Lots of bridges and plenty of water....

Six months!  I haven't written a blog post for six months? How can that be? Where on earth did six whole months disappear into the abyss?  There has been, as the title of this post hints, a lot of water under those there bridges - not to mention the odd wadi or so.  Where to start?  For those of you who read Davids Dribblings, you may feel that you are a little up to datish.  But only just.

Life has pottered on here in Oman.  For the first time in I think my entire life I have no reason to organise my day (my week, my month) and the effect is disorienting to say the least.  You'd think that I'd revel in being able to do things I haven't been able to do for years -read a novel during the day guilt free, watch television during the day while sewing, embroidering or knitting (or patting the cat), go wandering, write blog posts lots of things.  But no. The days seem to manage to evaporate with there being absolutely nothing to show for them apart from a made bed, the occasional attack of dish washing and perhaps some clean clothes.  Well that's what it seems like anyway.  I suppose the reality is a little different.

In my last post I was playing with some natural dyes and about to learn to spin with an Omani drop spindle. What I was actually doing was feeling pathetic about not taking part in an exciting arts pentathlon with the rest of my household. So of course I had to help.  So apart from the legumes I played with saffron, indigo and madder.  I cannot believe how easy it is to get these things here!  Just pop down to the souq and pick them up!  This is what I made with my little balls of coloured wool. 

The back of the bag

The front of the bag.

It's a bag for keeping gaming pieces in.  Yes, I went a little crazy, but isn't it cute???????

Getting the hang of being able to dash away on the weekend has been difficult to come to terms with too, but we have been doing it. There would be lots of lovely pictures but we also go burgled and off went my brand new camera and my laptop (which was full of carefully downloaded pictures from the camera sigh) so there aren't any.  You will just have to make do with some from our Eid Al Fitr trip to Masirah Island, home of five different species of critically endangered turtles.  It was our first time camping by ourselves (I of course stressed about the food.  We had too much - who'd a thought?)

Masirah Island is someway down the coast of Oman and takes three or four hours to drive to the ferry.  We had been told many horror stories about how hard it was to get a place on the ferry, hundreds of cars and only a few places, they only ran at high tide, you could never tell when or where you had to be to get on.  "It'll be fine" says David (another thing to stress about) and, of course, it was.  It usually is.  We drove down the road towards the dock and they waved us into the last spot without us stopping.  We found out later that they had waited for us.

On the ferry.  It takes 11/2 to 2 hours to get to the island

After arriving we tootled off down the ocean side of the island to find somewhere to camp.  We were hopeful of seeing turtles and that was the side they nested on.  We hunted around, driving in and out of coves, on and off the beach, over some rocks (lots of rocks, we have a four wheel drive and David's not afraid to use it!) until we were almost out of light.  Then we found a beach with some sheltering little dunes and decided that was it for the night.  Cooking on the hibachi took a little longer than intended (let's not go into why foil wrapped potatoes shouldn't be baked on an hibachi) but we finally buried the potatoes and cooked the steaks anyway.

David attending the hibachi

After dinner (and maybe one or two beers) we drifted off for a walk on the beach.  It was hermit crab heaven!  There were shells of all shapes and sizes scuttling along the beach away from our torches, not to mention the very indignant looking crabs (the ones with the googlie eyes on stalks) who watched us from the edge of the waves.  We saw the tracks of turtles (they're a little obvious) before we came across a determined female who ignored us intently as she dug her hole.  It was pretty amazing I have to say and we might have been a bit excited.  Then I saw a little baby turtle.  I did a very silly happy dance and called over David.  By the time he got there (slowwwww, 2 seconds at least) there were hundreds, all appearing out of nowhere.  Now that is an experience that it not likely to be topped in a hurry.  I confess I picked up little turtles and turned them towards the sea.  They run around like crazy and really have not much idea where they're going.  Until the sea hits them and they become little swimming machines.  If I managed to get just one extra turtle into the circle of life I will be pleased.  

A teensie bit of our first campsite.

We had an excellent sleep, some beach walking and then David couldn't stay still any more.  We'd brought the kayak with us and we were determined to get it into the water.  Just not the ocean side with its rough surf and suspicious under tow so we packed up and headed round the Island.  

First of all we went in search of water.  There are wells dotted around the place and there is something very satisfying about getting your water from an ancient well.  At least from watching David get water from the ancient well......

Well

Well

WELL!

We went an looked at the wrecked dow.  Still a tourist attraction, but it's slowly disappearing.  Some people who don't pay attention when taking photographs might also disappear.......

The Wrecked Dow.  If you want to see it, get there soonish.

We went hunting for a congenial camping spot on the Oman side of the island.  Bad idea.  They have wind surfing and paragliding schools there for a reason.  It's flat, featureless and, you guessed it, windy.  We eventually found a place where we could snuggle between spiky trees amongst the camel dung.  It was loud and encouraged us to rethink our method of fixing our shelter.

David relaxing after a hard day of something.  Notice the carefully placed kayak- otherwise known as Mr Windbreak.

A quick visit to town failed to find either a repair kit for the air mattress (spikey teeth marks were found and the mattress stayed on Masirah in a comfy rubbish bin) or a fisherman to sell us fish for dinner.  Fine.  I then discovered that not only were Johnny cakes great on an hibachi, the Camembert, smoked salmon and avocado went extremely well inside the johnny cake dough.

Nom Nom Nom

What happens when you don't use sunscreen. Ow!!!

I found all sorts of things on the beach, including this little bird made of seaweed, sand and shells.

We left Masirah swearing and declaring that we would be back.  We travelled across on the ferry to the sounds of young Omani blokes have a sing song on the deck and the sight of a pod of dolphins cutting across the bow.  Driving back along the coast road we discovered that the signs that told you to be careful of moving sand dunes were right

Sand blowing across the road, BACK to the desert.

Gettin' Ma Hippy on - Dyeing in Muscat

There might be some knitting going on here in Oman that needs the odd bit of colour....  I just might have picked up some of Chris Robertson's white hand spun from my Canberra stash....

The original hand spun

I want a nice brown.  I could spin the dark fleece that also came home with me or I could dye some of the white.  I want it now! Time to dye!!!!!!!!!!!


What to use...what to use....  I know!  To the kitchen!

Black lentils[1]::

1kg black (beluga) lentils covered with water and soaked overnight (all I have to do now is think what to do with many, many soaked black lentils.

The original amount was just a little mound in the steel bowl

I strained the water from the lentils and placed it in a smallish saucepan – there was less than a litre of liquid left and I wanted darkish wool.

The murky browny blurg

I dampened the wool and placed it in the dye stuff, raised the temperature to boiling and simmered for 1 hour.  Since there was not very much liquid I left the lid on the pot throughout this stage and made sure that the wool was covered. I also stirred it regularly and occasionally turned it over. 

I left the wool in the pot to cool,  then rinsed out the liquid and left it to dry.

Before and after.  The photograph really doesn't do it justice

The result is a gingery milk-chocolate colour that matches bits of the cat and apparently tastes quite good.  Now to sort out the next culinary dye adventure.

It's Button coloured and will be kept out of her reach....

 The next step is to learn to spin with an Omani drop spindle, although I've not seen them actually dropping them only sitting and using a short draw. Although this probably has more to do with the fact they're spinning goat and camel hair rather than wool.  The lady in the centre has a spindle and is teasing out the fibres prior to spinning.

From "fleece" to yarn to ropes
Three ladies at the Muscat Festival February 2013

The spindle itself is made completely of wood and is top weighted.  I've never played with a top weighted spindle before, so this should be interesting.......

An Omani spindle.  Wish me luck!

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[1] http://twocrowsdyenaturally.blogspot.com/

Tis Done Diddly Done Done!

Yes, it's done.  Finished. Completed. Printed. Submitted.  I've even got a pen to prove it.

One letter of acknowledgement and an ANU pen

The final three months just don't bear talking about.  They were full of long days at the computer, occasional visits to the gym, book-club once a month and not a whole lot more.  David would drag me out when he was sick of me and make me have fresh air.  I feel that I really should be able to remember some things that we did, but right now the brain is somewhere halfway between Canberra and Muscat.  If anyone sees it could they give it a kick and tell it to get over here?

The last three weeks were in Canberra at Michelle's place (that would be the incredible, amazing, well-travelled and unbelievably generous Michelle) while she was in London having a marvellous time.  David played the tourist and I lived and breathed thesis. I could not possibly have made it through those weeks without the help and support of a small army of friends who kept me fed and entertained.

Part of the entertainment team.

Most importantly, the thesis would not have been finished but for some very special people dropping everything and being there for me when I most needed it. In particular Leslie, Kiriel, Brooke and Miesje (all of who ditched family and friends to spend days and nights with me) and Libby who baked and decorated up some Easter goodies that were amazing!!!  Six came home to Muscat with me and David, Rufus and George got to enjoy them as well.

Libby's Thesis Completion Easter Biscuits

The final night was loooonng.  Brooke finished re-jigging the discography. Leslie mopped up the Katrina after her brain completely refused to boot up and even admit what the thesis was about.  Kiriel was formatting, formatting, formatting.  The night ended at 7:30am when the formatting checks were done.  Into the car and off to the printer.

This is what 9:00am looked like after no sleep (well for Kiriel anyway) and two very delicious egg and bacon rolls

 After a few little heart attacks (what do you mean you printed it in black and white?????  I'm sorry, the Chairperson of your panel is in a meeting at the other end of the University and won't be back until four...you have to submit at 3:30?...Oh...just a minute...The printer left out how many colour illustrations?????) the 400 page baby was submitted.  On an odd note, it weighed just about the same as Rufus when he arrived in my life.............

.....and here it is in all its temporary binding glory! 

I arrived home to visits from Rufus, George, Mum and Dad (but that's another story) and now I'm a little trashed.  It has taken me until this week to pick up a book of any kind and I still am completely incapable of multi tasking in any useful form.  Soon I'll have to think of how to develop my own daily schedule with no must-do's, for the first time that I can actually remember.  Wish me luck and watch this space!

An Alternative Christmas

 It really didn't feel like Christmas.  The people I spoke to agreed - "It's the weather," they said, "It's not the right weather, it's all sunny and warm."  Well, it wasn't the weather.  The weather was perfectly presentable as far as Christmas weather went.  Was it being in an Islamic country?  Well no.  Christmas decorations appeared for sale in the shops in November (really?  That early in a non-Christian country? Really?)  There were even Christmas trees dotted around the place.  There was a big one in the Sabco Commercial Centre (a bastion of bloke-ness Omani style - it even has it's own souq) and who should be seated in front of it?  Father Christmas!  Ye Gods and Little Fishes!

No, it was the lack of boys.  My boys.  I've done Christmas with just one of them.  That was fine.  But with none at all, I couldn't quite get the hang of it.  I couldn't get revved up at all.  I was getting quite pathetic, so David decided that we had to do something completely different. The desert perhaps?  Spend Christmas eve in a tent in the desert, stars twinkling overhead, camels doing what camels do, the whole desert Omani thing.  "Nope"  I said "I need to be able to talk to the boys on Christmas Day - we can't do that in the desert."  That fixed that.  Not to be deterred (possibly the thought of being stuck at home with a totally pathetic, damp wife on Christmas Day was his motivation) he booked us into The Sahab hotel on the top of Al Jabal Al Akhtar, one of the highest points in Oman.  "We'll wake up early, have a quick breakfast and be off!).  Right.  Those of you who read David's Dribblings will have read the great Christmas plug saga and know that we didn't wake up early, we didn't have a quick breakfast and we certainly didn't dash off.  We did however, spend a lovely couple of hours eating bacon and eggs and chatting with Rufus (for whom it wasn't quite Christmas) and BJ (for whom it was almost all over, bar the dishes), along with several assorted family members spread across Melbourne.  Lovely.

We arrived at the hotel with plenty of time to spare before sunset.  In fact, in plenty of time for a beer in the garden.  Beer in the garden is not unheard of in Oman, but in a dry hotel it is alittle unusual to say the least.  You can only get in the garden.  A lovely young (non Islamic) lass pops it on your table for you and it was rather nice after the drive up the mountain on a lovely new mountain road with concrete barriers hiding the precipitous drops rather than trees. I've decided I rather like naked mountains, you can see what you're getting yourself into before you get into it!

Just before we started the climb.  All dark and big and looming.

The trouble you can get into even after you see it.
This was sitting at the police check point just so you knew......

On the way up!

Oooooo look toy houses (that are already most of the way up)

And yes, sunset was rather nice

Lovely village with some terracing

Just to put terracing in perspective

After a simply scrumptious breakfast, that came after sleeping until the sun came up!!!!! (Note to those who don't realise...the sun now comes up after 7:00am, David's alarm goes of at 5:15)  We set off for the three villages walk.  An easy walk the map said, just four kilometres, it will take around two hours one way.  Right!  The hotel offered a free pickup service from along the route - you would've thought that might have told us something...it didn't.  We did, however, get the phone number (phew).

So this easy little walk started well.  We were following painted markers.  It all looked lovely.  There were cute stone houses.

A cute stone house with an even cuter door.  The doors in Oman are awesome!

We wandered through the first village, hibernating pomegranate trees with their Christmas decorations of dried pomegranates everywhere, magnificent views on the other side of nice, study fences.  Then the goat track went up...wait goat track?  Yes look at the painted thingy!  Okay goat track... and went down, up and down, down, up...you get the picture.  A friendly (!!) Bangladeshi fell into step with us just in time to help me down some quick ikky bits.  Ahhh, that's why he was helping, copping a feel of the western ladies tits hey?  Luckily I remembered the arabic word for finished and he knew it to.  Otherwise there was going to be a husband dealing with the 'guide.' ***

David with our 'handy' guide before I discovered how handy he was.

Then things started getting interesting. Those of you who know me well, will know that I have a little phobia - falling.  Mmmmm goat tracks on a mountain...falling...who'da thought? Never mind, the courage got screwed to that place where courage gets screwed to and I soldiered, slowly, on.  David was frightfully helpful, he'd quite kindly fall down the parts that were tricky so I knew when exactly to be extra careful.  Have I told you how much I love my husband.  Anyway it was all worthwhile.  We came out (or should I say down, over, across etc) in the terraces of the second village.  Here was high country idylle, Omani style.

Before playing on your terrace it's important to have a chat and organise before you  jump....

...down to the next terrace.....

A mountain of extremes

We will definitely be back in summer, if only to see the pomegranates in leaf and fruit.  Apparently this is where they grow the best pomegranates in the country.  It's also where the roses are grown and the the essence distilled............mmmmmmm roses........mmmmmmm.  We kept on trundling down and across the mountain and eventually arrived in the third village.  I was feeling rather tired, dripping with sweat, and very pleased with myself.  The end was in sight.  We just had to go to the final village (yes, I know, the three village walk has four villages sigh) along next to the road.  It must be this way.  There were four of us at this stage, a lovely, young Canadian couple had caught up to us and we walked on together chatting.  Not paying much attention.  Look, steps this must be right it's going down.  "Hey guys, there aren't any markers and the roads up there"  "But it must be right, we'll see you at the end"  Walking, walking, down the steps, the many, many steps (you can see where this is going can't you?)  "Errrr" came a voice from below "this isn't the right way"  Back we went, up the many, many, many, many steps - did I say there were steps? Up?  Right, now up to the road. Up. To. The. Road. Up, in the steep sense of up.  The the real road and path.  Goodness gracious! What a surprise!  It's going up!!!!

There were moments during this part that I was sure that I had made a very bad mistake.  My left knee agreed.  Loudly and painfully. "You're 54 you stupid woman!  What are you doing?!"  I ignored it and my back, which had been in spasm for the last few days wisely kept quiet and doing its getting Katrina up the road job.  We got to the top and there was flatness.  Stoney, hot and windy flatness.  Who cares?  I was dripping wet and sweat finally got to do its job.

A mountain within a mountain

This view meant that I knew my knee was not lying when it said I'd gone a long way.  From the hotel I could only see the other side of this little beastie!  We got to the final village and rang the nice people at the hotel.  Five to ten minutes they said.  Less than ten minutes later the very, very lovely Omani picked us up and took us back to the hotel.  I got as far as the restaurant and David suggested lunch.  Yay!  I'd been thinking very fondly of orange fizzy drink and there it was.  Aaaaaaaaah.

Another lovely surprise was a little FB chat with my sister while I ate and I staggered off to the beautiful deluxe room to get my togs on.  The my knee had its little treat.  A walk in the cold pool.  It was ecstatic!  The rest of me was not at all impressed!  So, once the knee was almost back to normal knee size I hopped into the warm pool.  Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh.

So all in all a very nice Christmas and Boxing Day.  Whether either of us will be able to move tomorrow is still to be discovered.  I have to say though, whether you are religious or not, Christmas without family is a little odd and I don't think I'm prepared to get used to it.


***The incident of the handy man was duly reported after I thought about it and started worrying  about other women coming through.  The hotel owner was horrified and insisted that a report be made to the police.  He took us to the police and explained the situation - thank goodness, our Arabic is nowhere near that.  The upshot is that a local file will be opened, no courts involved.  When they find the fellow (they have a copy of his photo), he and his sponsor will be called into the police station for "hard words."   The hotel also has a copy of the photo and they are going to keep an eye out and deliver him to the police.  There is a zero tolerance policy here and the result will probably be his sponsor sending him home, but no negative publicity for what is a very beautiful hotel in a very beautiful place.  This is the outcome that we wanted which is very pleasing.

Just some random images

A stationary Button

Button was on the head board of the day bed, completely still for 20 minutes.  I wonder what she was looking at?  No prizes for guessing...................................

Yup, a bird

I have no idea what kind of bird this is.  Possibly some sort of dove.  It had just had a bit of a bath in a puddle and was drying it's feathers on our wall. Since we have reflective stuff on our windows, it was completely unaware of the killing machine only a few feet away.  I shall call it the Oblivious Bird!  We have a lot of birds visit the garden.  Luckily the local cats are not interested.

The dome of the main prayer room of Sultan Qaboos Mosque
Shiny

One of the spinnerets lurking behind the bulk of the buildins

We parked at the wrong gate, but the walk round was lovely.

The Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque is only open to non Muslims on working days, so we took advantage of Eid to have a look.  On this visit, we neglected to discover that it was only open from 8:00am to 11:00am, the longest period between prayers.  Of course, I left my camera behind the other times I have been.  It is a must see for soooooooo many reasons, not the least of which is astonishing combination of Islamic arts from so many different countries.

The full moon

We now have a sitting area on the roof, a perfect place to snooze away a day.  At night it's rather nice too.  So nice, that the moon came to visit

So what happens when it rains in Muscat?  Well, the ground gets wet and the water runs to the sea through the wadi's and, apparently, Mutra Souq.

The Souq is covered, sort of, and the roof is a roof, sort of.  Let's just say that it didn't rain for the couple of hours that we were there, but water kept flowing.

Equality of the sexes is alive and well in Oman - the men have to worry about their hemlines as well (as my mother-in-law rather cheekily pointed out).

One of the very lovely things about Oman is that the white, or off white, houses and landscape mean that every bit of colour gleams, whether gold, silver, celebratory lights in the streets, the loops of amazing lights on the LuLu Hypermarket (it's big, there are A LOT of lights), the colours of the traditional Omani clothes.  The rain at the souq gave a glimpse underneath the black abaya that has become the most common street wear.  When I visit the hospital I get to see the older women in more traditional dress and this time it was a chance to see the younger women flash their pretties.  The abaya is worn very long and mostly Omani women walk very slowly and gently, so as not disturb their out covering.  However, when there is water up to an inch deep flowing over your sandals, the time for hoiking up the abaya had come and revealed to the world are the vibrate colours and flashing metallic braids that hide underneath.

A little bowl of fire

Audrey cunningly told us that we needed to chose a hanging lantern - that we both agreed on.  Now normally when we go to the souq together David spends a lot of time looking at guns, knives and swords and hustling me past the fabrics and bling.  This time he had to look bwhahahahahahahahahahahaha!  We found this little gem and now it hangs in the loungeroom doorway and glows merrily to itself. 

.  

My first piece of Omani embroidery

My most exciting purchase came in a rabbit warren of a shop, filthy with dust, crowded with mountains of stuff - old, new and ancient.  There was a glass counter hidden behind some piles, protecting the guns and swords on the walls.  Inside the glass counter was stuff, just stuff and in the corner, a little wad of embroidery.  What caught my eye was the silver work on black velvet.  What the shop keeper pulled out was this.  Yes, it's all silver embroidery, slightly tarnish, although not very.  It's stitched onto white silk, backed with linen.  The embroiderers amongst you will recognise the techniques, but something caught my eye - the colours.  When I have played with metal thread embroidery the colours have usually come from the threads holding down the metal.  In this style, the silver purl is threaded with thick coloured threads which hold the coils of silver apart just a little.  It's a lovely technique and a sample just had to come home with me.  Now all I need to do is find someone to do some curatorial type framing for me.

Another place we visited quickly was a cultural arts exhibition at the Qurm City Centre - they have an exhibition space just outside the lower entrance to the Mall.  Oh dear, I know what I'm going to be doing after the T-thing is done. Learning more Arabic so I can talk to these weavers........................

Part of traditional Omani dress, and a symbol of status, is the the curved dagger, the khanjar.  The khanjar is worn pushed into the front of a belt.  The belt itself is made of leather, but mounted on the leather is a decorative, warp faced strap, woven on the cutest table loom you've ever seen.  The warp is gold or silver thread (like a Jap thread - metal wound round a thread core - they come by the tonne from India) and black mercerised cotton.  The weft is a lightly spun white cotton.  Guess what I want to learn............

The table loom for weaving the belts

Some of the finished belts

The pattern draft for the belt on the loom

And of course Bluey needs to have equal time :-)