As a country that seems to be fairly unknown among Americans (well, we’re not the best geographers out there…), I figure I’ll spend a post explaining this rather unique place.

Geographically, Oman’s right on the tip of the Arabian peninsula; bordered by super-strict Saudi Arabia, bipolar UAE (wild-’n-crazy Dubai is right next to not-even-sheesha Sharjah), and globally-feared possible terrorist state Yemen, Oman should probably be somewhere in the middle of all those – just basically “Arab.” Well, yes and no.  Unlike other countries between strong cultures that tend to resemble their  neighbors (such as Pakistan, Guatemala, or Estonia in my limited observation), Oman formed what seems to be an unusual mix of non-neighboring cultures.  This is mostly because, for most of their history, they’ve been seafarers – and sometimes conquerors and conquer-ees.

While Saudi was busy inventing Islam and herding camels, Yemen was busy inventing coffee and algebra, and UAE just sat back and pearled, Oman was the start of not only the greatest frankincense trade route in the world (from Salalah to somewhere in Greece/Rome), but at some point also conquered portions of East Africa – namely Zanzibar and the surrounding areas. That makes for a very different influence, when your “penpals” speak Swahili, Greek, and Baloshi (forgot to mention that they had quite a bit of contact with southern Pakistan).

Anyway, enough about ancient stuff…why is Muscat unlike other gulf cities (Dubai, Doha, Manama, Khobar) with big skyscrapers and appeals to western tourists?

-Reason 1: They actually don’t have that much oil, especially compared to the other Gulf guys. Therefore, imported labor is a bit more difficult to come by.

-Reason 2: Their leader realized that they actually have a distinct culture and a unique history, and decided not to pave over that. Top score! Then again, the sultan essentially dragged the country out of the 3rd world, so they take great pride in being unique among the region for developing well without needing oil.

Other interesting bits about the people:

-They look really different from others in the region; that whole historical cultural cross-pollination worked pretty well

-They’re hospitable beyond compare. I got an excellent (and punctual!)  guide through a new neighborhood from a friend’s friend’s brother who I’d never met. Oh, and there’s those 4×4 guys who basically sacrificed their cars to help the less experienced drivers out.

-They pretty much all speak English; well, at that. Which is much more than Saudi can say…

As I said in the previous post (on Oman, that is), I ended up here much longer than anticipated. Turned out to be not such a bad thing, and I got to see much more of the country than planned, and meet some interesting people. And now for the story:

First stop – since I was basing myself near Muscat – was seeing the city. Well, “city” is a strange term here, I suppose.  Though when you see the capital of Oman on a map, it clearly says “Muscat” (or Masqat, because Arabic transliteration is far behind from Hindi or Mandarin), there’s at least 3 towns that make up the area. Historically, the surrounding topography was great for rulers, since it was naturally protected by the Hajar mountains and even the harbor was surrounded by mini-mountains. These still matter today, as all building takes place in the valleys (except the ancient watchtowers along the ridges). Unlike other space-strapped cities like Singapore or Manhattan, Muscat has a height restriction: nothing can be higher than the Grand Mosque…which is only about 20 or so stories high).

The three main parts of the capital are: Muscat, the administrative center; Mutrah, the souq and port; and Ruwi, the commercial/residential area. The souq is apparently legendary for its winding alleyways filled with tons of shops. What they don’t say in the travel guides is that your nose will be ASSAULTED with frankincense from the moment you step near the area. I realized after going to India that there are much worse things for the nose to be assailed with.

So, enough about the small capital, on to the other historical/natural wonders of Oman.

I took a solo day trip (ok, so all my trips are solo I guess) to Wadi Shab, only about 2 hours drive from Muscat. A wadi is essentially a valley that fills up when it rains…which it did quite a bit when I was in country.  This one is particularly spectacular, with sheer canyon walls, waterfalls and rapids, and little farms alongside, all fed by the ancient falaj irrigation systems.  Going it alone may not have been the best idea, since I ended up having to climb up some walls, swim across the river, and eventually took the vertiginous goat path up on the canyon wall – but it was certainly fun.

Another day trip I did (should have been a weekend trip, but I was out of time!) was to the fort towns of Bahla and Nizwa.  Oman is known for, among other things, it’s ubiquitous old forts and castles.  A lot of these were actually built for imams (religious leaders), not kings or princes. All are pretty unique as far as forts go, yet after awhile they all begin to look the same…

First one is Bahla: This is actually a World Heritage site (those of you who know me know I tend to obsess over these), and unfortunately has been under renovation since it was first listed…right after I was born. So, I only got a few good pictures from the outside, but on a positive note, there’s a very cool and crumbling old town all around the fort.  Little mud brick row houses, some vacant (and can be explored, I suppose), some actually still occupied. The only way to tell was by the presence of a door.

Jabrin fort was a shorter stopover, but certainly the most ornate and decorative castle around. It’s been restored very well, and I think the imam in charge may have been a lot more preoccupied with the arts than with defense…

Finally, Nizwa fort: known for it’s massive cylindrical tower, and quite nice in the late afternoon. Wandering around the restored, labrynthine interior wasn’t nearly as cool as the surrounding old town (another one of those…), so I left the castle pretty soon to go spelunking.

Eventually I’ll update these with pictures, once I get a decent internet connection and a guarantee of no viruses!

For my second stop on this tour, I chose to go Oman. Mostly because it was close, but also because I was hoping to meet up with a former colleague there (which I did, actually…plus the old boss!). Oh, and possibly due to the fact that I’d wanted to go there for quite some time, but was denied its proximity and convenience because of having to constantly renew my troublesome Saudi visa. What was meant to be a brief city-sightseeing stop and an Indian visa procurement turned into a rather unusual 13-day trip. What was supposed to happen: see Muscat for a few days, go on a desert crossing, get visa, go to India. Well, at least the desert crossing worked out pretty well. After contacting an adventure-minded CouchSurfer, I was directed to a desert crossing she was organizing that weekend. Rebecca, essentially the boss of Guide Oman (which mainly does these desert crossings) got me a seat in her car, and we set off to cross the Wahiba sands in a jeep…with about 35 other cars in convoy. This was apparently meant to be an “extreme” crossing compared to others; uncharted territory, soft sands, high heat, and only experienced drivers allowed. Though my proficient chauffeur may have scoffed at that designation before we started, she fully agreed by the end. Most 4x4s barely limped in to the not-quite-finish-line, almost everyone having been pulled out of the sand many times. Among the casualties were radiators, differentials, tires, tow ropes, winches, and almost people (dehydration; digging out cars is a lot of work!).

The great thing about this safari was that, unlike almost any other dune-bashing experience, this wasn’t really meant for tourists. The company is based on one man’s love for the desert (and massive financial resources to be able to set up a company based on this), and essentially caters to rich Omanis who have fancy cars and just want a fun weekend, or to expats who figured out that 4×4-driving is quite fun. So, after having dinner with the CEO of a fertilizer company, drinking whisky with a former general, and being dug out by the CEO of a certain car company’s Oman interests, I got to see why these guys like the crossings so much: they get to be themselves, and don’t have to worry about press, business meetings, or other pretensions of being super rich. Just a whole lot of revving engines, spraying sand, and moonlight campfires.

To anyone who actually reads this…sorry for the severe lack of posts over the past month!

I think, however, I have figured out a very good reason as to why I’m so far behind. When you’re traveling with a group, or even just one other person, tasks like booking transportation, developing itineraries, or doing errands can be split up between all. Solo, though, the whole burden falls on you. Sure, there’s plus sides: being able to make whatever decisions you want, stay on whatever wacky budget you choose (i.e. riding the uber-crowded 2nd class train to a 5-star gourmet lunch), and it practically forces you to meet people.

But most of the time, I’m only ever on the internet because I absolutely have to book something, or because the thing I want to see is closed for the day (or indefinitely, in the case of Bahla Fort in Oman or Ad Dir’aiyah in Riyadh). Otherwise, I’m “wasting” precious internet time that could be spent booking tickets or chatting with family/friends back home.

So then! Here’s all the things I mean to post about, and hopefully will get a chance to once I’m in Thailand and have a bit more time to chill out, instead of being constantly on the move like in India.

-The rest of Oman, travel-wise: Bahla, Nizwa, and Jabreen forts (and associated old towns and souqs), Wadi Shab, and touring around Muscat.

-A bit on the culture/history of Oman.

-Quick post on the convenience and awesome-ness of CouchSurfing…and which countries actually know how to use it.

-Arrival in India and first impressions

-Travelogues: Kochi (culture!), Ooty (weather!), Mysore (maharajas!), Hampi (ruins!), Goa (beach!), and Mumbai (crazy!).

-A brief explanation on my “volunteering” stint in Goa.

-Cultural conundrums in India…and there are TONS.

This is mostly to keep me honest, and a vague promise that I will eventually get around to writing these. The problem is – people like pictures. And that’s really difficult for me to do, given the fact that the mere action of inserting a flash drive into an Indian computer opens me up to a huge range of viruses. Which would destroy my pictures.

Stay tuned!

Once I left Madain Saleh, I received yet more police escorts to the coastal city of Yanbu (bringing the total up to 10, if I remember correctly), possibly because I was still in Madinah province. By the way, another reason posited for my constant surveillance was that perhaps they’re worried that a non-Muslim could just wander into the haram (forbidden) areas and cause mischief. Which would make sense, if I hadn’t already negotiated the tricky haram boundaries of Madinah myself…

Anyway, let’s be brief about Yanbu, because I was briefly there: it’s a merely “ok” beach town with a whole lot of chemical industries and the characteristically terribly and honking drivers. Waking up early in the morning, avoiding talking to anyone about more police escorts, I made my way to Jeddah (5 hrs!). This included almost running out of gas in the middle of absolutely nowhere, and passing numerous police checkpoints manned by maybe two apathetic/asleep officers.

The worst part of Jeddah was probably the fact that I had chosen the worst possible time and place for dropping off the poor beat-up Yaris – which, after about 1400km, brief offroad forays, and incredible speeds, was finally going to be given some rest.

I chose the corniche of Jeddah, at Thursday, 6 pm.  Eh, pretty normal right? Let’s examine the facts.  A corniche (I think it’s actually from the Arabic word “qournish”) is essentially a ocean-side promenade, where families come to have side-of-the-road picnics, young men (shebab) come to strut their stuff and show off their new rides, and all the south Asian laborers come to sit on the ground in small circles.  All this is done on most nights, but especially on the weekends, which are Thursday and Friday in Saudi.

So, not only did I pick the prime time for shebab-car-showing and picnicking, but Jeddah is home to what I believe are the absolute worst drivers I have ever seen.  Double parking, constant honking, rabid lane weaving, and complete and utter lack of roundabout knowledge (despite the city being chock-full of them) are only for the most iron of wills and quickest of reflexes. I barely survived.

Quick aside, here: how can a culture that is renowned for its kindness, generosity, and hospitality (all confirmed) be so completely rude and disrespectful once they’re behind the wheel? I guess that’s just not something that translates very well…

I got to stay with an awesome CouchSurfer host, who may have been in Jeddah long enough to actually get used to it.  German, but manages an Italian restaurant, and speaks excellent Arabic. Once again, human interaction turned out to be one of my favorite parts of a visit, and hanging out on a rooftop smoking sheesha over some moonshine was definitely cool. Some other highlights of this apparently-unheard-of city of 3.2 million people:

-The old souq, in the Al-Balad district. Composed of centuries-old coral brick houses with ancient wooden shuttered balconies, the market has a really cool atmosphere, especially around sunset.  Another strange thing: being in a souq and not being treated like a tourist. Since essentially zero western tourists end up in Jeddah (they’re all expat workers), shopkeepers weren’t entirely sure what to make of us. On another note: Some of those dilapidated houses are still occupied, mostly by Hajj overstayers (who are mostly Somalian, it seems).

-Al Baik, the best fried chicken chain that has ever existed. They pressure cook AND fry their chicken, while injecting it with spices, and then have the gall to charge half what KFC does. No wonder that the powers that be are trying to keep them in Jeddah so that KFC’s empire in Riyadh and Khobar doesn’t topple.

-Got to hang out with another CouchSurfer, who along with his other expat Syrian friends, showed me how a different class of expats chill: smoking sheesha, drinking tea/coffee, and watching Euro football. Good times.

After Riyadh, I escaped to the north of Saudi to check out one of its premier tourist attractions, Madain Saleh. Or, it would be, if anyone knew about it. I’ve even told other Saudis that I planned on going, to which their response would always be “Where?” That is, if I had even pronounced it correctly.

The town of Al-Ula and its surrounding archaeological wonders aren’t exactly easy to get to.  I had to fly from Riyadh to Madina, pick up a rental car (without any English whatsoever), then drive 5-6 hrs north. Well, that was the plan.

As soon as I tried to leave the city limits of Madinah (having passed many entrances to the Haram, or forbidden, area), the baffled police stopped my car at the checkpoint.  After a confusing conversation about needing a police escort, I awaited the incoming cop while having a late lunch of camel and rice with the rest of the Mujahaddin (National Guard). Finally, camel! Just another example of Saudi hospitality: police officers in the US would likely never invite you into their station for a traditional lunch + drinks, especially if you had tried to enter a “restricted” area uninvited. Yet there I was, joking about my unusual situation and comparing car costs with little to no English involved.

Once I got the police escort, it was a flat-out land speed record attempt to get to Al-Ula, following the “escorts” at speeds up to 150 kmh (aren’t they supposed to enforce speed limits or something?).  Which, given that my rental was a Yaris, was no mean feat.

After a lame night in the hotel (with beautiful views, but no chance of escaping to the town), I met up with my affable tour guide to check out the ruins.  A quick run-down of the highlights of the site:

-Hejaz Railway station: This was one of the main stops on the train from Damascus to Makkah, built in the early 20th century by the Ottomans for all their Hajj pilgrims. Not even really antique looking, thanks to a possibly-too-complete restoration project. There’ll even be a visitor center in the next month.

-The tombs of Madain Saleh: The Nabataens (same guys who built Petra) carved over 130 tombs and other various structures into the crazy-looking sandstone in the area. Most of the tombs are quite large, with the classic 5-step motif on the top of each facade. The insides are rather bare, but I suppose if you were cutting a tomb out of solid rock using hand tools, even a flat surface would be a lot to ask.

Outside, back in the town of Al-Ula, there’s the crumbling old town.  Walking through here (only the moderately restored bits, because the rest is pretty dangerous), it’s not hard to imagine what life could have been like in the twisting alleyways and covered bridges of the labyrinthine ruins.  The original inhabitants (the place was occupied for at least 600 years) left as late as the early 1970s, mostly because they were probably tired of living in mud brick huts.  My tour guide’s grandfather actually used to live there, and his father was born in one of the houses as well. Whoa!

Apart from the big-ticket attractions, there’s the crumbling old farmhouses right across the road from the old town, as well as a lot of neat rock formations.  We went to Elephant Rock (pictured) amid the weekend 4×4 cruisers, and then up to the top of the 1000m lookout over the town. With a not-so-subtle police SUV following us the whole way.

Topping out the day was a very enjoyable roadside picnic (a uniquely Saudi thing) with dates, coffee, and tea. Yet another favorite travel moment of mine that’s basically just a memorable conversation in a memorable place.

I’ll post more on my opinions regarding Saudi “tourism” later, but let’s end this monster of a post for now.

Well, I finally did it – quit my job, and have started slowly traveling back home via the wrong way around the world. It’s a move that many people dream of doing, and I’m pretty lucky to be able to pull it off. It certainly helps that I’m already in a prime geographical position, and have a fairly wide network of friends around the world that I can meet up with on my travels.

I finished up by saying my goodbyes, giving back all the company property (some of which I’m very glad to be rid of, such as the driving monitor!), and packing up my 42L backpack.

The first country on my list? Saudi, believe it or not.  Though I’ve complained many times about how oppressive and boring it is here, I wanted to at least give the rest of the country a chance. Imagine being a foreigner who only ever experienced Oklahoma; you’d have a bad impression of the US as well! So, first it was off to the capital, Riyadh. I’m getting back on track now, having visited the capital of every country I’ve been to (just realized I’ve missed both Hanoi and Ankara!).

Riyadh, however is a pretty unfortunate city.  Nevermind the smog, complete lack of English, horrific driving, and unscrupulous taxi drivers, there’s just nothing much to do.  Sure, there’s that big fancy Kingdom Tower (aka “The Necklace” or “The Bottle Opener”), but what other pictures have you ever seen of the city? None, I’d bet.

There’s a potentially great attraction slightly north of town though, by the name of Ad Dir’iyah. This is the ancestral home of the Al Saud family (the guys in charge here), and is somewhere around 500 years old. Between the forts, palaces, houses, and date farms, it would make a great tourist attraction.

That is, if it was open. Or if taxi drivers knew about it. Or if the park rangers were at all helpful. So I snapped a few pictures from the perimeter road, then grumpily headed back to town.

The silver lining in Riyadh (other than the surprisingly amazing National Museum) was my CouchSurfing host, Awad.  He took time out of his day to show me around the better parts (incl. the souq and castle), go out for classic Saudi cuisine, and just hang out and converse about anything and everything in the town square. Classic Saudi hospitality, right there – plus, a pretty interesting local, considering he’s a neurologist with a penchant for traveling to very un-Saudi countries!

Anyway, leaving the hustle and bustle for the north, I flew to Madinah (don’t worry, I went to the non-forbidden part), rented  a car, and started my roadtrip uneventfully enough…

I usually use long and boring night shifts to write these blog posts (based on events that have happened months ago), but this time, the company man on site regaled me with a great re-telling of the history of the US.  A company man, by the way, is our client’s representative on site; his job is essentially to yell at us and make sure we’re doing whatever we’re supposed to be doing. Oh, and sign invoices, which very often become haggling sessions.

Anyway, following a coffee-and-report-writing session, the company man on the site I’m currently on began to go into his version of the US. Many westerners have some pretty crazy impressions of Saudi Arabia (and the rest of the Arab world, I suppose), so it’s probably not surprising that the same goes for their perception of us.  So, without further ado, here is a fairly close transcription of what I must have missed in history class.

“You see, America was discovered by Christopher Columbus 1000 years ago. He came to the island and said ‘This is a paradise island!’ Then come the two kinds of the people: the good people and the bad people. In 1820 they had a big fight: the Civil War.  I know this, I know my American history, I finished American high school. By email correspondence.

So these guys fighting in Civil War, then came Ibrahim Lincoln and George Washerton, but then the non-first Americans came too (aside: he was referring to minorities. This is after I explained to him that there aren’t really any ‘first Americans’ left…). These people brought all kinds of the drugs, and now through El Paso, America is a very dangerous place. Believe me! My friend lived in Texas for school, and he said that all the black people take the weed, and all the Mexican people take the heroin and cocaine! This is very bad, very bad thing. Here, you want cigarette?”

And there you have it.  By the way, this is not the first guy who’s shared this type of view of the present-day US…regardless of how many times I attempt to explain things slightly more realistically. Thank you, American TV and movies, for perpetuating ridiculous stereotypes around the world!

For those who are interested in what I’m doing over here in Saudi, here’s the next installment in the series I thought I was going to finish much more of by now. The first one was just about finding the oil (via seismic exploration), this one’s going to be about actually getting to it. I’m not going to go into meticulous details, because drilling’s an industry all its own, with unique jargon, measurements and culture, but here’s a primer at least.

Setting up the drilling rig is the first part: land has to be cleared and leveled, a pit has to be dug (more on why you need a pit later), and the rig has to be set up.  This is called, conveniently enough, “rigging up.” This term has been adopted by about every segment in the oilfield (us engineers even refer to setting up our laptops and locking it as “rigging up”), possibly just to sound cool. Around Saudi, rigs have full camps set up around them, including a medic, mosque, gym, rec room, and cafeteria – regardless of whether they’re next to an existing camp or in the sand dunes of the Empty Quarter.

Once they get ready to drill, the roughnecks (those are the guys on the rig floor who you see on TV) start “tripping in.” The drill bit (and accompanying drill string, which is the pipe above it) rotate downwards, cutting through rock, but once you run out of pipe on the surface, you have to add some more.  The pipe in the hole is disconnected, a new joint is hoisted up the derrick (that tall superstructure frame), then the roughnecks screw it in, ready to begin drilling again.  The guy bossing them around, by the way, is the “tool pusher.” Maybe it’s because roughnecks often act like tools. Just a guess.

So, once all those cuttings are made from the drill eating the rock, where do they go? There lies the purpose of that pit mentioned earlier. Drill “mud” (basically a heavy solution containing some complex mixture of minerals) is circulated down the drill pipe, out through the drill bit (lubricating/cooling the bit as it does so), then back up between the drill pipe and the open hole (called the annulus). From there, it flows to a separator, which discards the large solid bits of rock and sends the fluid to the pit, where it is reused later.

It’s definitely not smooth sailing for the drillers…pretty much ever.  Between the time constraints and constant pushes from management, the hope that there’s even oil/gas down there, and the ever-present danger of an unexpected kick (sudden pressure jump down hole) that could lead to a dangerous blow-out, rig guys have a lot to worry about. In fact, their job in Saudi just got even more difficult, because our segment (Frac) is responsible for making them drill horizontally (normal, but still novel) in the most difficult direction they can (not normal). Too bad…at least the money is good, right?

Unlike the fjords of Norway, the old towns of Sweden and Denmark (or the sheer natural beauty of Scotland which, by the way, could soon be considered a Scandinavian country), Finland doesn’t exactly have big-name draws for tourism.  The bitter cold and expensive everything probably aren’t helping. However, the culture alone is a good enough reason to go, and I wish I could see the summer version in addition to the brief winter version I saw.

Once me and John returned from Tallinn, we took a train directly to Tampere to meet up with Lauri “Big House” (direct translation, as it turns out, of his last name). Little did we know that his mom had prepared a grand feast of traditional Finnish food for our arrival, complete with stewed reindeer and all sorts of herring appetizers! An awesome and much appreciated surprise, which I probably would have taken pictures of, but thought that may have been in bad taste…

What are the Finns known for? Drinking, rallying, and sauna-ing.  We got two of those covered, and hopefully will get rally the next time I go back. As for drinking, they certainly fall into a recently-noticed trend: the colder your country is, the more you drink. Just look at the Russians, Canadians, Irish, etc.  And what better way to compound your dehydration and relaxation than a trip to the sauna?

Sun"rise" in Helsinki

For any of you who’ve already conquered a sauna: I salute you. It was a bit more intense than “relaxing,” but perhaps that’s because it was my first time braving 70C heat and occasional waves of fiery steam from the hot rocks.  Good thing we were heavily drinking, because the numbing effect was probably my best defense. Oddly enough, the best part of the sauna is going in between the super hot inside and the super cold outside (well, they had a “heat wave” of 0C at the time…) – what a relief. Oh, and there’s nothing quite like standing outside drinking a beer next to an occasionally traveled walking path at midnight. Naked, I might add. But hey, that’s Finland apparently!

Lauri about to destroy a huge burrito

The other Lauri showed up as well – from across the country – just to hang out and show us around Tampere. The tour of the school was pretty cool, actually, and somewhere between the bomb-shelter-cum-skate-park and secret student club in the basement, I thought “hey, this might not be a bad place to go to college!” The darkness and the cold upon stepping outside at noon quickly changed that impression.

Bomb shelter/Skate park

Anyway, it was far too short of a trip, but it just goes to show how privileged I am to have good friends all around the world who will make traveling even cooler.