Doesn't anyone know where Oman is?

We wanted to go to Oman. Just to say that we'd been there. Actually we heard that Muscat is very nice and wanted to take a trip but it just wasn't realistic in only a week's visit to the Middle East. It's at least 6 hours from Abu Dhabi and with it being Eid hotel prices were higher than usual. Instead we decided that since the Omani border is right next to Al Ain - you can see Oman on the horizon - that we would just pop over to the other side. Al Ain was actually part of what was known as the Buraimi Oasis. It was all one community. Now Buraimi is a town inside the Oman border. So, we set out on a short adventure. First we stopped at a Hilton to ask directions. We were given a map with a few simple directions, turn right, go through two traffic circles and turn right again...or was that left...argh. Traffic circles as I said before are a common feature in the Gulf States. They are famous for the over sized statues which decorate the centers. These statues are usually objects of cultural significance, for example the Arabic coffee pot, huge representations of incense burners, and cannons are among the most commonly seen decorations. They could serve as very useful landmarks - if they were indicated on the map. My favorite in Al Ain is an open jewel box with a string of pearls cascading out. We saw a lot of these pearls today. A lot!

The problem with maps in the U.A.E. is that for starters they can't keep up with the pace of new construction. The other problem is that every road is named after some famous ruler. What's the problem with naming roads after famous rulers, after all we do it all the time in the Western World. It's an honor, right? Well, the problem, to non-Arabic speaking people is that there seems to be only a handful of names used for rulers with subtle differences. I'll try not to sound ignorant here but let's face it when you don't speak very much of a difficult second language the subtleties are lost on you. For example, there are many streets named after someone named Zayed. Sheik Zayed, Al Shiek something-or-other bin Zayed. Bin means son of...And then there's ibn. Not a clue what ibn means. I kept overlooking the ibn part as a misspelling on the map thinking the streets were one and the same. Stupid as it sounds misspellings seem to be a common issue on local maps. After a while I started to wonder if maybe the map makers know something city officials don't. Or perhaps they just figure they are making the maps so they are entitled to artistic license. As if Rob and I need help getting confused in a car. He is dyslexic and untrusting of the fact that I am always right. Makes for an amusingly frustrating trip around the world let me just tell you. After many attempts at going in different directions, turning the map around and around to figure out which way we might be going, trying to read the direction of the setting sun and being altogether determined that we were going to get to Oman one way or the other (it literally borders Al Ain on 3 of it's 4 sides, how hard can it be?) we see a sign for a border post. So, we make the classic death defying Arab u-turn (I swear to you everyone does it here, not just stupid tourists) and head for the border. We slow down and try to hand our passports out the window but are told, no and waived over as though to turn. That's it. No explanation, no real instructions, just turn there. So we turn but not wanting to give up Rob just parks the car and we sit. He is about to get out of the car when a different border guard comes over who speaks a little English and he explains to us that we have to go to another post for immigration. Using sign language he says, you go through three (flicks his fingers to indicate traffic lights) and two traffic (draws circles with his finger) and take right into Himi or Hilli - I can't remember now. It was so funny at the time that I forgot to laugh. So, we make yet another classic Arab u-turn and head off. We zoom through traffic circles, merging with traffic, defying death at every turn and somehow, somehow, we find a border post. We stop at the booth, the young man in Arab whites looks over our passports and asks us where we are going? Now, you have to understand that we are driving a rental car on a wing and a prayer (complete with legal technicalities). Don't ask questions, just trust me here. So we were already nervous about trying to cross the border. Rob stumbles out with Oman (duh) and finally he hears me saying Buraimi, Buraimi. We are both nervous that after all this he is going to turn us back, but alas, he hears that we are just going to Buraimi to see it and lets us go. I flip through the pages of our passports and am sorely disappointed. All that and no stamp! All we really wanted was a stamp, didn't they understand that? Oh, well, I guess the pictures are going to have to be enough to prove that we finally found where in the world Oman was. A run-down border town, closed up save for the occassional eating establishment with old bedouin men (identified by their turban like head wraps and non-white sheet suits) sitting outside in plastic chairs. A border town like every other border town, except that it's in Oman by God. We made it! We did manage to find a picturesque old fort worth noting and take some pictures. We drove around to the edge of town (not very far) and then turned around to make our way back to the U.A.E. and head "home" as the red Arabian sun began to sink behind the mountain.