2015 - Lesson Number 1

My time in the Middle East has taught me that many times initial perceptions are often far from the truth. 

Our 2014 New Year’s evening started off disappointing as we arrived to discover that "bar onsite" as advertised on the hotel website was more of a future dream rather than a current reality.  The kind desk clerk was able to call around and secure us a table at another hotel that guaranteed dinner and drinks!  She was even able to arrange a ride there in a "trusted" cab.  The word trust here seems to translate differently...more into "would like to give my loser cousin some business” rather than our commonly accepted definition. 

As we piled into a tired but functional vehicle with the ‘trusted’ driver our senses were doubly assaulted by his apparent phobia for bathing and fondness for American Rap at extreme decibels.  Our requests for “traditional Omani music” were met with a nod and he switched the station gleefully to something by 50 Cent.  He glanced around, looking for approval to his tune selection as we barreled down the Muscat highway to be eventually delivered to our Festive Buffet!

The best descriptor I could come up with is ‘nursing home cafeteria’.  And that’s being kind.  But we gulped down our free wine and sucked down some soft foods before deciding to hit the hotel’s bar.  Expecting to walk into a hopping night club where the vibrations of the music are just short of visible, I was shocked when we entered a silent dark room with a few pool tables scattered around a handful of tables and chairs.  The clientele were noticeably different than us…in that they were men.  All men.  Men of all ages, most enjoying a smoke and a drink.  It took less than one minute for our presence to be noted by all of the men.  It’s as if I could see their thoughts – they didn’t think we deserved to be there.

It was awkward.  One of my travel mates wanted to bail in favour of the aforementioned disco-like establishment, a suggestion that was encouraged by our waiter, but Cheryl and I wanted to stay.  We felt defiant, like Rosa Parks or Joan of Ark – we were teaching all these ‘close-minded’ men that women could be out in public and drink just like the rest of them!

So we ordered a beer.  And then another.  And we moved to a patio.  And we smoked some shisha.  And then we met Sal.  Sal was a traditionally dressed Omani who had recently published his 9^th book.  He came over to chat with us because “good boys like naughty girls”.  He must have really liked us…as the clock ticked closer and closer to 12, Sal opened up and confessed to his deepest secrets.  We heard about his closet life as a homosexual in the Muslim community, his frequent admissions to a local psychiatric facility and even had a chance to watch a video where he covered his body in the ashes of his own burnt books.  It was a unique way to ring in 2015.

But perhaps even more startling was the response we received from the rest of the men.  We assumed that they didn’t think women belonged, that women were less than them.  Now that the 2015 was officially here – almost every man in that bar came by to wish us a Happy New Year without a hint of superiority.

So first lesson learned of 2015.  Don’t judge a book by its cover, or a room of traditionally dressed Muslim men.