At Long Last

Well, it’s finally happening, the barest stirrings of the new distillery are beginning to rumble. As usual, everything is top top secret. Where? Can’t say. With whom? Can’t say. Who, what, when, where and how? Let’s just say me ++, fabulous distillery ++, as soon as possible, here in Oman of course, and an entirely impossible set of chance and circumstances.

And it’s gonna be cool. Like really ultimately, fabulously, insanely cool. I’m working with some extremely interesting people, and we are all on the same page; we are bringing together the beauty and utility of ancient design in a new, clean, green and uniquely Omani way. Plus I love that the entire scenario is completely impossible. When something’s impossible it’s always sweeter when you finally make it happen.

I’ve been waiting for two years. Waiting and distilling and waiting and distilling. The first year I didn’t really know what I was waiting for and it became more and more clear as this year has passed. And I still couldn’t write about it. But finally the ducks are lined up, the monkeys have typed Hamlet, and pigs flew across the sky. And I still can’t write about it but maybe a few whispers here and there are ok.

What can I say about the new distillery? It’s…..in the middle of a citrus grove. That’s something else I always wanted, that citrus grove. The citruses here are different than those in California. I don’t even know how, except to say that they are Omani citruses, dignified and slower-ripening. I should be able to make some nice petitgrain oil, and one day, perhaps, possibly, neroli. I saw some pomegranates too. And mangoes, papayas, dates…..even olives. Oh, and lemongrass.

That’s the only hint, the only clue for now. If anyone in Oman reads this blog, and is curious, all I can say is that it’s time to go fishing.

For Americans Only--a rant

I know I shouldn’t probably be commenting on this, as I’m sure it’s not supposed to be noticed. But really, is there no end in sight for the utter bonheadedness of American foreign policy in Islamic countries?

I’m not commenting on the $2 billion dollar aid package to Pakistan to “fight the Taliban.” Morons. Or all those idiotic drone attacks that “mistakenly” kill innocents in the same area. Idiots.

I’m not talking about the $60 billion to Saudi so they can buy our weapons. What the hell?
I’m not talking about the 100% support for Israel, no matter what it does, and our meek and weak attempts to ask them to please stop building settlement’s or at least slow down, when it’s convenient, please?

Our standing and respect on the planet continues to fall. Our policies in this part of the world quite obviously have no one with a lick of common sense or real knowledge at their helm. I know I had such high hopes for Mr. Obama. I think we all did. And I can’t necessarily criticize him because it’s more than him, and he has so many crises on his plate from the previous criminal administration.
Everyone from the Bush administration should be in court facing charges of treason in my opinion.
Look at the mess.

But here in the Middle East, while there are plenty of American diplomats and other people who understand the region, policy is quite obviously made by those who are completely ignorant of the Middle East, relying, presumably, on some balderdash they learned at university and in the dining rooms of Washington. Where is their street sense?

The Americans think they are fighting a “war on terror”? I think this is it. I don’t know which is more frightening, if the people who make these policies governing our position and involvement on Israel, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, Iran, etc are just using their American logic and assumptions to further this end, unaware that not everyone thinks like us, or if that is just simply the pap that the American people are fed and the true reasons are more cynical and self-serving, corrupt. Is it stupid or evil?

Americans seem to realize we are not well liked as a country (even though individuals often are,) yet the policy makers, talking heads, and journalists toss that aside, taking comfort with the ace in the hole of “Well, everyone wants to come to America” like one cancels out the other. Can none of them see that the threat of terrorism is linked to how we are perceived, respected and liked?

Remember Sept 11? Almost the whole world was with us. But in the nine years since, the majority of the world’s opinion has turned against us, and it’s completely understandable why. If our goal is really in truly to promote freedom and democracy, then why do we continue to prop up corrupt regimes, to flout our own laws, and the Geneva Convention, to bomb and kill and destroy people’s lives? Because that is what we do. We somehow think we have to cram our vague, skewed vision down people’s throats, worldwide. And they should be grateful for it. I guess we figure if we just beat it into you long enough, you’ll eventually come to your senses.

Anyway, what prompted this? Something simple. There are a lot of American service people here, military. I don’t know what they are doing, and any facts would be superseded by rumors anyway. Now, Americans act a certain way, military included. I don’t mean drunk and obnoxious, I mean the great qualities that we are known for, that everyone loves, even in the Middle East. We are friendly, gregarious, outgoing. We are even polite! We are not ever snobs; we don’t have the class issues so many Europeans have. We talk to everyone, we are generous and even though we are usually appallingly ignorant, people expect this and still they enjoy us, because of those friendly, happy traits. Our accents are also considered charming. Yes, it’s true.

So here we have these American service people on r & r. And they act like…….mice. Rabbits. They are petrified of everything and everyone. It has to be a mixture of fear and the rules set for them before they leave their bases. They stare at the floor. They mumble an answer when asked a direct, yet normal and friendly question, even by me. One step up from “name, rank and serial number.”

Obviously, they have been told not to draw attention to themselves, not to identify themselves as Americans, like no one will know otherwise. I have never seen such a thing as this. I am obviously American. I’m walking around with a yoga mat and a sparkly beach bag. The young women I spoke to did not even realize I was from their country. They stared at their shoes. I asked a few simple questions, such as how are you? Where are you from? What are you doing here? Are you enjoying your time in Salalah?

Then I noticed others, quietly moving about the hotel in groups, speaking in hushed tones, having one beer only. Not that I expect them act like British military. That’s the other extreme. I’m glad not to be embarrassed. But even last year you could see marines or navy or air force hanging out, acting like normal people, laughing and talking.

These poor frightened lambs are children. How old were they when we invaded Afghanistan, 9? 10? Now here they are doing whatever it is they are doing, something terrible probably, and told to enjoy their time off but to be invisible. Are they scared of al Qaeda, or someone equally sinister coming to carry them off?

Americans are obvious, wherever we are, and even more so when in groups. You can spot us coming long before we arrive. By acting so timidly, these young people are not being unobtrusive. It just makes people wonder why. Has no one who comes up with these idiotic policies ever been to the Middle East? So what are local people saying? Well, I haven’t heard the full spectrum of rumor, but a couple of people have told me that they think these Americans have done something wrong, and now they are scared they will be found out.

Sure, it’s just what some local Omanis say. And there are plenty of weird and terrible and stupid rumors about us and you can’t control it. But do we really have to fan the flames? Need we pour gasoline on ourselves at every opportunity?

Why isn’t it possible for some of those people who make up US policies in the Middle East to actually pull their heads out of their asses and ask someone who knows? Ask advice from people such as H.M. for example. You want to wipe out support for the Taliban, Al Qaeda, etc? Then smarten up. Stop making the fire bigger and bigger. Why on earth do they think that pouring more money and more troops and more weapons into any of these hell pits will extract an ounce of good? On what basis do they form this opinion? Our victory in Iraq? Over the Taliban? In Vietnam?

And the more we show disregard to human life, for human rights, for the dispossessed, for anyone unlike ourselves, the deeper is the hole we are digging, and the further we have to get out.

Americans will often shut down at this type of accusation and say something along the lines of “You don’t like it? Leave.” It’s our usual expectation of a simple quick fix to everything. But make no mistake, our country is in shambles, and it’s thanks to the previous administration. We are no longer in a position to thumb our noses at the rest of the world, and impose our will as we see fit. But as we cannot access the past, we apparently also cannot access the future. We are alone in this by the way. The rest of the world remembers the past and looks to the future. Yet we exist in an eternal present, governed by reality TV, anti-depressants and fear.

Wake up, people!

I’m expecting hate mail for this post. You don’t have to agree with me, but I will remove any posts that are offensive or unsuitable to civilized, even if passionate, discussion.

Bathing in a Dead Frankincense Tree

I took myself off to the trees and the beach yesterday. Had to see the Old Lady Trees. There is something of oak about them, their sturdiness, quiet rectitude, their enduring strength, the smell of a Sunday afternoon, the crisp delicate crinkle of dry leaves in the breeze. The sound of the wind in a frankincense tree is something akin to the sound of the wind in Joshua Tree.

The mid-day stillness was like a thing in itself and I decided to sit and meditate under a particularly solid tree. Yeah, right.

I know that 20 minutes of solid meditation a day is just terrific but if I ever got 5 minutes I would think myself self possessed by some Buddha-jinn.

I tried to do a minute, an entire one. But all in all did maybe 20 seconds, which was actually more likely 10 seconds. Pathetic.

Happily, my attention went to a nearby tree, dead and uprooted, but still with little green shoots. I think maybe Luban trees take some time to realize they have died because I’ve noticed this before. Death in Omani time I guess.

Gum still oozed from the trunk, and having burned in the sun, was covered by a black crust, like little melanomas. But I poked one and the most delicious creamy Luban honey-like cream ran out. I seized the opportunity! Poking my way through all the hard little black carbuncles I covered as much of my body as I could with the ooze! I would like to pretend that it just turned into cream in my hands but as I have said before, hot frankincense can be a textural nightmare and this was certainly a mess. No matter, Covered in horribly sticky goop and dancing about like an insane person, I must have been the image of feminine dignity. It smelled (I smelled) fantastic though, Luban with sweet flowers and the pain of waiting and time.

I managed to get myself to the car, and, after 20 minutes or so of brisk cleaning of the hands, unstuck enough to drive my demented self to Fizayeh beach, which was completely deserted, thankfully.

The water was spectacular, as usual, turquoise and seemingly tranquil compared to the still roaring breakers in Salalah. Only a tiny lapping at the edge. I sat down at the water line, keeping a wary eye out for the crabs, as the crabs here are crafty and violent, and will attack. But as I began to scrub at my legs and arms, a tiny wavelet came in and knocked me so hard it pushed me head over heels over the shells and rocks at the waters edge, shredding my leg. At least there was plenty of sea water to wash my wounds.

Never mind, I survived. And took my now wild self, dripping frankincense gum, coconut oil and blood, back to Salalah, where drama awaited. But at least I still smelled good.

Submerged in Salalah, Again

If you ever wonder about time, and waiting, and waiting, and more waiting, then just ask me; I can tell you a thing or two about it.
Here I am, and still waiting.
Initially, I was waiting for someone. Now it’s someone else. In the meantime, I’ve not wasted time, but it’s easy to get critical: My Arabic should be better, whatever. It’s a little difficult to keep up a suitable level of enthusiasm. And of course no talking about it. With anyone.
I drank the kool-aid long ago.
Despite two years of difficulties, my original partner, or friend, or sponsor, or whatever he was, has remained my friend, and I, his. Actions speak louder than words, cliché or not. It has been quite a journey but I wouldn’t be here without him. He has made sure that I am safe and happy, as well as being my protector and confidant.
It’s quiet and calm here in Salalah, clean and serene.

This is two years now that I have been here, on and off to be sure, but two entire years since I committed to being and staying here and doing something interesting. The little garden is happy and boisterous. My car is gleaming and fresh. The stills are contentedly residing in their little corner of the frankincense room.
The ocean is still rough and red flagged every day. But it’s getting a grip.
I’m just hanging out this week, nothing much to do but wait. And wait.
Having some shishas, doing a little yoga, sitting with a few friends. Maybe cook some cheese biscuits.

For anyone reading this who has spent time in this part of the world, and I don’t know if the whole Gulf is like this, or just Oman, you will know exactly what I’m talking about when I say I’m waiting.
For New Yorkers, you’d have a stroke.
Just to put some waiting in perspective here…..it took over a year to get my house. Mind you, it’s my perfect little house and way better than I could have done rushing into it on my own. But it did take over a year.

It took 5 months to get my car. Mind you, it’s absolutely the best and most perfect Land Cruiser. Could never have found it either quickly or on my own. It’s the fierce model, made to Middle Eastern specifications, for desert driving, with a minimum of electronics to jiggle loose. Nothing fancy. Just strong as hell. Monster engine. And the best year, I’m told. I could never own this vehicle in my other life. It could probably drive right off a cliff and just keep driving after hitting the desert floor. I adore it.

Here in Oman, time drips like a slow tap. But even though I’m having a bit of a time with this latest round of waiting, it’s nothing compared to how I reacted during the era of looking for a house, for example. Getting used to it I guess.

I remember in spring, sitting in a café in Muscat and an American guy was livid because his new project was taking weeks longer than he thought to get going. Weeks longer! He was mad enough to spit, screeching about how things are different in Thailand. We were unperturbed. Weeks. Ha ha. Please. The elasticity of time is undoubtedly the biggest hurdle any westerner will find here, because you just have to deal. And we are not so good at that.

By elasticity of time I don’t mean that people don’t honor their appointments in a timely way. Even though the widely held perception here among western expats is that Omanis are late for everything, it’s not my experience. I’ve blogged about it before. In fact, in New York it’s much more common for people to either blow you off entirely or show up an hour late, or blithely call to say (when they’re already late) that they’re going to be another 15 minutes (because of the train) and you’re already in the restaurant, having arrived late yourself. It’s normal. Here, no way. Laugh all you want, I find Omanis to be the most on-time people I’ve ever met and it’s inspired me (out of embarrassment perhaps) to make an actual effort to be on time as well.

What I mean by elasticity of time is that you have to wait, and sit, and get to know people, and slowly, over the months and then years, relationships form, and this is all vital to what happens to you and your project. You can’t just blaze in and see people, meet dignitaries, sign documents, throw around some money, and think you’ve done anything at all. If you think you’re earned people’s trust or that they will speak frankly to you on the basis of that, then you are mistaken. Americans do tend to think like this though. I should know, I am one. You need to put in the time and show your face. With no family here, how can people know us? Know our character? There is no getting around it. The Omanis are not fools. Things may take time, but this slow deliberation should not be confused with foolishness or naivety. It’s a question of wanting to know with whom they are dealing. Motives are considered and qualifications assessed. Money, while gladly accepted, does not trump all else. These are some of the things you have to accept if you are going to have a project here.

Anyway, I’m still putting in time on faith, and drinking the Kool-aid whenever it’s offered. If you’re going to wait years for something, then I think Salalah is the best possible place to do it. When I look back on how much I’ve changed in every way, since just after Ramadan 2008, when I made the actual choice to stay here, it’s impressively shocking. Such a lot has happened. And such a lot has changed.

I feel good here, and even better now that some energy has shifted. Respected and petted. I’ve got a sort of a mini-vacation as I wait. So for the next few days I’ll be doing more of the same—hanging out with friends, doing some chores, writing a bit, going to the beach….. and waiting and waiting and hope to have some good news to write about soon! So Inshaa Allah things will turn out soon for me here. Maybe next week! As usual, I’m poised on the edge of something great!

Nja Mahdaoui at Bait Muzna Muscat

Bait Muzna Gallery has evolved quite a bit, over the past few years from mainly being an outlet for camel pictures, dhow drawings, and other expat-centric souvenirs to mainly showcasing some very interesting modern art from Omani artists and the rest of the Arab world. The show going on just now is the fantastic Tunisian artist Nja Mahdaoui and the exhibit is Wajd. It goes on until late October so if you’re in Muscat, stop in and check out this gallery. It’s in Old Muscat, across from the Bait al Zubair museum.

Bait Muzna gallery no longer closes for lunch! It’s open from sometime in the morning (sorry) to 7ish pm. Closed Friday.

There are still a few pictures of camels and the like if you’re into it, but there’s much, much more than that.

I took in the Wajd exhibit last week and really enjoyed it. I love calligraphy even though I can’t read it. I’m not sure if his pieces are even actually verses at all. They may just be stylized…..writing? I don’t know but I sure do love the questions and feelings it invokes in me.

It’s a small gallery, you can just go any time you’re in Muscat or Muttrah with 30 minutes of liberty.

Bait Muzna Gallery

Don't Believe Everything You Read

I couldn’t help but notice the claims from the blog of the owner of an essential oil company I won’t name, but suffice to say it’s a gigantic multi-level marketing company, headed by a man who is a bit controversial but who undeniably has a gift for marketing.

He says (repeatedly) in his blog that his company is the only one making frankincense essential oil in Salalah. What balderdash! He has recently (this year, 2010) set up two distilleries in Salalah, and is now writing (repeatedly) that he has supposedly asked this official body and that important person about his position as the only American company making frankincense oil in Oman and that these official bodies have confirmed it. He should also know that publishing information about meetings with important Omanis, whether real or not, is a mistake.

I don’t think that this American essential oil executive is so utterly naïve that he would not understand how information is (not) shared in The Sultanate of Oman, particularly “After 15 years of traveling to and from Oman, building relationships with the people there, and acquiring their trust”. I don’t expect that anyone, official or not, would have supplied him with concrete information regarding my presence in this country. However, it’s a stretch to think that he wouldn’t have heard anything about me, especially as he spends a little time in Salalah, in the same places that I do.

After all, I know quite a bit about how much time he spends in Oman, and how he spends it, and who he spends it with, of course. Salalah is a small town and I’ve been around for some years now. But unless he has only superficial interactions with locals then it is unlikely that he would not know about me. And he must have more than superficial interactions, since he’s set up his distilleries. Plus, I’ve met people who work for him.

I suspect that he has heard through the grapevine that there is another company, Enfleurage, which offers distilled-in-Oman frankincense oil and he has written about my supposed non-existence to boost the imagined exclusivity of his company’s presence in Oman. His company is somewhat built around the idea of “biblical” essential oils and naturally Frankincense is the main attraction.

Now, I have known he is in Salalah for some time, and I would not have mentioned it, except for these irritating blog posts he has put up. It’s an obvious swipe at me, and so I am responding. To quote him: “With respect and admiration for those who seek the truth….” And “Why must the talk about this sacred oil be marred with the negative side of the essential oil industry that is about money and power? Only those who are a part of that deception can answer that question.”
Do tell us then.

If you are essential oil enthusiast, then you probably know the company I am referring to. Anyway, for sure he is exporting some frankincense oil from Dhofar. That is undeniable. But he is not the only company. Nor was his the first. One more quote taken directly from his posting: “It is sad that there is so much deception in the world of essential oils.” Indeed.