Oman Day 3

I Know What A Left Means Now

When trying to decide which of the fifty or so camps to stay at in Wahiba Sands, I gave lots of thought to the experience I hoped we would have. There were “luxury” camps with permanent structures, a pool, table side service, etc and there were camps that are set up on a more temporary basis run by people who live in the nearby village. I quickly ruled out the big camps but there was some concern on both Jenny’s and my part that she and I would end up in a very small camp being the only guests and as two females alone in a camp in a place with no familiarity, we had legitimate reasons for worry. But I did the research and in the end Jenny trusted my judgment with the caveat that we could always just leave early if we got that feeling.

We started our morning with another hearty meal before awaiting the arrival of our guide for the day. We planned on a trip deeper into the desert with a stop at a traditional Bedouin home. Our guide, Faiz, came ripping into camp like a bay out of hell, pulled up alongside our tent, jumped out of the car and immediately began to apologize for being late. “No worries,” we insisted. We hadn’t even known he had been late and even if we had, we were enjoying the cool morning just looking at the scenery.

We jumped in Faiz’s car and off we went. Faiz is a fireman and works a two week on/ one week off shift. His week-off shift he helps out at some of the local camps, including Rashid’s. He trained in Qatar in a facility that also housed RAF and US military so his English is very good, which was quite helpful. He had been born in Muscat but moved to this area many years ago and clearly knows what he is doing in these dunes; he also drives like the wind. Five minutes into the ride he crests this dune and goes flying down the other side, “We go like we are in Dakar Rally,” laughing aloud.

We pulled up to a house, that was unlike most of the other camps we had seen as this one was made with small logs. When we left the camp around 10:00, our tent had already heated up to an almost unbearable temperature and we were pleasantly surprised that when we entered this house, it was was cool as the desert night. The home was occupied by three generations of Bedouin women. The young girls met us with traditional dress on, henna on their forearms and hands and a yellow paste on their face.

Faiz was happy to show us the decorations and photos that adorned the walls and Jenny was very sweet obliging the young girl, allowing her to dress her in a traditional head covering and face mask. Afterwards, she asked one of the women, who was also dressed in her traditional clothes, with all but her eyes covered, if she would henna her arm in a similar fashion as the young girl’s.

From here we continued on deeper into Wahiba Sands along what is known as the desert highway – a very hard pack “road” that is traveled at an astonishing rate of speed for people making their way through the desert (We were passed by a small pickup truck with a camel laying down in the bed). We eventually exited the “highway” up, and I mean up, a very large dune where we crested out on what felt like a sand dune plateau.

As we continued along, Jenny pointed off to the left to a very steep dune where there were tire tracks and stating that it was unreal cars can maneuver it. Faiz turned around and said, “It is no problem, I will show you.”

“Ummm..excuse me, what? We are not going up that are we?” I asked in disbelief.

Faiz quickly tried to alleviate any concerns I had, “Going up? No, We are not going up that. We are going down that!” And with that he took a sharp left turn. Once at the bottom he pointed out, “See, no problem.” And off we continued.

We came upon one of the luxury resorts and all I could do was be thankful that we had no chosen to stay there. There was nothing about the place that appealed at all – nothing – except for the group of camels that were hanging around outside their walls. Faiz drove right up to them and stopped. He grabbed a plastic bag and pulled out some pieces of bread (sort of a thin looking pita) and handed it to Jenny. The camels came right over and took the piece of bread right out of her hand.

Before we knew it, there were three camel heads in the car, two up front and one in the back. I was cracking up as their huge lips were smacking together trying to grab ahold of the bread. When the bread was gone and one of the camels gave a quick snort, we took off laughing.

A short bit down the road, Faiz stopped the car and told me to hop out, I was now driving. OK, I thought, no problem. He guided me along telling me to turn right or left, and all was going well (of course he had to remind me to slow down a few times) until he told me to shift the 4-wheel drive and take a right up the hill. We had been at this long enough that I realized that the uphill only meant one thing, there was a downhill somewhere but a quick scan of the dune from below showed no signs whatsoever of any tire tracks coming back down, but up I went. At the top he told me to go left but left was the direction I had scanned and I knew there was no outlet – at least there was no outlet…yet. And so it happened:

“Go left.”

“Left?” (Knowing full well where that would lead us).

“Yes.”

And before I knew it I was sitting with the car on the edge of the dune and could not see any land in front of me.

“Go slow.”

Me looking out my side window, then out the windshield, then out towards the passenger window scanning for any sign of a possible exit, stating in total disbelief, “But, but, but there’s no, there’s no…”

“Yes. Go.” Faiz waved me forward.

Again, stammering my words “But, but, but there’s no road.”

“They are. Just drive slowly slowly”

And so over we went…

“Now you see the way,” Faiz stated, almost prophetically, as he waved his hand out towards the incline we were now staring down.

“Oh sh!t, oh sh!t, oh sh!t,” I say

“Mom,” Jenny whispered, “You can’t swear.”

Me, now barreling down the dune, took one hand off the steering wheel to cover my mouth and apologize profusely. Faiz telling me to break, me following orders, but before you know it the back end starts making a run at trying to beat the front end to the bottom first. All the while, ever-so-calm and positive Faiz is saying, “Don’t worry. Don’t worry” as we end up completely sideways teetering at a pretty good angle. Faiz calmly tells me to turn left and go (isn’t that what got us into this mess in the first place?) and just like that we come out of the dune and are back on what was certainly more solid ground.

Enjoy the videos…sorry i couldn’t beep out the expletives.

Following our harrowing stunt, we made a quick rest stop amongst a grove of shady trees where Faiz laid a small rug and offered us some fruit. We laughed about my turn at the wheel and chatted about various things but mostly Faiz insisted we need to backtrack to one of the wadis we had skipped as we would not have another opportunity on this trip to see one, and he insisted it is a must!

Back on the road again, the clock having gotten away from us, Faiz searched for a shortcut through the dunes, but every turn ended up placing us in a precarious situation. “You are like an explorer,” I told him, “searching for a new route back to Rashid’s.” He decided not too risk it, especially since we were only one car, as getting stuck without help would obviously not be a good thing. If we had been two cars, he would have done it. So instead, we did a little dune bashing, a term they use here for basically driving up, across, and down the dunes spinning out and fishtailing. At one point we hit a big dune, slid sideways and the spray of sand came over the hood from left to right and blew in through the open windows, kind of like hitting a wake with the boat and the water spray coming back on you.

When we finally made it back to camp, we thanked Faiz for a wonderful time. He turned and said, “You are most welcome. You guys are funny.” It was a great compliment to us and it was only later when he returned that I told him so and he clarified what he meant in that Jenny and I are funny together. We are not like a mother/daughter that argue and disagree. He said we are like best friends and our banter back and forth is funny.

Down in the food tent, Rashid had had his right-hand man Jaffer, make us some lunch. We were quite hungry and like everything we had been served, the meal was delicious. Jaffer is a friendly guy who clearly is a hard worker but only speaks very little English however, he was determined to try and have a conversation with us. Like everyone here, he wanted to know where we were from and how many years we were. He then proudly told us, “I am Bangladesh.” And then pointing to the skin on his arm, “I am black. My sister not.” He then turned his attention to Jenny and pointed to the skin on her arm and asked, “You have a problem? Your skin. It has a problem? Jenny and I both broke out in an uproar. Jenny tried to tell him she had no problem (though I could beg to differ :)) and that her arms were covered in freckles from the sun. He clearly didn’t understand until she said she was OK but he made it clear he had never seen such a thing before — “I don’t know it.” A redhead was obviously a new creature for him, and Jenny and I are still laughing about it.

Jenny and I took another stroll up the dunes to watch the sunset. We were sitting in silence enjoying the solitude when she jumps up to watch as a big beatle was making his way towards her. We marveled at just how far this guy had crawled, leaving a striking trail behind as he went along.

At dinner, the new guest were telling the story of how they too had missed the meeting point and that Rashid had come after them when he saw them pass. He said he had tried to wave them down, just like he had when he saw us pass. “But, like you, they did not see me wave.”

“Oh, no. I actually saw you waving.” I responded.

“You did? Why then you did not stop.”

“Because,” I responded “You were there in front of the tent with the colorful furniture and I thought you were just trying to sell me a rug.”

Rashid threw his head back in laughter and let me know just how funny he thought that was.

Our evening ended with Jenny and Rashid discussing all the nuances of Arabic, her best approach at learning it and him expressing his surprise that Jenny was planning her masters program in Islam and the Middle East, He was genuinely curious at her choice and questioned whether she would ever find a job with that degree. Without going into much detail, Jenny eloquently assured him it would not be a problem…

When I started planning our trip, the only real request Jenny had was two nights in the desert. She didn’t care if there were activities; she just wanted to “vibe” in the desert and drink some tea, which we have done by the cups full. The tea here is an Omani black tea, steeped with cardamom, cloves, cinnamon, ginger and cinnamon leaf mixed with a decent helping of sugar – just delicious! I know her desires were met, but I also know we both had unspoken desires met.

The nervousness we felt seems like a long forgotten feeling having been easily replaced with deep contentment through the warm welcome extended by Rashid and Jaffar; the sincerity of the affable Faiz; the soft giggles coming from under the veiled-face of the Bedouin woman in response to my telling Faiz about Jenny’s tattoo. Neither of us would have changed a thing, except to maybe spend a day or two more with these truly wonderful people in this remarkable location.