25 is the new 24

The 'tubes are incredibly slow today. Unfortunately I've had to come back to the ole regular 'net cafe, already it's scared me of eating the data on my USB - the only copy of my photos... I was hesitant about using it, but unfortunately my CV is on it. Pesky technology. Or, actually, from what I can see - pesky lack of equipment maintenance.

Blah. But enough complaining.

I've had my flights to Brisbane confirmed, as you know, this Friday. I have also had my return flight to NZ confirmed, which is on Sunday 14 December. I fly in around 10.20pm I think.

That is, all pending how things go in Brisbane. I'm going to try and spend some time looking at jobs, etc. The thought of picking grapes down in Barossa Valley sounds kind of appealing...

Yesterday was, well, another day really. Great to talk to you mum and Amanda, and Dad for calling the previous day!

I decided to head up to Sohar, which is about a 2.5 hour drive North from Muscat. I went and visited the two people that I can talk to in Muscat - the petrol pump attendant at the Shell out in al Sarooj, and the guy who cleans cars while you shop at the al Fair supermarket.
Except, when I say 'talk', I don't mean it in the traditional sense. Neither of these two guys speak English, so it's always a mish-mash of gestures and smiles and waves... But to be honest, the smile is enough. And I'm sure they love the tips. Hopefully that's not the only reason they wave and run to my car when I arrive.....

I've been craving personal contact and the lack of human interaction is driving me a bit balmy. I have however been perusing through the books in Gills apartment and found one written by Jeremy Clarkson, which is a bit of a laugh. As soon as I pick up the book and start reading, I hear his voice run through my head as he spiels on about the machines that he considers 'have soul' as they are flawed, and therefore have an element of human characteristic. Unfortunately that particular human characteristic is 'failure', but it's human, nonetheless.

Anyway - the drive up to Sohar was pretty epic - cars passing me that must have been reaching speeds of 200km/h. I saw a herd of goats nearly get wiped out in one single motion... luckily the car skidded to a stop as the goats just looked on as the driver must have just about had a heart attack. That'll learn ya, won't it. Well, probably not, but, it's a nice thought...

I got up to Sohar at about 4pm. I thought this was the best time as things shut down in Oman in between 1 and around 5, give or take an hour depending on where you are, or if the camel racing is on. Which I actually got to see, not in person unfortunately, but on the telly. I know, I know, but I didn't realise they didn't have riders. They just round'em'up behind some gates, then let them loose around the track. Half of them ran the other way, the other half scatter and scuttle out on to the track. It was hilarious! A few stood there and had the 'what, you want me to RUN that?' look on their, well, camel faces. Spitting or chewing idly while their friends all ran amok.
The trucks on the side of the track drove next to the herd and had large speakers mounted to the roof of their vehicles. Which is fascinating in itself, because if it actually works how I think it does, the camels must identify their owner/trainers voice, amongst the other ranting and screaming owners/trainers and respond to those voices via commands - when to start speeding up, no - don't stop, no - the other way, no - don't chew your harness, etc etc... So there goes my theory of Camels being stupid.
The other interesting thing was there were no numbers used as identifiers on the camels - and I can now read/recognise Arabic numbers, so would have picked up if they were present... But the only way you could identify them apart is by the colourful little harness that is strapped to the hump. Which a few of them thought looked quite tasty and turned their long necks and started devouring them..
If only I could understand the Arabic commentary over the top...
I'd certainly like to see an actual race, that's for sure. Hopefully it wouldn't be offensive if I sat their in hysterics...

Ooops - slight little segway (haha, segway) there. So the drive up, yeah.

I made it to Sohar and soon realised that driving to Sohar from Muscat is like driving from Auckland to Hamilton. You get to Hamilton and wonder why you did this to yourself? It was dull, full of shopping malls and unfortunately because of the long stretch of beach, stunk of the foul smell of the red-tide.
I did manage to man-up and put the smell aside and wonder down the beach which was quite peaceful. Every now and then someone would stop, say hello and shake my hand, which was really nice! They must have known it was my birthday... I did manage to get the memo out in time but must have missed Muscat....
The city coastline stretches about 10km probably... and I was at one end looking down in the dusky haze and every 50m was a pack of young lads who had squared out a football (not soccer, thanks) field and were kicking and fooling around with a football. Some games more serious than others, but this was the case as far as the eye could see. It was quite a sight.
Again unfortunately I avoided getting out the old camera, as cameras at beaches are a big no no. Especially with the large amount of women perusing the local talent. What? They were out of the kitchen? I know, I was as surprised as you.
Soon, the call to prayer began and I wandered back to where I parked the car and made my way to the Fort, which is apparently the only reason to come to Sohar. Needless to say I was pretty miffed when I got to the fort to find a sign on the large doors:

'closed for renovations - 01/01/2008 - 01/01/2009'

Sigh.

So I got some real brief (and not terribly good) snaps of the sunset and the exterior of the fort, before rounding up my stuff and heading back to Muscat.

The drive back. Man. The open road, with crazy-fast (and, mostly incompetent) drivers, with their full beams on. Fun times.
I guess I should actually explain the driving here in a bit more detail. Drivers here have about the patience and skill of a 16 year old with a Porsche. They are impatient (will sit on your tail-pipe, whatever speed you're doing) and flash their lights or honk their horn to tell you to move outta the way. The women are probably the worst. And that's not a gender knock, either. They are actually completely oblivious of anything else on the road. And that's a dangerous thing, especially as everyone here drives brand new SUV type vehicles. SUV vs my car? SUV win.
You have to drive extremely defensively, and it helps to have eyes in the back of your head. Oh, and have developed advanced mind-reading and ESP would be handy, too.
Whenever I get in the car, I take a moment to prepare myself. Clear my head and thank the universe that I've made it this far... and just a few more K's would be nice too, thanks.

So, given that little background summary (which doesn't include what ELSE on the road you have to deal with - people wandering across 6 lane highways with their families, goats, etc) you can somewhat understand my anxiety of driving back in the dark. I sat in the slow lane (doing 120km/h mind you) and played dodge'ems with cars in my rear-vision mirror. Now you don't see it, now you do... and it's flashing it's lights madly on your backside. Which I found hard to comprehend... what lane do you move into if you're ALREADY in the slow lane? The dirt? Actually, I should have just gone off-road. I would have liked my odds with the goats better...

I had some great music to keep my company there and back. I've been crankin' some really crap pop music, but actually been quite enjoying it. Busting out some Natalie Imbruglia (hot), Eminem (not funny), Right said fred (actually not sexy after all), and some Linkin Park, for that little angry streak. Well, their remix album, which isn't as angry sounding. But specifically 'my december' (or how the cool kids spell it 'my dcmbr'). Also been churning through some quality tunes from Gomez, Regurgitator, Depeche Mode, JunkieXL, Rolling Stones, Bush, Voom and Pink Floyd.

But I made it back in one piece and I cracked open a beer to celebrate, not only the fact that I was still alive and managed to make it through the day, but I made it through to my 25th Birthday.
I chucked some steak on the pan, hoed down some stir-fry vegetables and proceeded out to the point, a little place above the rocky foreshore where the lights of Muscat twinkle in the distance and proceeded to get quite drunk. By myself. Is that bad? I am thinking about the next time I can drink.... 12 steps here I come...
I managed to find some more beer in the cupboard so I suitably raided that.
Man. I felt like I was 17 again, having found someone to buy me beer (or, in this case, finding beer) when I am not allowed to drink it (well, you know what I mean...)
I then proceeded to email people and rant and rave via the tiny keypad on my phone. Danger, danger. Alcohol and technology don't mix. For those who I have offended, I apologise.

Hehe.

So two more days. I'll probably come back and rant about the Mountain village I went to with Randall & Co after star-gazing (or trying to) the night before at Ghubra Bowl. I thought of you, Kate, as we were getting a guided tour of the skies and peering through the telescope looking at Venus and Jupiter. Also because the particular place where we went to - the bowl, is surrounded by mountains that are kabillions of years old (yes, remember, it is a word) - I can't remember how old, but they predate the Dinosaurs. And having a guided tour by a (quite eccentric) palynologist is extremely fascinating!
I just 'wikied' 'palynologist' and it says:

'One who studies palynology.'

I'm stumped. Thanks. Amanda, did you write that? (It's 'Stating the obvious girrrrrl!!!')

But for those who are interested, a palynologist is one who studies plant pollen and spores. Since pollen may be preserved thousands of years it can be used to reconstruct the plant ecology of the past. (Thanks, Google, I know I can trust in you....)

Right, kids, time to go grab some food...from....somewhere.... I might have some Lebanese tonight. There's this fantastic place called 'Automatic' that is down the road and they do the best shish-kebab and kofta...stuff. Yum. Making me hungry just thinking about it.

So yeah. Keep the comments coming, I love hearing from you all... write me some mail if you feel inspired... even if it's just telling me that you're doing the washing or cleaning the car...
Hah, reminds me, I must be lonely, I went to google maps to have a look at the 'street view' and I was greeted by Argyle St - Awesome! If you haven't already looked at the new street view on google maps, make sure you do! Actually, Amanda, let me know the address of Mums new place and I'll view it from the road! How cool is that!

See - it's genius like that that makes me want to be apart of the IT industry. Sigh. Anyway, a rant for another day, no doubt. Hopefully I'll have some proper time in Brisbane. Or, the 24 hours I have to spend in Singapores Changi airport. Where you book the hotels 'by the hour!' Mmmm... Interesting....

Right, this is goodbye, fo' real. Till next time.