Weekend Musings

I feel that I haven't given much background on my surroundings and day-to-day life here: Muscat is a series of monteqa or neighborhoods strung out east to west along the coastline of the Persian Gulf. Driving back and forth from the area where I live with my family, Al-Ghubra, to the district of the SIT office, Al-Hail, takes about twenty minutes, though usually longer because of traffic or picking other people up and dropping them off. One orients oneself by traffic circles, dawar, in Muscat. We live by Al-Ghubra Dawar, near the Grand Mosque and the Sultan Qaboos sporting complex. And the ever important gargantuan shopping center. Muscat is a car city, but when driving back and forth the mountains are always visible. Sometimes dramatically backed with the burning blue sky, each wadi and ridge visible as a muscle, sometimes a hazy smudge, the mountains feel more present than the sea, although technically the sea is much closer. Unfortunately thus far I have yet to visit either; it does not seem to be something that my family does very often. We sit in the house during the day because it is too hot, though tonight for the first time my two oldest sisters and I walked around our neighborhood after the meal was put away. I cannot call it dinner, because technically it is “break-fast”, al-iftar, the meal after the evening call to prayer.

(That was written earlier: since then I have been to the mountains, or "the interior" to attend the funeral ceremony of my Arabic teacher's mother, and I have gone swimming, when my family generously hosted some of the other SIT students for iftar on the beach, (see the photos posted earlier).
Perhaps I have given plenty of background, but because each day consists of school and sitting at home or visiting relatives, I feel that I have to describe in detail the aspects of my life that would otherwise fall by the wayside in favor of my constant search for the "new". This is not to say that living, sleeping, studying, eating (once a day), in Oman has become old hat. But I do appreciate the time to focus on the process of living. And women and children spend a lot of time in the house if they are not at work or school. I do not know whether men do as well, because Khaled, my father, works hard and constantly to be able to support his three families. It was strange yesterday to emerge on the front steps on the way to the car, (we were going to Hobo ("grandmother"'s) house for iftar; the sun was beginning to set and the mountains were more clearly etched than I had ever remembered seeing them. At home I would feel frantic at the "loss" of a day, the lack of exercise and "stimulation". But here I can relax into the social expectation that sitting at home and visiting in the evening represents the necessary spectrum of activity. Ramadhan has been the major cause of this, I think; people slow down. Normal bodily processes slow down: digestion, healing, even skin turnover I think. After the meal in the evening I feel like it will take the entire 21+ hours for my body to be ready to eat again. It will be a shock to come back to a regular routine. To answer Sam's question about why drinking juice hurts my stomach, whether it is the acidity: this is possible, but I think it has more to do with putting large volumes of liquid into a shrunken stomach.
About my neighborhood: I live in a fairly central area, theoretically within walking distance of shops and the “Hypermarket Lulu”, but we have only ever taken the car. During the day this makes sense. One of my first family outings was to spend three hours there with my mother, sisters Belquees, Tumathr and Rayan, and brother Lokhman and Amran. We bought everything from sweets to school supplies to shampoo. The place was mobbed in preparation for Ramadhan. My mother was dismayed to find that all the laban was gone. Laban is a salty yogurt drink we have at 4am during Ramadhan—to those who remember from Cyprus, it tastes like ayran, but sometimes they add chili powder.
Today is Friday, the Holy Day. Back to class tomorrow. It is easier to fast at school because I am distracted. I am used to home, in Oman, in Brooklyn, in Durham, representing physical and emotional comfort. Both of which are often found most readily in food, it seems. So sitting at home on the weekend and working, or studying, and then being unable to go outside, or eat something, or listen to music, (not allowed during daylight hours in Ramadhan), requires a shift in my entire attitude towards "home", "work, "reward". Sensation becomes heightened; taking a shower I focus on the water on my skin; this becomes the reward of the afternoon. Or taking a nap, (which we do a lot of during Ramadhan), I revel in the freedom to choose to be awake or asleep, (one of the few things I do control).
I hope that this does not come across as a strangled gasp for air; I am genuinely fascinated by the experience.
To all: thank you for your emails: but if you are willing, please post questions and responses on the blog. It feels strange to write sometimes, unsure of whom is reading, or if it is being read at all. I would rather blog my email responses anyway, rather than try to maintain both. (Internet access is not getting any easier).