What Goes Up Must Come Down
We had another epic night’s sleep, followed by another filling breakfast and were on the road by 11:30. I got directions from the front desk on a stop I wanted to make, and was glad I did because it was not where I thought it was.
In our hurry to get to the hotel two days ago, there was much I had not noticed or paid an overt amount of attention to. On our ride down the mountain today, there was more time to take it all and absorb just what an incredible drive it was. I also was able to notice more of the road conditions or the lack there of. You got to love when the temporary Jersey barriers have been run through or pushed over the edge and then never replaced.
Our first destination was Wadi Bani Habib, an abandoned village half way down the mountain. We descended a hundred or so stairs down into the wadi before crossing over to the old village. The construction on the side on the hillside is really quite remarkable. Most of the homes have fallen into disrepair but some of the original architectural styles are still evident. And although it is abandoned, non-muslims are still not allowed in the old mosque.
From here the real descent down the mountain began, in 4 wheel drive and never leaving second gear. There are constant warnings about speed and a bunch of runaway truck ramps, meanwhile I was getting passed on hairpin turns. It is quite evident now why Oman has such a high car fatality rate.
Down at the bottom, we high five for a road trip well done for both me driving and Jenny riding but the queasiness was setting in forJenny so we stopped for lunch. We also needed some more snacks so we went to what we thought was going to be a supermarket, turned out it only sold fresh fruit and tea. Because we did not want to leave empty-handed, we decided to grab two boxes of tea that we can’t get back home. While waiting in line to pay, this cute older Omani, who was maybe five feet tall and seemed to appear out of nowhere, asked us if it was our first time in Oman or had we been before. He then wanted to know, f course, where we were from. When we told him he replied, “Well you didn’t come here all the way from the US. You must have been somewhere else before.” When I assured him I had traveled here from the US, he was quite surprised I would make such a long journey just to come to Oman. He then told me to please, “go back and tell all of your friends that we want American tourists to come and visit Oman.”
The only other stop planned was for Jabreen Castle, which was constructed in the late 17th century by Imam Bel’arab bin Sultan Al Yarubi. It is different from other Omani forts because it was not built as a fortification, it is more of a palace constructed in times of peace by a ruler who was passionate about science and art. Jenny and I had a great time exploring this place going up one staircase and down another until Jenny managed to find us our way out.
Our stop for the night was the town of Nizwa, I knew that our hotel was deep in the old part of town and navigating there with the car was going to be tricky, but I was not prepared for just how wild the drive in would be. The second we reached the area of the old part the chaos ensued. Jenny did a great job navigating with the limited information we had from the inn and using Google Maps. The “streets” were only wide enough for one car but they were actually two-way roads. We managed to get as close as possible to the inn before we texted for help on where to park. I somehow managed to find a sliver of free space to sit and await our rescue.
As we were sitting there, nose in to a wall that was maybe two feet off the ground (see above photo) this cute younger guy walks along the top of it, bends over so he could see us through the windshield, says, “Excuse me,’ while simultaneously using both hands to shoo me away, out of my waiting zone, so that the delivery truck I had parked next to could get out (how in the world the truck even got in there in the first place was a serious mystery). The good news was I was able to squeeze behind him and continue to wait until finally Ali showed up to take the car and park it.
The guesthouse is very cute, with some very nice touches. Many of the old buildings in Nizwa are being restored and revamped by private citizens. This particular project was one taken on by a family who inherited the uninhabitable building after their father died and have done a remarkable job bringing ti back to life. It is definitely a family affair with the adorable 8 years old son of one of the owners welcoming me to the hotel.
Jenny and I decided to walk through some of the old area before returning to the hotel for dinner. The town was bustling with families on foot, kids on bicycles, people on motorbikes and scooters, and cars all trying to share the same tight space. We walked up to Nizwa Fort, an imposing fortress that stands guard over the old town and decided to enter. There was a lot going on inside but the liveliness and — was a nice contrast to the serenity we had experienced at Wahiba Sands and Jabal Akhdar. It was fun to spend time in a town that was full of locals, doing their normal thing.
The whole reason we came to Nizwa, was to see the goat market tomorrow morning and when I had originally read about it, I though perhaps seeing it with a local would be best. The guide I had lined up backed out at the last minute and offered for a friend to take over. I initially declined saying I thought we would be fine (since after talking to one of the families that was at Rashid’s place with us) but Jenny (who usually does not like the idea of getting a guide) said maybe we should, so I agreed to use his friend.
Talal was rather insistent that we meet tonight versus tomorrow morning before the goat market and in hindsight, thank goodness as it was not a match made in Heaven. Frankly I should have recognized that fact when we kept insisting yesterday that we would meet today and tour from 4-8 no matter the fact I kept saying (politely) that ain’t happening. He ended up meeting at the fort, close to 6:15 and holy smokes, it went downhill fast. No matter how I tried to explain, we were not interested in anything this evening, he continued to try and “guide” us. My hangriness (yes I, like Jenny, get hangry after I pass the point when the stomach stops rumbling and the shakes start to set in); I even showed him my shaking hand as we climbed the stairs to the top of the fort and listened to him tell me I was feeling tired because we snack and don’t eat food out of the refrigerator. Anyhow, my savior Jenny jumped in and finally put an end to it; empathy be damned. He then insisted we should just go have tea and I told him that was not happening, I was going to eat dinner and that was that. Long story short, while finally having dinner at the hotel, I sent a message that we would not be in need of his services tomorrow – that our ideas of a guide were not similar as we were not the type who wanted in depth information (I think we know what the heck a well is). Jenny and I decided, no matter what, we would be better off ourselves negotiating the markets then risking never making it past the door as we received a lesson on what a goat even was.
Wandering Amerrickans 