day trip – robinchartier

My Grand time at the Mosque

One of the things Art and Barbara wanted to do during their visit was take a trip to the Grand Mosque here in Muscat. We didn’t take the boys because this mosque doesn’t allow children under the age of 10 and they weren’t all that thrilled to spend one of their precious days off at the mosque, so we had pity on them and let them stay home with Lucy.

I was all dressed in my appropriate mosque-going gear: headscarf, long skirt, long sleeved shirt. We get up to the front gate and the guy points at my skirt and says, “Not acceptable.” Ah, yes. In order for my long skirt to be practical to walk in, it has a small slit that exposes part of my shin. The flash of an ankle and one shin as I walked made my attire too risqué to be permitted to enter.

So Josh was all over the guy in Arabic and they had a conversation that ended with the same result — no entrance for the harlot with the slit in her skirt. I went into the gift shop to see if they had a safety pin or some tape, but they had neither. The guy behind the counter did volunteer to sell me a pair of socks. Really? That’s all I need? Sure, give me a sock to cover up my nakedness.

So he hands me a small box and inside are those super sheer black pantyhose socks like grandmas used to wear with slacks. I pull one on and it comes to right above my ankle so I ask the guy for a pair of scissors, cut off the toe of the other one and stacked them. Then because I was wearing flip-flops I cut a slit in the toe so I could get my sandal on. The entire thing was ridiculous because you could practically see my skin through the sheer fabric anyway, but whatever. The guy behind the counter got quite the giggle out of the situation. I could tell he’s never seen anyone butcher a pair of “socks” the way I did. I swear, every time I go to a mosque, it’s always something . . .

All covered up and ready to go

An up close view of my “modest” leg.

After that drama, they were going to have a hard time winning the award for “My Favorite Mosque,” but I tried to keep an open mind. Yes, I had to wear an abaya in Abu Dhabi, but at least it was provided free of charge for everyone and they didn’t declare that my ankles were too awesome for public viewing.

The women’s prayer room in the above photos wasn’t anything spectacular, but the women’s rooms are rarely where the mosques shine. They aren’t used as frequently so they don’t put the same effort into decorating them.

The inside of the main room was beautiful, but not as much my style as the Grand Mosque in Abu Dhabi. And I promise it’s not because I’m bitter about the socks. This mosque used to have the largest carpet in the world (until the record was broken by Abu Dhabi), but the carpet didn’t fit the room properly — the corners were all bunched up against the pillars and the lines in the pattern in the carpet had been stretched so they were not longer straight, but wobbled their way around the room. Minor details, but the finishing should be immaculate if you’re talking about a record breaking mosque (I think it’s currently the 7th largest in the world).

The ceilings had dark wood inlay with gorgeous crystal chandeliers hanging all over the room. This sad picture of the dome is the only one I got. For scale, look at the picture below. That huge structure is the small arch in the bottom center of this picture. The place is enormous.

Close up of the front of the prayer room and the tile work that covered the walls and the dome.

part of the dome

This is the largest of the chandeliers that hangs from the central dome. It sparkled with all different colors: red, blue, white — the photos are a pale comparison to the real thing.

By zooming in, my camera caught a tiny bit of the color. It was all white, but the way the crystals were cut caught the light and illuminated it like it was made of a million little prisms.

These gorgeous arched windows lined both sides of the room.

In Abu Dhabi, we were able to walk on the carpet, sit on the carpet, feel the carpet. Here we had to walk on blue sheets that were laid out all over the floor with only a small portion of the carpet exposed. Our visit to the mosque in Muscat was like being invited to an open house. Walk through, look around, take a few pictures. Our visit to the mosque in Abu Dhabi was like being invited to a friend’s house — come in, sit down, let’s talk for a while.

Making sure to keep appropriate space between us so we don’t break the “no touching!” rule.

I gave a quick class in the art of self-photography

Aside from the initial trauma over my leg, the rest of the visit was uneventful. It was a grand mosque, but it still can’t topple my favorite. We’re planning on coming back with the kids (the 10 and older rule only applied to inside the mosque, not the grounds) and I’ll be sure to bring my own sock next time.

In the Zone

Today is Islamic New Year so Josh and the boys had the day off from school. To “celebrate” we spent the morning at Adventure Zone.

Each time we visit it’s clear how much Camille is growing and changing — this time she was climbing up the stairs, walking across the rope bridge, and trying to do everything her brothers did.

She even loved the super steep plunge into the ball pit.

and she found a friend

Nana went on all the slides, including the red slide that is straight up and down.

The boys were spinning each other — going for maximum sickness.

Happy New Year!

Water, water, everywhere . . .

Our next stop after the Jordan River was the Dead Sea. It wasn’t a great day to visit because it was cool and overcast, but the following day (today) would have been Eid (essentially the Muslim equivalent to Christmas) so Mo couldn’t go with us, and the weather forecast was the same. That’s what happens when our vacation schedule is limited by the school schedule (both Josh’s and the boys’), we have to take our trips at less than optimal times of the year. It probably would have been fine for a normal person, but I like my swimming water to be at bathtub temperatures.

But the weather didn’t dampen anyone’s excitement about visiting the famous floating body of water. Caleb was nervous that it was going to burn and kept asking if he was really, really going to be able to float and eventually I told him he’d just have to try it out for himself.

My understanding is that you can only “visit” the Dead Sea by way of private resort — or maybe that’s the only smart way to do it because you have to shower after leaving the water or you’ll end up with itchy, rashy, burning skin. Unfortunately that means you end up paying stupid amounts of money for admission because they know they can get it. At this beach adults were $25 and the kids were $15. Mo was only $7 because he’s Jordanian. On top of that there was a charge for towels, a charge if you wanted to use the mud, and the showers were cold and half broken. (All the other beach access options were much more expensive — crazy, huh?)

Wait up!

The Dead Sea is really beautiful — the beach is more like sandy dirt.

Please stop trying to eat all the nasty cigarette butts. They aren’t food.

The entry is rough on the feet. Lots of sharp rocks covered with salt crystals. Ouch!

Testing it out . . .

It works! We’re floating!

The water feels strangely slick and slippery. It does burn a little bit at first, but that quickly goes away. The buoyancy is so strong that lying on your stomach causes your back to arch and your feet to be pushed up into the air. Trying to flip from stomach to back isn’t easy either.

Camille liked it, but she kept trying to taste the water, which is a bad idea because it tastes like salty battery acid. Mo brought a bottle of water into the water with us for emergency mouth rinsing and eye flushing. Holding Camille was like holding a grenade because she kept smacking the water and splashing it everywhere and whoever was holding her had to constantly dodge the flying liquid shrapnel.

Caleb and Camille quickly got cold and retreated to the shore where they hunted for salt crystal covered rocks and played in the “sand.”

Salt build up on the fence and on the rocks

Instead of paying for the mud, Mo showed the boys how to easily dig up their own.

Waiting for the mud to dry — Carter showing off each one of his ribs.

Back in the water to wash off the mud.

A fun day (even if it was too chilly for my taste!)

Jordan and that famous river

Our time in Jordan has been packed full of fun, which I will get to eventually, but the internet in the room is only wired and the cord doesn’t reach to the bed, which is the only place I want to be after running around like a crazy tourist all day.

I fell asleep at 8 last night (and the kids were out even earlier) and slept until almost 8 this morning. It’s a good thing I was well rested because we hit three major sites today: the Jordan River, the Dead Sea, and Mount Nebo (the site where Moses looked out onto the Promised Land). We had a private tour guide today, Josh’s friend Mohammed who is from Amman. They met a few years ago when Mo served as an interpreter for Josh’s team in Iraq.

The first stop on our grand tour was the Jordan River, about an hour drive from Amman. Supposedly this is the place where Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist. We parked and boarded a shuttle bus which brought us to the beginning of our walking tour. The price of admission included audio guides that the boys had fun playing with.

We followed the path and at the different places were little signs that had numbers on them and you were supposed to listen to whatever it was that you were looking at. I hope the kids learned something since they monopolized them. I was just happy to be out walking and not sweating. It was beautiful and on the cool side, but not cold.

I don’t know why they think this is where John baptized Jesus – maybe that info was in the audio guide. Today Jesus would be getting a mud bath instead. (Mo said that they’ve had very little rain the past few years and are on the verge of resorting to water restrictions).

After seeing this I thought we were done. I hadn’t been paying attention to today’s plans so I thought we saw the river, saw the baptism site, and would be headed back to the car. The path continued on though and led right up to the barbed wire fencing indicating that we were at the border. Then I saw that we were actually going to be able to go down into the river and my interest perked up.

The funniest/most amazing part of it all was that we were standing on one side of the river, in Jordan and there were groups mirroring us on the other side, in Israel. As they were taking pictures of us it felt a little like I was in the zoo. Of course we were taking pictures of them too.

So here we are on the Jordanian side standing on an old wooden dock-like structure, looking upon this huge expanse of white stone architecture. We got the poor man’s version of “The Jordan River Experience” for sure.

compare the two sides:

ETA: I really liked the side we were on — it felt rustic and more natural

In order to enter the water you have to wear a white robe (I guess people buy them before the tour starts). On the Israeli side the groups were doing baptisms and singing hymns; on our side people just went for a swim. There were a few guys getting really into it and splashing a little too far from the dock so they ordered them back before the well armed Israeli police started getting twitchy that people were trying to crash the border.

Unfortunately the “robes” were tissue paper thin and became completely transparent when wet. A few of the guys had on speedos underneath, but one particularly large and well endowed woman in an effort to keep her clothing dry decided to remove everything under the robe. When she emerged from the water she was leaving nothing to the imagination, but she was surprisingly unbothered by it and even had her picture taken in all her glory.

Calvin whispered to me, “I get that the robe is white for purity, but why wouldn’t they make them thicker? Isn’t there a verse in the Bible about keeping your stuff to yourself?”

The boys were impressed that now I’ve been to the Jordan River on the Israeli side and the Jordanian side, although the river was a lot smaller than I remembered and the Israeli side was a much more official looking Tourist Attraction than it was when I was baptized there in 1989. In the olden days, I was baptized in my khaki shorts and peach tank top – or it could have been my peach shorts and khaki shirt. All the clothing I brought on the trip was peach or khaki so I could mix and match and everything would go together and I could pack as little as possible and follow the golden rule of travel with my dad: no checked baggage. After two and a half weeks I was sick of it all and haven’t worn peach since. Anyway, the point is, no white robe for me and I kept all my stuff to myself.

Yea! Family picture taken by a helpful tourist. Except . . . how the heck did she take it so crooked?

A little crabby

Since the weather has cooled down quite a bit recently (low 90s) on Thursday we went to walk along the beach. The boys were busy collecting shells while we walked.

The water is warm, but there were only a handful of men swimming. People don’t go to the beach here like they do in California. I haven’t figured out if it’s a seasonal thing and it’s still too hot, but my guess is part of the barrier to going is having to remain fully covered. If I had to wear an abaya and hijab, I wouldn’t want to take my kids to the beach either. Along this mile long stretch of beautiful coastline we saw maybe 10 other people. Thousands of people were driving by in their cars, but no beach goers.

The carrot at the end of this walk was a trip to the Starbucks that is right on the waterfront. Caleb has an armful of shells and he’s complaining that Carter won’t let him put them in his pockets. Carter already has a pile of shells in his pockets and insists that any extra shells are going to pull his shorts off of his body. With those skinny hips of his, I’m sure he was close to losing his shorts.

It’s an amazing location. This a 5 minute drive from our house. Lucy lives up behind the hotel that you see on the hill in the background.

Frapps for all! (Carter shared his vanilla one with Camille.)

Except this guy, who in his long sleeved black t-shirt and sweatpants still wanted to get a caramel steamer.

On our way back the boys spotted huge crabs on the beach below so we scrambled down to take a look.

Did you know crabs are ridiculously fast? I didn’t. The moment they saw movement headed their way they were gone. I guess to grow that old and big they have to be pretty smart and quick. There were hundreds of crabs of all different sizes.

And thousands of crab tracks in the sand.

No luck catching one with all the possible hiding places between the rocks.

In this pool of water left on top of one of the rocks when the tide went out were these tiny fish that the boys tried to catch. They were fast too.

One of the smaller crabs. The biggest ones had to be the size of my hand, not including the claws.

Since the tide had gone out considerably Josh thought we might be able to wade across the waterway to the other part of the beach instead of climbing back up to the road so he went to check it out.

Venturing out, but Caleb wasn’t convinced it was safe. The current was pretty strong as the water was being sucked out into the ocean by the change in tide.

It got about waist deep — remember, I’m hiking this with a 20+ pound baby strapped to my chest and wading across unknown waters in my flip-flops that kept sinking down in the sand. I wasn’t really feeling the adventurous spirit. Especially once I felt something sharp stinging my leg.

At the halfway point the boys pulled themselves up on this little island and then ran back to me to report that the other half was too deep to cross. They probably could have made it without me, but they were looking out for their little sister.

Wading back I started to lose my balance and Caleb steadied me and fell down instead. He proudly stated he sacrificed himself for Mommy and Camille.

After retreating to dry land I looked down at my leg and saw blood. The crazy person in my head was convinced that it was a jellyfish or a stingray or something exotic that would make my leg swell up and have to be amputated, but since it didn’t hurt, I knew there was probably a non-lethal explanation. I don’t know what it was because I didn’t scrape it against any rocks and I was in the middle of the water when I felt it, but days later it is healing normally, so I guess I’ll never know.

After exiting the water we had to scale the rocks to get back up to the road and my Rainbows weren’t providing enough traction so I took them off. Unfortunately, my feet were still wet enough to be slippery so as I went to push off a rock to bridge the gap to the next, my foot slipped and I fell backwards. Luckily the rock was big enough that I half fell, half sat down on it and only ended up banging my elbow in the process. The boys were all very concerned, especially Carter who insisted on holding my hand and helping me up the rest of the way.

All in all, it was a fun and successful outing (and the boys found some great shells!), but next time I’m going to pass on the fjord crossing part of the expedition and stick to the beach. I don’t desire any more encounters with unknown sea creatures.