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<\/a><\/p>\nThe male prayer room features the second largest single piece of woven carpet in the world (there’s apparently a registry but the wikipedia link to such a thing takes one to an expired domain for “ArchitecturalClassics.com.”\u00a0 In any case, it took 5000 women (women, mind you… indicative of the country I’m in) who hand wove the 70 x 60 meters carpet, featuring 1,700,000,000 knots and weighing 21 tons (so says Wikipedia<\/a>).\u00a0 It’s an impressive rug, no doubt.<\/p>\n The chandeliers hanging over it aren’t too shabby either…<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/a> Wandering the grounds, our tour guide introduced us to a friend of his — an Omani Track and Field Olympian who now works part time as a tour guide for visiting sports teams (he was accompanying the German Football team recently eliminated in some international soccer tournament being held locally).\u00a0 He also coaches the Army Running Team and was taking his runners to the Muscat Half Marathon tomorrow — we told him we were doing the full and he said he’d cheer us on and see us at the end.<\/p>\n We took a brief detour to chat with an Imam who engaged some folks in theological discussion.\u00a0 I was happy to snack on the dates and I gladly took their proffered pamphlets and freebie Quran — never hurts to understand someone else’s viewpoint, whether one agrees with it or not.\u00a0 I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to the discussion as, ya know, I was stuffing my face with dates, but I did overhear the Imam compare the body and soul to one’s iPhone — the body is hardware that can breakdown, but the soul can be backed up into the “cloud” or paradise and survive the breakdown of the hardware.\u00a0 I actually kinda loved that concept — I may have misunderstood what he was getting at but man did I love what was happening in that room at that particular moment.<\/p>\n After a few final shots of the Mosque, it was off to the next venue: the Oman Opera House.\u00a0 Celebrating its 5th anniversary, The Opera House is a mixture of various styles, including Morocco and Italy, and creates a distinctly Omani structure.\u00a0 The “tour” wasn’t all that — just a quick bit of word on the construction materials, which I tuned out but I did hear the words “teak” and “french inlaid gold paper.”\u00a0 After that, they let us into the main concert hall and let us snap photos for fifteen minutes.\u00a0 I never quite framed the perfect shot, but I took plenty of middling ones:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Khalid took us along the coast to get to Old Muscat and we stopped for a quick photo along the beach:<\/p>\n We had planned on going to the National Museum but Khalid insisted the Bait Al Zubair was a better choice.\u00a0 We took his word for it and wandered amongst the billed “home of heritage and art.”\u00a0 Amongst the displays were a series of painted goats, akin to the penguins or guitars or various other icons of a city that get decorated\/painted by celebs or locals and placed around town for an art installation.\u00a0 As is often the case, some were cooler and more cerebral (read: weirder) than others.\u00a0 I of course was drawn to the weirder ones:<\/p>\n My favorite part of the museum visit was the cafe.\u00a0 And you’ll think it’s because I got a Diet Coke or as it’s known in this country Coke Light.\u00a0 And you’re partly right.\u00a0 When I asked for a coke light, the counterman took a beat and then presented me straight faced with this:<\/p>\n I appreciated the joke so much I insisted on getting a photo with the guy.<\/p>\n Here’s where things get a little wonky — our driver was nowhere to be found as we exited the museum.\u00a0 We found his cab, so that was good — our bags were still there and so worse case we could wait it out and get them.\u00a0 But he was just… gone.\u00a0 We wandered back and forth throughout the not huge building, inside and out, and couldn’t find him.\u00a0 Finally he came strolling by from who knows where.\u00a0 He didn’t seem surprised to see us, though he was oddly puzzled we wanted to go.\u00a0 That should’ve been a red flag but I assumed it was just a breakdown in language comprehension on both sides… so it was on to the National Museum.<\/p>\n But first we stopped at the Al Alam Palace.\u00a0 Reda and I had stopped by here on our first night but it was fun to snap a quick shot in the bright light of day.\u00a0 I even asked a fellow tourist to snap a shot of the three of us as I was enjoying the experience with Khalid.<\/p>\n Here’s the next red flag: I asked Khalid how old the palace was.\u00a0 He said, “Very old.”\u00a0 I asked how old.\u00a0 He said, “1977.”\u00a0 I clarified if he meant 1877 or 1777… “No, 1977.”\u00a0 If that’s old what does that make me?\u00a0 It was a sucker punch to be sure.\u00a0 (For the record, according to W<\/a>ikipedia<\/a>, the palace “has a history of over 200 years, built by Imam Sultan bin Ahmed the 7th direct grandfather of the current Sultan. The existing palace, which has a facade of gold and blue, was rebuilt as a royal residence in 1972.”)\u00a0 [Ye gods, I can’t believe I’m relying on wikipedia for facts… might as well be using Fox News!].<\/p>\n We then headed down the way to the National Museum.\u00a0 It was 5 rials a person to get in.\u00a0 Khalid asked how long we might be and I ballparked an hour… Reda asked the ticket seller how big the place was and he said it’s 14 galleries and most people take 2 hours or more.\u00a0 Khalid and I both made a face — he clearly understood “2 hours” and had the same reaction as me — “I don’t think I can do a museum for 2 hours in Arabic.”\u00a0 So we agreed to an hour and we’d call him if we finished sooner or needed more time.\u00a0 We had his number — all good, right?\u00a0 Sigh.<\/p>\n The museum itself was fine and maybe even better than that but I had kinda filled my museum quota and wasn’t much in the mood.\u00a0 But we ambled and strolled through, noticing little things like the Portuguese influence and base of operations from the 1700s, the various trade routes for centuries that helped alter the people and the place and history.\u00a0 We remarked on the universal need for humanity to decorate their weapons of war, such an integral part of life and such a sad commentary on us all — from the elaborate swords of Middle Ages Europe let’s say to the inlaid designs of Khanjer daggers in Oman to the markings even today of personalizing weapons of pain and death.\u00a0 There was something about it that made me sad while at the same time I appreciated the artistry.\u00a0 For me, the coolest thing was the dhow ships as I felt while they could be used for war, they were predominately used for trade and exploration and if I’m being all Sinbad, adventure.\u00a0 Some will argue one man’s adventure is another’s invasion but let me have my swashbucklers any day.<\/p>\n I wasn’t sure about the photography rules in the National Museum but eventually saw others snapping away.\u00a0 I shied away from the “traditional” shots and instead documented my trip with typical Kevin flare…<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n We finished the museum in about 45 minutes and phoned Khalid.\u00a0 He said he was on his way.\u00a0 Time ticked by.\u00a0 And this is where it all turned bad.\u00a0 The clock spun round.\u00a0 It passed the one hour mark for when we originally were supposed to be picked up… it passed an hour fifteen minutes.\u00a0 Reda called again and he said he was 1 minute away… well 5 minutes away.\u00a0 It was a long wait… and things only got worse from there.<\/p>\n Ten minutes later, he finally pulls up but there’s a guy in the front seat, a new passenger.\u00a0 Where was our stuff?\u00a0 Both Reda and I had left bags in the cab because this guy was our driver for the day and he said it was ok.\u00a0 What was happening?\u00a0 Who was this new guy?\u00a0 I freaked.\u00a0 Reda freaked.\u00a0 We went ugly American then… made all the stranger since Reda is Lithuanian and lives in Dubai.\u00a0 But we were not happy — and I think rightly so.\u00a0 Apparently this new guy was a friend of Khalid’s who needed a ride… but the guy said he was no friend of his… it was all very dodgy.<\/p>\n I checked my bag I had in the cab which contained my jacket and passport (they were still there) but it was “not-on” as some folks say, while others might say it was “on like Donkey Kong.”\u00a0 We just wanted to pay and get out of there… but Khalid was insistent he was sorry and would make things right.\u00a0 The new guy apparently was a regular visitor to Oman but needed to get back to the airport and called Khalid for a lift and wasn’t aware Khalid already had booked a city tour.\u00a0 He was apologetic too but not really.\u00a0 We said we just wanted to pay and leave and we’d get lunch and grab another taxi back to the hotel.\u00a0 Khalid and the guy said they could recommend a good restaurant and Khalid said he’d drop his new passenger and come back to pick us up whenever we wanted for free to get back to the hotel.\u00a0 That seemed like a decent resolution to an unfortunate situation.<\/p>\n So we went to lunch.\u00a0 And it was good.\u00a0 And Khalid showed up after dropping the guy at the airport and drove us back.\u00a0 So it all worked out in the end but it also all felt very… strange.\u00a0 I’m not conveying how weird the whole experience was.\u00a0 I’m actually still kinda processing it.\u00a0 But long story short, as I need to get my stuff sorted for the marathon tomorrow, we made it back to the hotel in one piece and with out stuff — so win, lose, win?\u00a0 Ultimately a win.\u00a0 But a weird one, like winning on a fumbled on side kick and a spaceship landing at the 50 yard line so somebody could statue of liberty a play into the endzone.\u00a0 It was weird.<\/p>\n To close out then, here’s some shots from that lunch…<\/p>\n The restaurant overlooked the marina… port to various ships both great and small… including the Sultan’s two yachts.\u00a0 He had an old one.\u00a0 Now he has a new one.<\/p>\n<\/a>\u00a0 <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a>\u00a0 <\/a><\/p>\n<\/a>\u00a0 <\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n<\/a> \u00a0<\/a> \u00a0<\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a><\/a><\/p>\n<\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/a><\/a> <\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n<\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a> \u00a0<\/a><\/a> <\/a>\u00a0 <\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n
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