After having
tried in vain to get Ray's Indian visa both in Geneva and in Paris, we tried Tuesday
morning to get it from the Indian embassy in Muscat. Initially we were told that they had
to wait for a fax approval from the Indian embassy in Wellington, that the embassy in
Muscat was closed Thursday and Friday, and that we could not have the visa before Saturday
afternoon. Ray and Angela then told them about all the trouble we had in Geneva and Paris,
and showed them the Indian flight authorization for Saturday morning. They finally gave in
and issued Ray's Indian visa the same afternoon! Hurrah!!
Angela and I arranged for a scuba diving /snorkeling trip with the
Oman Diving Centre at Jussa beach. Their little cove, the lunch on their shaded terrace as
well as the diving trip by boat was simply paradise!! We love Oman! Muscat is a very
pretty city, the people are friendly and it is not very expensive. Also, there
are no tourists and the only Westerners we have met are either expats or visiting family
of expats. One of the expats was a young Irishwoman called Aoufi, also married to a
Dane called Flemming!
We spent a couple of nights at the hotel on the corniche and then
rented a 4 wheel drive Toyota landcruiser and headed for the wilderness. We swam and
snorkeled in the Bimmah Sinkhole - a large semi freshwater pool that was formed when
rainwater caused limestock rock to collapse into an underground cave. Concrete steps
have been built leading down to the pool. It didn't contain many fish - just a few
little ones and only one solitary fish of a "decent"size with a blue band around
it and yellow eyelids.
Just before nightfall - the sun sets at about 5 pm - we found a
suitable spot near the beach for Ray to sleep on the hard-packed sand, while Flemming and
I slept in the back of the landcruiser - a rather lumpy arrangement of folded down
seats, but it was less hard than the ground.
Next morning we breakfasted on melon, mango and bananas that Ray
and I had bought at the colourful vegetable market beside the fish market in Mutrah
(Muscat) the previous morning. Then we swam again in the sinkhole - this time joined
by Ray - before driving off in the direction of a Wadi that we had read about in the
Offroad in Oman guide recommended by our Irish friend. As we drove along we were
surrounded by a stark countryside of desert and towering cliffs, with the occasional
scrub. Sometimes we came across a narrow river where the vegetation of mainly palm
trees was lush in comparison. We discovered a beautiful natural swimming pool
beneath a water fall and Flemming and I were the only occupants. As the waterfall
met the pool, the water was bubbly, just like in a jacuzzi.
After a fruity lunch in the shade of a rock, we headed back in the
direction of Muscat, stopping off at a public beach this time. I went for a snorkel
and then sat on the beach to survey the scene and guard the video camera while Flemming
snorkeled. There is a large population of Indians in Muscat, and almost all the
women I saw were of Indian origin. However, even they did not swim. They sat
together in large groups, fully clothed in their saris, with their children running aound
them and down to the sea. The Omani men swam in shirts and boxer shorts. Then,
to my delight, I spotted a large shoal of flying fish, flashing like silver before they
disappeared again beneath the waves.
Back in Mutrah, we booked into a better category hotel with a
direct telephone line from the rooms. Flemming was determined to get the website up
at last, so the first thing he did was to set up the computer while I had my shower.
But, it was soon apparent that the direct phone line didn't work from our room.
We called the reception and they said they would send a technician to fix it.
But when the technician arrived two hours later, he said that there was no way of
fixing the telephone in that room and we would have to change rooms. Having unpacked
our bags I would have to repack everything when we returned from having dinner out.
We dined outside at Muscat's most swanky hotel, the 5-star Al
Bustan Palace. It was there that we discovered where all the tourists and ex-pats
dine. Most of the tables outside were taken and it was quite a lively scene.
Delicious food and impeccable service - it was a special Italian evening - and everything
was perfect except that we didn't feel we were in Oman.
Back at the Marina hotel, we changed rooms and I went to sleep
while Flemming worked on the website. Having finally succeeded in getting it all to
work, he climbed into bed at 5 am. I was very glad we weren't flying that day.
Our last day in Oman was a Friday - the equivalent of our Sunday in
Oman, so unfortunately all the museums were closed. I wasn't too disappointed as I
wanted a lazy day before the long flight to India the next day. We got a taxi to
take us to the main attractions such as the Sultan's palace and the impressive forts
before continuing on to the Oman Dive Centre for a last snorkel trip. We won't be in
snorkeling country again until we get to Thailand so we made the most of this one.
Apart from the coral, we spotted fish of all colours and shapes, needle fish, sting ray an
octopus, lion fish and little reef sharks.
Departure from the hotel was scheduled for 5.30 a.m. so before
retiring early, we ate a mediocre dinner at the hotel, where they wanted to charge almost
double the price for a bottle of wine than we paid at the 5-star Al Bustan! We drank
beer instead. |
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Lunch at Oman Diving Centre, Jussa beach |