Yesterday I had a new hair clip in my hair and Camille kept trying to steal it. She would climb up in my lap, grab hold of the flower and pull . . . ouch! After 3 or 4 times I remembered that I had a matching clip upstairs and ta da! Girly finally has almost enough hair to pull off a clip.
Of course she proceeded to pull the clip out of her hair every 20 seconds or so, try to eat it, and then insist that I put it back in her hair. Repeat ad nauseum and that’s what our afternoon looked like.
When we left off, happy family was in the desert on their way to Wadi Bani Khalid. After a 40 minute drive back across the sand dunes we stopped to reinflate our tires (you have to let about 1/2 of the air out prior to driving on the dunes or your car will sink and get stuck in the soft sand). While they were putting air back in the tires I saw this sign across the street:
I get that “accissories” is supposed to be “accessories,” but what are “chooses?” *Josh translated the Arabic for me and said it’s supposed to say “shoes.”
We drove another hour over some mountains to reach this patch of paradise.
Beautiful, huh? We walked further in to where the water was deeper and went for a swim.
Caleb working up his nerve to jump off the rocks. Eventually he jumped from the bridge, but he wanted to “test the water” first.
photo credit: Ross Macfadyen
photo credit: Ross Macfadyen
I don’t know how they did it. I jumped from a lower place twice and so much water was forced up my nose it felt like my sinuses were given a thorough scrubbing and my ears were full of water on the inside of my head. The second time I thought I would be smart and plug my nose, but I hit the water with such force that my hand popped off my nose and I once again made friends with the world’s largest Netti pot. No more cliff jumping for me.
We sat on the rocks in the sun to dry off and warm up while we snacked and fed the hundreds of small fish in the water. Camille was throwing crackers and they swarmed up and nibbled the waters around her feet.
time to head to the car for the 3 hour drive home
One of a few roaming donkeys. This one was blocking the bridge between us and the car.
Their front legs are tied together. I guess to keep them from running?
One of our friends walking the falaj. I don’t know how the system works, but it’s an old way of transporting water through a series of raised canals. They are very cool looking and it’s fun to walk them like a balance beam.
We made it safely home. I hope these guys that we passed going down the mountain did too.
and the word is out — my parents are in Oman. Before they came to visit, my mom asked, “Can you please keep news of our visit off your Facebook and blog?” She thinks that so many people read my blog it might be a security issue if hundreds of people know they are out of the country. It’s nice to know that my mom thinks I’m the bestest blogger in the world, even if her estimation of people who are reading here might be slightly exaggerated.
My dad convinced my mom that poor Kristy is home recovering from back surgery with nothing to do but check my blog every five minutes hoping for an update and it would be unfair to deprive her of the pleasure of living vicariously through my blog postings. This one’s for you Kris!
So what have we been doing? Driving all over the desert, sleeping in tents and jumping into the warm(ish) wadi waters. Just a little over 24 hours after arriving in country we were off to the desert for an overnight at 1000 Nights desert camp, the place with the huge dunes and sand boarding that we visited back in April. If you missed those posts, you can see them here, here, and here.
Dune bashers all parked to watch the sunset
Several camels wandered around camp throughout the evening. Thankfully they kept to eating the trees and not the marshmallows and chocolate I brought along with us. I did not want to wake up to a camel head inside my tent so we made sure our tent flap was fastened when we went to bed.
photo credit: Ross Macfadyen
The best part of this kind of “camping” is that dinner and breakfast are provided. Dinner is a buffet of Arabic foods like hummus, flatbread, lamb kebobs, grilled chicken and veggies. Everyone eats in a large open air room with big pillows and cushions to lean against. After dinner the “entertainment” started up — Omani men and women dancing, singing and drumming. It would have been a little much after a while (it went on for an hour and a 1/2 — the same 3 songs over and over again) except that Camille was so fascinated by the music and the action that she danced and clapped and edged closer and closer to the dancing women for the entire 90 minutes. My entertainment was watching her.
In the morning outside our tent
Good morning sleepyheads! The beds were comfortable and the blankets were warm.
My mom was trying to figure out how to build a tent like this in her yard.
The last few days the baby has been waking up at 7:30 which wouldn’t be a problem, except with lazy vacation mornings stretched out ahead of me 7:30 is feeling like the crack of dawn. But I know Lucy comes at 7 am every morning and I can her her washing dishes downstairs so I stumble downstairs bleary-eyed and pass off my chirping baby into her outstretched arms.
As I head back upstairs to tuck myself in for an extended slumber, I hear them chatting away, “Say ‘Thank You’ baby.” “Tan Q.” “Say ‘Please’ my baby.” “Peas.”
well it’s my birthday too! Lucy and I share a birthday, December 13th, also known as Saint Lucia’s Day. Get it? Lucy = Lucia? Her real name is Lucia because she was born into a Catholic family and born on the day celebrating Saint Lucia. It all became clear when I saw her birthdate on some paperwork and I was able to make the Lucia/December 13th connection.
I had special Saint Lucia birthdays growing up in a church with Swedish roots. Every year they had a Smorgasboard to celebrate and I hoped that someday I would be able to wear the crown of candles that that is traditionally worn by the oldest daughter. By the time I was old enough they had discontinued the Saint Lucia celebration. No crown for me.
I hadn’t thought about it for years until Caleb came home from school talking about how his classmate came in on December 13th dressed as Lucia with a lighted crown (electric — no open flames) and taught the class about Saint Lucia. He said, “Mom! Camille needs a crown because she’s the oldest girl in our family!”
I laughed to my friend that Caleb thought Camille “needed” a crown like her daughter’s and before I knew it, we had a Lucia of our own.
She may look cute, but she’s a bruiser under that pretty dress and crown.
