Greetings from Oman! I made it! Finally!
Getting here was something of a trial. I had applied for my Canadian Passport back at the beginning of November. When I returned from Christmas in Canada with my family there was a letter waiting for me from the passport office saying they needed new photos. There was a shadow and digital pixilation on the photos I had submitted. So I raced up to Canada to have new photos taken on the advice of the guys at Radio Shack in Friday Harbor. They said Canada Passport is VERY fussy about their photos. Got the new photos taken, Fed-Ex’d them to Quebec, where the rest of my application and all of my documents were and waited for my passport to come. And waited. And waited.
On the Friday before I was to fly I called the passport office to ask if I needed to reschedule my flight on Monday. Angie, the woman at the Montreal call centre said that they had not even received my new photos. Yikes. She said they were probably in a pile of mail waiting to be opened. Yikes. Then she said she wouldn’t even know when to tell me to change my ticket to. It could be weeks before the photos were opened and then at least another month after that for me to receive the passport. Yikes! When I told her I was starting a job in Oman she said she could fax my documents to the Vancouver office and that I could go there on Monday morning with new photos and they would make me a quickie passport then. I told her my flight was Monday night at 8:45 from SeaTac and that I could only reschedule it within 24 hours or lose my flight. It‘s a huge risk, I said. She said not to worry, that they do it all the time.
So off to Vancouver I went on Saturday, after the last minute scramble to get my remaining possessions into my attic. A big thanks to all who helped me with my packing, garbage, cleaning and attic stuffing. Saw my family and my sisters excellent concert and first thing on Monday morning went down to the passport office where after a bit of a wait my sister and I made it to Harpeet’s window. He told us that they had not received anything from the Quebec office though there was a note in my computer file that they were going to send the documents. Sorry, he said. This is the part where I started to cry and my sister started asking to see a manager. He suggested that we start over with a new application and a stack of money. WHAT?! Do you have any ID with you? Yes, I had a wallet sized birth certificate, a drivers license and social security card. It was a minor miracle that I had brought my spare birth certificate and an extra set of photos with me.
He said to fill out a new application, list 4 references they could call and then go downstairs and throw money at the lawyer who has an office there and get him to notarize a paper saying I am who I say I am. So we raced downstairs to the lawyer, gave him a bunch of money and raced back upstairs with the forms. No waiting in line for us, my sister said, let’s cut and go straight to Harpeet. I threw more money at him. OK, he said, we’ll get started on this. He put Urgent stickers all over it. Come back no sooner than an hour. My name was called at 12:45 and they handed me my passport. After all their fuss about the photos needing to be perfect their printer turned me into a lobster. I look like I’ve spent 12 hours on a boat in the sun. Thank you to Mia and Bob and Stan and Caroline for waiting by their phones for the passport people to call. And to Harpeet. Angie, at the Montreal call centre is on my shit list. Harpeet told us they never did get the documents from her.
My fabulous sister got me to the airport just ahead of rush hour traffic and I was off. 10 hours later I was in
London where I wandered around Piccadilly Circus and then took a walk along the
Thames. It was sooooo cold. Went to bed in the smallest hotel room I’ve ever seen (you were right, Michele, my luggage went all the way through to
Oman so I had no spare clothes) and awoke to snow. And the Heathrow express trains out of Paddington Station severely delayed. By the time a train finally got me to Heathrow I was in a panic and had to RUN through the airport, through security, to my gate to catch my plane. Lungs burning. I was the last one on. Yikes! Then we sat on the tarmac for an hour waiting our turn to be de-iced and we were off. 8 hours later I landed in
Muscat, Oman where Val and Eric, the people I’m staying with and Firas, my new boss, were waiting. Off to the house, to bed. I made it! More later.
My room is on the ground floor. All 6 bedrooms have their own bathroom. 
These photos were taken from the roof of the house. There are lots of empty lots and houses under construction. They are all cinderblock. All floors are tile and the walls are tile in the kitchen and bathroom and thin plaster over the cinderblock in the rest of the house.
I took it easy the first day. Everyone was concerned that jet lag would take it’s toll any moment. Val and Eric took me to the office and showed me around. Very large and sleek. Separate waiting rooms fro men and women. The office is still under construction and is very disorganized. I have my work cut out for me. All of the shelves and cabinets are still not in so storage is an issue. Fortunately, since the office, (and the small shopping center it is in), has only been open 6 weeks, so the schedule is still light. I have had two days of work so far and have seen only a couple of patients. Everyone in the office is very nice.
