Majilis in Sohar, Oman

MARCH 18, 2013

"We put in the hearts of those who followed him kindness and mercy."

- The Quran

The take their beach soccer and volleyball seriously in Oman.

After a pair of uneventful days in the capital city of Muscat, Oman, I feel a real need to get out of town.  Culture shock has hit me a bit.  Not the language.  Not the people.  Not the customs.  Just the fact that I’m in a relatively big city with big wide roads and supermarkets with florescent lights and everything that reminds me of my own country that I will soon be returning to.  I find a bus that gets me further down the coast and I arrive in Sohar, Oman knowing nothing more than it is smaller than Muscat and slightly closer to my final destination of Dubai. 

My bus drops me off just outside of city proper at a big travel station, with gas pumps and restaurants.  There isn’t a taxi in sight.  I’m sweaty.  Very, very, sweaty.  The heat here in Oman is stifling.  The day starts around Balls Hot with a bit of humidity and progresses mid-day to Just Stupid Hot with zero humidity.  Absolutely nothing takes place outside between the hours of 12 and 5.  It’s 4.  I’m outside.  

I head in to the gas station to see if they’ll call me a cab, not knowing where I’ll tell it to go.  In my mind, Sohar was a little more “quaint” and manageable and the solution would just present itself.  And it did.

The guy behind me in line asks me to wait outside and he will take me.  I am a bit unclear what is going on since he’s rocking a tshirt and shorts while every other taxi driver in Oman seemed to be dressed in the formal white Muslim gowns that the men wear.

The fish is wearing sunglasses.  That's how bright the sun is here.

He motions me into his car.  It is not a taxi.  At this point in my trip I have started to make two assumptions about most people.  First, they aren’t going to kill me.  Second, they will try to sell me something at three to ten times the actual price.  This guy has nothing to sell.  Nor does he strike me as a killer.  Yet.  

 I get in.

No sooner do we get out of the parking lot does he say that he has to make a quick stop to check on his business.  Great.  Who knows where this is going.  We turn down a dirt road where his buddies are waiting to sack me and…  Well.  And nothing.  He shows me his two new football (i.e. soccer) fields he’s building.  The full size natural grass one is already operational with pick up game going on now.  The second small field for 7-on-7 play is under construction.  He shows me the lighting rigs and how the artificial turf won’t do and how he’s got some fancy new stuff coming in from China.  It was not the stop I was expecting.

He asks if I like coffee.  I don’t.  But I say yes when I find out he also owns a couple coffee shops.  So we stop at his coffee shop and I’m expecting to get billed $10 for my 3 oz tea cup.  Nope.  His treat.

By now we’re 45 minutes in and the only hotel we check out is some fancy $300 per night deal on the sea that he laughs at knowing that my budget is a full decimal point removed from that. 

The shoreline by The Cornish in Sohar, Oman

In fairness, at some point in here he asks if I am in a hurry and I tell him I’m not since I’m having a blast with this guy like we’re buddies cruising around town and catching up on old times.  I teach him the word “entrepreneur” and he explains he has to work at the Honda dealership until these businesses take off. 

After the entrepreneur comment he is compelled to show me his latest business venture – one that inspires me to create some version of his theme back in the US.  It’s all dirt and concrete right now, but he wants to make a hangout where people can go for two our three hours after work and relax.  It’s brilliant.  Crammed in about two acres of space is a stable for two horses, a volleyball court, a covered TV room, a billiard room, a play space for kids and a kitchen.  It’s exactly the kind of space I plan to create …though mine will likely have less horses.  Here he is explaining the concept.

Our ride ends more than three hours after it starts when he finds the cheapest hotel about 10 km outside of town where he talks the desk guy down from 25 to 18 Omani Real ($50 USD) and gets me set up.  He insists that I call him the next day for a ride back to town.  When I call the next day and he is busy, he sends a porter from the Honda dealership to pick me up and drop me off at the beach.

When is the last time something like that happened to someone you know in America?  No, in America we’d call the police on the dark-skinned Muslim and turn him in for an alleged attempted abduction and miss out on the good tea and conversation.