Monday, May 28, 2007

Vol 25 Mahfood

I have a new friend. His name is Mahfood. He’s Omani, 32, and an engineer with an oil company. I met him last month at Second Cup. He stopped me one night and asked if I would be willing to read something he had written for school to check his English. He is studying for his Masters degree from a University in Glasgow. So I said sure, no problem. Told him to nab me next time he saw me. When next I saw him he didn’t need any help so we just chatted. I started seeing him more and chatting more and eventually we started sitting together with our laptops. Now we call each other to say which café we’re going to. No Mom, we’re not dating, just friends. He just broke up with his fiancé of 7 years. And I was seeing someone and now I’m not and the circumstances of ending are similar so we chat about that. And we chat about business. And we chat about his assignments. And we chat about our jobs. And life in general. He’s insightful. Offers a different perspective.
This is Mahfood.

Last weekend he invited me to drive to Al Khadhara, the village he’s from. I have a policy not to refuse invitations so off we went. It was a little over an hour from Muscat, on the coast and quite small. We went to meet the brother of the man who is renting Mahfood’s house. They have turned it into a primary school for about 130 children. It was the weekend so no kids were there but I got a quick tour and it looked pretty cool.

We drove around the village and he helped me ask people if I could take their picture.

This is a date palm. Those are the dates hanging from the top. I’m looking forward to eating fresh dates soon. They come into season when the weather gets really hot.

These ladies were sitting on their front porch. Mahfood says they do this every day. Eating, chatting, and working on projects. One of them is doing some needle work. She has the yarn wrapped around her toe. The tray has a "sweet" on it. They call all desserty-type things “sweets”. Cookies, cakes, ice cream, puddings etc. These ladies liked me taking their picture.

I love this photo. This guy just gave a nod to go ahead with the photo. Sometimes I wonder if they think I’m crazy. They don’t know how cool everything looks to me.

Like this. This looks cool to me.

And this. Love it!

And this. People here sit on the ground a lot.

Mahfood has promised a daytrip to Nizwa, a town in the interior, soon. There is a famous fort there to visit. More photos!

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Vol 24 Apartment, Part 2

This is the lobby of my building. The entrance doors have this orca mural on them. There are large photographs of Vancouver on the lobby walls. Nice.

I’ve been in my apartment for a couple of weeks now and the roaches and I have come to an understanding- if I see them, I kill them. I stomp on them. They go crunch and die. Mostly I have little teeny tiny roaches but every few days I see a big one. Like the one in my purse, sitting on my wallet when I pulled it out. F@*k!!!!! And yet, I like my apartment. So far all I’ve bought is bedroom furniture and a washing machine. There are no dryers here. If you want one, you have to order it and then it can take months to arrive. Everyone line dry’s. Since I have no balcony I’m going to buy one of those folding tee pee drying rack thingies. They’re cheap here.
This is my bedroom. I decided to embrace the peach paint and go girlie, which not like me at all. But neither is a pink car and I did that too. I figure I should try new things here. I quite like my girlie bedroom. A couple of plants and some drapes and art and I’ll be set. Next purchases are a dining table and chairs (so I’ll have somewhere to sit other than the bed) and a fridge. Then I need a stove and sofa. Then I’ll throw a couple of rugs down and call it home.

This is my bathroom. This is really nice by Oman apartment standards. I’m not a big fan of it since this is where I see a cockroach almost daily. The building dude said he would spray again but so far, nope. Nothing gets done here when they say it will and they look at you like you’re crazy if you act put out when they don’t show up.

This is my kitchen. There is a little laundry room off to the right. The space on the left is for the fridge, the space on the right is for the stove. The sink isn’t really blue; the previous tenant just didn’t remove the protective plastic. Guess they didn’t use the kitchen much. The powder on the floor is roach killer that I have flung in haste and disgust. I have found a part-time house maid who will start next week after I buy cleaning supplies. She will come twice a week to clean and cook Indian food for me. She works for our practice manager, Katie, whose husband works for the embassy and she assures me she is both a good cook and a good cleaner. Yay!

Close up of the decorative tile border that encircles the room.

Sweet! Pink granite counters!

This is the view out my windows. They are building what I assume is another apartment building directly behind my building. It will eventually block my view of the mountains. The dudes working on the building start at dawn. So I wake up at dawn. And sleep fitfully until I get up. In another day or two they will have added another floor and will be able to look down into my apartment. They'll be able to watch me sleeping. Soooooo, I guess curtains are a priority. There is a really pretty embroidered flat sheet that came with my comforter set that I want to turn into curtains but I need to find someone I can borrow a sewing machine from. Or I could cut them, pin them and take them to a tailor to stitch the seams.

This is the living/dining room. I think it will be empty for a while. It's a long room. Way longer than this photo can show.

This is the entry way. It's huge! I guess I'll put a chair or bench or something in here at some point. For now it's where I get dressed as the construction guys can pretty much see into my bedroom and living/dinging room. The cuckoo clock looking thing is my doorbell. It sounds like a mutant bird chirping. My friend had to ring it 4 times the first time I heard it before I realized it was my doorbell!

Anyway, that concludes your tour of my home sweet home. Did I mention there are no closets? They don't do closets here; they use wardrobes.

Vol 23 Islam

I’ve delayed writing about the religious culture here in Oman until I had a better grasp of it. I’m embarrassed to say that prior to moving here I knew very little about Muslims or their way of life. I only knew what I’ve seen on the news. Images of angry extremists and terrorists in dusty streets. Women covered from head to toe in black.

I’ve been asking my friend Eman, our receptionist, some questions about Islam and how it affects her daily life. She tells me that the Holy Koran, their “Bible”, was recited to the prophet Mohammed by the angel Gabriel. Islam is based on five pillars. First is Faith; the belief that there is only one God and that Mohammed is His prophet. The second pillar is Prayer. Third is Charity. Forth is Fasting. And the fifth is Pilgrimage. There are 2 main sects of Islam. Sunni and Shi’a. The people of Oman, where I am living, are predominately from a third sect- Ibadhi and are considered the most gentle and conservative. There are also some Sunni here. The Sunni are quite similar to the Ibadhi. Then there are the Shi’as. While most of them are just regular people living regular lives, most of the wacko, fist waving people we’ve all seen on TV are Shi’a. According to Eman, the extremists are Shi’a. Most Iraqis are Shi’a. Think of it as Protestants, Catholics and the wacky Christian Extremists who burn down abortion clinics. In the same way that most Christians are normal; most Muslims are normal.

Recalling images of Muslims celebrating in the streets after 911, I asked Eman how the people of Oman reacted to the events of that day. She said they were all sad for the innocent lives that were lost that day. No rejoicing in the streets.

So then why do Muslims look so different? What’s up with the clothes? The Koran actually spells out the proper way for a Muslim to live. It gives specific guidelines for grooming and behaving. These guidelines are either Halal or Harum. Do this or don’t do this.

They should not drink alcohol. They should not smoke. They should not make or listen to music. They should pray five times a day, facing Makkah (Mecca). Men should pray in a mosque, women should pray at home. They should be clean before they pray. To be clean includes removing body hair. Underarms and groin for men and women.

The Koran states that a woman should not intentionally tempt a man. She should cover her arms, legs, shoulders and head. She should wear only light make-up. No Canadian flags on the eyes, says Eman. (She likes to tease me). She should not pluck her eyebrows. No shaking hands with a man who is not your relative. No sex before marriage. No touching at all or kissing before marriage. No big laughing in front of men. Their perfume should not be smelt across the room.

There are no rules for clothing for men. The long, white, loose fitting dishdasha and cap the men in Oman wear are chosen for fashion reasons. But he should not look at a woman when he is speaking to her. He should look down instead. He should not look at a woman’s breasts. He should not touch a woman who is not his relative at all. When a man goes to a mosque to pray there are places for him to wash his face, neck, hands, arms and feet.

Initially I thought there was an oppressive quality to the women’s attire. The men are wearing something cool and the women are wearing the long black abaya and head scarf with another full set of clothes underneath. But it turns out this is more about fashion than religion. The women here could just wear a shirt, skirt and scarf that covers them and in Syria that is what the women do. They don’t have to swelter in the black abaya. They like them. 10 years ago they wore bright colors, now it’s black. Who’d of thunk it?

I also thought there was a lot of sexism going on here but Oman is actually the most progressive Gulf country towards women. Women drive here. And vote. They can own property. They are encouraged to have careers and to educate themselves. The men here love their women and want to protect them from the stares of other men. Like Eman says, “men are like dogs”. She tells me that if her husband saw another man touching even just her wrist, he would be very angry with the man.

She’s been helping me to write this and she wants me to tell you that it is totally ok for a woman to be sexy for her husband when they are alone together. She can wear as much makeup as she likes. She can paint Canadian flags on her eyes if she likes. They love to wear sexy lingerie. And from what she has hinted, they enjoy healthy sex lives.

Regarding sex; men and women must wash before and after sex. If a man uses his wife in the, uh, “Greek” fashion, she should divorce him.

When a woman has her period she should not pray, fast or have sex. After her period she should remove all hair from her body; legs, groin, underarms and arms.

There are some customs that are phasing out. Pretty much all Muslims listen to music. The Sultan is a major fan of classical music. More women wear make-up and pluck their eyebrows than don’t. I see men drinking alcohol in the bars and virtually all men here smoke. The custom of a man taking up to 4 wives is less and less common. But if he does add additional wives the Koran states he must treat all wives equally.

Though I have only been here 4 months, I will say this- I like these people. They’re good people; kind and generous and funny. And they have great faith. To be Omani is to be Muslim. It’s part of their identity. And I like them.

Wednesday, May 9, 2007

Vol 22 New Love


Today I found a new café with free wireless internet close to my new place. It’s an Italian style coffee house; Cafe Vergnano 1882. And it has hot chocolate so good I may never come home. It's not so much hot chocolate as it is hot chocolate pudding in a cup. Super duper creamy. About 4000 calories. You can almost stand a spoon up in it. Don't see how I can live without it. I'm already planning on devoting a great deal of time to this luscious liquid. I'm not kidding.

This is the machine that produces the cup of perfection. Can you tell how rich is? I may be crazy but I think I'm in love with a hot chocolate machine. I’m drinking a cup of it while I’m writing this and my love is overwhelming me. I guess I'm having a chocolate passion moment. Chocolate sex in a cup. Who needs a man? I could just come here every day and drink a cup of heaven.



Whew, ok, I finished it. Feeling more normal now. I can see I’m going to have to ration myself or I'll find myself here every day, indulging in my new love. Then I’ll gain a ton of weight. I must be strong, decide how much is too much. I see now that they also offer a version of this scrumptious hot chocolate with milk. Maybe I can allow myself that on a daily basis and only give in to the decadently rich version once a week? But life is short and you never know what’s around the bend. I would hate to be on my death bed lamenting that I had not allowed myself more of my true love.


Perhaps the only thing that will deter me is the price. It’s $4.68 US for this heavenly concoction. But now that I think of it, nope, that won’t deter me. I can buy a falafel for 52 cents so that’s just over 5 dollars for dinner. Not bad. Doable for a girl on a budget.

I think the thing to do is to give into temptation and see where this torrid affair takes me. Maybe I can buy one of these machines and continue the affair at home. Otherwise I may never come home….



Friday, May 4, 2007

Vol 21 Apartment

Yes, it’s true. Though everyone here said it would be difficult to find a one bedroom apartment, I found one. Apartments here are quite different. They come with nothing. Ok, that’s not quite true- they come with light bulbs, air-conditioning and ceiling fans. They don’t come with a fridge, stove or washer/dryer. No blinds. No drapes. No drapery hardware. This apartment doesn’t even have a shower rod. I have to pay for water and electricity. I’m not getting a phone line because I have a cell phone, (which they call a GSM or mobile here).

Unfortunately this apartment did come with unwelcome roommates which I failed to notice when I viewed it. Cockroaches. Small and relatively few cockroaches, but still. Yuck! I hate roaches. (Lane is probably nodding right now). I discovered them when I picked up the keys last night and went and looked at it. I also discovered that it wasn’t clean. Kitchen cabinets and drawers have food bits in them. I called the property manager today and he assured me he would have it cleaned and de-bugged. He asked me to delay moving in until Saturday. I’m sure I’ll have to clean it again but if they get the big stuff I can fine tune it. You know how you always have to clean a place when you move in? I need to figure out how to ensure that the roaches don’t come back. Bring on the chemical traps I guess and keep it clean and my food sealed. Anyone have experience with roaches?

The building is only about six months old. There is a restaurant on the ground floor that looks like it will be open soon. I’m hoping it will be good. Looks like a bakery/chicken place. Astute photo viewers will have noticed the words “Ambulance Services” on a sign on the building beside mine. There are apartments on the upper floors, but the ground floor is a Polyclinic. Polyclinics are all over the place. They are healthcare one-stop-shops. General Practice MD’s, Specialists, X-ray, Lab, Dentist, Pharmacy and in this case, Ambulance. I guess I’ll pop my head in and have a look, but these polyclinics are not known for quality or even cleanliness. The hospitals operate their own ambulances and the fire department is completely separate.

My flat, as they call them here, is on the back side of the building, so until construction is completed on the building behind mine, I have a nice view of the mountains. I’ll add photos of the empty apartment after the bugs have moved out. It will probably stay fairly empty for a while. I’ll start by buying a bed and maybe appliances and add to it each month. I want to furnish it as thriftily as I can so I won’t mind selling it all when I come home. I’m hoping to buy much of what I need from expats returning home. The grocery stores have bulletin boards with notices of people selling furniture all the time. I want to paint it even though they just did. They chose peach! Peach! Gag!

This afternoon I auditioned to be a singer for a local jazz band. Piano, bass, drums and sax. It was fun and I think it went well but perhaps not well enough to get the gig. I'm not one of those people that knows the lyrics to a million songs. I know the songs but not the lyrics. I told them I'd be willing to learn the lyrics to a ton of songs if need be. They are auditioning two other women so we'll see. Even if I don't get it, it was great to sing with good musicians. And if I do get it I'll have a little extra money to spend and a creative outlet, something which I am sorely in need of.

I never told everyone how the haircut with Eman's stylist went. In a word: poorly. So poorly, in fact, I cried. While still there. One minute into the haircut. He is Egyptian and he doesn't speak English. He started cutting while she was still translating what I wanted and in the blink of an eye and before I could yell "Stop!" he chopped off a 3 inch chunk of hair at my right temple. He didn't get the whole "I like it longer on the right than on the left" concept. Then I cried. I let him trim the ends of the rest of my hair so it wouldn't look completely retarded but for the last month I have looked funny anyway. I seem to be the only one who notices so maybe it's not that bad. Tomorrow one of our American patients is going to try to fix it for me. She's here with her husband but is a stylist back home. I have my fingers crossed because I'm actually starting to look quite scruffy. My friend Annette, (Hi Annette!), hasn't cut my hair since mid December. I should mention, the Egyptian stylist felt terrible and didn't charge me for the cut. I was a bit embarrassed that I reacted with tears but as I told Eman, since my hair is so fine I feel like I only have 12 hairs on my head and I must protect them.

I took one shirt to be copied to Eman's tailor but he took my word for it that it fit well and so he didn't take my measurements. Then he had trouble copying the shirt because it was cut on the bias and so the chiffon fabric it's made from stretches. Anyway it ended up being a bit too small for me. But it's gorgeous so I gave him the rest of the fabric and told him to go to town. Eman and I designed a bunch of stuff that he is going to make for me. Two dresses, 5 blouses and a skirt. I'll send photos when they are done in a few weeks.

My Word problem is solved. A friend gave me a copy of Office 2007 and I'm back in business.

It was 42 degrees Celsius today. That's 107.6 Fahrenheit. And I'm handling it just fine.