Holiday Season

Merry Christmas to you all, we hope you had a good one.

Remember that Christmas is not a holiday in this part of the world, however we have been lucky this year as the 40th National Day Celebrations have fallen around this time so S. has ended up with some extra days off announced just a few days before Xmas.

As a result a lot of people jet off to their home countries at the last minute braving the sky rocketing airline prices (and the unpredictable European weather) while we spent it with friends under the sun doing what normally one does over this holiday season: eating, drinking, eating, drinking, eating…and generally being merry.

For Christmas Eve we were at some friends’ house and we enjoyed a mix of international traditions from Italian starters to Argentinian BBQ to British extra alcoholic puddings not to be consumed before driving (and I mean in any country).

Amongst the most memorable moments was watching C. making a Brandy Sauce for a very delicious Christmas Pudding: on the claim that she could not taste the brandy and that “you cannot call this a Brandy Sauce”, she held the bottle up-side-down over the pan. Brilliant cook! Measures are for beginners: the lucky ones know that her puddings (and her cocktails) are legendary; and so was this one (and the Trifle too!!).

For Christmas Day we indulged in an extravagant buffet at the posh Al Bustan Palace Hotel, and then rolled for drinks to the beach bar. All in civilised style.

I admit that the concept of having a Christmas meal and pulling crackers while holiday makers paddle in the pool outside may seem a bit weird but then so is having a Christmas tree in the lounge when you roam around in t-shirt and flip-flops or turning on the Xmas Tree lights when you return from the beach with your hair full of sand (perform shrug here).

Now is the turn for New Year’s Eve (not before squeezing in a trip to the desert for what we expect to be a very unusual concert by a friend's band - the venue will be at least).

I don’t know what the fuss is about this NYE. It’s always the same dilemma: what to do to avoid that dreaded anti-climax feeling? With the extra days off we were really keen on jetting off somewhere nearby (we find that after 2 years living away from Europe “nearby” has acquired a completely new meaning). In a couple of days we travelled virtually to Lebanon, Istanbul, India and Sri Lanka and finally we got a quote for a 4-day safari in the Masai Maara in Kenya. We were really ready to book what would have probably been the most extravagant last-minute holiday that we could have not planned but we had to scrap everything when we realized that we needed a Yellow Fever jab which for me expired last year and that it was obvious I was not going to get over the National Holidays. Gutted! (by the way I am planning to get this done in the New Year and I am sure that the experience is going to be "interesting").

So here we are, left with celebrating NYE on a white beach along the coast somewhere, doing what we do best with our friends. As AZ always says: what a hard life!

Happy New Year to you all!

Season Greetings

Wahiba Callenge - crossing the desert Diva style

I have been too busy with studies and other stuff so no time to dedicate to the blog. Two university deadlines now at the beginning of December and exams in January I have no time to waste.
So I guess that a weekend of adventures in the desert, crossing the Wahiba Sands with the rest of the Divas team must have come pretty high in the hierarchy of my existing priorities.

I'll be brief. The video in the link gives a good summary of this past weekend. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWTJgPXnbN0

I have not been sucked into a black hole!

Just things have been a bit hectic. Here are some highlights for the last 2 months

•  I have learned that goats in Musandam commute by boat and use cars (their own way)
•    My mental in-sanity is reaching dangerous levels
•    I managed to lose my boarding pass at Dubai Airport between check-in and the departure gate.
•    Drove 450km and back to spend 3 days camping on a desolate beach backed by some idyllic white dune desert. Stopped twice at military check points I practiced my rudimental Arabic eagerly (to the bemusement of the local soldiers) only to find out that my vehicle registration had expired a week earlier.
•    I have finally stopped sustaining the local car rental company and am now the proud owner of a Jeep Cherokee Liberty.
•    Spent some lovely time in the company of Bro. & co. who just left after two weeks of holidays with us.
•    At the last dune-driving practice weekend I almost rolled the car over with all the family in it; the horrified look on their faces when they found themselves hanging sideways was priceless; my “oh-shit-how-do-I-get-out-of-this-now” expression must have been even better. Shame that in the midst of panic nobody thought of taking a photo.
•    I learned that going through an automatic car wash forgetting to secure the car roof top is NOT a good idea
•    I have also learned that the Cherokee must somehow be a little bit longer than the average Yaris after I unintentionally tested the front bumper against the wall of the house carving the plate into it
•    I have a month worth of studying to catch up with, balls and receptions to attend, camping weekends ahead, some work just to feel less guilty (who me?) and a lot of social distractions; it won't be long before it's time to go on a holiday again!

Seriously, I will try to find some time to update the blog.

Busy ahead

You know I was away (longest break away from this country since I moved here) hence the long period of silence.

Now we are back but I’m busy with a few things:

1. Preparing for the imminent expedition to Musandam: I have won a scholarship and I will be taking part in a Marine Expedition courtesy of Biosphere Expeditions and HSBC. Very, very exciting to get back in the field once again!
2. Preparing for this coming weekend of desert driving (lots of equipment to put together): I have signed up to take part in the Wahiba Challenge which will see me driving across the Wahiba desert in my 4x4 with a team of only women  so we have a number of weekends in preparation for the big challenge which is scheduled for the end of November.
3. Studying: university has started again in full swing. A bit overwhelming. With all these commitments, visitors and chores I feel already snowed under and it doesn’t appear as much fun as the rest! :-P I will have to find some time!!

I will have to organize a couple of talks about the experience when I come back from the expedition, I have been approached for some work during the Christmas period, the dive centre will want to see me at some point and we have more visitors in November.

So here we go, certainly I will not be short of stories to write about but not sure about the time.

I’ll do my best to keep you updated.

***

The event of the month

In a recent post I created a list of signs that give away the fact that you’ve been in the Middle East for too long.

You may remember a vague mention to getting excited at the opening of a new supermarket in town, so here we go a whole post dedicated to the occasion. A brand new Al Fair has come to this part of town and this is something definitely worth mentioning. 

 Al Fair is the Gulf version of a grocery store half way between Waitrose and something else: (inflated) Waitrose prices & something else quality; the best you can find in town in terms of variety and availability of pricey western expat favourites; last but not least it has a whole craftily semi-hidden, “behind a narrow alleyway”, strictly for infidels PORK SECTION. 

Yes, my eyes were watering at the juicy 20 EUR per gram pork on display, still pink and fresh as it had just been placed on the shelves. I am curious to see how long before it starts turning green because of the poor turnaround. 

Any how this is really the event of the month. Having a proper supermarket near home is a big thing. The brand spanking new shop opened this morning and it comes filled with an incredible amount of yellow & green balloons and a free yellow rose at check out.

Now we have food, pork and alcohol all round the corner and a number of establishments are opening in this side of town; who needs MQ any more?? 

Ale my dear, I know you like teasing us for living in the “piccolo deserto” but I think Muscat is slowly moving this way. ;-P

Another thing: my search has finally ended; I leave you with a photo of the car of my dreams.

Why I like it here

In the last post I mentioned that this year marks (already!) the second anniversary of our life in this country so it is time for reflection. In the last post I made some humour at how different life in this corner of the world can be and how it can make you smile at best (when it doesn’t frustrate you…). Now how about the good things?

Here is a little list. I’m sure after this you’ll understand why I like living here.

• The sun shines virtually every day of the year (and I like that very much!!): the alarm goes off, you open your eyes and there is the light to fill you!
• When the clouds come it’s a nice diversion (and I like it much better this way around)
• Wilderness is on your doorstep
• Flamingos come to the mangrove in town in winter and you can watch them while sitting at a café
• We can go dolphin, whale and turtle watching
• We can go diving any time of the year
• Every weekend feels like a mini holiday
• People are relaxed; it’s always “ma mushkila” (no problem)... even when there is a problem :D – It’s frustrating at times but it’s a much healthier way to live! (unless you have a real problem; then you’d better leave I guess)
• You can go for sun downers at the Crowne Plaza a stroll on the beach at sunset to unwind after a working day
• You don’t need to “book” your friends months in advance
• Life is simple and simple things bring happiness
• You can find the most amazing spot in the middle of nowhere, pitch your tent and it is safe
• The news are either good or no news but whenever you feel like taking the red pill the internet is there to fill you in (about the rest of the world)
• A lazy weekend means a bubbly brunch with friends at a 5-star establishment and crash on the beach
• Coming back from holidays is not depressing any more: you just have to pretend you are working wait for the weekend to resume the holiday life
• We can afford to own a boat
• Filling our 4x4 costs near to nothing
• You get to see and understand what 4x4s are actually made for and how powerful they are
• The maid cleans all the mess after the parties and she’s always a call away when you need her on an “emergency” (hail to the maid)
• You can throw a catered party with waiters, tables and all the rest (they also come to collect the washing up) and it won’t cost you an arm and a leg
• The washing dries outside in 20-30 minutes: in theory you could wash something to wear it an hour later.
• When we want some diversion or a shopping spree Vegas of the Middle East is only 4 hours’ drive away ;-)
• We live in a big villa that doesn’t cost us a penny
• Bills are a thing of the past
• Taxes? Uh?

We have lots of things to laugh our heads off about with our friends….

I like it very much.

You know you've been in the ME for a while when...

This year marks our second anniversary in this country (time really flies!). In fact S’s is just around these days while my second anniversary will be in September. We still love it (and that's why we are still here) but of course such a milestone calls for some reflection... Here we go...

You know you’ve been an expat in the Middle East for a while when:

• You don’t feel there’s a lot to blog about any more as you get used to the daily oddities
  
• You think it’s normal to have goats wandering freely around the outer perimeter of your house (outside your tent or anywhere in fact), cats serenading you when sitting outside at restaurants and dogs chasing you on a fitness run.
  
• You think you are getting the best service in the world if you didn’t have to explain your order at least twice at a restaurant or bar and your waiter delivers exactly what you asked for first time around
  
• You are disdained if there is nobody to pack your shopping at the supermarket till but you re-pack everything from 10 to 1 single carrier bag when they are there to assist
  
• You open the paper & jump straight to the photo pages at the back to see if you or anyone you know is pictured there
  
• You know exactly what a Bebsi is
  
• You are surprised if you call for assistance to fix the AC and only one man turns up with all the required tools; additionally you feel the urge to call one of your friends to boast about it if they actually fix it successfully at the first call.
  
• InshaAllah is your daily mantra
  
• You don’t think much of it when a lorry overtakes you on the motorway and you are travelling at 120 kmph or when you see one just overturned on the side of the road with all its contents scattered around
  
• You get used to brushing your teeth in hot water during the summer
  
• You are completely taken off foot if a service man arrives exactly at the time he stated
  
• You keep a stock of 300 spare light bulbs in the house
  
• You get all your towels ready around the house and tape up windows & doors if the forecast predicts some rain
  
• You get really excited about a new supermarket/shop/bar opening in town: when the “opening or coming soon banner” comes up you normally estimate between a couple of trimesters to a couple of years to the official launch.
  
• You wait for an official public announcement to know if you are going to be off on an expected public holiday and to find out exactly whether it’s going to be in 2 or 3 days’ time & how long for.
  
• You think it’s perfectly normal to be sent home early because it’s a rainy day or to be granted a day off in case of rain forecast

 This could go on indefinitely…..

Littering - when people take no care

In the little time spent here I have learnt that there are a few things that really push my buttons, some in a very explosive way. It takes a lot of self control because in some occasions I can really feel the steam building up and escaping from my ears while the face gets red from the effort I put into restraining myself. Take the scene that I witnessed just a few moments ago just round the corner from home. This is not a first and I know that it is not unique nor unusual & that’s in my view what aggravates the situation.

I am driving back home. A car slows down and strangely drives close to the left side of the road, close to a wall. I stop wondering for a few seconds on the possible reasons. They could be millions; unusual behaviour on the roads is the norm here. It is an unpaved stretch of road; maybe the driver finds the ground smoother on that side is what I think to myself, he is driving a shiny 4x4 after all; you have to be careful. Then the answer becomes clear: a little blue plastic bag puffed up by its unwanted contents and neatly tied into a knot swings lightly into the air and lands on the side of the road. I stand there numbed by the sad scene: there is a bin only 30m away and the idiot doesn’t even have to walk, just drive there and spend the same amount of energy to drop the bag into the bin. I can think of a number of other big bins along the way where he could have dropped his damn rubbish but no, he had to dump it along the road. I have seen this before, in the middle of town too. Now this is not the only country where this happens (littering is a big problem worldwide and sometimes it is also a (mis)cultural thorn: people just think it's not their problem or responsibility) but seeing it happening regularly and knowing the amazing beauty , natural spots and wildlife this country has been blessed with... well, seeing these scenes anywhere really pushes my rage button!

You would think that Muscat is a dirty city: it is immaculately clean. An army of  Indians  in orange uniforms cleans the streets every day; get out of the city on beautiful beaches and it is a completely different story: anywhere where it is too far for the little Indians to reach and where the sea delivers everything back (like for like) you can find a varied collection of rubbish scattered around. People camp and leave the rubbish there, neatly packed as if anyone was going to pick it up (???)…you see it smells in the car better out there. Of course it’s ravaged by animals by the end of the day and the rest is history.

 I always wonder what these idiots feel like after they engage in this kind of careless living, setting the example and making sure that the next generation follows. I remember as a child when my parents would make me pick any bit of rubbish that I dared to drop making me feel small and guilty: once or twice was enough for a lifetime learning; the kind of lesson that I will pass onto my kids one day.

I can only think that people like these are completely oblivious; dirty, careless and also a bit stupid or maybe just unlucky because nobody has ever taught them differently. Now who knows if there’s a way to report this here? Because I have the shiny car model, the colour and the number plate.

Want to do your bit? 

• Do not throw rubbish from your car or anywhere (including cigarette butts & chewing gum!)
• Take your own rubbish with you and dispose of it appropriately at the nearest facility
• Burn your used toilet paper when camping (or take it in a small bag with you: less gross to leave it there for someone else to find or to fly around freely)
• If you camp try to use washable plastic cutlery, plates and cups (so that you can re-use them instead of throwing more plastic away). If you can, wash them back at home.
• If you have to use soaps when camping make sure they are non-toxic, biodegradable, phosphate-free (there are some brands available in supermarkets). Use as little as possible and as far away from sea and wadis as possible.
• Google “green camping” for other ideas
• Ever found yourself picking up someone else's rubbish? Be proud.

Other reads on this topic: 

http://muscatconfidential.blogspot.com/2010/03/why-do-people-in-oman-keeping-driving.html
A related article from The Week

*******

Borneo dream

So we are back from another beautiful holiday. Borneo had always been on my wish list so very glad we did it. We've just visited Malaysian Borneo and more exactly Sabah. It is a beautiful corner of the world with a lot to see so it seems a lot to squeeze in for two weeks but it worked out well (of course I would have loved to stay longer). This was our itinerary (in case you are after some inspiration): 

Day 1 – Land in Kuala Lumpur and connect with a flight to Kota Kinabalu AKA KK (the capital of Sabah). We spent the evening sampling street food at the local Philippino market where there are tons of food on display: from fresh fish to meat stretched along counters under humid and hot air and no ice on sight. The fish was very fresh though so no toilet mishaps. Our “hut” in KK was Le Meridien: it is very central and offers great service (as one would expect). We stayed there 2 nights: the first when we arrived and then on our return from the climb from Kota Kinabalu. The best thing is that both nights we were upgraded to a suite (lavish! hehe the holiday started well): the first time I think because of some “complaint” that we made at the time we reserved and the second night because when we checked-in rain was leaking dramatically over the otherwise immaculate bed. Lots of apologies and a lavish suite later we were more than satisfied although I always wonder why anyone would need such a huge place to spend one night in bed. How sweet.

Day 2 - 3 Mount Kinabalu (my nightmare). Although some may be surprised to read this it was never in my master plan for the holiday. Despite my adrenaline junkie spirit I was never planning to break myself climbing a giant all the way to +4000m above the sea level. I am more comfortable in the sea you see… But S. thought one could not visit Sabah without doing this. In retrospective, forgetting the hours of agony through a total of 17km (8.5 up and then back down) of steep and interminable steps and uneven ground sunrise at the summit admittedly did look good. Also if one does not count the sore knee ligament (me) and the twisted ankle (S.) that slowed our descent to a torturous 5 hours we were relatively lucky with the weather as it did not rain until the very last hour of our ordeal. It took us about 6 hours to get to the summit: the last 700-500m of which took me about one hour (small step after small step and long pause to breathe oxygen starved air) while nausea battled and inexplicably lost against my will power.

Day 4 – At leisure in KK (lots of rest!).

The following 5 to 6 days we could be both seen struggling with sore muscles wandering about the dive resort looking like an old couple in a retirement home.

Day 5-9 Sipadan Kapalai Diving Resort. A water bungalow resort on a shallow sand bank (no beach, no land) from where we based all our diving activities. This is the closest resort to Sipadan (one of the top diving destinations in the world) which is now a protected island and can only be dived with a permit. It is also very close to the island of Mabul (which can be seen from the resort). Because of the permit restrictions on a 4 night stay we were only guaranteed 1 day diving in Sipadan which gave us 4 lovely dives there. Diving Sipadan is like throwing yourself into a fish soup. I lost count of the turtles, sharks, barracudas and all the rest of amazing creatures the reef was teeming with. The rest of the dives were around Kapalai and Mabul. The dives in Kapalai were also very good with lots of good macro life. Both S. and I preferred the dives around Kapalai to Mabul. The dive operation is good if one excludes the fact that they insist on preparing and handling the equipment for you. Not a bad thing per se (although I prefer setting up my own gear and hate when people stick their hands in the way while I am working at it: I don’t even do it to my students!). Nonetheless I allowed it very reluctantly with the result that they flooded my regs on the very first day. I will not provide any details on the scene that followed. After that I made a point of detaching the first stage from the tank myself at the end of the diving day to make sure that the dust cap was on while letting them do the rest of the hard work.

Day 10 – long bus journey from Semporna to Sandakan (6 hours yawn) and night in Sandakan; an old colonial town that was destroyed during the world war and rebuilt to what today looks like a decaying concrete jungle. Had a nice tea in the gardens of a colonial tea house on top of a hill and visited the reconstructed Agnes Newton Keith's house which was possibly the only nice place in town: http://www.sabahtourism.com/sabah-malaysian-borneo/en/destination/92-agnes-keith-house/
Also had a peep at one of the water villages, where people live with no proper toilets and mounds of floating plastic (the sea takes it all and it all comes back to us into the food chain, nice!).

Day 11-13: delve into the jungle. As our guide drove us through the region to reach a corner of the last 45% of rain forest left, extensive plantations of oil palm stretching as far as the eye can see were a clear mark of how unsustainable the growing human species is. Palm oil is a precious commodity dubbed “green” gold in the region. It is exported worldwide and it has a multitude of uses: from alimentary (think Nutella and kit-kat just for a quick example but it is also used for cooking) to cosmetic and bio-fuels.

On the way we stopped at the Gomantong Caves famous for the swiftlet nests; a delicacy on Chinese menus (what isn’t?) that carry heavy price tags on the market and which of course (money is almost always the driver) explains why humans are ready to make incredible acrobatics and put their lives at risk to fetch. As the government now regulates nest collections we did not witness any collectors yet the visit to the cave was interesting: it is full of bats, swifts, hairy millipedes and humongous cockroaches (my nightmare). The opening is huge and you walk over a boardwalk that protects your feet from the deep dung, the roaches and the other creeps (apparently also scorpions) but it’s impossible to escape the sharp stench. Not recommended for asthma sufferers.

We spent the first two nights in Mayne Resort on Kinabatangan River having a wonderful time on river cruises in search of wildlife: we saw lots of beautiful birds, a croc, monkeys (proboscis, silver leaf an long tail), a wild boar and Borneo Pygmy Elephants; lots of them. The last day in the region we transferred to Sepilok Nature Reserve: a beautiful bungalow resort 2 minutes from the Orang-Utan rehabilitation centre set on the edge of a protected patch of rain forest. Orang-utans are amazing creatures and coming so close to

them is an experience that is hard to describe. They look like children so similar to us and at times so mischievous. When we arrived at the centre for a stroll we witnessed a girl reporting being bitten by one of them while the ranger told us that one earlier stole the camera from one of the tourists and broke it. To me all these stories sounded extremely funny especially when faced by their funny expressions and expressive beady eyes. We kept our respectful distance while interacting with them and we had no issues. We also did a 2-hour guided night walk during which I saw my first huge scorpion in the wild as well as a viper and an owl. I love the forest and the amazing sounds that progressively become louder as night falls. I also saw my first monitor lizard swimming in the resort’s main pond: basically an oversized reptile that must have been at last 1.5m long judging by the huge head.

Day 14-15: back to KK for a ferry across to Gaya Island. An island part of a National Park very close to the coast where we decided to splash out on a lavish resort: Bunga Raya. Beautiful island with white beach backed by a jungle, a big and luxurious bungalow surrounded by wild vegetation, Royal treatment and a SPA: just bliss.

 

Day 16-17: 2 nights (1 full day) in Kuala Lumpur ended with a lavish dinner at Frangipani. Probably the best dinner and service we have had for a while; reminiscent of London's top restaurants.
 
The following day flight back home on one of Oman Air new Airbus A330: really nice aircraft and great in-flight entertainment system. The flight went really fast. By the way The Invention of Lying (by Ricky Gervais) and Shutter Island (by Martin Scorsese) are two really great movies!

 

The climate while we were in Sabah  was mostly humid and it rained virtually every day (even if for just an hour). We had some dramatic storms but the rain never hampered any aspect of our holiday. In fact most of the time it seemed to come with perfect timing apart for the last night in KL when we had to buy a couple of umbrellas at the shopping mall to get back to the hotel. The actual temperatures were not too high (high 20s, low 30s c) but the dampness of the air made it feel much hotter and at times (especially during walks in the forest) it was particularly muggy and unpleasant. If you are planning a holiday there prepare to sweat! All in all a varied and really exciting holiday. Beautiful places and lovely people.

***

Cyclone Phet

Now we can tell you: we spent the last couple of days barricaded in the house while under cyclone alert. A few days ago a tropical storm formed in the ocean and grew in intensity until it became a strong tropical cyclone (Phet) meant to veer towards Pakistan but that until the last minute stayed on course towards Oman. It didn’t reach Muscat but it did hit the Omani coast south of it bringing a lot of rain and some wind to the capital. Yesterday was the worst: we spent the whole day indoors (apart from a quick peek around the block to get some fresh air and check what was going on) and it rained for the whole day. In our area (or at least around our house) it wasn’t too bad and to be honest at times I felt I had seen some worse conditions than those but deeper into town it was a bit worse. For us it was an unusual weekend, gray and spent indoors, reminiscent of the ones we left behind in the UK. If it wasn’t for the fact that the water seeps through all the windows and under doors and that flash floods from overflowing wadis can be a real threat it would be even quite exciting but spending the day worrying whether your ground floor is going to become a mud river or trying to catch water falling through every imaginable gap between the wall and the windows is no fun. 

This time we were a bit luckier at least as the wind was coming from the sheltered side of the house and I have learnt from previous experience how to prepare the house for a big drip but a friend spent the whole day and half of the night changing towels at hourly intervals while new leaks would form as soon as she sorted the previous.

Today the cyclone has moved over the sea and towards Pakistan leaving a beautiful sky behind and a bright sun under which to asses the damage around the city. A whole shopping centre and some other business in the Qurum area were under the water yesterday (and under mud today) so the clean up has started. The sea was very swelled today producing some impressive waves, there is a lot of rubbish along the beaches churned up by the sea and most of the sand has disappeared. We went to the yacht club to check on our boat and on a dry dock it was all OK but the club has literally lost the beach to the sea. They tell me that it should form again in 2 or 3 months. 

So a little bit of damage here and there but nothing compared to Gonu I guess. The cyclone didn’t come all this way and the force that hit Muscat wasn’t as strong as the devastating cyclone back in 2007. I guess this time the city was also a little bit better prepared. Or at least that’s what I like to think. We are lucky: we are well and virtually unaffected, if we don’t count the extra day off granted by the government today; a tradition that is religiously applied on the occasional rainy day. 

You should ask the UK government to do the same when it’s sunny ;-)

The 7th Hole

We have been rather busy so a bit out of touch but things are fine here. Getting really stressed with the studies, mainly because I have been a little bit too lax with time (it always looks like you have lots and then… ooops it’s up!) ending up a little bit too behind schedule. Now I am playing catch up till the exams and coursework deadlines. All this month!!  This means I get up with S. every morning and spend the rest of the day stuck behind a computer and with my head in books... a bit lonely and mind boggling but I am sure it will go very fast!

The worry that I am not prepared enough keeps me going like a machine. I have slowed down the diving activities (basically they have come to a halt and have had to say no to people who ask me to teach them or to the centre who calls me when they need me).. I just can’t play around.

I am only honouring some of the weekend commitments that I have already taken. Like going caving this past weekend which involved slowly and carefully lowering ourselves down into a cave (a huge underground cavity called the 7th Hole and part of an extensive underground cave system) hanging down a rope high over an empty hole 120m from the ground (and of course then climb back up to get out from a different opening). It’s like my morning coffee. I always need my regular burst of adrenaline... It was awesome and I have to say, not as scary as it sounds. (I think the training back in Muscat was scarier). To my surprise I was as cool as an icicle. 

Possibly because I was concentrating so much on using the equipment correctly and not making any mistakes that my mind had no time to compute exactly how far I was from the ground (that dot suspended in mid air in the photo is me  and here I am well past the half-way mark!). Even when I looked down at the start of the descent the boulders just looked like pebbles, it was only when I  reached the ground that I realised that each of those "pebbles" were as big as a car (or even bigger).

 I did not experience any jelly legs or racy heart and the sweat was only due to the effort and the heat.

We were high up the mountains so it wasn’t as bad as down here but it is starting to heat up considerably down at sea level! We have now touched the 40+ and humidity has crept up in the last couple of days. This is the start of the temperature hike, we have already resigned to washing salads, veggies and teeth in hot water (there is no cold water coming from the taps any longer) and A/C has come on for its 24/7 activity for the rest of the summer in some of the rooms.

After the exams hopefully we will go on holiday. We are thinking of Malaysia.

At some point we'll also pop to Europe although not sure when yet. I guess towards August when we will need to escape from the heat and Ramadan.

We’ll keep you posted, InshaAllah ;-)

Useful links:
BA Inflight magazine: where I got the inspiration from! 
Some background info on the caves and the cave system up the Selma Plateau.

So it's April...

It’s been a little while since my last update. What has kept me away? Well, well… a bit of panic as deadlines for assignments and exams approach meaning that any time for writing has to be dedicated to essays. Then as the heat season steadily approaches and makes itself announced with the random days of high humidity and heat, one has to prioritise and make the most of the time we have left for outdoor activities.

Amongst the latest adventures I can mention a camping/diving trip to the Daymanyiat Islands. Nine beautiful islands 1-1.5 hrs by boat off the coast from Muscat. Now this was supposed to be some kind of an amazing trip on an idyllic desert island although unfortunately rough seas and a series of unfortunate events mainly triggered by a group of “others” who seemed to be under the influence of a jinx meant that we had to put up with some undesirable incidents. Although nothing was bad enough to stop us from making a lot of fun out of the whole situation so we still ended up laughing our heads out while still waiting for food at 10pm at night and emerging from the darkness after a very late night dive at 2:00 am in the morning. Amongst the things that keep on resurfacing to memory about the trip are funny conversations around the table while waiting for a late BBQ dinner to be served, a friend falling off her chair every two minutes allegedly because of the uneven sand surface (more likely because of the amount of mind-clouding beverages consumed), one of the leaders coming over from the “others” camp reporting that two had been bitten by scorpions, another resurfaced from a dive with a hand covered in sea urchin spines after deciding to grab it to control his buoyancy under water (never a good idea) and that their gazebo unexpectedly collapsed over them. The following day I also assisted to someone on the brink of drowning after he decided to jump off the big boat for a swim forgetting that maybe he didn’t quite know how to swim. There was lots of other stuff that read here may not sound so hilarious but I can assure you that the whole weekend was nothing short of comical if not a little bit tense at times when I remembered that in fact this was a trip I took the bother to organize and felt responsible for.

After the commotions of the previous one, last weekend we decided to take it easy (or so we thought) so on Thursday we headed off to visit a wadi we have never visited before. This is known on the off-road bible as “The Chains” basically because at some point along the trekking path there are some metal chains to help you make your way over a massive boulder (well not as easy as it sounds). In reality the trek is not very long although with the thousands of stops for photos and the heavy scrambling it took us 1.5 hrs going up river. The landscape is spectacular and the “path” unwinds along a beautiful narrow canyon carved by the water with dramatic tall walls climbing high on each side. Nothing to be tackled during seasonal rains I guess. Luckily 3 local kids that came out of nowhere (as usual) followed us and helped us along the way and I could not suppress some hysterical laughter when S. got his feet stuck on the metal loops and the kids were trying to help him hanging in all sorts of positions from a steep rock. Probably seen from the fly on the wall the whole excursion wasn’t exactly the fruit of common sense but it was fun nonetheless. The photos don’t quite do it justice. 

After all these adrenaline packed activities maybe it was time for something tamed and relaxed so we ended the weekend yesterday with bubbly brunch at one of the fancy hotels in town. This basically meant stuffing our faces and then rolling out onto the hotel grounds for some more “chilling” (or should I say sweating). For some reason we later ended up at our friends’ house on a mission to seriously compromise our vocal cords while “singing” completely out of tune into the small hours enthralled by SingStar (ah the power of Karaoke!). Hail to the thick walls of big houses!

Ah, I hope you all had a great Easter. Here it was just a working day like any other.

Cost of life in Muscat?

Now I know that this topic is probably going to attract a few people to this blog and sorry to those who are actually not going to get a straight answer to their question. This post is inspired by a recent post published in Italian by a friend who rightly confirms that the answer to the question at the top is all relative.

I know too well how badly one wants to know the cost of life in a city where he/she may potentially move to. If someone makes you a job offer how are you going to know how far the monthly dosh is going to take you? And more importantly, are you going to be able to save?

These are the same questions that we had before moving over here and despite the large amount of blogs  available in the cloud and the discussion forums on this topic it is in fact all a little bit confusing.

 The kind of answers that you may get to the above question in fact could be an immediate "expensive" or a more frequent "it depends". I tag along with the "it depends" with the needle leaning heavily towards the "expensive" because, no shame in admitting it, that's the kinda life we are leading here. 

In her blog my friend posts a table of expenses summarised by someone who obviously leads a (waaaay) more frugal life than us and our circle of friends considering that tonight's dinner event alone will blow and over the entire monthly leisure budget suggested for a couple. 

The thing is that local stuff and local food can be incredibly cheap but set your eyes on any of the imported western standard commodities we so take for granted (things as simple as toilet paper, cakes or even greens.. nothing too extravagant hey) and you may end up blind from the shock.

I am sure that every expat or anyone not paying too much attention sooner or later will have gone to the till and either realised too late that they paid over the odds for something as humble as a familiar looking bottle of water (not me I only buy local) or decided to leave at the till (I did) the packet of "washed and ready to eat" spinach when they realised that it was priced at the equivalent of 10 Euros (washed in gold?).

Yes it is not a joke (though this is often the subject of hilarious conversations with friends). Since the day I once discovered (horrified) that the price of a 9-roll packet of a popular European toilet paper brand is almost the equivalent of 12 Euros (if I had ever bought it by mistake I would have probably framed it like precious archaeological grade papyrus after discovering that it doesn't even come with the dog!) every now and then I take photos of the extravagantly priced items that I come across when shopping (because I am sure nobody would believe me if I just told).

So considering that the local currency (Rial) which by the way is expressed in 3 digit decimal point, is roughly the equivalent of 1.95 EUR or a weaker 1.74 GBP see what you make of the items in these photos. 

Now for some of these things there may be cheaper workable alternatives but sometimes if you really want a treat of 6 rashers of bacon for breakfast you may have to bite the bullet and pay the price of gold for it.

Desert crossing, flying food, moody cars and sugar dunes

I am sitting on the passenger seat of a comfortable 4x4. My jaw has dropped slightly, my eyes are wide open behind the sun glasses that protect me from the strong glare and I keep on repeating the same sentence over and over again: “wow, it’s unbelievable. Wow.. wow.. wow”. In the car I am excited like a little child anticipating a wild ride at the fun fair. I run out and jump around white dunes… getting sunburnt too in the process.

It’s our third and last day of a long weekend spent on a desert crossing / Indiana Jones’ style adventure. I kinda knew what to expect from the final destination as I had previously seen some photos but seeing the spectacle of the sugar dunes for real is just an experience from another planet. Plus with all the diversions we had en-route I wasn’t sure any more whether we were going to reach this dream-like landscape of floury sand.

Our adventure started with a set plan (that had to be revised a few times) with a night stay at one of the established desert camps in Wahiba Sands. We hit the road the following morning with other 5 cars to head south and came back 3 days later with all sorts of grains of sand lodged in every nook and cranny of the body, clothes and cars. Dust on the face and hair coated us like glitter. It was all worth it.

It is hard to explain what these experiences are like and the photos never quite convey the real sense of adventure or the awe we experience when seeing new paradise-like places for the first time.

Desert crossing is desert crossing: it is a lot of fun with often a lot of unexpected surprises. Getting stuck is at the order of the day (although I have to admit with pride that I was the only one who didn’t and I had trouble suppressing my grin when S. took to the wheel after me and got stuck literally 2 minutes later.. :-P )

Amongst the notable events while crossing the desert I can quote: a friends’ car jumping in the air as they went over a dune loosing all the contents of their cool boxes (meat, eggs, salads and tortillas) all over the inside of their car. I mark the words of  my friend once out of the car with jelly legs and in a fit: “I saw something flying past my face and splattering violently against the windscreen. My sunglasses fell off my face and for a moment I wondered if that mushy stuff on the windscreen was in fact a piece of my brain”.

They lost all their food on their very first experience of desert driving while the jerry can spurted its contents inside their car leaving them to continue the rest of their journey accompanied by a pungent smell of petrol. All I can say is that from the comfort of our 4x4 that was following behind, their car jump looked extremely spectacular.

  

Luckily at that time their dog was in our car.

Another event that almost threw the whole trip upside down was one of our friends’ Range Rover becoming a bit moody and threatening to leave them stranded in the middle of nowhere afloat on the sea of sand. We decided to set camp and spend the night engulfed in the total quietness of the desert just a little bit ahead of where we had planned to. We though the car would need a rest.

The following day didn’t start well: the car was overheating, the fan stopped working, the engine was losing power. We all held our breaths as everybody tried working out the cause of the problem and attempted some repairs. Finally while us girls lost ourselves in chit-chat one of the guys found what was jamming the fan: the fan brush melted under the heat of the engine. The car was still losing power so one of our cars towed it (up and around dunes…) to the nearest Bedouin track. We were forced to change our initial plans and try a different route in case we needed a pick-up truck to rescue us.
For some reason after 40 minutes of towing the moody car decided that it was time to reveal the early April fool and started working again as if nothing had happened…. S. has a theory of what might have happened but I am not going to bore you with car mechanics.

Although extremely late on our schedule we continued with our journey. By the time we reached the coast we had missed the low tide needed to drive on a beach so we selected a different route and finally at sunset we reached the beach we wanted to camp on…. Or almost.

We had reached a headland and our path was interrupted by water. It seemed there was no way around and convinced that we could not cross it until low tide returned we resorted to stop there. Not before spending ½ hour arguing on the exact spot we should set camp…. I think everybody had kinda had enough by then.

So we camped there. While paradise was literally round the corner. As we found out the following morning. Not that the spot we camped at had anything wrong; but 5 minutes ahead were miles of uninterrupted white sandy beach backed by a white desert!

In the morning while the others left to head back towards Muscat us and another vehicle decided to linger a little bit longer and explore the area.
That’s when we found the track to circumnavigate the headland and found the sugar dunes.

The photos speak for themselves. Another fun packed weekend.

The art of holding your breath...

Those who know me well won’t be surprised when I say that I am used to breathing under water. In fact I also have a licence to kil... hem... teach it, hence when I found myself face down in a pool completely zonked out and motionless like a dead body it just didn’t seem right. Yet it was out of my choice.

It’s been just about a week since our return from the neighbouring UAE where we spent 6 whole days training to maximise our breath hold under water and learn about the physiology of diving (even more than what I know already!).

Why? You may ask. That’s the same question I have been asking myself while fighting diaphragm contractions, psychological blockage and the mild fear of drowning by my own doing. The thing is I like a challenge and I wanted to see what it is like to push my body beyond my normal comfort zone. Yes it is a little bit daunting but I guess I am a bit of an adrenaline junkie… yet adrenaline is the last thing you’d want before or during a breath hold! It's almost a form of meditation.

I had been thinking about trying it for a while so, aware that there is no free diving teaching facility yet in Oman I made a few enquiries and less than a month later we headed to Abu Dhabi to train for the 2-star and 3-star AIDA free diving certification.

Results: I still have to conquer the 3-star performance requirements (nothing for the faint hearted) but I have climbed to my 2-star status. In practical terms this means that I have managed to hold my breath for 2’15 minutes (static), swim on one single breath for 40m back and forth in a pool (banging my head a couple of times in the process…idiot!) that’s called dynamic, one of the disciplines of free diving and push myself down to 16 metres and back up on a single breath fighting contractions, mind games and an incredibly high number of jelly fish of all sorts of shapes and sizes (I still have a couple of burns) in what is known as the constant weight discipline. All in the name of fun.

And fun it is. I was a bit sceptical when I researched about free diving before going on the course. It seems that there are a lot of people talking about these mystic experiences and it all sounded a bit arty farty to me. Many refer to free diving as a personal journey.

Whatever you take from it and however you look at it, it is a personal experience that is hard to explain.

For me it was a step into a rather unfamiliar domain, mentally and physically.

The only way to truly understand it is to try it. Personally, I like it!

Weekend or holiday?

Another weekend draws to a close. As I lay lazily on the lounger outside in the front yard waiting for the night to fall, wrapped in the soft sunset light another Friday comes to a close and I reflect on the last couple of days, spent at leisure in the perfect climate typical of this time of the year.
Every time I find myself lost in this little exercise of gratitude it is not hard to understand why I feel so lucky to be here.

Take this weekend: yesterday we got up at leisure and headed to one of the cafés on the beach road. From there you can sip your moka looking at the glittering sea while behind you flocks of birds get on with the hustle and bustle of their daily activities in the mangrove. We enjoyed a relaxing breakfast with a couple of friends while their children busied themselves creating havoc around the establishment. We left our friends and proceeded to the Yacht Club, jumped on our boat and headed to one of the most beautiful bays in the area. There was a gentle breeze and the sea was flat. Tere is no better way to enjoy the divine temperatures we are blessed with at this time of the year. We stayed until sunset and then we headed back wondering why we didn’t get ourselves organized to float overnight… next time.
Once finished with the boating chores (like cleaning the engines from the sea water) we parted with the boat and headed to a friend’s house for pancakes (Pancake Thursday, why not?) followed by a meal under the stars at a new fish restaurant we’ve discovered in the Qurm Area.

Today it was again a lazy morning; then in the spur of a moment “someone” had the brilliant idea to suggest a walk on the beach. OK let’s go to the beach. So we walked, we walked and walked for a total of 2 hours (about 4.7km!). By that time I was hungry and bothered so we decided we deserved a decent meal and ended up indulging in a buffet lunch at one of the 5 star establishments in town.
We then rolled to one of our favourite cafés by the beach, had a tea under the palm trees and watched the rest of the day unfold.

We drove back home as the sun was setting.

Next weekend we are off on a 3-day desert crossing adventure.

I am sure you’ll agree that it’s not hard to see why we like it here. Every weekend is a bit like a mini holiday!

Now it's the start of your weekend. What will you be up to in the next couple of days?

How a game of Petanque can affect your health

As you know we always keep ourselves busy with the strangest events and the most colonial pastimes.

As March approaches so does the annual International Boules tournament in which I took part last year with a few other Italian friends and to which we intend to participate again this year with a slightly modified team; still strictly Made in Italy. Following the disgraceful 2009 performance against the professional French (they come with measuring tape and all while we get merry between one boule and the other) we have unanimously decided that this year we are going to attempt some practice runs before the start of the event. Training is a suitable pretence to keep up another of our favourite colonial diversions such as sipping Pimm’s at dusk in this beautifully favourable winter climate.

Without realising it I have ended up with the title of captain of the team which apparently leaves me in charge of coordinating the games with the other teams and organizing the pre-tournament training. I try to make myself useful.

I know that the Intercontinental Muscat has a number of Boules fields (or whatever they are called) as that is where the tournament takes place every year. Today armed with very little faith I called the hotel in an attempt to reserve one of the pitches:

It all starts with a call to a common entry point for every hotel establishment: the front desk.

FD: OK ma'm; I'll transfer you to the food and beverage department

ME: no, no, not food and beverage I am talking about BOULES, the playing facility you have outside; in your grounds... (I am still hopeful)

FD: OK ma'm I'll transfer you to the beach fun club

ME: (I think) wow that sounds promising. I’m impressed.

BFC: (after I explain what I am after) ok ma'm I'll transfer you to the control tower

ME: "control tower'? (WTF now they are sending me to the airport! … never mind)

…

Control T: OK ma'm I'll transfer you to ... (I’ve lost interest)

Some guy: boules pitch ma'am, no I don't understand: football field? basket ball?

ME: No no, boules, the french game!

The guy: No ma'm that's khalas. No more. it was only for the French.

ME: No more? What do you mean? You removed the pitches? There were a few and there is a new tournament coming up, what happened to the fields?

The guy: no ma'am that was just for that period. When they finished playing the French TOOK THEM AWAY.

ME: ???? (WTF) How? What do you mean? They took the pitches away? (I try to imagine the French with shovels and pickaxe dismantling the grounds of the Intercon). They are sand pits!! (to myself: surely they haven’t destroyed the pits to rebuild them again for this year’s tournament or have they? This hopeless man obviously hasn’t got a clue what facility of the hotel he works for I am talking about! I'll have to go there!).

The call has gone exactly as I expected, nonetheless I am in defibrillation!!

Mayday, mayday we are lost in translation!

Today is the first day of the weekend and after a lazy morning we decided to head to the beach to spend the rest of the afternoon there.

I was at the bar to place an order for food and while waiting for a friend to come back from the restroom I decided to occupy my time studying a club membership card that happened to be in my hands. My eyes were caught by a puzzling rule at the back. The rule read as follows (exact words transliterated here):

Alcoholic from outside are not allowed to consume the premises

I could hardly contain the loud burst of laughter.

As I looked around alarmed (it always looks a bit odd if you laugh so animatedly on your own and for no apparent reason) I noticed the man on the phone behind me. I unintentionally (for once) found myself eavesdropping on a conversation that made him repeat the same sentence over and over to whoever refused to believe him at the other end of the line: “I’ve sank the boat.. (pause) … yes! I'm telling you, I’ve sunk the boat; I’m not kidding. It’s under the water, at the bottom of the sea”.

I turned around and glanced at the table a few meters away where his friends were sitting, all composed and seemingly unperturbed in front of their large beers. Their clothes had obviously already dried up under the warm midday sun although on a second look I could notice some random wet patches on one of the guys’ shorts, then my gaze moved over to the ground next to them: there they were a bunch of life jackets slightly dusted with sand and partially covered by a few scattered belongings.

My mind wondered wildly trying to imagine what the boat looked like, how it sank, where it sank, how the party bobbed around on the surface in their life jackets on the immediate aftermath and how on earth the party got back to the club. In my head they all landed on the beach from ashore in true shipwrecked style but most likely they were collected by a local fisherman passing by. I guess we'll never know the juicy details.

When my friend came back I was relieved that I could finally share the exciting gossip with someone who I knew would be burned by curiosity just as much as me. She joined me in the eavesdropping for a moment. For a short instant we were tempted to go and ask a few  investigative questions but then we thought better of it. Had you met this friend of mine you would probably be surprised that she did not engineer a ploy to actually stick her nose into the whole business...
 

I guess this time it just didn't seem appropriate so we returned our attention to the “lost in translation” sentence on the back of the membership card and we made our way back to the sun beds laughing out loudly.

My question remains unanswered: "how on earth do you sink a boat?". I guess there are many ways and it can't be that difficult for this is the second "home made" nautical disaster we witness/hear about in a short period of time.

Priceless anecdotes filling our lite expat beach bumming days!

Look who's here!

As we approached the entrance to the swanky 5 start establishment where, once again, we had decided to consume our Wednesday night dinner (equivalent to a Friday night in the “regular” world) we could not fail to notice the two police cars parked outside, the somewhat alert atmosphere and the main big door wide open. We made our way to the middle doors. After all they seemed to have been left invitingly spread open just for us. We were obviously mistaken: we were quickly ushered to the side entrance which forced us to go through a metal detector.


A metal detector? That’s unusual before dinner.


We started wondering what kind of personality may be hiding in the fortress. This venue is often used for political and high profile meetings. If it wasn’t for the unusual time (it was dinner time after all) I wouldn’t have been so surprised.


So we go through the metal detector and I let the lady search my bag. We walk into the opening not thinking too much of it any more. These things happen here. Yet a few more steps and our gaze is immediately captured by a subject walking with a steady step towards us (and the main exit) chatting fervently to a local man looking very official dressed in the usual formal attire.

The face looks incredibly familiar. In fact it’s so familiar that we both hesitate for a few seconds on whether we should butt in and say “Hello Tony, what are you doing here?” Then we think better of it.


There he was the cause of all the fuss.


Tony Blair, suited and booted and clearly on some kind of business visit.

Just the last person we would have thought of bumping into on our way to dinner.

Phone calls and more oddities

One thing at the time. First an update on the works out in the patio: so they came, with their shovels and their witch broom (only AZ here will know what I am talking about) and they dug a trench. On the doorstep there is a pile of soil and dirt is everywhere (as expected). A massive hole on the other side of the gate is now where once the driveway was. So they came...and they went (on their broom?). Puff! No trace of them today for the whole day. Only the flies are left wandering about my wrecked front patio. The weekend starts tomorrow so it can’t be that and anyway in this country labourers work 6 days per week. So where are they? Mystery. Possibly looking for material.. as you know, you always start digging and then check that nothing is missing…

On another note. This morning my phone rang and it rang and it rang; teaching me the invaluable lesson that switching the phone to vibrate to prevent it from disturbing everybody during a peaceful Yoga class is .. not as effective as switching it off (or at least silent and still).

Anyway at the end of the lesson, once far enough from the class so not to give away the fact that the phone that was vibrating was in fact mine I checked the missed call. It was a 24 number which here means a call from an office or a home. I tried to think hard about who might have wanted to talk to me so desperately (the phone went on and on for what seemed an eternity while I was trying to ignore it and concentrate on my contorted pose.. ending up in totally the wrong position.. but that’s another story). Anyway, I never do this usually (my idea is that if it’s important people will call back) but I was weak and curiosity got the better of me so I called back. As soon as the voice answered at the other end I knew I had made a mistake but for some reason I continued…

A man with a local accent answers.

-    Me: hello?
-    Man: Hello
-    Me: hello my name is xxx I have a missed call from this number. Can you help?
-    Man: where are you from?
-    Me: (a bit confused) uh? I’m from xxx (I give the country – in retrospective I think he wanted to know which company, but what did I know??)
-    Man: Very nice. Hello.
-    Me: (irritated) excuse me but who are you? You called my number earlier!
-    Man: we are bank xxx
(it’s my bank.. hmm I love their professional ways)
-    Me: OK. What did you call me for?
-    Man: We are bank xxx. What’s your name?
I give my name but I don’t think it makes any sense so he also asks for my telephone number. Thinking technology I give that out too… maybe he will finally type it into a system and understand who I am and tell why he called me.
Man: where is your branch?
(The technology image instantly dissipates replaced by him scribbling on a piece of scrap paper.)
I give him  the branch too. Then I start wondering if I am giving too much information.
Man: ah you work there? (the place near the bank)
Me: (still a little irritated) no, I don’t. My husband does.

So we go back and forth for another few minutes while I am still wondering why on earth they called me.
He asks me to hold for what feels like an eternity while I hear him fidgeting with the phone keypads (possibly trying to transfer a call?).

I hear all sorts of conversations behind and further attempts at keypad fidgeting until I give up and hang up. “He’ll call back” I think to myself.

So he does. While I am driving. So I park on the side of the road and answer (I am not going to say otherwise, am I?). The man is back, this time he makes amazing offers about this special account that provides the opportunity of a 1 million Rial draw*, every month or something like that.
He goes on for a while with a list of all the amazing draws I would be entered into if I open this account.
He asks me if I have this “super duper” account. I haven’t got the foggiest. He asks me for my existing account number so that he can check.
Me: sorry mate. Ain’t giving you any account number over the phone. I’ll pop into the branch when I have time to check this amazing offer. Thank you.
Man: OK!

End of the random conversation.

For the next half hour I drive home wondering whether I gave my few personal details to some fraudster who was trying to get to my bank account. But then thinking about it again I don’t think so. I think it was a genuinely professional marketing call from my bank.

Does your bank in the UK reward you with such delightful telephone exchanges? Next time you call them or they call you, they introduce themselves by name, read a script and force you to go through the ridiculously long security check questions be grateful!

* A note on the draw system for those who don’t know: here (by law) banks cannot pay interest on any account. Under Shariah Islamic law, making money from money, such as charging interest, is usury and therefore not permitted. But obviously the bank still needs to make money out of your dosh so it offers “saving” accounts. It wouldn’t be right if they didn’t share the profit and also why would you give them the money to play with in the first place anyway? So they have created this interesting draw system where one lucky winner each month (and sometimes on a weekly basis) ends up with an incredible amount of money in their account. Not sure what the odds are but somehow I think better than the UK Lotto. Brilliant! ;)
If you want to know a bit more on this just Google “bank interest and sharia law”. There is a lot to learn!

Sense of humour and wasterwater project

Today, as I was reading yet another extremely funny post from one of my friends’ blog it dawned on me that maybe, despite me thinking the contrary; I don’t really posses a particularly good sense of humour. I mean, yeah I laugh at other people’s jokes, I attempt to crack jokes too and sometimes I do make people laugh too (especially if it is at the expense of someone else - c'mon I'm joking ;)  but what I realized is that I am not so good at making fun of myself and let alone laugh at the vicissitudes of life.
The revelation came at once today. After reading my friend’s blog and then thinking about another friend’s (AZ) blog (another equally funny appointment, if you are fluent in Italian that is) the flow of thoughts went this way:

-    How ridiculously funny!
-    As usual.
-    Where did Eternally Distracted (ED) get that photo?
-    That’s not one of our hospitals… but sure it would be possible to find some equally odd departments.
-    Next time I happen to be at a hospital... I’ll pay more attention
-    So funny… how is it that all these funny things always seem to happen to ED and to AZ on a regular basis?
-    Hmmm actually…thinking about it...

That’s when it cracked. These things DO happen all the time, to me too… Yep!
The difference is that usually… as soon as I have to repeat myself a couple of times or I detect a wrong facial expression that betrays complete incompetence... my jaw drops, my face turns red and my ears start steaming. It’s just a chemical reaction that I am learning to live with but that’s it. The comical moment is instantly lost because of my homicidal instinct. By the time I'm over it, it's all too late to see the funny side because I'll have skillfully removed it from my mind while dealing with some other equally frustrating incident of the day.

Hold on someone’s ringing the bell. I’ll be back in a moment.

…. …. …. …. zzz..zzz…zzz

I peek from the bedroom window coze I can’t be bothered to go downstairs to the door or to the intercom. There are 3 labourers at the gate. So I shout from up here.

-    Me: . Yes?
-    Ma’m have you lead infolmation liflet?
-    Me: Uh?
-    This! Infolmation liflet (shaking a green piece of paper taken from the small front gate, the one that I hardly use)

-    Me: One moment I’ll come down.
-    Ma’m we staltin woks for waste watel. See (again shaking the leaflet in question).
-    We connect septic tank to main sewage system. See liflet explain. We need access to plopelty. Stalt date 18th but we stalt today.
-    Me: (trying to work out what day it is today). Hmmm, OK. What do you exactly need to do inside my property? (it’s not truly my property but it is the place where I live so it’s somewhat mine).
-    We going open glound, make small tlench, 1 metel, then put pipe in, then close tlench and put tiles back. Vely good. Connection to main sewage. Mole hygienic.
-    Me: imagining already the floor with missing tiles, a garden full of mess, stench and who knows what other surprise. I guess I have to co-operate… hhmm.

After a lengthy discussion on why I am not going to leave the electric gate permanently open for over a week We agree that they can start today and they can use the small gate.

And so they start: another guy turns up 5 minutes later with a bag of chalk, spreads it around along where I guess the “trench” is supposed to be dug and leaves…

End of the working day…

Yes. I am not immune to the oddities and comical events of a life lived in this corner of the world.