LETTER FROM Al-KHOUD, OMAN

Well, I’m finally here!

It’s Friday (Al-Jum’ah in Arabic, or the day of “gathering” at the mosque). I’m sitting in my air-conditioned faculty townhouse somewhere inside the sprawling desert campus of Sultan Qaboos University, while outside Weather.com says it’s 93º (“feels like 110º”) with 67% humidity. Less humid than usual. It doesn’t fog my glasses today, as it has the past two days since I arrived Wednesday noon.

THE TRIP: LAX TO JFK

It was nail-biting time those last few hours before sister Ann drove me to LAX around 9:00 pm Monday night for my 11:25 United red-eye flight to JFK. She and I had spent most of Monday running from bank to bank, the AAA, etc. getting final business done, including getting my updated will signed by two competent witnesses. (I ended up returning to my old Torrance apartment complex for that.) So that left about 3 hours to really pack.

I had all my clothes in piles next to the three suitcases ready to be put in, but it was all the final decisions about which letters, files, etc. to take that really took the time. I had been building up piles of things for Oman, but it was a matter of which things needed to go in the luggage NOW and which could go later in the air shipment Ann would put together.

I kept my watch on LA time the whole trip since on paper it would take parts of three days, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, and I wanted to see what the REAL time spent was.

The United flight to New York landed after dawn Eastern time, but that was only 4:30 in the morning LA time. I tried to sleep, but the flashing light of the interminable in-flight “entertainment” on the screen lasted all night and kept my mind numb and sleepless.

I was overjoyed to find a line for Peet’s Coffee (a San Francisco chain much better than Starbucks) waiting for me in the JFK terminal. Emirates Airlines was in the international terminal, and I already had my boarding pass, so I stopped at the check-in desk merely to ask for an AISLE seat this time (I was wedged in at the window on the United flight by a father and young son who slept most of the flight, so getting in and out was a physical and etiquette hassle.)

JFK TO DUBAI

In the end, it turned out to be a moot point. The “11 hour and 57 minute” direct flight to Dubai leaving at 11:20 in the morning (8:20 am LA time) was blissfully empty, and I got an entire row to myself: reading material on one seat, beverage tray open on another, and me next to the window enjoying the long, panoramic flight along Long Island’s south shore, then Rhode Island, past Martha’s Vineyard, then Cape Cod, then out into the blue Atlantic. A gorgeous clear day and the perfect vantage point to take in the New England geography.

The service on Emirates (always in the top ratings by business travelers) made United seem like Greyhound Bus lines. The food and drink (even free wine and beer!) was frequent and high quality – and included! The multinational crew showered us with freebies such as kit with a sleeping mask to cover your eyes and socks to keep your feet warm and toys for the kiddies (yes, there were whining, crying youngsters aboard).

The airline wisely kept activities to Persian Gulf time, so as night came in Dubai, the airline dimmed the lights and stopped food service after dinner even though it was still light over the central Atlantic. I peeked out my window after night actually fell and thought I glimpsed the entire boot of Italy from space (“Wow, we must be 50,000 miles up!” I though.) It wasn’t. We were somewhere over central France entering Switzerland, the live flight map on the screen corrected me.

I tried to get as much sleep as possible to get on Gulf time immediately, but I did watch the sun rise (lurking for a while behind the deep blue clouds like the white shark in “Jaws”) over Iran about 7:00 pm LA time. Our flight path sagely avoided Iraq, and we did the less risky thing and overflew Iran instead. Baghdad was somewhere off the right side of the plane, but we couldn’t see it.

We headed south over the absolutely mirror-smooth Gulf right into Dubai airport in the hazy Wednesday morning sunlight, landing at about 7:40 am (8:40 pm LA time). After taxiing around the entire city (or so it felt) for close to 20 minutes, we finally were let out via the stairs (no “tubes”) to board a bus on the tarmac below – just as my Arabian childhood travel memories have it. The hot, humid August air hits you like a punch to the stomach. “Back home,” I thought!

DUBAI TO MUSCAT

The supposedly luxurious Dubai airport (Dubai is the Las Vegas extravaganza of the Middle East) was packed with unhappy, grumpy passengers sitting on seats or on the floor, or even sleeping on the floor. The airport designers had obviously majored in the minors – getting the luxury shopping right and all the travel efficiency and comfort aspects wrong. If I wanted Givenchy and Guerlin, no problem. If I wanted a sign telling me where to find the transit ticketing desk (I had no advance boarding pass for Muscat) – or even an elevator, no luck! I went through two security points (a 4th grader with an atomic bomb in his bag would have had no difficulty passing that test) to get to the well-hidden Transit Desk C. Then I passed back through the same security checkpoint to get back into the mall-cum-airport that is Dubai International.

Since the seating area for my gate would only open an hour before the 10:45 flight time, I joined the legion of other, mainly Indian workers huddled outside for a time. “This is nuts,” I thought, and headed off to tour the shopping arcade. At the end of the terminal, I discovered a quiet Starbucks that allowed customers the luxury of a seat, so I bought some Starbucks mugs with “Saudi Arabia” and “Oman” printed on them (a true novelty gift from the Gulf!) and sat down to read my newspaper.

The Oman Air flight to Muscat was only about 40 minutes, but you had to give them credit for trying to meet their hospitality duties in the air. They quickly rustled up a sandwich and candy bar lunch plus drink, served us all, then appeared after what seemed only five minutes to take away the half-eaten food. “Are you finished yet?” (Uh, no. I’ve just had enough time to start masticating my first bite of this beef sandwich you just gave me …)

OMANI SOIL

Our wheels touched down on Omani soil about 11:30 am Wednesday (after midnight LA time), and I was met at the visa pick-up desk by a university employee in traditional Omani garb (long white robe and round cap), who whisked me through all the points and out the door into an SUV taxi. Another American instructor at the university, Browder Swetnam from Arkansas, was also there to meet me, but he had just enough time to say a quick hello, press a cell phone into my hand, and say, “call me when you get to your housing.”

The taxi driver, Salman, spoke very little English, so I switched into Arabic, and we were chatting away instantly. (Omani Arabic fortunately turns out not to be too hard to understand.) He drove me to the university Housing office, where I was given a key to an on-campus townhouse (quite desirable, people have told me since). Salman drove me over to it and entered the hot, stuffy house with me. We soon located the power switch to start up the AC, fridge, etc., so cool air was blowing in short order.

The two-story townhouse was already furnished (plainly but sufficiently), and someone had been thoughtful enough to leave one teacup, one plate, one spoon and a cheap aluminum teapot. And a few sheets for the bed. I’m glad I brought my own pillow, however. But no soap, no toilet paper, no trash cans.

It was immediately apparent that a quick trip to a shopping center was in order, and so I called Browder on the phone he had given me (excellent idea!), and he stopped by to pick me up and take me to a mall to do my household purchases. Shopping centers and malls are something that modern Oman does well, especially in the suburbs of Muscat, so there is hardly anything I couldn’t find (if I didn’t insist on my favorite US brands).

The first evening, we were joined for a dinner out at a local Turkish restaurant by my neighbor Virgil Williams (from Minnesota), an English instructor with almost 20 years at SQU. It’s really quite yucky outside in August here, so “outdoor dining” is not really as glamorous as it might sound. Instead, we ate inside where the AC was. Now, THAT is glamour Omani-style!

Thursday and Friday are the weekend here, so I have luckily had two days of R&R after my arrival, but I have tried to stay on Omani time from the very beginning - 11 hours ahead of LA. (And with all the odd hours and lack of sleep my last days in LA, that’s been a lot easier!) Aside from the daily shopping trips so far, I have mainly been unpacking and reading a new historical novel about the Roman orator Cicero, “Imperium” by Robert Harris.

Saturday is the first real “work” day I’ll have, when all the new faculty meet for orientation. And we’ll be issued the various university IDs and residency cards that allow us to be legal here.

Meanwhile, I’m keeping comfortable in the AC, eating enough and lying low till my job starts up. And I’m very, very grateful it’s all gone so smoothly thus far. The wisdom and foresight by people like Browder and others at the university are largely responsible for that.

More Omani updates later …