My first opera

I went to see Carmen at the splendid newly opened Royal Opera House Muscat. It opened a few months ago and I think we were the last people in Muscat to go.

I persuaded hubby to put on bow-tie and dinner jacket as I think nothing suits him better and that is what people wear to operas. Most men won’t be, says he. I disagreed. I’ll look stupid. I disagreed. He wore the DJ and, of course, He was quite right. Most people did wear jacket and tie but I thought he looked great and that’s what matters, isn’t it? The women however really went to town and one of the joys to me of going was to see everyone – Indian, Omanis, Scots – in their national costumes. Students – be warned. Jeans and flip-flops do not count as national costume even if everyone under 25 in your country wears nothing else.

Half the bloggers of Oman seemed to be there. Our chief blogger Andy was in the seat in front of me – Andy from Oman. We had a nice chat and I met his wife who has another baby on the way. Another – a nomad in the land of Nizwa –  was in the 15 rial seats and couldn’t see properly which really is rather poor for a modern opera house. Andy and I could both see brilliantly. The auditorium is not that big so the singers seemed very close.

The show was incredibly long – four hours. A friend of mine said, “Well, that’s four hours of my life I’ll never see again.’ I enjoyed it thoroughly but … For me one of the problems with opera is by the time the singers have developed a strong enough voice, they are at an age where in another career they would be senior managers. The young and passionate Don Jose seemed like a middle-aged banker who enjoyed liquid lunches and even Carmen looked as if she would make a damn good Head of Sales. I could admire their technique but could never suspend belief and really involved myself in the unfolding drama.

This wasn’t helped by playing with the totally wonderful electronic displays that my husband set to French. I kept involving myself in the translation and bemoaning I didn’t work harder at school.

Frivolity aside. it really was a magnificent performance. The scenery was breath-taking. The production powerful and I have never seen such a spontaneous, heart-felt standing ovation.

Photo courtesy of aliberalslibretto.com

Rain, rain, rain + first photographs

It rained. It rained, and in 10 minutes, Muscat was brought to a standstill! We discovered our house is not waterproof. It came pouring in through the windows and under the doors. We had to stuff them with towels.

I drove to pick up boy from school at three o’clock. He was standing there all alone and soaked. School had finished at two because of the rain. Apparently, when it rains all after-school activities are stopped. When I was cursing this. I was told “All the other schools in the area close even during lessons when it rains.” the children were very excited –  like British children are when it snows. It hasn’t rained here since we arrived in January. It was nice to smell it. We took Alanna outside into it. She found it weird and funny. Here is a picture of the roads. Can you see, the man with the hosepipe running more water into the street?

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The local supermarket was flooded and only emergency service lifts worked. All the local shops in its complex had to shut.

 

Babies need furniture

Ian checked up on the progress of our furniture today. “We haven’t got the correct paperwork,” say the Omani removal people.  As they have now had custory of the furniture for well over a week and this was the first we had heard it, Ian was not amused. He sent off plantive e-mails about how we were living in primitive conditions on sleeping bags with two pots and pans and four glasses. Allana has twice as many baby bottles than we have glasses between four of us! And more clothes.She even has better sleeping arrangements – a moses basket and two slings – one being a brightly coloured butterfly of a sling from Guatumala plus a travel cot with buttons for music and massage. I’m jealous of the baby. Is that so wrong? Every time Ian or I turn over on our beds, the other is catapulted to the ceiling and threatens divorce.

Alanna is settling in well. It is an amusing sight to see a bunch of Omani boys strolling through the mall looking hard and watch them melt into sentimental ‘Ah’s and smiles when they see Alanna. The women come straight up and tickle her under the cheek. Being a true Scot, Alanna always looks astonished when the sun comes out and either sneezes or cries. On the other hand mosquitos don’t bother her as much as us – there is probably anti-midge repellant in her DNA. She is very attached to Lizi and howls if Mummy is out of sight. Put her in a car seat and she screams so loudly it is clear she thinks she is going to die.

Jordan has settled in fabulously. Last weekend he stayed with an Arabic
family at their place in the country. They had a farm with chickens,
bulls, cows and camels on it. Jordan was a bit suprised when his mate got up at 4am to pray, although his mother stopped him throwing a glass of water over Jordan to get him up too!

They passed some protesters on the way back . Jordan
says they were all holding pictures of the Sultan and the Omani flag and about his age.

Having said that we are still getting used to Arabic
culture. A  week before, the same family invited him  for a sleepover and came to pick him up at
1.15am and were quite hurt to find we had gone to bed and the gates were
shut!