Oman diary part 3

Day 5
Woke up about 6:30 but because we were in a Valley between 2 long dunes, the sun had not yet risen. Got up to take photos and found 3 camels wandering about, which made for some nice photos and kept me entertained.

Breakfast was cornflakes and foul. Thought I'd go for both ends of the spectrum. Headed off at 9 for the souk of Nizra. I seem to be doing a lot of sleeping in the car. Aurora has an excuse but I haven't been this sedate on any trio I can remember, and yet I'm constantly falling asleep in the car. The souk in Nizwa we didn't see too much of, but we did have a tour around the beautifully restored fort.

From what I can gather the sultan of Oman seems to have his head screwed on right. The fort was falling into ruins, but instead of knocking it down and building a shopping centre (à la Dubai), or leaving it to disintegrate, it's been meticulously and lovingly restored and is now a museum.

 The old souk has had the same treatment and is now functioning in the same co-operative manner as it has for centuries, so we are told. it certainly doesn't give the impression of being a contrivance for the benefit of tourists, but rather a working market. Pictures in the souk show the floods of 2010, when the outdoor marketplace / car park was comprehensively underwater.

Racing camels - each can be worth £100k

After stopping to change cars for a land cruiser with a working clutch, we headed into a Wadi which turned out to be completely dry. Although not what we were hoping for, it was pretty amazing - we were at the bottom of an enormous canyon perhaps half a mile deep, on a dried river bed.  Huge boulders littered the valley floor. It rains a handful of times a year and when it does, the parched stony valley floor becomes a raging torrent.

The picture doesn't do justice to the scale of the place

Lunch consisted of another soulless restaurant complete with a television on the wall blaring out some crap or other. Including cage fighting, which was unexpected. I have to say the food in this country is nit really doing anything for me. I'm asking Salim for recommendations at each restaurant, but either he doesn't have much taste either, or the food just really is a bit boring. Hopefully before we head home we will be able to have Omani food cooked well - maybe it will actually be good. I'm thinking of which destinations have truly great cuisine - Italy, China, India - and how many have average, nondescript, or downright rubbish food - Peru, Bolivia, Russia, Tibet, most of Africa .

The scenery is quite impressive here. Huge craggy barren mountains with great gashes running down them from rainfall washing sections away, not a single tree on most of them, reddish brown in the evening sun. Crumbling (or sometimes meticulously restored) watchtowers on the smaller peaks.  Plantations of date palms, people on bicycles dressed in the traditional white garb with skull cap.

Following a photo stop at a picturesque village - all mud bricks, goats and date palms - we arrived in the village where we are staying the night. This is the kind of place where you have to park your car on the edge of the village because there are no roads to speak of - just paths winding through mud brick houses in various states of repair. A few people walked past with clumps of long grass balanced on their heads, and some wizened old dudes sat in the shade doing not very much.

Oman diary part 2

Day 3
Today we did next to nothing.  Had originally planned to go to ferrarai world, but upon investigation it was going to cost about £80, and only one of us was going to be able to do all the exciting rides, so we decided to chi lax all day. I did go for a decent run on the beach first thing(2which resulted in a blister - great) but otherwise we lay on various sun beds at the beach and various pools and read our books.

Later in the evening we checked out and packed our bags for the trip to muscat. The bill was taken care of in it's entirety which was nice - so far on this trip not spent a penny. We had yet Another limo to take us to the airport - this time a Bentley with some grunt under the bonnet. Fight was almost empty. Arrived after what seemed like 5 minutes in the air we arrived and were picked up with no dramas. For the money we are paying the guest house doesn't seem particularly lugubrious but hey ho.

Arriving in Muscat

Day 4
The first day of our Oman tour! The owner of the tour company came to pick us up - presumably to suss out whether it was worth his while giving us the fat discount he had offered. We sped out through the suburbs of muscat in a rather cramped Nissan suv. The landscape consisted of stony desert with some high mountains and plains dotted with white fort-like garrison type structures - perhaps houses? High mountains gave way to plains which gave way to ravines and wadis (valleys), some lush and beautiful.  It looked like tatuine, the sand planet from star wars. We stopped for petrol at Mos Eisley but thankfully avoided the dodgy bar. Amusing shop names seen today include "Gentlemens hairdresser shaving clipping styling" , "sale of general food stuffs". High Walls around the houses are not to keep people out, but to prevent them from seeing in.  Our driver Salim works in an oilfield as an engineer. 2 weeks on and 2 weeks off. In Aberdeen they have the same shift pattern, which translates to 2 weeks drinking every month. Here Salim at least has a second job since he has a wife and 2 kids to support.
There are goats everywhere. They will eat pretty much anything- including plastic bags, cardboard boxes and land cruiser wheel arches.
First stop was a sinkhole - basically a big hole maybe 80m across and 20m deep with an enticing looking blue pool at the bottom. Some Arab boys hung out in one corner while a group of French tourists swam.

The temperature is pretty oppressive - quite humid too. After the sinkhole we sped off - next stop a Wadi (which means valley apparently) which is a verdant crack in an otherwise barren landscape. We turned off the coast road and headed inland up the valley. Palm trees galore, and we were basically driving up a dried river bed. Soon it became a wet river bed with all the greenery tha brings.  we found Ourselves at the bottom of a giant canyon surrounded by swaying rushes, palm trees, giant boulders punctuating the flow of a haphazard stream. Higher up the edges if the valley White fortress like houses kept watch.

Spare a dirham?

Next we stopped off a a Dhow workshop. Dhows R us. There was a fairly large dhow near completion and another whose keel had just been laid. We climbed all over it and took pictures while grumpy looking labourers using fairly primitive techniques worked various bits of wood.

Ras al Hadd was the name of the place. After a quick stop at a lighthouse, we headed off to our nights stop - a fairy contrived tourist camp on the shore of the Indian ocean. Unfortunately we shared this stretch of beach with an enormous swarm of jellyfish. They didn't sting but it still took the shine off the place.

After a buffet dinner (not very Oman style food I suspect) we all headed off to the turtle centre. There must have been close to 100 people and we marched off in the dark to the beach with a few head torches between us. Stumbling around in the dark on the beach we soon came acros an area full of large holes - as if someone had been throwing grenades around. The holes made us stumble even more. Then I noticed somebody was throwing sand at me - probably some small annoying child. Actually no, a green turtle busy burying her cache of eggs with her flippers just a metre or two away. We all admired this sight, then were immediately called off to watch as another turtle heaved her massive frame back into the sea. She got knocked about by a couple of big waves but soon disappeared into the surf. Then we were called over to inspect yet another turtle as she laid eggs into her egg chamber. Golf ball sized and soft, it was a weird sight to see these things plopping out 2 at a time complete with the requisite goo accompaniment. Then one of the guys produced some baby turtles who were busy flapping around trying to get to the sea.

As if that wasn't enough, I had decided to come and watch the morning session the following day, with the intention of taking photographs (forbidden in the evening session, and impossible In the dark anyway). So I found myself bleary eyed at 3:50 am waiting around to he taken out to the beach again.

After half an hour watching a single turtle throwing sand around the novelty had worn off and I set up the tripod and attempted to take pictures of the impending dawn. When I turned around I realised she had finished burying and was on her way back into the sea. The shot I had been waiting ages for was literally slipping away. Things then moved pretty quickly and as the half-light of dawn grew, we discovered baby turtles in various places - and after the sun rose, a patch of dead ones - decapitated, perhaps by foxes. They take 2-3 days to hatch, and mummy lays a batch on the same beach 2 or 3 times a year.  On busy nights in the summer, 250 turtles can show up in one night.

A hatchling makes a break for freedom

Dawn at the turtle beach

Not so keen on the camp. It's a rather sterile contrived venue. At breakfast this morning we had cornflakes and saxophone moods sitting in an air conditioned room. Why come to Oman if that's what you want?

After a rejuvenating nap, we set off at 9 taking not the coastal road, but another road inland, heading back north past Sur. Wadi something or other was our next stop. After driving up another lush valley (respite from the rocky barren plains of the interior) the car parked up and we walked along an irrigation canal to a lovely spot by a deep pool. There was a rather crappy restaurant there which was to be our lunch spot, along with about 50 other tourists, some of whom are looking very familiar after having seen them at practically every stop en route. Exploring further up the valley we came to a lovely swimming spot. Aurora didn't want to since there was nowhere to change and there were large signs telling us to dress properly when swimming - ie women need to cover their whole body, which is a bit ridiculous.

After an unremarkable lunch we left the wadi, let the tyres down, and headed for the desert! our guide certainly enjoyed our little dune bashing stint. High revs and keeping your speed up seem to be the way to go. We have been dropped off at the desert camp while Salim goes to get the clutch looked at - it's been slipping all week...

We were then driven up to the top of a nearby dune to watch the sun set over the sea of sand. Took the opportunity to have a quickie - that's definitely one for the bucket list.
Supper was a rather uninspiring affair - again an air-conditioned box with pseudo western food, while there was a beautiful warn evening outside. I would love to say that we could see more stars in the sky than I had ever before, but it's not true.

Oman diary part 1

Day 1
The kind of early start that leaves you with a headache all day. We arrived at terminal 4 and swanned to the front of the first class checkin feeling very smug. Imagine how we felt when we arrived at the lounge and were summarily downgraded back to economy! Aurora was in tears.  Managed to get in the lounge at least and have breakfast. We had resigned ourselves to cattle class, when we were miraculously upgraded again at the gate. Probably shouldn't have started drinking champagne at 9am, but hard to turn it down when you're sitting in a giant business class pod thing. Watched an Italian film about the bombing of a bank in Milan in dec 1969, and an episode of the American office, which I had never seen before. Upon arrival faced the strange prospect of putting hand luggage through the scanner. Weird. Anyway we were met by a chap in a brightly coloured jacket and escorted to a black limo driven by a young lad from Pakistan. Very nice treatment I must say. Arriving at the hotel we were greeted by various people and shown to a lovely room with a kind of shower room, massive bath and massive bed. We even have a butler!

Day 2
Woke up rather bleary eyed and my phone said it was 2:48am. Well we are 4 hours ahead here so having had a hard time going to sleep before midnight (since that's only 8 for us) we were now struggling to be up before 9.

Went downstairs to the biggest breakfast buffet I think I have ever seen. Must have been the size of a tennis court. There was every kind of normal breakfast thing you can imagine, plus all the Arab food including chicken livers. We discovered that beef bacon and turkey bacon taste surprisingly similar to real bacon.

The service in the hotel is amazing. We wandered down to the pool and were greeted by a young girl from Russia we think who showed us to some suin loungers in the shade, laid our towels out for us, and brought us little bottles of water and fruit. Pool absolutely beautiful and tranquil. It has a place o can lie and get bubbled, and also some sunloungers which are actually in about a foot of water. Nt to mention double bed things.

Wandered down to the beach on my own since a was feeling a bit feverish. Had a swim in the sea which was probably warmer than the pool! Strange beach landscape. Clearly visible cement factory in the distance and a skyline peppered with cranes. But the sand is white and the sea a beautiful shade of turquoise.

Headed off to the polo match suitably dressed up in yet another limousine driven this time by a Nigerian. A strange landscape was visible from the car window. Bizarre alien shaped buildings in the distance, lots of cranes, high rises in a heat and dust haze. At the polo ground a strange mix of people. Evidently important (ie rich) emiratis stroll causally around with crisp White tunics and the headdress held in place by either a black or red and White checked loop thing. Meanwhile you can hear English, Australian, Dutch, french, a plethora of accents and languages: it was like the tower of babel there. With an English emphasis. You do wonder what all these people actually do out here. Apparently there are lots more women than men expats. And I am told that native emirates make up only about 10% of the population.

Had to actually make an effort to take nice photos for the magazine - we will see how that works out. They had camel polo to start which was hilarious - but they all took it pretty seriously - of course it's a proper sport but it looks so comical. Dubai skydive team showed up with some hair raising last minute spins and a low pass flyby. Polo itself was fine - Aurora said pretty dangerous since some of the players were far too aggressive. No alcohol in the hospitality - doesn't bother me I'm quite happy to not drink anything all holiday. Event was in aid of breast cancer research so everyone was wearing something pink including yours truly.

Anyway after nibbles, chitchat and more photos we headed back to the hotel where we ordered room service and ate on the balcony which was very civilised.

Around the Isle of Wight

Round the island

After doing a little bit of sailing I've seen one or two yachts but the Farr 45 was something totally different.  Stepping down below I  saw that it was stripped to the bare hull inside.  Two guys were jacking up the mast and putting spacers below it in order to change the sail profile.  The head consisted of a bucket, sails filled up most of the space below decks and each crewmember is allocated a tiny locker for their stuff.  Gin and tonic sailing it was not.

We had been invited by Volvo to join them on the annual round the island race.  They took us out on the Saturday to get the newbies like us used to the boat and make sure we knew how to keep out of the way while they got on with the real sailing.  It was the following morning at oh Christ hundred hours when we were among the first boats to leave port.  In the  freezing grey dawn, the fog made life slightly more interesting as we tacked back and forth just short of the start line.  We were in the first group to start, and as the boats gathered, it grew more and more chaotic.  The skipper was very experienced, and I couldn't believe just how late the crew were leaving it before tacking - we came within a few feet of boats, and there were lots of shouts of 'starboard!'.

The first leg to the needles was upwind, so there was a lot of clambering up or down the deck which was heeling at a crazy angle.  By the time we got to the needlers the field had thinned somewhat and the sun had come out.  Past the needles and we hit the Atlantic swell, which soon took its toll on Aurora who due to a medical condition (ahem) was not able to take the seasickness tablets I had been gobbling.  Only those who have experienced seasickness know how miserable it is.  Knowing that there is no respite for another 5 hours is not much fun.  In the mean time I was having a whale of a time - getting a workout flying the spinnaker, and we managed about 20 knots at one point which is pretty quick.

The crew had noticed the rip in the main when we went round the needles.  The sail costs some obscene amount of money, but because it's basically made of kevlar and plastic, although it's very  light, it doesn't last more than a few races, and because you can't reef it, when the wind picks up all you can do is flatten it with the hand-operated hydraulic pump which tightens the backhaul.

They readied the trysail (the only other main on board) but luckily the sail held all the way home, and we finished 16th out of 1600. 

Ascot in a Rolls

The new Rolls Royce Ghost has a menu option which, when activated, makes the flying lady at the front tip of the bonnet glide silently down into a special compartment.  Her place is taken by a discreet (and harder to vandalise) badge.

This I discovered because I found myself driving one - very gingerly I might add.  God knows how but Aurora had managed to persuade Rolls Royce that they should lend her a £250,000 car for the weekend of Ascot.  Which meant that clearly I was going to have a go.

I arrived at Harrods to find a gigantic car packed full of chairs and goodies for the picnic.  Despite boasting a boot big enough to hide a football team of illegal immigrants, Cristina had managed to fill it.

After wedging everything in, we glided regally to Ascot, where we parked in a very nice part of car park 1 and proceeded to turn our huge amount of clobber into a rather civilised picnic.  The champagne flowed, and Alistair and Mike turned up to join the fun. 

The full picnic team

Having never been to Ascot before, or even worn a top hat, it was all quite new.  And to be quite honest I'm not really into horse racing either.  But I have to say it was good fun.  The sheer ridiculousness of the outfits and the good spirits (helped by liberal dosings of champagne) meant that even the somewhat inclement weather didn't impinge on a great day.

Bugsy Malone. Never was a movie more perfectly suited to secret cinema

Bugsy Malone was one of my all time favourite films when I was a kid.  Watching it as an adult you can see the variation in acting skills (Jodie Foster was outstanding) and it still holds its own.  I loved the music and performed a rendition of the title song at my sister's wedding (with lyrics suitably modified).

So when I learnt that secret cinema were recreating Fat Sam's speakeasy, I leapt at the chance to go.  Getting on the tube in our 20s outfits we felt like walking anachronisms, but as we neared the destination, we noticed more and more people dressed in a similar fashion.

On the way from the tube station to the venue we stopped at a cashpoint, and on inserting my card, I was asked if I wanted to continue in English or Cockney!  Naturally I chose Cockney and every screen had been translated into rhyming slang. Amazing.  'Contacting your battle and tank', 'some moolah for your sky rocket', etc etc.

We approached the Roxy down a side alley where secret cinema people and props gave it a great prohibition atmosphere.  The entrance had been converted into a bookstore, just like in the movie.  And emerging from the maze of corridors into the beautiful and evocative ballroom was really a spine-tingling moment.

There was a bar where you could order special on the rocks, there was a boxing gym out the back, there were the dancing girls, it was brilliant.

They had the full stage show, Fat Sam, audience members up on stage, the works.  And at the crucial moment of the final showdown at Fat Sam's, out burst people armed with custard pies and the place was a frenzy of pie-throwing.  A magical and unforgettable evening.