Boating update

Husband writes:
It works! The engineer has been beavering away on our engine and at last it runs perfectly. It turns out the previous owner had barely used the boat in the past year and the whole thing needed a good clean out.

Finally we managed to get the family out and had our first adventure on the high seas. We didn’t go far, just 15 mins around the coast to a little deserted cove. Bear and Daddy went snorkelling, while Pops pretended he was cruising in Monaco, smiling at the imaginary ladies and waving to the landlubbers (also imaginary).

Wifey seems to have found her spiritual home, diving off the boat, floating in the warm water, then walking along a deserted beach.

We had a brief heart stopping moment when the main engine failed to re-start when we were wanted to set off home, but it was soon resolved with a bit of priming and some words of ‘encouragement’.

Another minor problem on the way home was not being able to refuel at the marina - apparently they don’t take credit cards on a Friday. Go figure.

All in all a successful first family voyage. We’re still getting used to handling the boat at close quarters (apologies to the man at the fueling station) but a bit of practice and we’ll be ready to take guests (if you dare).

It has made us think though. This boat is 26’ long and 8’ wide. The Moorings 4000 we have booked for our holiday next year is 40’ long and 20’ wide. Yikes!

Boating for pleasure

Husband writes: I love boats. Always have. I joined the Navy when I was 18 and even that didn’t put me off. My first foray into ‘boating’ was when my Dad picked up a couple of old, leaky canoes and we spent a good while in the garage, stinking of resin and coughing up fibreglass. Eventually they were ready to hit the water and, miraculously (sorry Dad!), they floated. Even the 3’ of ½” timber glassed into the keel to stop the thing flexing like a warm Caramel bar worked a treat.

Between then and now I’ve been on/in a fair variety of boats. I was ship’s company on HMS Ark Royal (I was occasionally allowed on the bridge, but under strict orders to not touch anything - I was aircrew after all). I sailed the Canary Isles on a 55’ Nicholson (as foredeck crew, again presumably to put me as far away as possible from anything breakable). I had a few forays on a Contessa 38 until the skipper banned me. Apparently the sound of me retching over the leeward rail, right above his bunk, all the way across the Channel kept him awake.

I even had a command for a while - The Commodore’s Barge at Rosyth. Don’t laugh - for a  time it was the fastest boat on the River Forth. Unfortunately speed didn’t help when the Commodore lost his cap overboard and I managed to stall an engine during the attempted recovery. The Commodore looked on stony faced as I plowed into the jetty and his cap sank without a trace.

So as you can see, I love boats. But they don’t necessarily agree with me.

Obviously history was never going to quash my love of boats, so here we in a boaters paradise and it’s time for a first foray into ownership. The first opportunity arose a couple of weeks ago over a beer. One of the loan service RAF blokes is leaving soon and was trying to sell his 16’ sailing catamaran. Ideal! A cheap way to get on the water, have some fun with the kids and keep the sailing juices flowing until the lottery win and the 50’ cruiser. So a deal was done.

Following on behind came another unexpected opportunity. A colleague at work had found the perfect family motor boat and wanted someone to share the costs. A 26’ catamaran, 200hp outboard, bags of space, well looked after. So another agreement was reached.

At last, this week, the dream of having our own boat (2 in fact) was about to come true. First to get the 16’. I met V down at the beach to learn how to rig and launch the boat. We went out for a sail and everything went perfectly. After an hour or so we headed for the beach and the final hand over. We dropped the foresail so I could sail single handed as Bear donned her brand new buoyancy jacket, grinning from ear to ear. Finally we waved V off and and pulled the boat back into the water.

Just as I was lifting Bear onto the boat, not 2 minutes after V had left, there was a slight ‘ping’ and the mast and mainsail dropped gracefully over the side.

Next came the handover of the motor cat. T and I decided we’d take the boat out ourselves and get properly acquainted before we risked the lives of our families to our dubious nautical experience. A good job we did too.

We launched smoothly, gracefully slipping from the trailer and heading out to sea at a stately 8 kts. A mile out we decided the engine was nicely warmed and it was time to see what she would do.

2000rpm......2500.........3000.........cough......cough...........splutter............silence.

The next 45 minutes was spent trying to get it started again. We tried every combination of choke in, choke out, spare fuel tank, spare fuel feed line, engine primed, throttle open, throttle closed, all to no avail. Thankfully the spare engine started with a quick tug, so every 10 mins or so we would flash it up, head away from the rocks the wind was blowing us towards, then shut it down and reconnect the fuel to the main engine to try again.

Alas, we couldn’t get the damned the thing started. Our maiden voyage ended with us chugging back at 5 kts on the little 30hp spare. I sat on the swim deck keeping the manual throttle open while Thierry steered with the trailing main engine. Co-ordinating throttle and steering to get back on the trailer was an evolution we definitely need more practice at, but we managed without major injury to the boat or personnel.

So now we are the proud owners/co-owners of two boats, neither of which has a reliable primary means of propulsion.

My experience with boats looks fated to continue repeating itself. Updates to follow.

Summer has officially arrived............and it’s a strange affair. Throughout May the temperature was slowly creeping up, but as it was only a degree or so at a time it kind of went unnoticed. Right up to the point that you left the house, walked through the pizza oven and got into the car.

Just when we thought it would just keep getting hotter, until the birds fell from the trees ready cooked and nasal hair crinkled with each breath, June arrived. May ended with an official 51°C (55°C indicated on the car). The following morning, the temperature had dropped to a paltry 37°C and all was well. Right up to the point you left the house, walked through the turkish bath and got into the car.

37°C isn’t bad, but allied to 75% humidity, it gets a little uncomfortable. Walking from the car to the aircon comfort of the shopping mall you see people everywhere doing the expat shuffle - trying to look cool and in control whilst glancing over the shoulder to check for dark patches in the butt cleft. The blokes add a little shimmy to ‘free-up the boys downstairs’ and the women heft the handbag a little higher and glue their arms to their sides.

The rest of June has been a mixture. Some days the hot, dry desert air wins the battle and some days it’s the cooler, moist sea breeze. Throwing back the curtains you can get a pretty good idea of what to expect. If you can see the garden but not the mountains it’s hot and dusty (floppy hat and factor 50). If you can’t see the garden it’s condensation on the outside of the windows and it’s going to be a drippy day (double deodorant and baggy shorts).

Apparently this to and fro lasts about a month before the sea breeze wins and holds sway for July and August. Come September, it starts all over.

One unusual aspect of the hot weather is the tap reversal, and it takes some getting used to. The ‘cold’ water tank is on the roof and as a result gets mighty hot. The ‘hot’ water tanks are inside, in 24°C air-conditioned comfort (with the immersion heater switched off). You end up turning on the cold tap for your shower, then adding hot to cool it down. For the first couple of weeks of the really hot weather, as people make their bleary-eyed way to the bathroom,  I imagine I can hear the yelps of surprised expats echoing around the city as a counterpoint to the morning call to prayer.

Biggest adventure so far!

Husband writes: Day trip to Wadi Bani Awf

With temperatures rising and day trips to the beach becoming more of an ordeal, the best place to go for a day out is up into the mountains. With temperatures up to 20°C cooler than at sea level it makes a pleasant change and gives relief from the summer without having to rely on the ubiquitous aircon.

So a day out was planned. We'd not worry about setting out at silly o'clock, because the route chosen would only take a couple of hours to the top, and get us to our intended picnic site by lunchtime. I'd heard that there was now a tarmac road over the mountains which would speed our passage, and that Wadi Bani Awf was a spectacular trip.

Here was my first mistake. Unfortunately I omitted to check that the tarmac road and Wadi Bani Awf where one and the same route. As it turned out, both set off from roughly similar areas, and both headed up the mountain in a similar direction, but unfortunately Wadi Bani Awf has no tarmac whatsoever, and according to the guide book involves "Challenging off-road mountain and wadi driving". Yes, we have the guide book (and luckily we had it in the car with us) but no, I didn't bother to read it properly before setting out.

Apart from the quote above, other comments which may have set alarm bells ringing were:

"....perhaps the most spectacular mountain road in Oman", "Tragically, there have been casualties in this area" and the classic "....a stone memorial marks the spot where one unfortunate driver failed to negotiate the hairpin bends with vertiginous consequences."

Lesson: Read the f*****g book.

The drive from home to the foot of the mountains was uneventful. The readout in the car told us the outside temperature had hit 48°C so we were looking forward to having our picnic at 30°C, at 6500'. Eventually we reached the appropriate signpost and happily turned off the main road towards our destination. Looking back, I have to wonder why nobody mentioned the fact that instead of a smooth, well defined tarmac road stretching off into the distance, majestically climbing the mountain in long elegant sweeps, we were now bumping along a rough gravel track towards a deep cleft in a vertical wall rising 4000' above us.

But press on we did, and for a good while it was a fantastic experience. For the first few miles the track runs along the dry wadi, flanked by lush date palms with the almost vertical canyon sides towering above. At this time of year there's very little surface water in the wadi, but the water height marker bears witness to the dramatic flash floods that can occur when there is rain further up in the mountains. At various spots along the way, the canyon opens out slightly and tiny small-holdings appear along the margins, growing whatever they can on the only flat terrain for miles around. These 'farms' are really no more than over-blown vegetable patches, but it's enough for people to survive here. During the dry months, water from high up is funneled down through man made water courses called 'falaj', irrigating each village and farm on the descent in turn. This is the way it has been done for hundreds of years, and is still as effective now.

At this stage the track was fairly good so Wifey decided it was time for her first off-road driving experience. Nervous at first, she soon got into the swing of things and by mile 2 she was barreling along nicely. Thankfully the car doesn't have a hand brake or she would have been tail-sliding it round the hairpins.

Further up we came to the village of Az Zamah, another remarkably lush oasis in the hot, dry mountains. Initially we missed the turn to head further up the mountain, and followed the main wadi to a dead end. There we found a spectacular gorge heading off deep into the surrounding rock. The first few hundred metres were flooded due to a man-made damn but it looked shallow enough to wade and give access to a spectacular walk. We'll be back to explore.

After re-tracing our steps for half a mile we found the track we needed hidden between some date palms and a goat pen. The first few hundred metres were fine but when we got to the first steep hairpin and I suggested permanent 4WD, Wifey decided she'd had enough in the driving seat. We flicked the switch to engage the 4WD and carried on with only the occasional slip/slide. On the next descent we rounded a corner to be confronted by a JCB, crewed by jolly looking bloke and engaged in rebuilding the road. We sat in stunned silence for a moment or two, and it was at this point we began to wonder what exactly we thought we were doing. We were trying to negotiate a rough gravel track, barely wide enough for the car, up a mountain we'd never been to before, with a guide book we hadn't read. The track had been getting progressively rougher, narrower and steeper as we'd gone along but we hadn't noticed as we marveled at the spectacular scenery around us. As we sat there waiting for the JCB to finish the road we had to make a decision, carry on or go back. Looking at the rudimentary map in the guide book, it appeared we were a good ¾ of the way to the top so we decided to press on. Surely we'd broken the back of it and it couldn't get any worse? Besides, there was nowhere wide enough to turn around.

A mile later it got worse. Much worse. There were stretches so steep we had to crawl up in low ratio, so narrow there would have been nowhere to stand if you opened the door, and crests where the road disappeared below the bonnet and there was nothing but sky through the windscreen. Occasionally there was the respite of a brief, level, interlude as we passed through a slight widening of the gorge. Invariably there were signs of life at every spot large enough to accommodate the meagrest of farms, We passed tiny terraced fields, stone built houses clinging to the cliff, and even a football pitch straddling the road. There was one particularly beautiful spot where a collection of houses overlooked a date palm grove, with lush grass beneath and small standings of corn growing next to the wadi. Just beyond, where a spring appeared from under the bare rock face, a small damn held a pool of water, the reservoir for every home further down the wadi.

From here on up it was a seemingly endless series of tight hairpins, steep climbs and a still deteriorating road. Where it opened out and we could go a bit quicker we'd go back to high ratio with hope in our hearts, only to be forced to stop and go back to low to cross a washed out section or crawl round an impossible looking switch-back.

At last, 4 hours after leaving home, we reached the top. Creeping round the last corner we were suddenly confronted with the glorious sight of tarmac. I imagine we had the same feeling as the first explorers to set off onto a never crossed ocean and, months later, sight land for the first time. Natalie would have dismounted and kissed the warm asphalt if there had been room on her side to get out.

And was the end of our adventure. We had a lovely picnic in the cool mountain air, with a spectacular view back down the route we'd come. To celebrate, Pops had his first stand-up pee in the great outdoors. Not a bad place to do it, looking down from a 6500' mountain! From there it was smooth tarmac all the way home and the only event to spoil our swift passage home was Pops, projectile vomiting. Unperturbed by 4 hours bouncing up a mountain, 15 mins on the twisting tarmac descent was more than his little stomach could handle. It was quite spectacular too. He managed to get grape juice, tomato skins and humus all the way from his car seat to the dashboard.

It was a long day, but a great adventure. Now that we've done it once, we'd be happy to take any visitors with a spirit of adventure back into the wadi. There are lots of other routes and detours to shorten the journey, and with planning we could incorporate camping en-route. Next step is to buy the trekking guide and get away from the roads.

I might even read that one before setting off.

p.s. If anyone is interested, I've plotted the route and added some photos on Google Earth. If you want the file, drop us an email or leave a comment.

Rain

Husband writes: It's raining. Again. That's three times this year!

And the temperature has dropped. The car reckons it's 20 C. That's a fall of 17 C since yesterday.

I didn't sign up for this kind of hell!

Wadi Bashing (well, more Wadi Tickling).

Husband writes: A typical Friday (Sunday) morning in the Mitchell household:

Wake up late. Leisurely breakfast in jammies. Mum and dad chill on the sofa, F draws quietly, C careering around the house on his toy car, shrieking at every corner.

"What shall we do today?"
"Shall we go out somewhere?"
"Yeah, ok."

Pause 20 minutes for another cup of tea.

"Where do you fancy going?"
"How about we go out for a picnic?"
"Sounds good."

Another 20 minutes pass.

"Where shall we go?"
"I read Wadi Fanja is nice."
"Ok, shall we aim to set off by 10?"
"Sounds good. What time is it now?"

"Errrrr. 11.30. And we have to be back in time for F to go for a party at 4!"

And so another leisurely morning turns into a mad panic. Kids who were quite happy playing around the house are dragged, complaining, upstairs to get dressed. The fridge is raided and dumped wholesale into the cool box. Rolls are taken out of the freezer: "They'll be fine by the time we get there". Drinks are packed and repacked.

"I don't want mango juice, I want strawberry!"
"But I don't like strawberry, I want apple!"

The tub of fresh pineapple dumps it's juice all over the kitchen floor. The salad leaks olive oil onto the biscuits. The tub of feta you were saving turns out to be more yoghurt than cheese.

At last, the swimming bag is packed, the boot is loaded with enough food for a 2 week expedition and the kids are strapped, still complaining that they were in the middle of something vital, into the back seat and the adventure begins.

And it turned out to be a lovely afternoon, despite the satnav taking us to the the local landfill site first (maybe I should have programmed it in conjunction with the guide book).

It's a little nerve wracking taking your lovely new car off road, but following in the tracks of some canny locals we were soon slip-sliding our way across the gravel beds of the wadi, wading axle deep as we crisscrossed the stream, and bottling out when it looked like 4L may be required. We found a nice spot right by the water and within minutes the kids had forgotten all about whatever essential item they'd been forced to leave behind in the playroom. A stream with warm water to paddle in and stones to play with beats My Little Pony and Lightning McQueen any day. Ok, well, it'll do for an hour or two.

It was just like one of the wonderful days out I remember from growing up in Scotland. Except we didn't have to wear raincoats while paddling, we didn't need hot pea and ham soup to warm us afterwards, and we didn't eat our sandwiches staring through the steamed up windows of the car.

But very reminiscent all the same. Although I did miss the thickly buttered doorsteps of home made fruit loaf (spiced please, Mum).

23°34'7.71"N
58° 6'56.27"E

First camping adventure

Well we've been on our first camping trip in Oman. It was touch and go for a while; the invitation to join some friends going down to Finns arrived a couple of weeks ago and we were very keen to go. Only snag was a complete lack of gear. With our container still at sea we had the sum total of one sleeping bag, a small BBQ and a torch with no batteries. Hardly conducive to a relaxing family weekend away.

Thankfully, with two days to spare our container arrived and a mad delve into the 180+ boxes was required to retrieve our camping gear. Having never been camping here before we adopted the belt and braces approach and decided to take EVERYTHING. By the afternoon prior to the planned departure we had a pile higher than the car stacked ready for packing. No problem, I'll just pop the roof bars on and most of it can be strapped on top leaving the boot to hold some extra jumpers (?!) and a spare cooler of beer.

Wrong. The roof bars didn't fit the new car. Several panic filled hours later, another 100km on the car and 20 rials in the pocket of a very resourceful Indian mechanic and I arrived home with my new roof bars. Which still didn't fit.

After an agonising hour of whittling down our kit and careful packing we at last set off, minus a camp table, some buckets and spades, extra blankets (what were we thinking?!) and, most importantly, the spare case of beer.

We arrived at the G's in Azaiba in time to see A loading the last of what appeared to be a dozen, extra large, coolers. If only we had the roof box..........

A final detour to the Sultan Centre to meet the others and after introductions we set off in convoy towards Tiwi. The drive is stunning, through narrow wadis into wide valleys, almost imperceptibly climbing to the plateau then the sudden winding drop-off down to Qurayyat and the coast. The sections of new road no doubt take away from the sense of adventure somewhat (and confuse the heck out of the satnav) but it does make the trip quicker.

A last few kilometers along the coast and finally we turn off the highway and onto the dirt. The tracks are well worn and we're not exactly forging a trail through undiscovered wilderness but it does get us away from the nearest civilisation and right down to the beach.

The setting is stunning. Behind us a couple of kms of flat, open desert backed by Al Hajar Ash Sharqi rising up to early 6000'. In front of us is the low rise of the sand dunes where we set up our shades or "establish the admin area" as the Other Mr. M. would put it. Half an hour later and we're feet-up with the first cold beer of the weekend. I was all for cracking the first tinny on arrival, but the cautionary tale of a previous camping trip was warning enough.

Legend has it that one happy camper hit the cooler on arrival and didn't stop. Several hours later, an irate wife tried to go to bed only to find the tent half assembled, the air beds un-inflated and her drunken husband face down under the sagging canvas, naked from the waist down. Apparently they haven't been back since.

And there we were. Nothing to do but go for a swim, relax in the reclining camp chairs (you have to take a little luxury with you), suck down another cold one, and watch the kids running wild. The beach was sandy to the waterline to mid-tide but as it went out further rock pools were revealed to the delight of the children. On the sandy portion, little crabs dug holes and built up the spoil in impressive castles to woo the lady crabs. The hermit crabs were everywhere and some of the less fortunate/slower ones were scooped up and collected together in a bucket to be prodded by little fingers. They were of course released back into the wild after suitable 'scientific' examination.

Finally it was time to get the BBQ going. We all had different techniques, with varying degrees of success. Gaz goes for a liberal spray of lighter fluid and is cooking in 20 minutes. A breaks out his secret weapon, the huge match-cum-firelighter and builds an impressive looking pyre. It takes a bit longer but with the satisfaction of not resorting to the 'cheats' way. I'm not sure what The Other Mr. M. actually did, but when he started it was broad daylight. By the time he was producing anything edible he was cooking by torchlight and poor Mrs. M. was well on the road to ruin with a couple of Pimms under her belt and no solids.

I used a little of each technique. I started by following the instructions on the briquet bag and built little piles of pyrotechnic perfection. Unfortunately after half an hour frantic fanning and blowing I was still no nearer to getting the snorkers on the go. A volunteered one of his super-lighters and soon there was a gentle smoldering but still not enough to cook by. A quick trip to borrow Gaz's petrol (hoping no-one would see me succumb to the dark side) and soon we were shoveling half cooked chicken kebabs and shoe-leather steaks down our necks - heaven!

Several beers later we gathered around the camp fire on the beach. Domestic Goddess had vast supplies of marshmallows and cookies which we toasted on sticks and made marshmallow sandwiches to the delight of everyone. The moon was full and amazingly bright so there was no brilliant starry night but the cool light over the ocean and desert was awesome.

The following morning brought more of the same. A leisurely breakfast (boiled eggs were nice but no match for the aromas coming from the bacon in A's pan) was followed by a refreshing swim in the Indian Ocean. Is it really early March? The Other Mr. M. had the older kids doing drill on the beach while the younger (and probably smarter) ones convinced A to drag them around the ocean in the inflatable dinghy. Lunch came and went between stints of castle building, hole digging, paddling, swimming and mad running about for no apparent reason.

Unfortunately, by 3pm we had to start packing up to head home. Just bad luck that the one day I had to work that week was the next day. Still, it was probably for the best as our cold beer had run out and we were down to the bottom of our food cool box. We set off home about 4pm, waving goodbye to the others as they went about their preparations for another BBQ and blissful night around the camp fire.

It was a fantastic introduction to camping on Oman. Unfortunately as we head towards April the rising temperature means the beach camping season is not with us for long. Hopefully we'll get at least one more weekend in before we're restricted to day tips and weekends in the mountains. Priorities now are to get the roof bars sorted and get hold of another couple of cool boxes!

For those of you on who want to look it up, we were at (roughly!): 22°57'12.10"N, 59°11'56.93"E

Culinary help required

One of the beauties of living somewhere new is the opportunity to try new things. One of the problems with living somewhere new is that sometimes you have no idea what these new things are.

The other day we were in the supermarket (LuLu's - true, I swear) and I started looking beyond the boring carrots, imported apples and extortionate broccoli. Casting my eyes over the Bitter Gourd, Wallar Pappadi and Banana Pindi I felt I should make more of an effort to branch out from the usual meat and two veg.

But where to start? Take the Snake Guard. Do I peel it, mash it or hang it from the front door as a warning to others? As for the Jackfruit, what the heck do you do with a prickly green medicine ball?

Google was very helpful regarding the aptly named Beli Fruit. "Useful for the treatment of diarrhea as well as constipation. Ripe fruit has a special laxative effect.". Forgive my ignorance, but if I'm a little 'irregular' should I take this or not? Judging the ripeness would appear to be critical. But where do I start with something I've never seen before?

Altogether, I noted the names of 32 fruits and vegetables I either didn't recognise at all, or which looked bizarrely different to their similarly named counterparts available in the UK.

Anyone who can help with hints or tips, please let us know.

It's in your interest. Everyone who comes to visit risks being served something potentially delicious and exciting but which turns out to resemble a cubed sea slug. 

Items of interest include:

Powtta, Tindly, Drum Stick, Suran, Kalam, Banana Flower, Chow Chow, Thibbatu, Mutter, Aravi, Anar, Tamarind (the whole thing, not just the jar of paste!).

Friends and coffee mornings, amongst other things

I've made a few friends that I'm sure (well, hoping!) will become quite firm. One Mum took me to the nursery as her son goes there. She invited me for a coffee in the shopping mall but I couldn't make it as we were getting my resident's card... But even if I don't make firm friends here for a while, there are always people around looking out for us and whom we can talk to.

The house still feels and looks like a holiday home. Our container has now been delayed until 1st March. Once we get our things that will be a bit better and more organised. But we don't know how long we will be here before we get moved to the complex. I can't just sit twiddling my thumbs not doing anything with the house for months. So we're just getting on with it and deal with it when it happens. So we went to a couple of furniture shops last night. It's amazing what you chose when you're in a sunny country! Even Husband loves the heavy, ornate wood and the sumptuous, garish colours! But priorities say that we need a dishwasher first and then a barbeque (yep, a priority!) then we can start adding things. We bought some crockery in the week finally, as we have to return the loaned dishes mid-March.

The garden is dry and needs working on. A few things are overgrown and I'm desperate for my secateurs. It will be sorted once I get my gardening things. Although it is a thankless task sweeping the leaves up from the olive trees. The front step needs sweeping every day. There is a road near here with just nurseries and garden centres on, at least ten! Apparently you can't get all you want in one place though!

OK, as alien as it is to me, we now have a maid. Well, I'm telling myself she's a cleaner who comes is a couple of days a week!
 
One of the ladies organised a coffee morning in the club on Thursday. There were quite a few women there - it was really nice actually and just the sort of thing I saw myself doing being out here! I'm going to the Quilt Group/sewing guild tomorrow, much to Husband's amusement. They meet once a month. I wasn't interested at first as I thought it would be the old women meeting place but apparently there is a broad spectrum, old, young, native and expat.

C's swimming has come on incredibly. His confidence doubled in a week. He is now jumping in and kicking up to the surface on his own. The main thing for me is that he is actually lying on his back - he hated doing that in the pool at home. F is doing so well too, goes without saying really...she loves trying to touch the bottom with her feet and swimming up like a mermaid!

We've had loads of trouble getting our landline sorted. It's just a farce actually. And very incredible that anything actually works here or gets done at all. I'll not go in to detail as I'm sure Husband will take the opportunity to rant. Don't ask him about the getting the new car either....

Not a great start to the day...no sleep...It. Is. Noisy. Where is that peaceful tranquil Oman I was expecting? This bit isn't! Our housing complex is next to the main road - our house's location could be worse though; we're adjacent and a bit further in, at least we not right by it (I'm being positive!) - we're not far from the airport and the Omani Air Force have been playing with their jets (well, not at midnight obviously). Oh, and Husband's snoring seems to have got louder...or maybe it echoes more around the tiled and marbled house!!!! I came back upstairs at 2am but set up the duvets in C's room. He has been unsettled, understandably. He's been up 2 or 3 times the last couple of nights, so I'm now paranoid he'll get up and wake Husband (who has an early start) and not see me on the floor. Then I'm worried F would come in looking for me and wake him. So really not much sleep to be had. Sod's law they both sleep through! I heard the prayers at 5am. It's very haunting yet it was a simple reminder that we are abroad. F heard them another time and we compared them to the church bells of Holy Cross back home that we could hear every Sunday.

I've been feeling a bit cooped up this morning. Hubby's straight in to a routine and we're in the house with no idea what to do with ourselves. We're tired as well I think.

First coffee in Oman...albeit Costa... We can walk to the local shopping centre from the house. The kids and I went to the local grocery shop where I had a Lee Evans moment...let me explain. I don't know what tour it was but Lee Evans was talking about women who take pushchairs to supermarkets and load up 2 weeks worth of shopping on it [I'm sniggering thinking about it...] You turn back and the buggy is on it's back and the child has his legs in the air...(can you see where this is going?) I'm loading shopping in the basket that is on the handle...I pop in the bottle of juice we need...'oooh, what's this other juice...great, look F, it includes 8 vitamins...' [creeeak...] I look back and there is Callan on his back looking quite horrified! Any other time, and if I hadn't have seen Lee Evans I would have been so embarrassed but I was p**sing myself today! It made me feel better. I have to keep smirking to myself.

There were lots of Omani children in the shopping centre. I smile at them but their mum or dad does not acknowledge it and seem to whisk them off. Yet they smile at my children. I'm imagining maybe, that they avoid the western woman...?

C had his hair touched again by a youngish man (late twenties I'd say) who was walking with his wife.

I'm on the step having a cup of Home. Still not at the stage I want to be! Am I restless? I'm still washing up. I'm still doing laundry. I'm still tidying up.

Wow. We've been watching the news on the snow at home. I'm so glad I'm not doing the school/nursery run. I crashed on the ice before on Lewes Road in Isfield. I couldn't bear to head out as it is now, I'd be scared stiff. Drive safely everyone!

The shops here shut about 1/2pm and reopen about 4pm. So Hubby had a few errands to do so headed out. He went to buy a washing machine, sort out the phone at Omantel and pay the car loan. He was out for 3 hours. Everything takes so long! I'm not sure if it is because of the paperwork or that the Omanis are just relaxed and disorganised!?

Because the packers back home packed my wardrobe quicker than expected, I had to wear my brown Fat Face cords today. Hot! (temperature, not level of womanly sexiness that I so often emit(?)). So I bought a couple of very long floaty skirts - very swishy - and some cotton tunics. A long one was 5 Omani Rials (about £8) and a short one was 3.5 OR (£5). Nice. Later I'm told that I should have haggled.

F was dancing to the Arabian music in the shop. Very cute. She has not questioned the women's dress and veils - she is very accepting. Probably a good approach to have here for so many things!

Women seem to wear different things here. Mostly black abayas with black headscarves, some with coloured scarves, we have seen one or two women wearing the abaya but with no headscarf, some abayas have been another colour or even patterned. One was a beautiful Chinese floral print all over on black. The younger girls, around 10 or 11 years old wear their own clothes with headscarves. I can't decide yet whether it is a case of 'anything goes' or the styles are according to age/family/staus/mother/married...I am embarrassed to say that it is certainly highlighting yet challenging my very little knowledge of Islam.

Still surreal...

Oh, my god - we really did make it our here in the nick of time what with the British weather...we wouldn't have made it for days if we had planned to leave any later!

I called school this morning - we decided that F would start on Saturday for the new week rather than one day and then the weekend (remember that the weekend here is Thursday and Friday!). I'm jotted my notes down for today on the front step...I'm not quite at the stage of wondering what the fuss has been about. Although I do have a cup of 'home', as Lolopo put it perfectly! So all is good...we're getting there. I'm just thinking about Neighbour - it's taken her some time to settle and I don't think she's there yet.

The garden needs doing...it is dry!...there are olive leaves everywhere....but some beautiful pink flowers...the tiniest bird keeps landing on some of the orange flowers (don't know the name). The bird seemed no larger than a wren and was bluey black in the sunlight.

Although when Hubby asked me on the first night what I thought, the first word was 'isolated' but this seems a slightly harsh word to describe it. I'm making the most of the relative peace and tranquillity as it will all kick off eventually as soon as I get thrown in to the reality of it all, what with driving, school runs etc (oh, and finishing my Uni assignments! - this serves as a reminder to me!)

Well, I am being reminded of the removal men's efficacy...I have only one pair of cool trousers! Rubbish. Again, that will teach me to be more organised at removal time (hopefully that won't be for a LONG time - within Oman or back home!) It does of course mean a shopping trip. City Centre (name of a mall) has lots of lovely clothes shops. It has an unusual (ok, maybe unexpected in my eyes) selection of shops from stores that sell abayas (I never thought you could vary a black gown in quite so many ways!) to western style clothing stores (very tight tops on store mannequins with outline of nipples showing...!) to lingerie shops incidentally called Woolworths...I wonder if they would have survived in the UK selling just frilly undies?) Plenty of Omani women were in the shop. I'm not entirely sure they are as restrained and restricted as I believed they would be. Having said that, Neighbour said that you can't wear a bikini or swimming costume on a public beach, the smaller beaches are ok as there are never many people here. I wonder, however, relating this to what I've read in the Resident's Guide to Oman, that you can wear a bikini or swimming costume but be aware that you will be stared at.

First purchase for the house - a lovely red vase for the front room (M&S!).

First full day

Husband was due to restart his course tomorrow but he was asked to go today. I met next door - they have been here a couple of months I think. She said it was a process of slowly settling and found it quite tough at times. Her youngest daughter is beside herself with being here so that's contributed to the slow settling. I think it is best to do these things the younger the children are - this opportunity definitely came up at the right time for us.

Bear has not been too happy with the heat. And this is their winter! (Although it has been quite warm by all accounts) Hopefully it's just a case of her acclimatising. Will she be ok for school tomorrow? As the day wore on this was not the case! She definitely won't be going to school! She seemed to just get more hyperactive the more tired she became! We made it to the beach in the evening thought and this seemed to focus them both. We all paddled in the Indian Ocean! How lush!!!

We've had the first case of hair touching! Bear had hers touched when she went out with Husband yesterday. When we went out earlier today, Pops had his touched twice. It was almost absent minded. The ladies were just walking past us in the opposite direction and held out their hand to rub the hair between their fingers. It was so sweet and he didn't seem to notice.