this was the case. Whenever I tried to access my Skype account, it would not connect. Then, when I tried to go to the Skype website, it was blocked. According to Omantel, the site was unsuitable. Apparently, Skype was a sensitive as hardcore porn.

I found this situation a little difficult to grasp. I could not understand how Skype was so morally reprehensible. I also found it massively inconvenient as it made telephoning my friends and family at home. The rates to call the UK from my mobile phone were nothing short of extortionate. It came it at around 0.4GBP per minute – roughly eight times the price of Skype. It was only when I talked to a few Omani friends that I realised the real reason behind the censorship. As OmanTel has a monopoly on the communication network, it is in a position to block Skype on its internet service and the service of other providers, such as Narwas. Because of this, it has been able to create a monopoly and can keep its own rates high as there is little choice but to use it. In short, Omantel's motivation was purely financial.

I abhor censorship in pretty much every situation. The way the government in China uses it to keep its people in the dark about domestic and international affairs is reprehensible. As is the Turkish government's attempt at keeping scandals and Kurdish issues quiet. However, as much as these examples left a bad taste in my mouth, in a way, I was expecting them. Political regimes with dubious authority or questionable policies will always look to halt the spread of information. The fact that the Omani government – through it's state run communications company – was censoring purely for financial gain was far more difficult to grasp. Neither motivation – political or financial - is anywhere close to reasonable justification, I was just much more shocked to see the Omani government save pennies in such a way.
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If you have read some of the other entries in this journal, I am sure you will have realized that (i) I quite like a nice cold beer, and that (ii) This is often a rather tricky process in the Sultanate of Oman. Not only…Read More

If you have read some of the other entries in this journal, I am sure you will have realized that (i) I quite like a nice cold beer, and that (ii) This is often a rather tricky process in the Sultanate of Oman. Not only is the process of getting a drink rather tricky, it is also immensely frustrating and can be rather dispiriting.

To tell this story, I want to transport you back to my first few days in Rustaq. It was hot, very hot. I was busy settling into my new apartment. This involved finding furniture fixing problems with my water supply and drainage fixed and trying to get a telephone connection. I was also starting a new job in a country in which organization and efficiency come a distant second to comfort and a relaxed pace of life (see my entry entitle Inshallah). Because of all this, I was feeling just a tad stressed. The perfect solution would have been a few cold beers with friends. Sadly, with no alcohol license and living 60km from the nearest bar, this was no easy option.

Then, one day, as I shopped at my local super-market, I thought I had received some form of divine intervention. Whether it was from Christian or Islamic sources I was not sure, but there before me in a refrigerator stood a row of cold frosted bottles of Heineken. My jaw dropped and my mouth began to salivate. I quickly opened the door and began to fill my trolley. As I did this, in the back of my mind, I knew something was amiss. Alcohol laws in Oman are strict. It can only be bought in special licensed stores with an official permit. However, I chose to ignore these misgivings in the hope that I had stumbled upon some wonderful oversight. Sadly, my dreams were dashed. As I loaded my twelfth bottle into the trolley I noticed two horrid, horrid words – "non-alcoholic". The twelve bottles went back into the refrigerator as quickly as they had come out.

This whole experience left me in a grouchy mood, but also left me rather confused. In a country like Oman, why would anyone want non-alcoholic beer? This question floated around my brain for a few days. I must admit, I was stumped. Eventually, my friend Rashid informed me that non-alcoholic beers were popular with youngsters who wanted to look cool and maybe a little rebellious and was also drunk by older men who were perhaps trying to build business relationships with westerners. I was skeptical about both of these, but took his word for it.

A few days later, I was discussing the issue with an expat friend of mine, who told me he loved non-alcoholic beer. He explained that he thought it had a great psychosomatic effect. It may not get him drunk he argued, but it did make him feel more relaxed. He explained that the ritual of opening the bottle and pouring a glass were the same whether the beer was alcoholic or not and, thus, induced the same feeling of relaxation. Again, I was skeptical. However, I decided to give it a go.

On my way back from work one evening, I called in to my local gas station and picked up a variety of non-alcoholic brews. They came in all sorts of flavors. There was regular non-alcoholic beer as well as Pineapple Beer, Strawberry Beer and Apple Beer. There were even a range of non-alcoholic alocpops. This really confused me. Surely a non-alcoholic alcopop is just fruit juice, I mused. When I got home, I took a frosted glass from my freezer and began the ritual. I was really hoping my colleague would be right and I would enjoy the psychosomatic benefits … he wasn’t. The non-alcoholic beer brought all the negative aspects of beer and none of the positives. It had the gas and the unpleasant after-taste, but none of the relaxation.

I quickly concluded that non-alcoholic alcohol is one of the most pointless inventions ever recorded. It only steeled my resolve to visit Muscat that weekend where I could enjoy a glass of the real thing.
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There are two truths about Oman that are pretty much self-evident. The first is that the Omanis are one of the friendliest nations in the world. The second is that they are some of the craziest and least predictable drivers on the planet. The contrast…Read More

There are two truths about Oman that are pretty much self-evident. The first is that the Omanis are one of the friendliest nations in the world. The second is that they are some of the craziest and least predictable drivers on the planet. The contrast between their relaxed, mild-mannered demeanor when they are leisurely walking down the street and their almost maniacal behavior once they get behind the wheel of a car is stark and shocking. The contrast is so clear that anyone spending more than a few hours in the sleepy sultanate will be certain to notice.

There are several theories flitting around the expat community in Oman that try to explain why such a friendly and relaxed people undergo such a transformation when they turn the key in the ignition. The first theory comes a colleague of mine, Brian. He suggests that the Omanis now drive their cars in modern Oman the same way that they drove their camels in generations gone by. He asserts that this theory explains why they swerve between lanes so randomly and drive so close to the bumper of the car in front – stopping distance is not an issue on the back of a camel traveling at 10kph. If I am honest, I am pretty skeptical about that one. The others are based a little more on reality, though.

The second theory – put forth by a friend in Muscat – is that their driving habits are a way of venting frustration. He argues that, because everyone is so nice and so relaxed during when you meet them face-to-face and never seem to get upset about anything, they must have huge amounts of unchanelled aggression. His logic concludes that whenever something annoys an Omani, he does not shout or get mad about it, he simply takes a deep breath and waits until he drives home before venting his frustration. The final theory comes from a friend of mine with whom I play football. He argues that because Muslim society is very conservative, many Omanis – particularly men – feel very frustrated. He argues that because they cannot drink and they cannot socialize with single women, they use driving as their form of release. It is their way to live dangerously and to get their thrills.

Whatever the reason behind the way the Omanis drive, taking a trip on the highway can be a frightening experience as they have some truly petrifying habits. The second of these is stopping distance. In the UK, I was always taught to follow the mantra "Only a fool forgets the two second rule". This means that you should leave a gap in front of you that would take two seconds to cover. This should leave adequate room for breaking. The Omanis have no concept of this whatsoever. A safe stopping distance in Oman is an alien concept. They drive as close as possible to the car in front. I have even found that when I leave a safe stopping distance, the car behind will move to the inside lane to pass me and move into the gap, presuming that I was simply going too slowly.

The second frightening habit is the way in which they ‘encourage’ a car in front to pull over so they can pass. To do this they first drive up close on the bumper. By ‘close’ I mean roughly 1m. If the car in front does not move, they begin to flash their lights wildly. If this does not work they try to drive so close that bumpers touch and have the first car move out of sheer fear.

Driving in Oman is a challenge – I use that term rather euphemistically. On my weekly trips from Rustaq to Muscat, I regularly feel in mortal danger. However, after a while, you begin to get de-sensitized to it all. Suddenly, an SUV doing 160kph 2m away from your back bumper no longer seems to be a major problem.
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Unlike some of the more conservative Islamic kingdoms to the north, Oman has a relatively tolerant policy on alcohol. Foreigners can buy alcohol either at hotels and a few licensed bars, or, they can purchase it with a license at specialised alcohol stores. As there…Read More

Unlike some of the more conservative Islamic kingdoms to the north, Oman has a relatively tolerant policy on alcohol. Foreigners can buy alcohol either at hotels and a few licensed bars, or, they can purchase it with a license at specialised alcohol stores. As there is a large university and a major air-base close to Rustaq, there is quite a sizeable expat population. Sadly, for those hardy souls who make their living in the desert sun, there is no bar. So, the only option in getting a drink is to either (a) take a trip to Muscat or Al Sawadi where there are hotels and bars that serve drink, or (b) to drive to the town of Barka about 70km away to buy alcohol and to then have parties back in Rustaq.

The first of these option is by far the more exciting. Unfortunately, it is also much more expensive when taxis, accommodation and the inflated prices at bars and hotels in Muscat are taken into account. Therefore, the second option is a popular fall-back. However, even though Oman is a tremendously relaxed and friendly place, throwing a party can be a little tricky. There are plenty of cultural issues that need to be kept in mind.

First of all, let me clarify the legal situation when it comes to alcohol. It is legal to buy alcohol, it is legal to drink alcohol and it is legal to carry alcohol. However, the situation is not so black and white. Along with legality, there are other factors to consider. Rustaq id a small town where news travels fast and judgements can be made easily. Therefore, the key issue is visibility. It is important to do things in secret to avoid causing offence to the local population. For example, carrying a slab of beer or a few bottles of wine in the back of your car is no problem. Walking down the street with that slab of beer and the situation is immensely different. The same is true of actually drinking alcohol. Were a foreigner to pop the cork of his or her wine on the middle of the street or crack open a can in the local park, there would be plenty of alarm.

Because of the above concerns, having a drink in Rustaq takes on a certain cloak and dagger feel. It is almost like a 1930s speak-easy. Rather than being located behind a large iron door down a dark alley, our speak-easy was actually pretty spectacular. One of the largest apartment blocks in town is populated almost exclusively by teachers. And, as Oman has almost no rain, has a very nice flat roof that doubles as a terrace. So, every week or so, we drag up some chairs and a cooler full of beer and open the speak-easy.

The location is spectacular because the elevated position gives a wonderful panorama of the town. To the north are a series of imposing hills whose dark silhouettes gradually blend into the night-sky and the evening progresses. To the south is the Rustaq Mosque, which is illuminated by giant spotlights, ensuring it dominates the panorama. Beyond the mosque, the desert stretches out into the wild unfettered distance.

The scenery is stunning. However, if I am honest, it is of secondary concern as the beer takes preference. A night at the speak-easy is usually great fun. It seems to have extra spark as there is the sense of doing something vaguely forbidden. The final challenge of any night on the hooch, though, is getting home. As I stated before, it is perfectly legal to drink. Public drunkenness on the other hand, is not taken very well. Therefore, when taking a taxi home, it is imperative to keep a straight face and not attract too much attention.   Close

Even though this journal entry is solely about life in the Sultanate of Oman, it actually begins in the People's Republic of China. There is an ancient Confucian value known as 'mianze'. This is a concept that is unique to China. However, the closest possible…Read More

Even though this journal entry is solely about life in the Sultanate of Oman, it actually begins in the People's Republic of China. There is an ancient Confucian value known as 'mianze'. This is a concept that is unique to China. However, the closest possible English translation is 'face'. The ideas behind 'mianze' are pretty simple. Many Chinese people do not want to look foolish or impolite in front of others. Nor, do they like to turn down requests or tell people 'no'. They believe that doing so would result in a loss of face. As a result, you will encounter many strange situations in the Middle Kingdom. For example, I encountered university students who would stay silent in class when asked a question for fear of giving the wrong answer. I also saw businessmen offer a hundred 'maybes', possiblys' and 'I will consider its' rather than proffer an out and out 'no' because they feared that rejection would cause both the customer and themselves to lose face.

In Oman, there is nothing anywhere near as bizarre and complex as the idea of 'mianze'. However, the Omanis are a very polite people and are very keen to please their guests. They really do not want to disappoint anyone who comes to their country. Because of this, I found a few things taking place that began to remind me of 'mianze'.

The first example came in my first few days in Oman. I had just moved to the small town of Rustaq and was staying in a small, less than comfortable guest house whilst I waited for the university at which I was working to sort out my apartment. The guest house had limited hot water, squat toilets and some of the noisiest air-conditioners in the world. Therefore, I was keen to move on asap. After my first night in the guest-house, I called the university to try and expedite the process of moving to my new home. Ayoub, the man who was in charge or sorting out apartments, told me that he was dealing with my apartment and would help me move-in that very same evening. After he told me this, he used the word "Inshallah".

Inshallah translates into English as "God Willing". Little did I know it at the time, but that single word on its own is like a language in its own right. And, in many ways, is similar to 'mianze'. To really understand any situation in Oman, it is important to 'speak Inshallah'. The first rule about 'Inshallah' is that if an Omani is certain he can do something, he probably will not even use it. Therefore, its very presence in a sentence indicates that the issue in question is not 100% certain. The second rule is to listen to the way in which 'Inshallah' is spoken. If the person uses it in a clear direct way, then they probably think there is a good chance of something happening. However, if they (a) use it two or three times in a sentence, or (b) elongate the vowels in the world,then it is unlikely anything will happen. For example, if someone were to say, "Inshallah, I will finish the job tomorrow … Inshallah", or "I will finish the job Inshallaaaaaah, tomorrow", then expect it to take a few days, at least.

Ayoub was a big fan of elongating his 'Inshallahs'. I had to endure three days of cold showers, uncomfortable bathroom breaks and broken sleep before I finally moved into my own place. Sadly, it is something I have encountered several times since. Thankfully, though, I have learned to speak enough 'Inshallah' to know what to expect. I know that I need to listen for repetition or elongation in order to manage my expectations.   Close