Iquama medical

We were called to do our medical exams required for the work permit or Iquama, a sign, we hope, that the process is progressing, so to say. Rean has three colleagues who did their medicals the week before us, so he got clear instructions about where to go in the King Saud Hospital complex, and also quite detailed stories of what to expect from the experience. We were told that we would need to have blood drawn, chest x-rays taken, would have to provide urine and stool samples and have an interview with a doctor.

We packed the nappy bag with snacks and toys in the hope that we could keep Mieke relatively happy during our possibly lengthy visit to the hospital and planned to take turns, one staying with Mieke while the other went through the medical. Alas, as with many great plans, reality was quite different.

From the Google Earth image we were able to find the correct examination center for the men. However, the absence of English signage quite complicated our search for the female quarters. Rean flagged down a masked lady with a white coat, and she immediately took me by the arm and said, 'follow me'. I grabbed Mieke and the (enormously heavy nappy bag) and set off hopefully. Inside a dark and very crowded hall, with several unmarked doors leading to several other crowded rooms, my lady in white waded through waiting women of all ages and shades. We got to a cubicle with two women behind a glass window. They asked for our passports and photos, and I realised that Rean had them! And then my phone chose to freeze. And I didn't know the pin number in order to reset the blasted thing! Our kind lady went in search of Rean and finally brought back the passports. My nerves were getting more frazzled by the minute. Mieke obviously noticed this as babies tend to do and started acting up. We got called to do the blood test, and I was provided with two plastic containers for my two samples and pointed in the direction of the WC.

So, off we went, Mieke and I and the nappy bag (and the two plastic bottles) to look for the loo. It wasn't that hard to find, and was relatively clean, but turned out to be the arabic kind, where the porcelain is comprised of a trench with two foot pads on either side. A water spray nozzle thingy was also provided, in the absence of toilet paper. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought. My years at Yoga class served me well as I balanced precariously over the trench with my two bottles, trying to keep my Abaya out of the water, and Mieke out of the trench, and the water, and off my lap. And producing my samples. Before prayer time, because then everything grinds to a halt for three quarters of an hour.

In retrospect, it was quite funny.

I was enormously grateful for the kind ladies who helped us through. They were really compassionate and professional.

Hold thumbs that we pass our medicals with flying colours, and that our permits will soon be in the mail!

On the road again

And so the time came for us to get our passports stamped again. Since our wedding aniversary was close at hand we thought to make a trip of it, so to say. We tried to arrange a visit to Salalah (Oman) to see the old Frankinsense routes and beautiful beaches, but unfortunately there were no direct flights and we couldn't very well stay over for eleven hours for a week-end away! So, Muscat it was, again.

Fort overlooking Old Muscat

Beautiful street view

This time I chose a funky little hotel from the internet. What a mistake! If you ever hear of anyone going to Muscat, please warn them not to go near the Beach Hotel! The first night we had no warm water and the fridge sounded like a jackhammer. The 'fully functional' kitchen had no kettle, and other than two teacups and saucers, no single recepticle that could contain water. No dishcloths. No soap. They then moved us to a second room, where we had no water at all! The mirror frame in the bathroom was badly broken so all the pressed wood fibres got in our toothbrushes, the marble slab serving as a vanity table in the bedroom was broken right through, the fridge was quiet, and we had a kettle, but the microwave didn't work. By this time, the staff were getting rude, we were getting grumpy. But that is the great thing about week-ends away, by the time tempers get frayed, it's time to go!

Muscat was beautiful as we had expected. We visited a quaint little museum, Bait Al Zubair, and, of all things, an art exhibition.We drove out to Nizwa to see their Fort. We got there just in time to see them closing the doors for prayer times so we wandered around the deserted Souq (market) admiring all the woodwork and patterned tiles.

Another highlight was a trip to Sultan Quaboos Grand Mosque. It is a modern building, quite recently completed. It certainly but all the old european cathedrals into perspective for me! The arabic arches and linked patterns repeating and varying were so elegantly and intricately woven into the architecture, carvings and mosaics. There are also numerous plaques with information about historic designs from various regions.

Mieke, of course, had a ball. She had her photo taken by several groups of visitors, and had great fun with the shoes that people trustingly left in the numerous cubbyholes at the entrance to the prayer halls!

My personal favourite memory from this trip was an unexpected hour at sundown on a tiny beach just north of Muscat (I think it was called Quantab). The fishing village that nestles between the jagged mountains is certainly not on the tourist map. No grand buildings, just a cluster of small homes that peter out on a little beach where we sat and watched the sun go down. Some men in their beautiful traditional dress were walking together as old friends at the close of day until the prayer songs called them away and left us by ourselves in a beautiful place.