Possibly taking the Islamic dress code a bit too far...

Any ideas what these do?!

Spotted them in the old Souk in Muscat, Oman. Couldn't help but find it very funny.

Not your average haircut... In Oman

That haircut…

SO I decide to go and get a haircut from my local friendly Indian haircutter in downtown Muscat. I knew haircuts by Indians for Indians are usually cheap and having seen this same barber cut the hair of a local Omani I figured he must have some sort of following. Following schmollowing, how wrong I was.

So I take my place asking for an 8 on top and 3 on back and sides. Pretty simple stuff you see, can’t really go wrong there. Man retorts in broken Engerlish: ‘SOLDJER KUT’(said in deep Indian accent)… erm, that’s not how I like to refer to it sir, but if you insist. Perhaps his vision of an 8-3 wildly differs from mine…

Things aren’t going too bad, I mean how much can you mess up with clippers? Not a lot. But things start getting a bit weird when Mr Barber’s face cleaning brush (y’kno, from all the hair etc) is not some soft-caressing type, but you rough-n’-rugged home DIY brush, with everlasting bristles. Ok, forgiven for this one.

Having cut the hair on my neck, this barber, who seems to love using this diy brush for everything, decides to use his brush on my recently shaved neck! NO SIR! What are you doing using a thick-evil-bristle-brush on my now-baby-soft-recently wounded neck? Idiot me just kept these comments to myself of course. Throughout Mr Barber pulls out his little spray can, usually a little bottle used to wet hair by spray, every few minutes and drenches my face more than my hair, seemingly getting silent pleasure out of it watching me squirm. And just when I think that my head is going to feel the cool breeze of a hair dryer Mr Barber decides to use the best tools available to man, his hands! I tell you guys, I didn’t half enjoy having my head frantically shaken as if to produce the same effect as a hair dryer. With my feathers thoroughly ruffled I, thinking of you, readers, and decide to ask for a shave because, surely, that would spice up an already good blog-post.

Now just a little note… I’m not even sure he would have understood me had I protested at this brutal treatment. This man’s language capacity (compromised already) was clearly spread 50/50 between Arabic and English… but with an already limited capacity split in half, the man was no communication wizard.

And now to the shave. Again this plant-pot sprayer comes out and my face is drenched. Mr Barber starts rubbing water into my facial hair. He spends over 5 mins doing this. What?! How on earth could rubbing water into a face help it pre-shave? So, beginning to panic at this random human-being’s haphazard techniques, I demand he uses shaving foam and a new razor. Fair enough, you would have thought. And what does he use to spread the foam on my face? One of those things you use to spread PolyFilla to seal a wall gap… that’s right, a plastic brush (brush was plastic). My confidence in this man was beginning to get somewhat stretched. Then comes the shave itself… done fairly well I might add (my conclusion, until I notice the wounds)… For the wounds he brings out this strange translucent round shaped thing (remember no glasses worn) and begins to frantically rub it against my face. Surely not the thing to do when I’ve got a now heavily wounded pizza face?! For some reason he picks a spot on my neck and frantically rubs it with his magic stone… this part of my neck is soft and it rubs against my trachea (wind pipe)… so Mr Barber had a good laugh watching me, freshly diced, choking in his chair.

And to round this all off, out comes that bloody plant-spray to drench my face.

So, all this for 1.70 sterling…

No surprise then, you’d probably say.

Worth a long look at...

Here's one for those human rights trainspotters out there...

Human Rights Watch World Report 2006

Basically a 532 page report on the human rights record of over 60 countries during 2005.

I haven't waded my way through much of it but you can trust HRW when it comes to that subject, so get reading!

(ok, at least a page?)

Haha...

Found while linking to a book in my previous post:

In Praise of Older Women

with some classics that I think you'll love, to include:

'An older woman always carries a purse full of emergency supplies. Young women go hungry and bleed to death every time there's a natural disaster.'

' An older woman is a cheaper date. A younger woman will cost you 12 beers, but an older woman will sleep with you after a cup of a herbal tea. '

' An older woman will never accuse you of "using her." She's using you. '

What are you reading?

Do share...

Last book was the In Praise of Older Women by Stephen Vizincsey... Top book, recommeded for any post-21 year old harking back to the days when they would fantasise about older women. And that's as far as we're going on that topic.

Moved on to Darfur: The Ambigious Genocide by Gerard Prunier, an excellent central and east African scholar who wrote probably the most comprehensive book there is on the Rwandan Genocide. Not typical holiday reading (hey, forgotten that i'm on a year long holiday?!).. The guy doesn't mess about in his scathing criticism of the many deserving factions in Sudanese politics. What surprised me, though, half way into this book is the extent to which Gaddafi contributed to chaos in Sudan and the extent to which this contributed to the present crisis and crimes against humanity being committed there. And Gaddafi, having fuelled civil war in Chad, Sudan and Sierra Leone is now a friend of the US... yet the man should be thrown in front of an international tribunal. Oh Politics!

So, days 2 and 3 in Oman...

Day 2:

Went to a Nizwa village about 2 hours outside the capital Muscat. I'm convinced that the nice friendly Omani coach driver always hits themselves up with Amphetamines before that long drive, explaining why we seem to zoom round corners at 100mph. Doesn't help digestion or sleep but you sure know that your friendly white robed boy is trying his best to get to the destination on time. How thoughtful.

So arrive in Nizwa at midday. Start searching for a taxi to take me about 50km out to an impressive rural 17th C. Portuguese-built fort called Fort Jibreen. Now for all you Arabic speakers I just thought i'd point out that Omanis pronounce their Arabic 'Jeem' like the Egyptians (with a 'ga')... yet they use some common Iraqi words like 'zein' etc... which makes for a nice cocktail. Fort was incredibly impressive sand-washed and housing over 30 rooms with splendid views of the Omani mountain ranges (Omani is very mountainous btw). Next over to semi-inhabited mud-hut (hence semi) village. People lived in these things?! (I guess they did.)

Then back to Nizwa where I went shopping for a DishDasha. Which is those long robes typically worn by Gulf Arabs... I got myself a classy all-white one and a traditional Omani hat. Fancy dress parties here I come!

Something noted about Oman food here. It's heavily influenced by South-East Asian cooking... they boys scoff alot of Biryani and their commonly ate meat includes Mutton and Camel Meat. Not a big fan of Mutton though, the chew factor is just too much for me.

Day 3:

Cant seem to get to sleep in this bloody hotel. It's name 'raha' is supposed to mean 'break' but what i've got here is far from it. I wasn't told that as part of the package: clubs nights both upstairs and downstairs. Wearing ear plugs now during sleep, only my ears feel alot bigger when I sleep now why is disorientating!

Went to a fantastic old Souq (market) in Muscat today. Smells of spices and all kinds of scents ranging from Frankincense to Amber were wafting through the Souq. Occasional harrassment by shop keepers to get in their store but thankfully I had my heavenly possession of Shure E2c ear phones which blocks most outside noise and produces sound like professional earplugs. That'd set you back about 50 smackers but it's well worth it, particularly on the tube... letting you drift into your own world. And indeed I did just that, sitting on the Muscat corniche, fat Cuban cigar in my right hand (a habit alot of my friends are hating) and a book about genocide in the other (strange habits indeed).

Finished my journey with a trip to the critically acclaimed Al-Bustan Palace (Hotel). It's not just conveniently named a Palace, it actually is. Take a look at these amazing photos

Bye bye Oman tomorrow morning!

Touchdown!.... in Oman

{PHOTO: Burj Al-Arab Hotel in Dubai, UAE}

On my way back to Syria my flight included a stay-over in the Emirates, so I thought why not extend the stay and get to see Oman for a few days?

I'm not keen about the Arabian Peninsula at all. My previous visits to Dubai and Abu Dhabi hardly left me with a sense of love for the place; in fact, I pretty much hated those places. Dubai has nothing but bling shopping malls, nationals that think of themselves as God and a development rate that could only have been achieved with modern slavery.. The jury is still out as to whether Indians even benefit in the long term from working in the UAE.. one things for sure though, everybody non-Indian develops a subtle racism towards them.


So why come to its neighbour, Oman, then? Well from my first study year at Leeds the Omanis I have met to date have all been polite, modest and very keen about their country. Those same Omanis that I got to know held a Omani awareness day (or week? I may well be in a time warp) which really did stress the Omani keeness for sustainable development and the environment. Impressive, in stark contrast to the mentality of the neighbouring governments towards the environment. So all this motivated me to get on a 5 hour coach ride from Dubai to Muscat (Omani capital).

So here I am a few hours later.. The coach ride was a bit menacing, the driver didn't understand the concept speed safety and we took some crazy turns that even mr Schumacher would've been proud of. Stupidly I decided to start taking photos of the border post Oman (although clearly told to do otherwise by very obvious signs)... Border guard shouts at me and tells me to come over to him (oh no, I think, barely 5 mins into Omani soil and i've provoked the wrath of the Omani army, way to go Namir).. So i'm incredibly apologetic (hoping he doesn't take me in for questioning) and get let off rather lightly. Of course anywhere else in the Arab world and I could've got in a lot more trouble. So I arrive in the afternoon and, unfortunately, being my own Time Sponge, I intended to sleep for a couple of hours. Instead I slept for SIX and ruined the rest of my day... Those of you that know me know that is just standard procedure, unfortunately.

So i've got full days to tour the capital and get out to one of the nearby villages and explore the environment...

For those anxious to see photos of this beautiful place all I can offer right now is this, enjoy.