January 19, 2023
"Follies" at London's National Theatre: All the Middle-Aged Crises Plus Lots of Feathers and Sequinsby Randi / November 9, 2017
After our perfectly lovely time in Almaty, Kazakhstan, it was time to cross into our final ‘stan, the one most believed of Herman Cain: Uzbekistan. There was no easy direct way to go from Almaty to our first destination in Uzbekistan – Tashkent – so we had to take an overnight train (but of course!) to Shymkent, Kazakhstan first, then get a taxi to the border, cross the border, and then get another taxi from the other side of the border to Tashkent. It was exhausting just to think about, but considering how relatively well our travels had gone so far, I was optimistic that it wouldn’t be too troublesome. I think I’ve previously shared on this blog that IQ quote about being an optimist and fool? Yeah.
To relish our final moments of Almaty’s modernity, we got an Uber to the train station instead of arguing with taxi drivers. We would have enough of that the next day, oh boy, would we have enough of that. When the car was due to arrive I shut down the little baby laptop and prepared to put it away and get my giant pack on…and true to chitty, chitty form, Windows decided to install updates then. DO NOT SHUT OFF YOUR COMPUTER. You think that maybe it was one of those quick ones since they didn’t ask first? Here’s the picture I took.
150 UPDATES. What in tarnation is that about! This is the kind of bullshit that can put me off Windows forever. I had to hold my computer open in the car, in the train station, as we waited for and then boarded the train. Can you even picture how ridiculous this crap made me look? I had a giant backpack on my back, my stuffed daypack slung on one arm, my ticket in one hand, my passport open in the other, my purse hanging cross-body, and the laptop nested in the crook of my elbow. If I thought people had stared at me before in these parts just for being a Western female traveler, hoo boy, was I in for some learnin’.
Fortunately, this train helped to balance out the fury that the computer caused me. Because of some of the less-than-stellar experiences endured on the Chinese overnight trains, we decided that our first night back on the rails after so many weeks merited an upgrade! We got a private berth instead of sharing with 2+ randos (not to be confused with randis which are usually good) and it was GREAT. And clean! The little compartment had one set of bunk beds against one wall and a little vanity table with a (clean!) mirror and small table on the other side. I thought there was a closet but the inside door was a connecting one to the next compartment, for families I guess. Our neighbors were none-too-pleased when they realized someone was trying to open the door but they had a crying baby so it’s a draw. This little room was so nice, as was the train in general. The bathrooms weren’t horrifying, AND – there was a water cooler! Guysssss! I could refill my bottles with potable water! My baby nephew says to me “drink agua!” every time he sees my water bottle and you know what Huddybear? I did!
We placed the still-updating computer on that little table and left it to finish. When we went to sleep, it was at number 9. Of 150. In the morning, when it was at 33, we just shut it down and used up ALL of our restraint to not smash it into a thousand pieces.
As we waved goodbye to the European-style cosmopolitan vibe of Almaty, we knew we were saying goodbye to civilization in general for a good while. Our time in Uzbekistan would comprise experiences on the more raw, less modern side of things, as our itinerary tracked ancient Silk Road stops and historically important towns and landmarks that are more or less untouched since the old days. Meaning, it would be like stepping back in time, especially considering how modern the city we were coming from was. Bye civilization!
But we didn’t realize at first just how drastic the contrast would be and how quickly it would materialize. When we got off the train in Shymkent, we needed to get a taxi to the border with Uzbekistan, and it was quite the ordeal. We asked several drivers for prices but all were oodles more than they should have been according to literally every piece of information – internet, books, hostel employees, previous travelers. We talked to a woman at an information desk by the side of the road (I don’t know if it was official; it looked like the Bluth banana stand without bananas, which I wanted even more than information) who told us in Russian to take this bus that was there and that would do the job. We were about to board but with a little more questioning, we figured out that that bus just would take us into the city center, where we would have to find the bus that would actually take us to the border, or get a taxi. The extra step seemed incredibly unnecessary and unwanted, especially if we would end up needing to negotiate with a taxi there anyway. We might as well just do that now, we thought. So back we went to argue with taxi drivers. Finally we found one who offered a not too bad price, so we agreed and unloaded our stuff and got in and…didn’t leave. The driver instead started filling the other seats with other people. We sighed but this was to be expected, right. Finally the car was full and the driver starting driving and took us to…the other side of the train station. What’s going on, we asked, not actually wanting the answer because we knew there was some bullshit about to come our way. The driver indeed spewed some bullshit, telling us to get into this other van that was there, already full of people. So this driver we had found wasn’t actually going to ever take us to the border. He was taking us to his friend with a van. He actually had the gall to agree to something he was never intending to do and then DRIVE US 15 SECONDS TO ANOTHER PART OF THE STATION.
Oh man this shit was just the beginning.
We said are you kidding me, no f-ing way, we are not getting into another stuffed mashrutka and paying the price we agreed on as if we were getting a private taxi. So we went back to the front of the station and started all over again negotiating with drivers in Russian the best we could. One driver promised he would just take us and not fill the car with others and we said great let’s do it. We left the station, drove for five minutes down the main road…AND THEN TURNED BACK TO GO TO THE STATION. What the HELL is going on, we asked? OH – he had to pick up another person. At the station. That we had left. You said it would just be us and ALSO WTF, we said. That’s it just this one more, the driver promised. JFC, fine, we said, come on let’s go. We again left the station, and then the driver stopped the car along the side of the main road where a crowd of people were standing. He wanted to pick up another person from this crowd! And not someone he knew about, he was just going to ask if anyone needed a ride. FFS. We yelled HELL NO! Just take us to the f-ing border right now! He reluctantly left and started driving the three of us to the border — at the fastest speed I’ve EVER witnessed any car go, race cars in Talladega Nights included. I was petrified. This guy was such an asshole AND he was a dangerous driver?? Oh my god. We sped down the roads passing every car and weaving through lanes and cutting off EVERYONE else on the road and just holding on as tight as we could, terrified.
When we were sufficiently in the middle of nowhere, nowhere near anything we could see or walk to besides highway and desert, the driver pulled into a gas station along the side of the highway. He said he needed gas, and didn’t have money to pay for it, so we had to pay for it. Are you KIDDING ME? I started screaming at him in English, I knew he could understand my hatred and disgust at him even if he didn’t know every amazing curse word I used. We are not paying for your gas, you crook! But then he popped the trunk and started pulling our bags out, threatening to strand us along this highway in the middle of nowhere if we didn’t pay up. As much as I despise giving in to people like this, we really had no choice, so I gave him a little money. But no, that wasn’t enough. Apparently gas is very expensive in Uzbekistan or something because he kept asking for more. I really didn’t want to give any more and set a dangerous precedent in case he kept stopping along the way and demanding more money, but luckily that didn’t happen. Just this one instance of extortion so I guess we were lucky. He got back in the car — I don’t even remember if he actually pumped any gas — and flewww down the highway for another hour while I sent him death ray stares from the back seat. He drove mostly in between the two lanes, stopping anyone who dared even think about passing him. I continue to wish him very ill thoughts, naming him like Arya except I don’t know his name but the universe knows who I mean. Get ‘em.
Finally, finally, he dropped us near the border. We walked up to the gate, took a deep breath to get over the horrible experience we just miraculously survived, and then another deep breath to prepare for one we expected to be equally terrifying. See, the Uzbek border brings with it a lot of rules, and a lot of horror stories. We never heard anything as strict and scary as the stories about Uzbek border guards. They can delay travelers for hours, going through every single nook and cranny of their luggage, opening every container, going through pockets, everything. Worst of all, Uzbekistan has a VERY STRICT and VERY SERIOUS no-drug policy, and their list of banned substances includes things that we can get over the counter in many Western countries. So we had to be careful about every substance we were bringing in, and make sure we had prescriptions ready to show. But the banned substance list is serious, and it’s not something you can get around with a prescription. If you try to bring any of them in, you could go to jail. One of the substances on the banned list? Ativan. I know. Because we did our homework (do your homework!), we knew about this trouble before we left for the summer, so I only packed about as much Ativan as I thought I’d need up until this day, so I wouldn’t have to throw much out. I still had a few extra I had to toss back in Kazakhstan, but nothing worth crying over. It’s just so funny and perfect that the one thing that would have helped me deal with the shitshow that was this country was the one thing I had that they outlaw. COOL GUYS.
When we got through Kazakh exit, we were given the forms. We knew we had to declare every kind of currency we had on us and in what amounts, so we had counted up all our shiz on the train. This is more annoying than it sounds when you have traveled to 10 countries! We had dollars, we had euros, we had pounds, we had soooo much Chinese yuan that converted to like just a few dollars but takes up so much space, we had Mongolian money, we had roubles (a significant amount since we would return to Russia after Uzbekistan), we had Kyrgyz money, Kazakh money. Man alive this really makes one appreciate the euro zone. We wrote everything down and then had to declare our valuables, including our phones, readers, and the baby laptop. We had read about other white travelers who had to unpack everything and who were detained for hours so we were super nervous. But, luckily, the border guards on duty for us were SO excited to meet Western tourists that they were pretty much just friendly and trying to ask us all sorts of questions, not about what we were carrying but about us and the west and whatever. We SO lucked out. I mean there were no toilets anywhere to be found but still, quite lucky. I guess I could have brought my Ativan in after all but better to be safe than to end up in an Uzbek prison in the driest desert with no toilets, right.
Oh but then we had to find another taxi to take us to Tashkent. Guyssss. I never want to take a taxi again. But there are no buses! There’s no other way! You just find a guy with a car and you hope that they are trustworthy. Ish. We found an old man with an old car and mistakenly thought ‘hey maybe this old guy will be more legit and somewhat decent than the younger asshat men are.’ We showed him the name of our guest house in Tashkent and he said ‘oh yes I know that place!’ We were relieved. The guy drove us through the nothingness and into the city, where he immediately stopped, got out, and started chatting with two young women. What is going on NOW, we wondered. Then the two women got in the car with us. I know. What’s going on, we asked?? One of the women spoke a little bit of English and she explained that the driver didn’t know where the hostel was, so they were going to help them. Let’s go over this again. The man who told us he was familiar with the hostel not only lied about that and didn’t know it, but DIDN’T EVEN KNOW THE ROAD IT WAS ON. And here’s the kicker – neither did the two women. They were just helping by using their phone maps –WHICH WE HAD TOO. And they showed us that they didn’t know how to read their phone maps, because WE were the ones who ended up instructing the driver on where to turn and how to f-ing drive. It was ludicrous and so frustrating and like, are there ANY taxi drivers in central Asia who aren’t complete assholes?
Finally, after we screamed NO, LEFT – NO YOUR OTHER LEFT about 40 times, we found our guest house, yelled at the driver to get out of our sight for ever and never come back here again, and entered the house eager to shower and relax. Naturally, the room wasn’t ready yet.
We’ll talk about that guest house and about the rest of Tashkent in the next post. Until then, I need to go take an ativan.
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Trump Hates It? It Must be Awesome! We Return to Baltimore!
Are you curious about what ‘living in hell’ is like? It’s pretty nice (and vegan-friendly)!
Recently, Cheeto Mussolini talked smack on one of America’s great cities, and it was embarrassing. For him, of course, because he was wrong (he did open his mouth). Since I have the best readers (‘I use the best words’), I know you agree that if the screaming carrot demon hates something, it’s probably awesome, and this is definitely true for Baltimore, Maryland. Sure it has problems – as most big cities do – but unlike the assclown who has the power (all the power in the world) to fix them, we aren’t going to complain about them and not talk about all the great things Baltimore has going on right now.
benches don’t lie mufucka
Balmore, as they say, is a vibrant, dynamic city with so much more to offer than crime and homelessness and a drug problem (helloo did I say every city because that’s every city). The diverse (in both senses of the word) areas of the city are full of young hipsters living in cool neighborhoods, tourists coming to see one of the first colonies, students attending one of the great schools, and established locals who will defend their city to any orange buffoon who dares, dares, disparage it. Recently, we were members of the second group visiting members of the first and third (and, by default, fourth) groups. We found a Baltimore more progressive and even more fun than our last visit 3 years ago. It was a short trip, but we managed to see and do (and eat) enough to recommend a visit to anyone, except assclowns.
Shall we start with food or activities?? Food or activities. I’m going to flip a coin aaaaaand it’s activities.
Great decision making!
DO
We’ll save my favorite new Baltimore/anywhere activity for last because it’s AMAZING and there’s no way silly museums could compete with it if I share that first. You know I complain about museums a lot (we go to so many museums! they take so long!) but I’m mostly just joking since they are a must-see pretty much everywhere. This trip, we returned to The Walters Art Museum, a free (!) museum in the Mount Vernon-Belvedere neighborhood, housing mid-19th century collections amassed by the Walters family. William Thompson Walters began collecting art when he moved to Paris to flee the beginning American Civil War because he was a Confederate sympathizer and I guess he was at least smart enough to know he should get his ass out of there but also fork that guy. His son later refined his jackwagon father’s collection and made the plans for establishing a way to publicly house it; no word on whether he also was an ignorant racist.
It’s a great museum with lots to see and learn, but that’s for you to discover on your own because as usual, my job here is to share the pictures of hilariously weird things, and dogs. Here are all the dogs in the museum.
This is honestly one of my favorite museum activites. Half the pictures on my phone are paintings with dogs in them from museums all over the world. Anyway now we move on to another favorite activity: sharing all the hilarious and weird shit.
Okay that’s probably enough of that. The Walters is definitely worth a visit when you are next in Baltimore and not just for the dog paintings.
The museum is on the very hip very cool N. Charles Street, about a ten minute walk from husbo’s favorite pub, The Brewer’s Art. Last time we were in Baltimore, we could only have their incredible rosemary fries, but when we stopped in this time, we discovered they had Beyond Meat burgers AND sausages on the menu! I mean! What! (This doesn’t count as prematurely talking about food because we didn’t actually eat there.) So definitely check it out after the museum. The museum is also only a five minute walk from husbo’s favorite restaurant in Baltimore, The Helmand, an Afghani restaurant that is excellent, so that’s also an option. Do one before and one after!
I’m not a huge fan of cemeteries, but your next activity is a quick lil trip to one. Honestly, it doesn’t even really count as a cemetery, just a little tiny garden-looking jawn with some graves. Okay it’s a small cemetery. But it’s a special one!
It’s Edgar Allan Poe’s! Okay it’s not all exclamatey I mean he did die at 40 (in Baltimore, where he spent a good portion of his life). Poe’s grave site is on Fayette Street, at the Westminster Hall and Burying Ground, not too far from the Edgar Allan Poe House and Museum, which makes a lot of sense. If you are a Poefiend you should check all of that out but we were in the game for just a quick stroll by the grave. It’s in a very blink-and-you’ll-walk-right-by-it quiet little secluded corner of green, gated but open to the public.
In true Poe fashion, he was originally buried in an unmarked grave. Eventually a man named George Spence added a sandstone block on the site but still, no name and lots of weeds. Reports of this odd grave for such an important figure circulated and eventually reached Poe’s mother-in-law, who wrote some harsh but polite words (probably) to the cousin in charge of fixing this whole situation. Neilson Poe, the two-last-names cuz, ordered a legit marble headstone, but then in true Poe fashion, a train ran off its tracks and destroyed the headstone. After a few years, various benefactors, friends, and students raised enough money for another headstone. The monument was dedicated in 1875, 26 years after Poe’s death. Cremation is a lot easier, I’m just saying.
There are other people buried here, including members of his family and notable historical figures.
Our next activity is a jaunt to Fort McHenry, which I didn’t actually visit but husbo did (I was busy). He’s here to tell you all about it:
Ha I’m just joking it’s still me. Fort McHenry is an important American, well, fort. Or ‘coastal bastion’ as the wikipeeds says. Located in the Locust Point neighborhood, the fort was important during the War of 1812 (not to be confused with the Great Comet of that same year, wow what a year am I right), when it successfully defended Balmore from those DAMNED BRITISH whose navy was attacking from the Chesapeake Bay. It was also used during both World Wars. During the War of 1812, when the larger garrison flag was flown over the Fort, it signaled that the Americans had won the Battle of Baltimore. The sight of the flag waving here inspired Francis Scott Key to write the song that only 7% of performers at sporting events have sung well.
Husbo really enjoyed his visit to the Fort, save for the true ‘mercans wearing t-shirts that literally said AMERICA FUCK YEAH but you know you’re going to see them at military places. Admission is $15.
Our last activity recommendation this go-round is the best one. Like true gentrifying hipsters, we tried the latest and funniest hipster activity that has country folk saying, um, what?
We went axe throwing! IT WAS AMAZING.
Urban Axes on North Haven Street is the shiiiit. Sure there’s a bar with craft beer and wines, which doesn’t seem like the smaaartest match-up. But the axe-throwing is fun enough to keep people engaged and away from the bar for too long. You generally have to book in advance (they can allow walk-ins if it’s not too busy, but don’t risk it) and you get 6 people per ‘arena’ (two targets) and per coach. We were told that since we had 4 people, 2 strangers (stranger danger!) could potentially be put in our lane, but that didn’t happen. (It was a weeknight.)
So you get a coach, an ‘axepert’, who stays with you the entire hour-long session and teaches you how to throw a g-d axe. Our coach was really great. She was so helpful in figuring out our best stances, whether we should go one-handed or two, and giving little tips to improve. I went in thinking it would be fun but that I would be terrible, but even as a first-timer I got a few bullseyes! We all did! IT WAS AWESOME!
It’s literally just a giant warehouse sort of room with plywood targets up. We said to each other, omg we should open one of these in London – the costs are SO low! You just need a bunch of axes and some boards! And then we took a beat and realized how much the liability insurance would be.
You can wear whatever you want, you just have to wear closed-toed shoes. It seems a little scary in theory, but we were reassured that people rarely get injured if they are following the rules. The most common injury people get is splinters from putting one hand against the board while they pull the axe out with the other. Silly people, don’t do that!
Man alive this was so much fun. Urban Axes has locations all over, including in Philly and Austin, so definitely check them out! It’s $38 per participant so it’s a little steep, but for a special occasion it’s pretty great.
EAT
Baltimore’s vegan scene, like that of so many big cities, is popping. We found such great finds over a few days. I mentioned The Helmand and The Brewer’s Art above and you should definitely have them on your list. Newbies this go round included Red Emma’s, Stall 11 at the very hip very popular R House market, and my new fave restaurant L’eau de Vie, which I wrote about already.
Before we get to those, let’s talk about a more famous Baltimore tourist destination in case you end up there. One night, the omnivores I was with wanted crabs, which, if you know your musical theatre, Baltimore is famous for (remember Velma Von Tussle was Miss Baltimore Crabs in her youth) (I just realized I haven’t been singing “Good Morning Baltimore” this entire time; am I okay?). We paid a visit to the harborside crab institution Bo Brooks, and if you likewise end up there as a vegan, there are a few options for you!
It’s nothing special, but sometimes all I want is a regular green salad and a regular bowl of bean soup, and Bo Brooks had both for me. In fact, there’s a whole ‘plant-based’ section, and while I hate the phrase, I loved the contents. My soup was a ‘Tuscan white bean’ soup and it was fine! Then I had Nelly’s Salad which was actually quite big and had avocado and avocado dressing. That’s all I really ask for! Bo Brooks also has the Beyond Burger so you should definitely get one of those if you aren’t looking to recreate your own little Olive Garden sitch (saltines were my breadsticks).
Okay, next up is one of our favorite places in Baltimore – Red Emma’s. Yes, it sounds a bit Commie, and yes, it’s for a reason. It’s a radical infoshop, bookstore, and vegan cafe run by a worker-owner collective and yes of course it’s named after anarchist Emma Goldman (which of course should make you think of not one but TWO MUSICALS! EG was important in both Assassins and Ragtime). Given the state of the world right now, we should all be a little (lot) more socialist! You’re not surprised, right, with all the time we spent in the former USSR? You had to expect it to rub off a little. (Or you know by being aware in this society.)
In addition to being like so woke, Red Emma’s has wonderful food. It was one of the hardest menus to order from because everything sounded incredible (and was vegan, as far as I could tell). We decided on the banh mi and the Reuben, with a side kale salad, totally on brand for us.
The Reuben might not look like much, but it was one of the best we’ve ever had. Husbo, an omnivore, sang its praises to such an extent that he actually said it was better than the Reuben at Rudy’s Dirty Vegan Diner in London, which is a huge thing since that one gets so much acclaim (but part of that is because it’s the only legit vegan Reuben in London (except the ones I make at home, obvs the best)). The banh mi was on the wrong bread (too big and too hard!) and needed more of a mayo-y sauce but it was still pretty good. The rest of the menu sounded so amazing, Red Emma’s will definitely be on our to-do list next time.
We also ventured downstairs to the bookshop, which is where we bought Ijeoma Oluo’s So You Want to Talk About Race. Highly recommended!! (And definitely try to buy it from a shop that is not Amazon! Fuck Bezos! Billionaires are inherently immoral!)
Up next is my faaaavorite place and another that’s definitely on my list for a return visit. Man I really need to make a return visit. That’s Stall 11 in the food-vendor market space called R House, which bills itself as an “industrial chic food hall”. Directly south of the Johns Hopkins campus, R House is SO trendy and cool, and Stall 11’s existence in there proves the point. Carving out its own adorable space in the market hall, Stall 11 looks like what By Chloe wanted to be. And the food achieves the same goal. It’s incredible (and better).
We had the loaded mac and cheese OF COURSE, which was fantastic, with a house-made vegan cheeze sauce, nut parm, and crispy cauliflower which was AMAZING.
We also tried the avocado BLT which was great, if completely falling apart on that too-small bread! And it came with great sweet potato fries.
Of course we also tried a salad, the Harvest salad with added tempeh. Everything was so delicious! Here’s a better picture of the salad so you can see all the goodies inside, like chickpeas and quinoa and sweet potatoes.
I love Stall 11 food so much. It’s like my perfect menu – huge loaded salads, great sandwiches, mac and cheeze. All my faves! To top it off, R House had self-serve water stations. I could cry! That’s all I ask for!
Well there’s one more thing I always ask for: ice cream. R House also has an outpost of Little Baby’s ice cream, which I know from Philly. The best thing about Little Baby’s, besides reliably having several vegan flavors, is that they sell ‘Baby’ scoops, one step below regular single scoops, for when you want to have just a little but are really full, like we were!
STAY
You’ll notice we don’t have hotel recommendations this time around because they’re all rat-infested we stayed with friends who are LIVING IN HELL no they absolutely love it. We were in the Canton neighborhood which is quite lovely and close enough to all the attractions by bus (we downloaded the CharmPass bus app, on which you buy tickets and then show your code to the driver, so easy!). The buses were fairly straightforward, although sometimes there was a really long wait. Tourists might want to stay in the thick of things by Harbor East or in Fells Point, which is the most happening for night life. We walked through Fells Point one busy Saturday night and felt very cool and then we kept on walking towards home where we played Settlers of Catan (I’m like a very cool person).
So it was a quick trip to Baltimore, but even with a few days we could see that it is far from the hellscape that assclown would tell you it is. Yeah we walked through some sketchy neighborhoods and you should be careful where you walk at night, and yes there are issues that need to be addressed. But that’s the same for Philly, for London, for really anywhere. Writing off an entire city because it has problems, instead of talking about how to address them, is some ignorant bullshirt. Visiting such a city and contributing to its economy may be a helpful move for us regular people, who don’t have the power to fix everything and yet fix nothing, to make. If you have the chance to visit Baltimore, you really should. And please tell me all the delicious (vegan) things you eat! And sing all the musical theatre songs that relate to your visit! (More about that on my instagram stories! Link at the top of the page.)
Don’t forget to read about L’Eau de Vie!
Want more Balmore? Read about our 2016 visit! (enjoy even worse pictures!)
Muscat Susie, Muscat Sam: Oh Man, Did We Enjoy Oman
Oman wasn’t on our list for very long – in fact, it might be the fastest we’ve ever decided to go somewhere and then gone. Last year we heard several unrelated wonderful reports about this gem of a country in the Middle East and then suddenly, we were off! (And I was going to be so close to Chandler next door in Yemen, living it up with that rando he met on the plane and/or at 15 Yemen Road.) Between the charming little city of Muscat and the incredible wadis (like my favorite place, Wadi Shab) and sinkholes we swam in around the country, we had a fabulous time. Whether you’re an explorer, a history buff, a water-feature-lover (me), or just in the mood for a super fancy resort vacation (but don’t only stay in the resort), I highly recommend a visit to Oman.
You will definitely need to rent a car, which sucks for people like me who hate driving, especially in foreign lands where you don’t read the language. So, after our super pleasant and short flight from Dubai (which you read about last week, right?) on Swiss Air (which was outfitted like an old professor; I don’t know something about the light wooden detail and the tweed vibe on that plane read ‘professor’), we landed at Muscat International Airport SUPER late at night and SUPER needing to do two specific things: 1) get a SIM card for the phone, and 2) pick up our rental car. You’d think these would be simple since they are most everyone’s 2 things to do! Both the SIM and the Budget rental car people were the. worst. ever. So rude and they took forever so we were well into the wee hours of the morning before we were on our way to the hotel. And that wasn’t even the worst part: I had a full panic attack driving to the hotel because I am the navigatrix, and Google maps had NO IDEA ABOUT MUSCAT. Just never heard about it, I guess. So I was flipping, and I mean flipping, out because I had no idea what to tell Z to do and we kept getting farther away from the city center and we don’t read Arabic so it was terrifying.
Finally somehow we found our hotel. (If you’re driving, print out directions from the airport just in case your maps app also decides it needs 24 hours to start working properly.) During our time exploring, we stayed at the Intercontinental Muscat, which sounds fance because the IC usually is, but this was (known in advance to be) a quite dingy one, with motel-looking rooms. It was more affordable this way, and it was undergoing an extensive remodel while we were there, so while we were lucky to snag the lower prices, we missed out on the nicer rooms. But since we were going to be busy sightseeing (and driving around the country) all day, we didn’t need to be anywhere fancy. No, we were saving that for the second half of our trip, which you’ll see in the next Oman post.
After sleeping, omg sleeping is THE BEST, we explored Muscat the next morning, first by making our way up to the fort area at the north of the city. It’s like a bunch of forts and government buildings and noooo one around, which was cool for exploring and…interesting for my usual fear of “has the world I Am Legended or something?”
Muscat curves along the water (the Gulf of Oman) with various corniches lined with mosques, souks, and cafes (and banks and all other markings of civilization, except we don’t have Habib Bank which is a shame because it’s so close to my favorite thing to shout (HABIBI!) and if there was a Habibi bank I’d be like here take my money). What I consider the main drag of the waterfront, along Al Bahri Road, is right where Mutrah Souk and the Gold Souk are located.
You have to pay to park along the corniche, and while there are plenty of spots, it’s kind of annoying because it’s those newfangled machines (I hate MACHINES) and they only take 50p coins (I know it’s ‘p’ but I don’t know their abbreviations for the smaller denominations) so you have to go buy a tea or something in a nearby cafe and ask for change in 50p coins. But now you know so you can just make sure to have them handy! Who says you don’t learn from me?
I guess this is as good a time as any to share some DEETS about their currency in Oman. It’s the Omani rial! One rial breaks into 1000 baisa, so when I said 50p coins you (like me originally) probably brained that as ‘half their dollar or whatever’, but it’s not half, it’s 1/20!!!! That’s rial small! I hope I did that math right otherwise I’ll be rially embarrassed. One rial is about $2.6 USD, so 10 rials is like $26 and you can generally figure out whether most things are cheap or pricey knowing that. As a destination, it’s cheaper than most of Western Europe, but more expensive than I assumed. You can find super cheap food and stuff but overall it’s much less of a post-Dubai steal than I wanted.
Before or after exploring the coastline and the souks, you’ll want to hit the main cultural museum to learn about Oman and Omani culture. That’s why you’re here! The very nice and informative museum is called the Bait Al Zubair, opened to the public since 1998. Comprising six different buildings and lots of outdoor space, the museum features exhibits on Omani culture and heritage in terms of dress, jewelry, weapons, food, history, furniture, money, housing, and more, including two big ass cannons.
We learned all sorts of info from the museum, but honestly the most compelling info-graphic was about the first postal stamp. Whoever wrote the sign explaining how Britain issued the first government-printed postage stamp on May 6, 1840 was INTO the history of stamps. They honestly sounded like a nerdier version of me, using all caps and everything to make a point! I KNOW! In a museum! It was adorbs. They were like ‘before 1840 the RECEIVER of the letter had to pay for the costs of delivery, but then Mister Sir Rowland Hill became British Postmaster General and he thought the SENDER should pay the price and that was the first time this happened aren’t stamps EXHILARATING?’ no but it’s a good change, Rowland. Could you imagine having to pay for the shitty mail you get? I’d be like hard pass.
Maybe you want to learn about Muscat and not the history of stamps in the U.K. So that means it’s time for our favorite Laughfrodisiac travel feature, your completely accurate history lesson.
So Oman is a Sultanate, along with Brunei and parts of Indonesia and Malaysia, which makes it baby’s first Sultanate visited! I did not see that pudgy little doofus who let Jafar manipulate him, no I did not, I would have given him a talking to. A talking down to, if you will, because I’m still mad at his initial treatment of his daughter and also because he so smol. (I’m OBVIOUSLY joking, Omani officials, and would never speak ill of your actual sultan who is also prime minister? It’s an absolute monarchy over there. (that’s the actual phrase I’m not saying like oh it’s an absolute monarchy; no it’s an ‘absolute monarchy’ it’s a thing.)) My fave thing is that there’s no clear answer about where the name came from (probably someone just saying ‘oh mannn’ like I did) but some think it’s related to writing from Pliny the Elder, which tickles me because I forking LOVE Pliny the Elder, one of my fave elders.
Muscat is Oman’s capital and largest city, and archaeological finds (fishermen graves, so sinister) date the city, an important port, as having communities since 6,000 years before Jesus was like ‘oh hayyyy oh you don’t care about me.’ And then pre-Iranians invaded dun dun dunnn and then they all converted to Islam and then there were all these battles between different tribes and then Marcos Baghdatis’s people invaded (not Cyprus, Baghdad…I see how this gets confusing but stick with me) but then Omani tribes were like gtfO Marcos, it’s Wimbledon time, and then power shifted between native tribes for a bit and all this time the importance of Muscat as a port city between powerful civilizations grew and grew, causing some animosity from people not by the city/water, like how England hates Londoners because we’re the most important.
But then in the 1500s the Portuguese were like ‘o bom dia I’ma gonna takeover you nowah’ (the Portuguese sounded Italian!) and they fought but the Portuguese won and they were like ‘Muito prazer em conhecê-lo but I’ma burna your city to the groundah!’ and they did. They ruled till later in the 1600s when the Imam was finally like FORK THIS and sent troops to Muscat and toppled the power of the Portos. Then there were civil wars which are NEVER good and the Persians kept interfering and trying to take over like ‘oh but itsa my turn to ah rule you!’ (they sound Italian too) but they even though they didn’t get the chance they still contributed to the whole region being destabilized which is rude. The need for cohesive rule let the Al Bu Sa’id dynasty emerge and rule ever since, but not without lots of dramaaaz like even in the last century there was a civil war, from friction between the sultan and the imams and all the interior tribes being like what gives and the sultan asked the British to help quell the rebels (they’re good at that, and stamps), and then the sultan’s son, current ruler Qaboos bin Said al Said, famously staged a bloodless coup to take the seat of power from his father, with the help of the British. It was a very William vs. Charles in the play King Charles III situation.
Well that’s enough history for lunatics so let’s go to one of Qaboos’s favorite places, the mosque. How do I know it’s one of his favorite places? It’s called the Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque. Construction of the mosque took six years seven months in the 1990s, which is fun because the American version, Six Days Seven Nights, also took place in the 1990s.
It’s an incredibly beautiful, tranquil place, despite having so many tourists visiting – it’s so big that you’re not even bothered by other people (ew other people). Civilians like me (non-Muslims) are allowed to visit the Grand Mosque in the mornings from Saturday to Thursday, so make sure to plan accordingly. You must cover all your damn skin, which you should do in the serious sunshine anyway, but women must also cover their hair. And they are serious about this. I had the pictured headscarf dutifully wrapping me up, but I have hella long and unmanageable hair, and a lock of it fell through the bottom at the back, and a guard yelled at Z to tell me to fix it. (Obviously he spoke to Z and not me, because the man is in charge of the women, because religion.) The language barrier made for a fun exercise in ‘but my hair is covered!’ arguments, not being able to see that a tiny piece was visible on my back. Stupid sinful lady hair!
Aside from mean old guard, it was a really lovely visit. It’s confusing to know where to park and where to enter properly, but we just followed other people from the first parking lot we found and figured it out.
Aside from food-related activities and hotel swimming, which come in their own post (the fun one with the previously hinted resort vacation), that’s pretty much what we did in Muscat! From our base in the city, we took several day trips out into the country, to various sinkholes for more swimming (yay!), to Wadi Shab (my FAVORITE part of this trip (you’ll see that in its own post, with the sinkholes)), and to Nizwa, for the Nizwa Fort and Souqs. Although we enjoyed Nizwa Fort, it was a long way to go (about 2 hours each way) on really busy roads, when we could have used that time to see a lot more educational stuff left in Muscat. I’d only recommend going if you’re heading out of Muscat to stay in another town, or if you have a ton of time.
Even though we admit we probably should have used this day better, it was nice to see the Nizwa Fort. It was built in the 1600s by the Imam Sultan (both things!) Bin Saif Al Ya’rubi, but the underlying structure of this gigantic fort dates back to the 1200s. It’s really architecturally impressive, with a giant drum tower, enormous underground foundations, and endless sections and rooms on different levels showcasing all the good stuff you normally find in defensive structures: battlements, turrets, cannons, food storage, housing, jails, and literally MURDER HOLES: if the windy stairs and secret passages and defensive attacks weren’t enough to impede enemies, there were shafts above each set of doors that people poured boiling oil or water through to stop them. Murder holes. Cool guys. Can’t you just hear Mindy St. Clair going “I call it my murder hole.”
Entry to the Nizwa Fort cost us 5 rial each, so like almost $30 for the both of us, which is LOADS more than any other tourist attraction in Oman cost us. So that kind of bothered us, even though this was cool.
It was a super hot and sunny day when we visited, which was rough because so much of it is outside in the blazing heat and it’s SO climby. As I said before, the various sections are on all different levels, which means lots of stairs. And just when you think you’ve gotten as high as you can possibly go, to the top section, you’re met with these stairs:
Sure they just go up and then down again, but there’s a VIEW UP THERE. We had to do it! Fun fact: There were four sets of these triangle staircases around this tower, and we climbed up and down each one, to capture all the different views.
The Nizwa Fort did have the g-d coolest bathroom signs I’ve ever seen in my life, so that’s something. Look what the men got, it’s so badass.
Afte the fort, we planned to visit the famous souqs, but they were closed! It’s okay though, we weren’t going to buy vegetables, although it was nice to see where my fave souq would have been.
So we had some fun learning about Muscat and Oman, and the posts to come will be about even more fun stuff! Stay tuned.
