Oman: Salalah

December 1, 2006

Yesterday evening I had decided to check the raw water cooling pump impeller on the main engine. It was well that I did, as I found that 5 of the 12 vanes on the impeller had broken off. With some loss of both skin and blood, I changed the impeller and replaced the pump cover. It leaked. I found a replacement "O'" ring and inserted this. When I tightened the four bolts that hold the cover on, I was careful not to drop them behind the engine and tightened them by hand before using a wrench. On the fourth bolt, I could not locate the bolt head with the wrench by "feel". The head of the bolt had sheared off under just finger pressure. There are now only three of the four bolts holding the pump cover on and the worst of it is, even if I had a spare bolt (and I don't), the shaft of the bolt is still in the body of the pump. The good news is that it is no longer leaking and hopefully, it will all hold together until we reach mechanical civilization - wherever that may be.

Our plan was to leave this morning at around 0800 hours. At 0530 hours, I received the detailed weather forecast I had ordered from Commander's Weather which warned of a tropical system developing just south of us and which could catch us as a depression, or even as a cyclone, in mid-passage to Oman. Of course we are 12 hours time shifted from the USA and it was not until 2000 hours that we were able to get an updated report plus answers to questions we had posed. The system is developing slowly and should allow us time to get clear before it might become actively dangerous. Although it could track exactly along our path to Salalah, it is predicted as more likely to head elsewhere. If it does decide to come after us, we would head west or southwest towards the coast of Somalia and check into the Hilton in Mogadishu (OK guys - just kiddin' about Mogadishu). We decided to go for it, raised anchor in the darkness and reversed our inbound GPS track to clear the atoll reef pass from Uligamu. For the first couple of hours we were under full sail but then the wind died and we went to motor. We would normally like to conserve diesel at this end of the trip but felt the need to put some miles between ourselves and the storm brewing to our south.

Current position at 0100 UTM is 07 35.3 N 071 58.4 E. Just 1,200 miles to go!

December 2, 2006

Today the winds were frustratingly fickle. They blew from the forecast direction and when they reached 7 or 8 knots, we would be under full sail of poled out Genoa, main, mizzen and our colorful red, white and blue striped, mizzen staysail. For an hour or so, we would be sailing at 5 knots over the ground and all would be well. Then the wind would drop to 3 knots, the sails would begin to flog aimlessly and we would be back on engine again. The mizzen staysail is a light wind sail and has been very useful in these types of sailing conditions. It is usually worth an extra half, or even three quarters of a knot, when flown. It's draw back for a shorthanded crew like ours, is that it takes two of us to strike it. By using an extra sail bag, we had worked out a scheme to hoist it with just one person awake but when the wind drops and we begin to motor, I need to wake Annette to help drop it. Several times a sail change became necessary but I would decide to just wait for twenty minutes or so before making a decision. The wind would occasionally cooperate by changing back to the original condition and I could let sleeping wives lie.

It was hot all day with temperatures in the high 80s, low 90s Fahrenheit and the humidity was such that a clean tee-shirt was sopping wet with perspiration within a few minutes of being donned. When the wind died, there was no cooling cockpit breeze and it seemed hotter than ever aboard. By 2030 hours, we had been at sea for 24 hours and had covered 157 miles since our departure from Uligamu. As we motored or sailed on through the night, we enjoyed a full moon and near midnight, a large pod of dolphins played around DoodleBug and cavorted off our bow-wave. I had wondered if they played at night, as they do in the daytime and this was the first time it has been bright enough to watch them by night.

December 3, 2006

Position: 08 48.5 N 069 43.5 E

The early morning hours found us passing several small craft. The first was a vessel showing a red over white light. The height of the lights above the horizon, versus the size of the radar echo, made me feel sure this was a yacht. Although the moon was setting, I saw the flash of a white hull through the binoculars. They did not respond to hails on the VHF radio. Perhaps the crew were just asleep and had turned on their anchor light as well as their tri-color sailing light. We next passed through 5 or 6 small boats that were widely spaced and showing one or more dim yellow lights. I supposed these to be fishermen but all of the fishing vessels we have previously encountered this far at sea, have been using arc lights that can be seen glowing even over the horizon.

At 0900 hours the wind picked up and held in the range of 9 knots or better and we are finally sailing comfortably on a beam reach. We have been passed closely by nearly a dozen large freighters, container ships and chemical tankers. At around 1400 hours we had 6 large vessel targets on the radar with a 12 mile setting. We are obviously either crossing or have entered the main drag of shipping lanes and will need to be particularly alert tonight.

December 4, 2006

Position: 09 57 N 067 33 E

The winds have been light all through yesterday but we have been sailing continuously, rather than burning diesel. This is a much more pleasant way to travel. By 2030 hours yesterday we had completed our second day at sea and had run an additional 148 miles. This morning as I write this, we are 894 miles from Salalah and if we maintain our current speed, we should arrive around Sunday morning.

The light winds have continued all day and we sailed on with poled out Genoa, main, and mizzen. Our apparent wind angle had swung around just forward of the beam and we reluctantly had to strike the mizzen ballooner (staysail) that had been helping to push us along. By 2030 hours, we had passed our third 24 hour period at sea (we left on Friday evening from Uligamu) and recorded a run of 142 miles in the previous 24 hours. We only passed a couple of freighters today - nothing like the near traffic jam of yesterday.

December 5, 2006

Position:11 07 N 065 20 E. 745 miles to go. All well on board.

Around 0800 hours this morning we passed a couple of rain cells and, shortly after, the wind rose from the 9 to 11 knot range, to the 15 to 18 knot range. We had been expecting to pass the remnants of a cold front today and supposed this was it. The wind stayed high for the rest of the day and into the night and the waves correspondingly built up all day long. The full moon rose after sunset and this really helps in sloppy conditions. It is so calming to look out over a sea of silver waves when you are being knocked all around, rather than let your imagination run unfettered on a dark and gloomy night. At 2030 hours, we saw that we had run a respectable 175 miles in the previous 24 hour period and 45 minutes later, passed the half way point between Uligamu and Salalah. If we can keep up this rate of travel, we might make it to Salalah on Saturday night. We saw only two ships this morning, the ocean is empty again.

The weather forecast file shows a depression formed off the Maldives and will be centered at 5 N 67 E by tomorrow morning and strengthening. By 12/8/06 it is forecast as centered at 7 N 65 E. If the present winds hold, it should not catch us.

December 6, 2006

Position: 12 32 N 062 36 E

We are currently 564 miles from Salalah. All well on board. Since assing through our "cold front" of yesterday morning, there has been a noticeable drop in the humidity. The thermometers maintain that it is no cooler during the heat of the day but it does feel cooler. We have moved from a tropical air mass to an air mass from Arabia. The winds have stayed steady throughout the day and we have continued to beam reach under full sail. The seas have been choppy with wind driven chop on top of swells and producing 8 foot seas. Despite this, it has been a pleasant enough sail with blue skies and sunshine. The flying fish do their usual stuff but we have now witnessed a new type of flying fish I have called "sub-orbital". Instead of taking off and flying in a low path over the water, these explode at a near vertical angle from the waves, climbing to 20 or 30 feet. They then continue their arc and plunge back into the sea at a steep angle. (On Thursday - tomorrow - we would find a large flying fish on the floor under the dining room table, in the main cabin. How on earth did it get there? The seas have been too rough to have windows open. The only way would be through the cockpit door and perhaps onto the far couch, before rolling onto the floor. We have found no scales or slime to support this theory however.)

At around 1600 hours, we saw the second ship of the day, coming up behind us. It was a huge container ship and we watched on radar as it changed course to pass down our port side. About an hour later, a voice came on the radio in a version of English - that is, there were a continuous stream of English words, although they did not always go together. "Captain, oh Captain, please speak me. I fish boat, you must speak me. Give me green, oh please captain oh captain speak me, oh captain, give green......" . We supposed that there was a fishing boat that the freighter was approaching, although we did not see a problem on the radar display. Then we saw the freighter swerve and take off to the west. There were dozens of fishing boats in our path. We were hailed by another boat and the captain asked who we were, where we going, where we were from etc. He offered us some fish if we would stop by. We politely declined as we were under full sail and both the wind and seas had been building all afternoon. About 20 minutes later, the "vessel in distress" alarm went off on the VHF radio. There were by now perhaps a dozen fishing boats in view, so we did not immediately respond. Perhaps 30 seconds later, a conversation took place in a language I could not identify and I have postulated as Somali. The distress alarm was then switched off. I checked the charts and of course the closest land mass is Socotra, Somalia. The sailing websites have been full of reports of piracy attacks on ships lured by fake distress calls and I had almost forgotten how close we are to the risk area.

Several times we counted as many as 11 targets on the radar display on the 12 mile setting. We spent the next 8 hours maneuvering through and between the radar targets. As night fell we were reefed down with winds in the low 20's (knots) and seas of 10 feet or so off the beam. The fishing boats would show up on radar at perhaps 8 miles but their lights would not be visible until they were within 4 miles of us in the choppy seas. This all made for an uncomfortable night as it was not possible to relax due to the constant course changes and sailing conditions. At one point an errant wave hurled Annette off the cockpit side cushion where she had been lying and onto the cockpit floor. She will have a huge bruise but no other injuries other than her pride...... - no bikini wearing in Oman!

December 7, 2006

Position: 13 55 N 059 55 E

We are 385 miles from Salalah and expect to arrive Saturday. All well on board. The nights are now cold enough that a blanket is needed on watch and we have broken out the sweaters from storage. We are definitely moving north! The high winds stayed with us throughout the night and on until the evening today when we were able to "shake out" our reefs and continue under full sail again. We had run 178 miles yesterday and added another 181 miles today. By late afternoon, the waves had died down to a six foot chop and life aboard was becoming more tolerable. We have just over 200 miles to go to reach Salalah and should arrive on Saturday. As usual, at this part of the passage, the on board topic of conversation is of fine restaurants around the world and what we would order.....

December 8, 2006

Position: 15 33 N 056 46 E

Just an update on our position as of 0600 hours UTM on 12/8/2006. We expect to arrive tomorrow morning at Salalah. All well on board.

Blue skies and sunshine as the Indian Ocean passes by below our hull. At around 1000 hours we passed the only cargo ship we have seen in two days. At 1200 hours we heard an American voice on the VHF challenging a ship and asking for its name and destination. We only heard one side of the conversation but, the American voice identified himself as "Coalition helicopter". Since the transmission was from an aircraft, he could have been anywhere within a hundred miles of us but it did give us a warm fuzzy feeling that there might be a cop on the block somewhere. During our 7th 24 hour period at sea, we have sailed 164 miles.

December 9, 2006

We arrived Salalah, Oman this morning and anchored at 16 56.2 N 054 00.3 E at 1100 hours local time. We are now waiting for customs to clear us. All well on board.

In the small hours of the morning, we were hailed by a seismic survey vessel that asked us to change course to avoid their streamer. I could see the vessel on radar and asked which direction the streamer was laid out. The voice dispiritedly replied that they had dropped the streamer, their chase boat had one end but, they didn't know which direction the balance of the streamer lay. (A seismic streamer is an armored cable containing hydrophones at intervals along it's length. It can be up to 5 miles long and has paravane devices attached to it at intervals to maintain a constant depth when under tow.) The seismic vessel voice then had a long conversation with the chase vessel in Russian, thereby confirming in my mind, why the name "DoodleBug" didn't register with them.

We made a long detour to give both vessels a six mile clearance, as they had requested, and an hour or so later spotted lines of small radar reflections ahead of us. What we were sailing into was miles and miles of arrays of floats. Some of the floats were brighter on the radar than others and we presumed that they contained some form of radar reflector. Dawn was approaching and we knew that this was some form of fish capturing device but what? Suspended nets? We suspected the latter, as the buoys could be seen as deployed in staggered lines. We tried to skirt the obstacles but, as we moved off our course, we could see more and more of these on radar. We were not sure that we could go between the buoys, so we eased carefully between a couple of spaced radar reflections, hoping we were not going to become entangled, or if we were, that we could cut the blasted thing while there were no witnesses.

We did resume course without incident and dawn brought the sight of a high escarpment in the distance with a long row of high rise buildings at sea level along the coastal base. We could see Arabia! It looked dry. We called Salalah port control and they asked us to wait just off the harbor entrance marker buoys until a cargo ship left. We bobbed around for an hour and then got permission to enter the harbor. We dropped the anchor at 1100 hours local time at 16 56.2 N 054 00.3 E. We are in Oman.

We tidied the boat, had lunch, sent e-mails and waited.......At around 1300 hours, I called the port control on the VHF and asked if we should go ashore with our documents or should we wait aboard for Customs clearance? I was told to wait aboard for Customs. Five minutes later, the port control called back to say that Customs were on the way. Visions of supper at a restaurant and cold beers danced before our eyes. At 1630 hours, I called the port control and asked if we were to see the Customs today? The reply was, "DoodleBug, standby".  At 1700 hours, Annette would not let me call the port control to ask if they were going to answer my question today. There is a naval vessel anchored a couple of hundred yards away and twenty or so sailors swam over to say "hi". We told them we could not invite them on board as we were awaiting quarantine and asked them what the Arabic word for "shark" was. They laughed. They seemed a very pleasant group and invited us aboard their vessel - presumably after we are legally here.

December 10, 2006

This morning we began calling the port control for Customs clearance at 0700 hours. After a couple of radio requests by us for status and at 0915, a skiff finally showed up with two officials aboard. Fifteen minutes later they were through and told us to head for the immigration office, indicated by a vague wave of the arm in the general direction of the port. We took down our yellow "Q" quarantine flag, got dressed up in "modest" but hot attire and headed for the dock. The dock is a crumbling concrete wall, with rusting iron ladders attached and fronted by deeply rafted wooden fishing boats. We headed for a gap between the fishing vessels and swarmed up the slimy, smelly, corroded ladder. I had memorized the location of the Immigration office from a guide book plan of the harbor but, as we approached it's location, it did not look promising. The port is a huge spread-out container terminal with lots of huge trucks and cranes whizzing about. We were the only pedestrians and we flagged down a passing pick-up truck to ask directions. The driver spoke good English and informed us that the immigration office had recently been moved. He offered us a ride which we accepted with alacrity. At the "Immigration", the supervisor ushered us in to his office and, after a few minutes, informed us that we needed to pay 6 Rials each for visas and 15 Rials for "supervisor overtime". We had now been at the port for 26 hours and it was 1030 hours on Sunday morning. The weekend in Oman is Thursday and Friday. We were being asked for 27 Omani Rials - about US$72. I offered US dollars and this was viewed with shock and horror. How could we have sailed from the Maldives without having a supply of Omani Rials? The supervisor suggested we return that afternoon, after we have been to a bank and pay his "friend" Saif Al-Noofli the money, plus a fee of 25 Rials.

We were now up to 52 Rials (US$140). At this point the Samaritan who had given us a ride earlier was passing the office. With his help we negotiated the rip-off fee down to US$100 payable on the spot - no taxi rides needed. The computer system was allegedly "down" so we still had to return that afternoon to get our passports and visas but we were finally free to leave the port and head into town. Our new friend was also heading into town and dropped us off at a car rental place where we rented wheels for a few days. First stop was the Crowne Plaza Hotel (formerly the Holiday Inn) and one of the three places in town where you can get a beer with lunch plus access the internet. We had several errands to perform in Salalah. We confirmed that a shipment of fuel filters for the main engine was in Oman and in the hands of DHL. Richard on SV Muggerl had been trying unsuccessfully to get the results of some medical tests he had made here last April. We found his hospital and confirmed that his doctor would be holding surgery on the morrow. Finally we drove around looking for a Restaurant called the "Oasis" in the port area. We drove up and down the road where we believed it to be without any sign of an eating establishment. We stopped to ask a group of men who were walking up the hill towards us in a very determined manner and who did not look like locals. They turned out to be the crew of the container ship MV Maersk Missouri and they were also heading for the "Oasis". We turned the car around and found the aptly named establishment tucked in a housing area off the road.

The Oasis was a "private members only" club that provided fine food, a wide selection of draft and bottled beers, darts, bowling, pool, internet access and the like. The sign over the bar read www.salalahexpats.com and the crew of the MV Maersk Missouri indicated that to qualify for membership, you basically had to walk into the bar. They were a fun group to visit with and we very much enjoyed talking with them. They are US based and run a continuous circuit from the East coast ports of the USA to the Middle Eastern ports. They said they had heard us talking to the Port Control on the VHF and had looked across to see us at anchorage. They said they just loved seeing that "Big, Beautiful, American flag" flying from our stern. Their Captain, "Willie", is a fan of sailing boats and makes his crew alter course when they come across a sailing vessel at sea, to pass by close enough to view them and pass on weather forecast information. (He probably has caused several cardiac arrests). He has bought a yacht but said that although he can bring his container ship to the dock without the assistance of a tug if need be, he has yet to be outside of the ICW with his yacht. (The ICW is the intra-coastal canal. It runs down the US east coast from New York to Mexico.) He asked Annette how we got started and she mentioned we took a couple of courses with the American Sailing Association (ASA). Annette said that for Willie, as the Captain of a container ship, he already knew most of what was taught. For example, he already knows navigation and the "rules of the road". Willie replied that "when you are as big as us, you are the road!" The MV Maersk Missouri was sailing that night, so the crew quaffed their final beers and bade us farewell as they hiked back to their vessel. We drove back to the port gates, where we were told we could not bring the rental car inside without a permit. Of course we had been told a few hours earlier we did not need a permit, so we whined and pleaded, until the guards relented and let us in with the warning that we would need a permit "next time".

December 11, 2006

Today we hit the hospital for Richard's test results - "come back at 1200 hours", over to the Hilton to upload some documents to the internet, and at the same time discovered our DHL shipment was ready for pick-up in Salalah. Tracked down the DHL office, got the shipment, back to the hospital and miracle of miracles, walked out of there forty five minutes later with the missing test results in hand. To celebrate we returned to the Hilton for lunch and have now visited all three bars in Salalah. On the return trip to DoodleBug, we had to stop and wait for camels to cross the highway. Annette took about a million photographs and we now know are truly in Arabia.

We have been running errands but in the process, have been driving all over Salalah, through the built up areas, industrial areas and residential areas. The houses and stores in the less affluent parts of town are the typical square limestone block boxes that can be found throughout the Middle East. There are no yards or fences and the houses are usually separated by a packed dirt and rubble road. The high rent homes have fancy balconies and stylish windows as well as walled gardens but, when we can see through the gate, there is no attempt at landscaping within. Salalah is built on an arid coastal plain although steep hills provide a dramatic backdrop.

The automobile traffic has been light and well behaved with no horn honking. The drivers are courteous, don't cut you off, and will wait patiently while someone backs out of a parking spot. Like our memories of Tripoli, Libya, thirty five years ago, there are almost no women to be seen in public and those that are viewed are clad from head to toe in a black robe that shows only the eyes. Several of the women even have the eyes veiled. We saw women working in the hospital, as receptionists in the hotels - the rooms are cleaned by men - and in a few gift shops. We visited the "gold" souk which was in an alleyway behind one of the major roads. I know Annette was disappointed, because the old Tripoli gold souk is buried in a labyrinth of tiny passages behind the old Turkish fort and the exotic smells of coffee, spices and camel dung, provide excitement and a scent of adventure to the shopping experience. The Salalah souk was fun but perhaps a little too pasteurized.

December 12, 2006

A day of mundane chores. We had decided to carry the maximum quantity of diesel when leaving Salalah to minimize our refueling up the Red Sea. Annette also had several loads of laundry to wash. The first task was the laundry. We did some laundry on board in our washing machine but we did not want use up all of the sweet water in our on-board tank as the harbor was too dirty to use the water-maker and there was no convenient way to get to any dock water. The cruising guide had mentioned a washroom on the dock but had warned that the toilet facilities were not up to Hilton standards. We had checked out the washroom and found a tiled trough filled with mud, mosquito larvae, and decaying human artifacts of suspicious origin. Annette decided she would do her laundry in buckets on the dockside, while Ed schlepped buckets of clean water, back and forth from the washroom to the dock. Annette stayed clear of the washroom herself, as it was the only facility available to the ranks of native fishing boats, rafted deep along the dock. The semi-naked users of the washing facility expressed looks of shock and horror at my appearance. Just imagine the effect an unshrouded woman would have! While Annette stomped on soapy clothes in her bucket, I shuttled diesel jugs to the dock and into our rental car. I was not concerned about messing up the rental car, as the trunk seemed to be about an inch deep in goat hair already and a little diesel would just improve the fragrance. We hung out our clothes to dry all over DoodleBug and then set out to buy diesel and also refill our main propane tank. The latter was more of a challenge and my technique for getting the message across to the various stores we stopped at, was to hold the tank up and point at it. We were directed deep into the industrial sector of Salalah to a facility next to "Bebsi" (No "P" in Arabic, so it comes out as Bebsi Cola). After asking at a mechanic shop and passing the same place twice, the mechanic jumped into his car and signaled us to follow him. We soon arrived at a gas plant but they would only exchange bottles - no filling. I was not about to give up my aluminum marine tank, for a rusting steel one. The gas guy waved his arms and our mechanic friend, jumped back in his car and indicated we should follow. We drove for miles across Salalah, mainly on unsurfaced roads, through small herds of goats and past the odd tethered camel. We finally reached a filling plant and I handed the tank to one of the men there. He filled it up. I asked how much and he waved his arm at a doorway and indicated I should go there. I entered the door and found myself in an office with two men seated. The man behind the desk asked me what I wanted. I said he had just filled up my gas bottle. He stared at me. "Was it a big one or a little one?". "A little one", I replied, " 20 pounds of gas. 9 kilos". "How about one Rial?", he said (about US$2.60). "Okay". The mechanic had waited until he was sure we were OK and then waved goodbye at us and took off as we thanked him. Without his help and kindness we would probably still be wandering around Salalah.

December 13, 2006

We have done our laundry, loaded up with groceries, diesel and propane (couldn't buy any beer though!!!) and decided that we would spend the day doing tourist things and head out at dawn tomorrow. We prepared our crew lists for exit and headed over to the Customs and Immigration at 0900 hours to check out. The officer on duty asked when we wanted to leave. I said 0700 hours tomorrow morning. He said come back two hours before you want to leave. I said, "Customs and Immigration will be open at 0500 hours?". He insisted they were a 24 hour operation and that all that was necessary was to show up there, two hours beforehand.

Our next stop was the "Handicraft Souk". We eventually found this market that was in a building that looked like an abandoned shopping mall. The sign in front of the building indicated we had come to the right place and that it was open but there was only a single vehicle parked outside with some people unloading stuff. This did not look good, nevertheless we walked inside. The shopping mall look was continued inside with perhaps a dozen or so small stores showing examples of jewelry and local crafts in their window displays and with the exception of two stores, all firmly closed. Annette shopped the two open stores and in the second store, a lady in native dress, demonstrated the Omani specialty of frankincense. We had seen this stuff that looked like big crystals of raw sugar and had wondered what it was. She had a small ceramic holder with a single charcoal briquette burning inside and she dropped small pieces of frankincense onto the burning charcoal to produce a fragrant smoke. We learned that frankincense is tree sap. I did not ask about the myrrh because I just keep seeing the scene from "The Life of Brian" where the three wise men offer gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, to what they think is the infant Christ (actually the baby is Brian). Brian's mother asks what is "myrrh". The wise men respond that it is a kind of balm. "A bomb? Why would you give a baby a bomb?!" But I digress....

The next stop was the meat, fish, and vegetable souk that was nearby. These markets were crowded and very active. A curious pair of incidents happened here that I will relate. While Annette was in the meat market taking photographs, an elderly man began shouting at her and then approached her and tried to smash her camera out of her hand. He did not succeed, as it was attached by a wrist strap. She was slightly rattled by this and as we were leaving, we walked through a section of the fish market. Annette asked a man if it was OK to take a picture of a tub of fish. He indicated yes and she took the picture. There was a woman sitting nearby and Annette turned to her to show her the monitor picture (it's a digital camera) when the woman struck at her and hit her on the wrist. Now perhaps the woman thought that Annette was trying to take her picture and she did not want it taken. The point is, in our culture, we do not strike out at strangers. We may say "No!" firmly. We may even yell but we don't generally strike or make physical contact and certainly not with a woman.

When we travel abroad, we see supermarkets, ATMs, airports, cars and buses and we make the assumption that the underlying society operates as we would expect and we can often be wrong. A woman's experience can be quite different from a man's experience. Annette cites a couple of examples. In the supermarket there was a delicatessen counter that looked exactly the same as you would find just about anywhere in the world. Annette wanted to buy two pre-cooked chickens. As she was placing her order, three men walked up beside her. The clerk served all three men before turning back to Annette to complete her order. In the various offices we have been in, Annette has greeted the occupants with a, "Hi, Good morning / Good afternoon". On more than one occasion, the men sitting there have pitched their voice high, to a falsetto and echoed her greeting back at her in mimicry. Not considered either friendly or polite in our world but accepted in a patriarchal society.

For lunch we returned to the Oasis Restaurant and I checked the weather forecast online and also checked my e-mail, to see if my insurance agent had e-mailed a .pdf file of my insurance certificate. My insurance had conveniently expired at the beginning of the month and there was indeed an e-mail from the agent, confirming he "would" be e-mailing me a certificate.

The next step was to return the rental car and we returned to the rental office to find it was closed. By asking around, I discovered that the owner of the rental office lived in the adjacent apartments. I knocked on several doors and finally handed the keys to a shrouded woman who peeked around the doorframe. By this time Annette had lined up a taxi and we climbed aboard to head back to the Customs and Immigration office at the port. As soon as the cab started rolling, the driver asked where we were from. When we said "USA", he said "I have USA music". He slid a cassette into his radio player and turned the volume up to play the "rap" music, sufficiently loudly to concuss most of the flies that were buzzing around inside. Annette said, "How old are you?". He said "23". She then said, "That is your music. I am 55 years old. That is not my music". He apologized, we laughed together, he turned off the radio and then proceeded to sing, "Nana nana nana nana..." with his hand cupped over his ear, so that he could get the acoustics right. He announced that "Nana" meant "mountain". We were thoroughly entertained and pleased that the Customs office was so close.

We tried again with the Customs officials. The officer asked for an additional paper. What paper? He waved a piece of paper at us that was covered with Arabic script. Where do we get one of those? From the port control office on the opposite side of the terminal complex. We began to walk through the complex and the security people went ballistic. It was forbidden and dangerous. "I walked down here yesterday and it was OK". After a complicated and little understood conversation with a lot of arm waving, they dispatched a security officer to drive us over to the port control office. We arrived at the port security office and the officer said, "Doodlebug?". He then produced a form with a 25 Rial charge on it and told me to pay this at the office "downstairs". Now the port control office was on the second floor of the building but "downstairs" turned out to be another building, several hundred yards away at the bottom of the hill. I went inside and the man behind the desk said, "25 Rials for the fine". "What fine?". "You were fined 25 Rials (about US$65) for not having insurance". Note that we have never, ever been asked for insurance papers or the like. "I have insurance." "You do?" "Yes". "International Insurance?" "Yes". The man seemed very surprised and sent us back to the port control office to have the fine removed. This was going to work, until the supervisor noticed that my certificate had expired at the end of last month. Gosh, darn that freekin' agent! I got them to agree to accept a copy of the e-mail from the agent, saying that the renewal was in place, plus a copy of the "old" coverage certificate. Now we had to go back to boat to print off the e-mail. Just as we were leaving, they mentioned that the finance office closed at 1600 hours and we had less than an hour to do this but we could get the certificate faxed between the offices. Back to DoodleBug. Back to the finance office. An hour later the "fine" was removed and I had paid my port usage fees of 1 and 1/100th Rials based upon our tonnage. About US$2.80. It was now getting dark as Annette and I walked the two miles across the "forbidden and dangerous" road back to the Customs and Immigration office. At the C & I office, the same man who had sent us to the port control office for an exit certificate now wanted our entry permit from our last port plus our entry custom's declaration. We are LEAVING not ARRIVING! He looked confused. (We are and have been the only cruising yacht in the anchorage). He remained confused for the next hour while he searched through every file in the building. There was a one line entry in the log-book where we had cleared on the 10th but no other paperwork to be found. Finally he gave up. He filled out a one page form with a few details and handed me our clearance certificate. Just five hours to complete the process. That added to the 26 hours to clear us in, gives a record 31 hours to clear in and out for a three day visit. As we walked back through security to the "forbidden and dangerous" road, the new security guard asked if we had a car. We said "No". He said, "Be careful".