Wednesday

Today was our final day at the hospital… and it was such a hectic one. I regret deeply not having the opportunity to say farewell to my dear, dear fifth year friend in pediatrics. Although we are friends on Facebook, have plans to Skype, and will hopefully (InshyAllah – God willing) meet again… they have meant so much to me, that not seeing them one more time makes me very, very sad. They were simply instrumental in making my time here incredible. They taught me much, loved me well, and made me feel absurdly welcome. Ahmed also helped me learn more Arabic, so that was incredible (and incredibly funny too.) Anyhow. Claire and I went to the last Morning meeting in Labor and Delivery – were kicked out for the senior meeting, and spent much of the morning wandering up and down the hallway. Soon, Dr. Shahila came out… but then she got lost in the OT. So Claire came with Dr. Evelyn and I… then Dr. Evelyn got lost in the Administration building and so we wandered the halls of the Pediatric ward looking for the Doctors for which we had prepared gifts and thank you notes. It was incredibly quiet, and amusingly, Dr. Shahila was absolutely stunned we were there at all since it was our last day. Even so, at 11:30, the day went from a low, creeping, meandering gear to a running full pace, sprinting, adrenaline rush. Kumait had an appointment with the UK embassy Visa department at 12:30, and we had to leave with him in order to make it to Snorkeling later that afternoon. And so at 11:30, I rushed from the OPD (clinic) with Dr. Evelyn, to L&D to find Claire who had finally found Dr. Shahila, who was filling out the evaluation form for her. Dr. Shahila took her time to evaluate Claire fully and accurately (which is funny to me, since my doctors I think were just being nice and trying to get me out of their hair – so they picked an “above average” number and whisked through the questions…). But soon enough, with completed eval in hand we went to find Salim Al-Khaldi – the man who set this whole things up, found us a hotel and provided us a driver. We owe him a lot. He made for us Certificates of Completion with the official seal (which was awesome) and collected our evaluations to make copies for his records. Trevor and Kumait showed up late and Salim was being very Omani (aka: taking his time)… and with Kumait’s significant glances (that read: Jess, we’re very late), I was mildly going crazy. With a click of a camera of Salim and those crazy American students, we rushed to the car, and made our way to the Embassy.


This is probably an appropriate time to mention that driving here is insane. I’m truly grateful for my trip in Europe which taught me that I LITERALLY have no control and should stop worrying, helping the driver break, providing input or freaking-out-crying-in-the-backseat-peeing-my-pants. I find my happy place. Reflect on my life to be sure I have lived it well, and put my life in the hands of my Creator. He wants me home? Great. I get the chance to stay here? Great. It’s not like I have control over that either. This happy place is CRITICAL because Oman has an incredibly high MVA mortality rate (MVA – motor vehicle accidents). So. if you don't have the happy place, every ride is an ulcer-inducing-stress-storm :)

After the embassy we ran to buy cigars and lunch – wings for me, pizza for Claire and Burger King for Kumait and Trevor, then it was off to the Oman Dive Center.

On the way, a fatalistic dinging began and we realized we were low on petrol (gas). Great. We were late, so we kept going, but none of us knew where the closest petrol station was or if we’d make it home. It was half funny, half awful. Kumait says he likes to live on the edge – I think we were a little close for comfort, lol. Claire and I tried to get him to kill the AC – but he voted no, and so we kept on our way. … AND THEN WE RAN OUT OF GAS!!!!!... just kidding. We actually made it to and from the dive center just fine, and to a petrol station within 10 km of certain doom.

SNORKELING IS SO AMAZING!!!!!! Literally. If I am ever in a bad mood, pick me up, give me gear and drop me in that crystal blue sea. It is definitely my happy place. I’m pretty sure I was supposed to be a fish when I was made, because I’m so contented under the water. If only I didn’t need to come back up. I am a terrible swimmer without fins, I will lose every race in a pool, but give me fins and space to fly and I’m gone. It was fun teaching Kumait, who’d never been snorkeling how to dive, how to clear the pressure and how to swim with fins. I must add that I gained absolutely NO color at all from being out in the sun, it seems all my tan this summer will come from Ohio, which is terribly ironic, but we’ll go with it. We swam for two hours or so, in which time I saw a ray, an eel and a sea turtle. The difference in the temperature was almost unbelievable… the top was hot tub warm – maybe 90 degrees or so, but 2 meters down and the temperature was absolutely cold. It was great!!! It was intense though, when far out from the beach, at maybe 30 or more feet down, I ran out of air and needed to come back up – it felt like forever before the temperature changed and I knew I was close to the surface… that hot water was such a relief. Though the place we went holds no candle to Hawaii, it was beautiful and I’m not determined to get my scuba license.

We went back home and prepared to go to dinner with Dr. Intasar, a resident in Urology – a new friend of Trevor’s, and her sister. Intasar called and said the driver was there, so we went out and saw a car parked parallel to the hotel in the exact place we were picked up every morning. And I thought it odd the driver had a cleaned suit hanging in the window, but we opened the door and went to get in…. and then realized that we had the wrong car. The driver was stunned speechless and we were left backing up and apologizing profusely. Hilarious! Pijo (the driver) came running and escorted us to the right car. I must add that Trevor kept calling Pijo – “Pedro” and when we found out his real name, I made sure to harass Trevor beyond reason. It was wonderful. Eventually we came to Japango where we met Intasar, her sister and Dr. Abdullah – a trauma surgeon. He drives a Mercedes Mclarin SLR 722 edition. Needless to say, I was in love with his car. After dinner he gave me a ride, and Trevor a ride the next day – and it was so awesome. Oh, the perks of Doctor-hood. I need to get me one of those. Anyhow, Dr. Abdullah, was introduced as “the tallest surgeon in Oman,” and indeed he was tall. He was also sarcastic and hilarious. Intasar and her sister were wonderful and Intasar and I bonded over teasing Trevor, instant friendship. At the restaurant, we enjoyed sushi, and Lebanese and more – then they took us to their home and gave us dates, Kahua (coffee) and mangos and more. They have this precious month-old kitten that was so adorable… So, in sum. It was an incredible night. We were out late, packed late and went to bed because we had to rise early the next day.

Tuesday

Today we were in Labor and delivery and went on rounds. There was one mother that kicked Claire and I out, with a comment of “shouldn’t we be asked before bringing Trainees in here?” Which , they are right, they should be asked, but also, they are at a Training Hospital – they should know that EVERYONE that comes in that room minus the consultant/head doctor- are probably in training. She… was interesting… But later that day we saw an emergency C section of triplets at 26 weeks. That is so very, very early. The room was hectic and Claire and I took the responsibility of tying all the doctors into their sterile garb. The first baby came out and was breathing and healthy – the second two came and were not breathing so needed to be resuscitated and intubated and breathed for – it was intense – I thought that they were going to die, but they made it. One of the head docs was there and guiding the resident through the sutures etc. She was so intense, and I would have been nervous being her resident, but you know that she was training them well. We then got the signatures that we needed from various doctors, went to the internet, and eventually got to go to Muttrah with Margaux and shop. FINALLY. We bought scarves and frankincense and other gifts and an incredible bracelet. I can’t wait for you to see it. It’s so incredible!! It’s this Asian Dragon that wraps one and a half times around my wrist. Yes it was expensive, but it was so worth it. There was literally no buyer’s remorse after – so that’s a good sign, lol. I was so happy to come back, and Trevor only complained some about being there ; )

Monday

A few of these blogs will be shorter, because nothing really happened of note, and nothing is really “new” anymore – less excitement = less writing :)

Today came and no kid. In fact, the whole week passed with no opportunity to catch a kid. When they said it was a bad week to shadow – they were right. I should have gone some of the day to shadow in trauma surgery as Kumait suggested…. Oh well. As it was, I still learned a lot and saw enough too. I spent a very long time in the Clinics with Dr. Evelyn, and had the chance to run up to Delivery to see another birth. The mother was supposed to have had an epidural, but she could still feel pain. What was the most odd though is that after the child was born, the mother never looked towards it, never smiled, never showed anything but pain, anger and sadness. The grandmother came in and comforted the daughter but show me anger when she looked at the child, and sadness when she looked at me as well. There was nothing in the history to suggest why they both would seem as if the child was unwanted. It was such a night and day difference from the birth the day before, where, even though there was a LOT of pain – the joy, and the great pleasure the child brought them, made everything worth it. It stunned me for hours actually. I’m still not sure I can rectify what happened in my mind.

Soon the day ended and Kumait came to pick Claire and I up for some shopping at City Center. Trevor went home to sleep, and even turned down going to a carnival. (I was stunned he said no, lol, evidence of our exhaustion perhaps.)

When we came home, I went with Trevor to run the stairs for some exercise. I was already off kilter from the weird birth and exhausted and feeling a little put off about some other gender issues experienced that week… poor Trevor never saw it coming… He took off his shirt because he was hot and it was the perfect catalyst to set me off. I don’t really mind in the States when guys take their shirts off in the heat – yes, it’s wildly unfair even then, because we women can’t without social consequences… but it’s more tolerable to me there because we can do other things there that women here can’t do, and I’m used to it, even as unfair as it is. But here, in Oman, where there is so much gender pressure, it seemed the perfect example to me of “I’m a man so I can do what I want.” And he didn’t understand why I was so mad, and he didn’t want to put it back on. So I left. I stated I wouldn’t run with him if he kept his shirt off and went back to the room. I still wanted to run, but apparently Trevor was done too so he came back – we need to work on our communication…. Lol. And I didn’t go back out to run more because I thought he’d come, still shirtless, and I couldn’t deal with it. It was also a symptom of being with people all the time. Social as I am, I need alone time, badly. So, with an apology to Trevor, a conversation to make peace and shed light and understanding, Claire lent me her iPod and I went to bed, allowing the music to give me enough alone time to really hit the restart button. I tell this story in part because, even as I knew that gender issues were important to me, I never really realized how much, nor how much they affected me. It’s also interesting how something so simple, and done without malice or intent could trigger a storm of emotion and feelings of inequity. Trevor never meant “I’m a man so I can do what I want,” he thought “holy crap it’s hot in this desert, in this stairwell, without AC.” And did what he’d do in the States to cool down. And I don’t think I really thought about taking off a shirt as a gendered thing, but it really is. Why is it fair in the US for guys to do that at all? Here, women wear two dresses, and a head scarf, for various religious and cultural reasons – in 123*F heat. And they don’t complain. Yes, traditionally, the guys have long outfits too, but in recent years, they wear short and short sleeves. And they can take off their shirts at the beach and get in the water etc, etc. It probably doesn’t seem like a big deal to most, but I think it is to me… I’m not sure how this will change my behavior in the future either – will I ask the guys I’m with to always keep their shirts on when they’re hot for the sake of equity? Perhaps… We shall see if anything changes. But, especially in this state of hyperawareness, it’ll be interested to come back home and see if I get triggered by gender inequality even in the States.

Sunday

SO. Today started bright at early as we (FINALLY) made it on time to the car. Claire and I rushed to the delivery ward to make the 7:45 meeting, but almost as soon as it started, Claire was whisked away to scrub in on a cesarean section of twins. They let her cut, cauterize and suture the subcutaneous layer of the skin!!! She was so freaking adorable on her adrenaline high, post-surgery. Absolutely beaming, absolutely full of joy and excitement, it was awesome. : ) My day…. Well… it was neat, sort of. During the morning, my doctor literally had nothing to do, nothing for me to do and so we wandered the hallways looking for anything she could give me. There weren’t even patients in the clinic she could steal from other doctors. Claire was rounding with the other physician, and so had a pretty busy day… I simply did small talk with my physician until she finally decided we’d wandered enough and let me go off to find my friends in the peds ward. At 11 I sat down to pediatric rounds, then went to lunch. The one interesting correlation that happened today was that in Gyn-ie we discussed this 12 year old with an abscess in her ovary, and then in pediatrics we discussed this same girl. The differences in perspectives and approaches to this same patient was fascinating to me. What’s really cool is that I know absolutely nothing (it feels) and yet, I can make pretty good guesses about diagnoses, problems, complications, etc. Yay! Go basic-science-knowledge-go!!! : )
Then this afternoon, I spent over an hour with Ahmed as he taught me Arabic. The grammar, the alphabet, etc. Thanks to Riyad’s tutoring, I didn’t look like a complete fool and it helped me learn fast. Problem is, the letters went a bit awol in the hour afterwards… but those 4 letters I’m sure will be filled in soon ;) Plus – he forgot a few letters… hmm…. I need Riyad. While I was learning, the teacher suddenly interrupted us, and I dashed back to the delivery ward. After some teaching, I was rushed into a room and given an apron. “You catch the baby.” I what? Lol. And so I prepared. And… And then nothing happened. I was changed out of my apron, and had to leave because my ride was so show up and I had no other way home. It sucked. I was so looking forward to being a part of birth! I feel bad for Trevor and Claire, I was mildly depressed when I got into the car, lol. Sigh… Tomorrow, they said. Tomorrow come soon, I want to catch a kid.

Saturday

Saturday:

Today was our first day back in the wards. Claire and I are in Obstetrics (babies) and Gynecology (women). Here in Oman, women see their primary care doctor until the third trimester, unless they are high risk. We saw several women in the clinic with Dr. Evelyn Moral at various stages of pregnancy (gestation). We felt uteruses, we found heartbeats with sonograms, we had an absolute ball. Dr. Evelyn is an incredible instructor and physician and she was hilarious to spend tie with. She knows Dr. Parmalee because he worked with her relative… or something… from the Philippines. Anyway, small world moment… We then went to lunch, and to the Delivery ward where we were crammed into a too-small-room filled with WAY too many people. We shuffled from one corner to the next through the most violent birth I’ve ever witnessed. Granted, it was the only vaginal birth I’d ever seen and it was a complicated case, so they needed suction to vacuum the baby out. …Well… let me just say the whole situation made me reconsider my stance of having children. Lol. There is such a thing as knowing too much, and I’ve seen too much, lol. I will not go into any detail here so that other women reading this might never know the details and go into pregnancy and birth blissfully unaware. Anyone who knows me, knows that I will probably have children… but right now, I’m in pain for this woman. Yet, but yet, even though this mother was in so much pain, after that child came out and began crying, the joy was so inexplicable. Her sister came in and saw the baby and she started crying. And the look they shared was so indescribably. To be honest, I teared… the happiness was so palpable. I was so enraptured by the infant, I didn’t really focus too much on the actual gynecological suturing… a sign I should go into peds and not OB? Who knows. All I do know, is that all the awful that happened before the birth was made so worth it by the creature under the heating lamp. So. Cool.

After all of this and a tour of the wards… we went to the computer labs for some much needed time on the internet. So many emails, so many responses, so much work. Then the time that we were supposed to be picked up by a student came and went… and then a half hour and an hour. I called and he had totally forgotten us, lol, so we stayed until he could find another soul to transport the poor Americans back home. I was so exhausted after coming home that I was mildly grumpy and quiet… after a sweet meal of tuna, chips, hummos and tomatoes, plus sweet coffee, plus Twilight, I was buzzed, chipper and giggly. It was a wonderful evening. Trevor and I talked late, then passed out cold.

The Second and Last weekend in Oman

This weekend

Before I go into detail about this weekend, I’d like to add that I’ve been dead wrong about how hot it’s been here. I thought 40 degrees Celsius was 100*Fahrenheit. I couldn’t figure out the math of how because I knew normal human body temperature is 37.4C (98.6*F). Turns out 40C is actually 104*F SO. That’s been our average day… at like 9 am. Other days it got up to 51C… aka 124*F!!!!!! HA. WHAT?! Where AM I? lol. The low last night was 31, so 87, and trust me, it felt COOL. I knew it was hot, but I didn’t realize that I was walking around in the Middle East’s version of an Easybake Oven. Lol. I’m still giggin’ out about it.

The weekend, if you recall, starts on Thursday, and so, bright and early (8 am) Musleh came to pick us up. I’ve been testing out various methods of hair drying, because I’m too lazy to bring a hair dryer, I have tried the shake method, the shower-the-night-before-and-sleep-on-it method, and most recently, the sit-in-the-Omani-sun method. So far, the sun method definitely attracts the most attention and may not be that effective at 8 am, even here. 2 pm?? It’s brilliant. Outside and in in 5 minutes flat. Musleh arrived just as I began awkwardly sitting outside brushing my hair. Perfect timing. We hopped in, ran to pick up Emma at the school, then down to Royal Hospital to pick up Margaux. An hour and a half later we arrived in Nizwa. Informed by our favorite hotel employee Abdul that we *needed* to go there, we were both surprised and excited by the chance to go to the Souk. And… it was fun… I bought two pieces of silver jewelry that I adore (one is this amazing Rose ring, so cool!) but, I hate seeing Tourists. I know, I know, *I* am a tourist. But, when I spend all my days with natives and resident (Arab or Indian) ex-pats at the hospital with absolutely no westerners… seeing them makes me cringe. They look so out of place. They look so awkward… especially with the famous American belly, wide brimmed hat, fisherman’s vest and zip off, easy-clean pant/shorts. But alas, we made it through the tourist part of the souk and went to the fresh fruit market. When we were there, we met some of Musleh’s friend Saif’s friends who make Halua (the Omani sweet dish). They offered to give us a tour of the factory… and we readily agreed.

We pulled up on this side street, dodging cars in the narrow lane and meandered slowly to the brick covered driveway. We were warned that it was hot, and we entered this tall, narrow hall. The people inside looked surprised, and as they beckoned us to come, we dodged the shoes on the floor and stepped into the workroom. It was a small space – 18 by 50 feet, perhaps, and sweltering. On one side stood lockers and shelving, and on the other was where the magic happened. 6 or 7 huge metal basins hosted two workers that sat on one side. One man held a huge stick with a flattened curved end that sat in the boiling, bubbling, gooey, sticky, halua. Halua is made of Sugar, ghee (butter), starch, Saffranin and Cardamom. The more cardamom, the more expensive the Halwa is. They start at 4 am and work til 12 noon, pushing and stirring and pouring and filling and dishing out the sweetness. It was insane. They showed us the outside where a HUGE pile of wood stood to fill the ovens that sit under the pots. It was incredibly hot. In temperatures of 113, standing or stirring over a hot pot, or by and burning oven sounds terrible.

After this, we went to a traditional restaurant, sat on the floor and ate fish, chicken, meat and rice topped with tomato chutney and lemon. Again, I felt like a kid eating with my hands and making a mess… AKA, I was in complete heaven. After watching 4 rounds of Bernard Hopkins and Jean Pascal fight, we headed to the Fort. (Ps. Hopkins is awful… I have no respect for him from what I saw today. I hope Pascal won, but we didn’t see the end.) The fort was built back in the day and it was full of rooms and information. The city was recently reformed and so everything was safe, beautiful and fun to wander the rooms, and the rooftops. It was so very, very hot… the feeling of your knees sweating is a singular experience… shins should not produce such gratuitous amounts of the salty stuff. But, some of the exhibits had AC, so it was a gift. With a sad fairwell to Musleh’s friend Saif, we headed to the mountain. I’m exhausted right now, so the description of mountain might be lacking. Hopefully, the pictures make up for it. We climbed and climbed up the twisting roads (Colorado, much?) and was stopped by security to make sure our 4WD worked. We made a bumpy side stop at this phenomenal cliff which over looked this deep carving ravine. The distance was marked by mesas and foggy mountain peaks. On one side, a small village stood treacherously close to the edge, but it’s white buildings made for beautiful art on the grey, black and red sand and rocks. We climbed higher until we reached the camp grounds – I believe we were around 3300m above sea level. (I must add that we made stop after stop, and mostly for poor reasons… the girls wanted the last bathroom, but it was at a mosque, in a quiet village and it was so very awkward. They didn’t really speak, it was so very smelly and of course, there was no toilet paper. I wish I had never gotten out of the car. But oh well… it was over fast enough. J The campground was this high valley with some flat places, some rocky ledges and some sparse bushes. Also, there are wild donkeys here, just roaming the slopes, looking sad and making awkward calls in the middle of the night. Musleh taught us to make Mishkak and Margo made chicken with grilled pears – it was phenomenal. We laughed until the sun set and the full moon rose slowly over the cliff face. There are these ants that live here that run as if their butt had just been burned, it is literally perpendicular to the earth… parallel torso, the 90* turn up to their abdomen – it’s hilarious. Oh, We also had to fan the coals, and it was an amusing time watching Trevor learn how to use a paper-plate fan… he was a fast learner though and so ultimately succeeded. J The earth was hard and there were a lot of rocks we had to shift or avoid sleeping on, but on the grass matt, in our sleeping bags, we slept pretty well. The temperature here was only about 20C(69*F), which was phenomenal . Perfect, perfect weather.

I must add the sleeping for me was an adventure. The full moon kept me awake early on, the rocks woke me when I got too comfy, the distance drumming and singing (UNTIL SIX AM) disturbed the resting and the donkey eating our trash 10 feet away startled me upright. Top that off with idiots with a subwoofer 80 feet up the hill and I can’t really say I slept perfectly well…. I think I woke every hour, especially after the sun rose, until I got up up at 6. Blah. Exhaustion is my close companion right now. Musleh joked about Moy3er (?) or Zombies that night and so we’ve now made more of a joke and suggested that anything lost on this trip was most definitely taken by the Zombies. Strangely, the history of the zombies here is the same as the story of zombies in Jamaica and they don’t know why… fascinating stuff. Oh, Ha. I also broke my sandal today. Great. It’s only pair of sandals I brought and I had dreaded that my cheap sandals would snap if stressed too far on the hot rocks. I hobbled my way from my outdoor bathroom experience (which is surprisingly 1000039383x better than porceline hole bathrooms, or even worse: hover over nasty toilet with no seat or TP. I’d really like guys to try hovering while … pooping I guess. It’s like a workout where you are supposed to relax at the same time. Absurd, nasty, and quite difficult. Count your blessings men, seriously. But back to my shoe.) Gratefully, the fire was still full of coals, so I amped them up, found a larger stick and melted my shoe back together. It works even now, but I don’t trust it will hold for very long at all. I need new sandals. But for the moment, my rubber-melted concoction is working swimmingly. It did mean that I wore a horrible outfit for the rest of the day: Long skirt with running shorts. Gag. I apologize to the people who had to see this horrible fashion dilemma, I am ashamed. ;)

Sadly, we realized today that we only have 6… really 5 days left now, until we leave for Dubai and the world. I’m not ready to be halfway done. I’m not ready to leave. This country is so full of life and the ironic contrast here are wonderful. The harsh landscape with its thorns and sand stands in frank opposition to the compassion, kindness and life of its people. I’m in love, and don’t want to part.

Anyhow, we got up at 7 ish, had left overs for breakfast (the others had breaded foodstuffs), and left. I have no idea how we got where we did, but soon enough, we arrived at a parking lot. The view was nice, but we hadn’t come for the view… at the base of the hill was Wadi Beni Habib (a valley) that, though it was empty of water, hosted a passageway to these incredible ruins that clung to the face of the mountain. Trevor, Claire and I went ballistic meandering happily through the doors, tunnels, window, stairways, roofs to various unexplored territory. I was certain we were going to cause a collapse and die, but we didn’t, so that was wonderful! The building’s structures were probably 100-200 years old, but they had only been vacated 10 or so years ago… so there were some light fixtures and other signs of electricity. One really cool spider clung to the ceiling, but it was otherwise animal free. There were more channels that transported water between the villages, and running waterfalls that made for an incredible hike back to the car. This hike would later cause our calves to camp and our quads to cry on the stairs back to our apartments, but it was amazing.

We then went to a village where I didn’t catch the name. It was a neat village and we walked until we reached this incredible oasis. It was about the size of an average pool in the US, but round and green-blue, and cold like a spring. It was rimmed by rocks on one side by boulders and sand, and on the other by a cliff, with reeds and a stream which fed the pool. One group of Omani men were there and they encouraged us to swim… which we did readily, even if we felt a little nervous about the appropriateness of it all. They laughed at our squealing getting in the water, and hopefully enjoyed the crazy, pale westerners as they enjoyed the water. And then the fun was done. A group of boys showed and informed Musleh that we were not allowed to be there. Musleh claimed it was probably because we were tourists, but Claire felt it might have more to do with the fact we were women. Honestly, I think it was just Musleh and Trevor, they wouldn’t have said a thing. We played a bit (aka, jumped from the boulder once more) and then ran to change. The boys stared our way the whole time. Claire said that she couldn’t believe their audacity to first tell us (rudely, with much anger) to leave, and then to watch us as we changed. Yes, most of us were behind rocks, but I watched them most of the time from my place because, I’m way too tall for Oman and couldn’t really hide. It was terrible. –Deep breath – even though they were intolerant and I was frustrated, the pool felt like heaven on my skin and I forgot how much I missed being cool. I accidentally drank some of the water so I anticipate disease, parasites and other horrible things soon. J

We skedaddled asap and made our way to Nizwa for lunch. We really shouldn’t have stopped. It was a shisha café, which is fine, but smelly, and the waiters got all our drinks wrong. Then it took forever and we were so very late to leave for the cave. When the food got there it was absolutely incredible – great chicken with good hommos and wonderful chips (aka French fries). We scarfed the food down, and ran to the car. Poor Claire is not used to eating so quickly and so didn’t really eat all that much. I felt badly for her, and then badly for myself because I really feel like I should do similarly – I eat so very, very fast… I think it would be wise to learn to eat more slowly all together… but that is a topic for later thought and discussion.

After that we went to Al Hoota cave – a cave that is 200+ million years old, and absolutely massive. There was a train that was on the fritz (Broken) and so we walked to the entrance… and walked some more. The whole cave was lined stairs and concrete paths that allowed visitors to see it without disrupting it too much. Sadly, my favorite characteristics about caves – the cool, the smell and the dark, were missing completely (it was hot and muggy, smelled of human and lit up pretty brightly). But I love caves so very much. The natural art is incomparable, and I really love the shapes of the stones. There was a huge lake in the bottom of the cave, which allows the cave to flood HORRIBLY in the rainy season (July and August), to the point where the water will rise up some 30 m or so and fill the caverns. I must confess my fear of lakes in caves… someone made a joke about swimming in it and I squirmed like crazy. Spelunking is interesting and all, but it scares me silly – tight spaces, underwater, in murky water, surrounded by animals you don’t really know… in water. I have a fear of suffocation in inescapable situations, clearly. But we didn’t get in. We waved at the blind cave fish (a mean joke, I realize since they are blind) and went on our way. We saw bats in the cave and spiders in the museum – and I was glad for that order for the spiders are scary huge, and I even like spiders! Little bodies (one by three centimeters) with HUGE MONGO MEGA legs. No thank you… soon we were done and we were headed home – an incredible feeling. After a quick jaunt to the supermarket, we are settled in back home. ((I love this blog, but I have to tell you, it takes a loooooonnng time – two hours tonight and all I want to do is sleep. Feel lucky random reader, I’m doing this for the both of us, but especially for you. But now I shower, and pass out cold… hallelujah for cleanliness and beds.

Ah- my “Notes” on my iphone remind me of two things: One: my favorite quote from today from Claire to Trevor: “You’ll probably save battery if you figure out how to turn off your ding” in reference to his obnoxious camera that dings as he hits a button or runs through pictures… but since Trevor was complaining of serious exhaustion today, which makes me chattier sometimes, I translated “Battery” as “energy” and “Ding” and “mouth/noise/talking”. I’m sure it doesn’t translate through blog, but I found it wildly entertaining. Two: Oman is made for men, their facilities, bathrooms, workplaces, oases, etc, etc, are made designed for male use and ease. If a woman had designed the system, methinks it’d look quite different – namely toilet paper, cleanliness and equity… That is all.