Fernweh und Heimweh

Another year, another school trip. We try to plan trips off the beaten path, where people normally would not think of visiting or where there hasn't been a school trip yet. If people have never heard of it or don't know where it is, that's where we want to bring students. This year, we settled on Oman.†
Of course, most people have never heard of Oman. Selling the trip was thus a bit sticky:

"Oman? Where is that?"
"It's in the Middle East," I reply.
"Oh." *makes disgusted face*

After a while I learned to say, "It's on the Arabian peninsula, near Dubai." This response unanimously received a more positive reaction: "Oh good, yes, Dubai, that's great!" They've heard of Dubai, how rich and developed it is, a welcome answer for the geographically inept, but of course most people haven't a clue where it is or that it is not even a country. In any case, platitudes such as this--in addition to the fact that Oman has never had a single incident of terrorism and that the sect of Islam practiced in Oman lies outside of the Sunni/Shia conflict--enabled the trip to be approved by the administration.

Why Oman? In addition to being off the beaten path, we wanted to experience Arab culture, the desert, and to learn more about the millennia of prehistory of the Arabian Peninsula. As a result of being a waypoint for premodern trade between Africa and India, Oman is rife with prehistoric archaeological sites, not to mention fantastic geography. All of these factors gave the place a certain alluring mystique, or perhaps it was just modern-day orientalism. In any case, in early March we set off with 22 students (our largest group yet) to Muscat, the capital.

Part of the reason this trip was so fantastic was because of our guides, Mary and Sharif.* Mary, a European expat married to an archaeologist, was not only an anthropologist but had been resident in Oman for the past seven years. Because of this she knew half of the people in the country and was therefore a better fixer than any Omani we might have acquired. Apart from being extremely knowledgable, she was amiable and had an endless supply of stories, as I imagine one acquires after living in Oman for seven years and having an archaeologist husband.

Our Omani guide Sharif was similarly fantastic. He was young and although not as knowledgeable as Mary, what skills he lacked he made up for in wit, charm, and energy, and consequently he was popular with the students, taking frequent selfies and Snapchatting with the kids.

From left to right: Anna, myself, Mary, Kevin, Sharif, and our driver Farouq.

Muscat, the capital of Oman, is quite small and is really concentrated around the main highway, Sultan Qaboos Boulevard. There are a few museums and a large mosque (also named after Sultan Qaboos), but otherwise Muscat serves more as a jumping-off point than a hub of culture and activity. Our first day in Oman we visited the Sultan Qaboos mosque and after lunch with Mary and her husband, we went to the recently completed National Museum for husband archaeologist to give us an overview of prehistoric archaeology and artifacts, some of which he found himself. I have to say, not only was this guy an educator, he was a treasure trove of knowledge about anthropology and prehistoric archaeology. The brief talk he gave us was nothing short of fascinating; this was the kind of guy you wanted to spend the whole day in the museum with and then take him out to dinner. Unfortunately and to my overwhelming chagrin, after 18 hours of travel and checking into the hotel at 2:30 AM the previous night, the children were less than interested in prehistoric history and anthropology, so we had to pack it in and return to the hotel.

Bimma Sinkhole

The next day we made our way down the coast via Sur to Ras al Hadd, a tiny town situated around a disused airfield built by the British during WWII and famous for its nesting sea turtles. That night, before venturing out to the reserve to spot nesting turtles, we left the hotel for dinner. "Ras al Hadd is very small, which means there aren't any big restaurants, so we're going to eat at a friend's house," Mary informed us. At the house not far from the hotel, we arrived to a courtyard with a small group of Italian tourists puffing on a hookah. As it turns out Mary's friend, Pietro, was an Italian archaeologist who had done work in Oman back in the 80s. He really liked it there, and when the project he was working on came to an end he built himself a house with guest rooms in Ras al Hadd and began catering to off-the-beaten-path Italian travelers in the winter and spending summers back in Italy. He was a large, lively character, speaking with a thick Emilia-Romagna accent and joking frequently with his Italian clientele. "Pietro's family are great cooks--wait until you see what's for dinner!" Mary said. They didn't disappoint; the chef emerged from the kitchen with a steaming pot of homemade tagliatelle in a freshly-caught tuna ragù. Anna was beside herself: "They made fresh tagliatelle for 30 people!" (if you've never made fresh pasta before, this is an incredible task) The pasta was outstanding and we stuffed ourselves. This tagliatelle, however, was only the first course--soon the chef emerged with a 4-foot whole mahi mahi fresh off the grill and a barrel of roasted potatoes. I shook my head at the surreality of the situation: a homemade Italian meal on the shores of the easternmost point of the Arabian peninsula. Unbelievable.

Ras al-Hadd

After dinner we made our way to the beach to see if we could see any nesting sea turtles. One of the Omanis had spotted one, so we all ran to catch a glimpse. I was wracked by guilt as soon as I saw it -- the enormous creature, bigger than a lawnmower, was clearly frightened at being suddenly surrounded by two dozen people shining flashlights on it. It soon panicked, and began slowly moving in circles, looking for a way to escape. Some French tourists, having heard about the turtle, soon caught up with us, whipped out their phones, and shoved them in the turtle's face, savagely following the poor beast all the way to the water as it made its slow getaway. Turning to leave, I saw (thankfully) that some students also felt guilty about harassing the turtle. "This was wrong," one said. It was.

The following day we made our way into the interior, where we would be spending the night in Wahiba Sands, a desert region in the east of the country. This was one of the best experiences of the trip. The desert might sound uninteresting, but until you are completely surrounded by endless rusty orange dunes and feel the silken sand under your feet you cannot fathom the beauty and connection to nature you feel. It was a magical landscape and one that is not soon forgotten by those who experience it. Plus, we had a lot of fun dune bashing in 4x4s and riding camels.

After Wahiba Sands we traveled to Nizwa, the former capital of Oman and its second largest city. Nizwa was much livelier and more authentic than Muscat, as well as more historic. The city is surrounded by several old forts and archaeological sites. After visiting the souq or market, we spent the following day visiting various forts around Nizwa, as well as the beehive tombs of the al Ayn archaeological site. About 5000 years old, not much is known about the al Ayn structures, except they were probably used to hold bones that had already been decomposed by the elements.

Nizwa souq.

Going local.

Sharif shows us around a fort.

Al Ayn.

From Nizwa we took a flight to our last destination in Oman, Musandam. Musandam is actually located on the tip or the "foot" of the Arabian peninsula, constituting the southern shore of the Strait of Hormuz. A mountainous peninsula, Musandam is also separated from mainland Oman by the UAE and is best reached by plane. It was here that we spent two days aboard a traditional Omani dhow exploring the fjords, snorkeling, visiting small fishing villages, and camping on the beach. It was an awesome experience and the perfect end to our time in Oman.

Dhow construction yard.

Traditional dhow at right, much like the one we sailed on in Musandam.

Cliffs of Musandam.

Tea and fjords.

Although we left Oman the following day, our trip was not over. We left Musandam and made an overland crossing to the UAE, where we would be spending the next three days. I can't say anything of note about the UAE. Our experience there was starkly different than Oman. Highly developed and touristy (in a consumerist and kitschy way), the UAE has thrown away its heritage (if it had any to begin with) to ride the juggernaut of modernism to economic riches. There is not much of historical significance in the UAE, and the few historical sites there are are relatively contemporary or constructed by the government, fictional history. This is in strong comparison to Oman, which has made efforts to preserve its heritage and where one can enjoy genuine cultural experiences.

In the UAE, one of the first things the visitor notices is the notable absence of Emiratis. With the majority of Emiratis on the dole or working in government positions, most private sector jobs are performed by expats, who constitute around 80% of the population. This is quite different from Oman, where, although a significant number of the population are also expats, it is common to see Omanis performing everyday jobs and doing physical work.

We spent our last day in Dubai. Our hotel rooms were actually apartments each with a kitchen and washing machine, and the complimentary hotel literature was Modern Millionaire magazine. It's time to go home, I thought.

We polished off our trip with a visit to the Dubai Mall, the largest mall in the world, and bought tickets to bring all of the students up to the observation deck (1483 ft) of the Burj Khalifa, the current tallest building in the world. I went up too, shitting myself with acrophobia and did so mainly to not look like a sissy in front of the students. The view, like Dubai, was unimpressive--desert, urban sprawl, more desert. It was sad, but I think it gave the students an appreciation of the traditional lifestyle we had observed and experienced in Oman and showed that perhaps modernity does not always equate to progress.

Burj Khalifa.

At the top, clearly terrified.

†For legal and privacy purposes, no photos featuring students have been included.
*Names and details have been changed to maintain the privacy of the individuals mentioned.

I had been to Ireland eight years ago, but it was a brief trip during which I got a feel for Dublin and took a day trip to Howth. Since my mother turned 60 this year I had been wanting to do something nice for her. She had always wanted to go to Ireland, so when I mentioned it to Anna she jumped at the idea. She had done her Erasmus there and lived in Dublin for 6 months, and she was dying to go back. Several days after mentioning it she had drawn up an itinerary, and soon the trip was booked. The day after Easter She, I, Mom, and Mom's childhood friend Nellie were on our way to Dublin.

We had planned to travel around the entirety of Ireland counterclockwise, so we needed a car. Just so you know Ireland is actually a sizable country and I think we underestimated the time needed to travel around the country in one week. It turned out we were in the car for most of the trip, but it was worth it because of the incredible amount of territory and landscape we were able to see. A whirlwind trip of a lifetime.

As you know, they drive on the left in Ireland. This was a first for me, and I was so tense driving out of the airport, but after a day or so behind the wheel it became second nature. Still, I bought the extra insurance.

We drove from Dublin north into Northern Ireland, where we had lunch and visited Giant's Causeway. The rock formations were impressive, but it was completely overrun by tourists -- not the wild Ireland I had in mind.

Giant's Causeway.

The next day took us to Malin Head in Inishowen, the northernmost point in Ireland. It was wild, desolate, and magnificent. Later we visited a famine museum which told a lot about the history of Ireland and Irish people.

Rental car.

Malin Head.

Galway was next on the list, where I had to ditch the car and walk up the road to Slieve League, the tallest sea cliffs in Europe. Fish and chips for dinner!

Slieve League.

Down through west central Ireland, we stayed in a seaside cottage in desolate Connemara, where the wind nearly blew the roof off in the night. Through the rocky, moonlike surface of the Burren, we stayed in Galway and visited a traditional farm before heading down to Portmagee. At Portmagee we had hoped to visit Skellig Michael, ancient island monastery. Unfortunately though we were out of season, and had to settle for the Cliffs of Kerry -- not a bad deal though.

The Burren.

Cliffs of Kerry.

We stopped in Cork on the way to Dublin, and got tipsy in a divey pub in Callan. Back in Dublin, we had a walk around Trinity College before finishing off the trip at a traditional Irish dancing show. Touristy for sure, but charming nonetheless.

Toasted in Callan.

All in all it was a fantastic trip and we had a great time. Dropping off the rental car the attendant asked where we had gone, and I showed him on the map.

"Bloody 'ell, you've seen more of the country than I have!" he exclaimed. Cross that one off the bucket list.