sketches of oman, part 2

...by the sea, in the desert.

sketches of oman, part 1

The Mutrah Fish Souq was one of the first places I sketched in Oman, among the heaps of brilliantly coloured fish, and the men who had brought them ashore. Pedro and I ended up spending a good two hours there, sketching portraits of both the fishmongers and their catch. This garnered us a great deal of attention and appreciation— everyone was so nice at the market, that I wish we were able to spend more time there.

The very stern-looking man on the right is Said, better known to his fellow fishmongers as Captain Titanic. He tolerated sitting fairly still for us for a good fifteen minutes, and seemed delighted with his portraits.

symmetry and mathematics

The Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque is one of the most impressive mosques I have ever seen— from the outside, at least. Visiting hours for non-Muslims are between 8:30 and 11:00 am, every day except Friday. Sadly, we arrived too late to see the inside, but were allowed to sketch the facade from one of the courtyards— which was an enormous challenge. Architectural sketching is not my forté. Drawing this symmetrical and mathematically perfect work of art, was... difficult. I'll post my attempt soon, along with some other sketches.

The mosque covers a staggering 416,000 square metres, and can hold up to 20,000 people— something hard to fathom. While I can continue to toss numbers at you, I'd rather share what I think is the most wonderful thing about the Grand Mosque: the details. Have a look:



Isn't it gorgeous?

a reunion of sketchers in muscat

Last September, I was lucky to meet and sketch with fellow Urban Sketcher Sue Pownall, who just happens to live in Muscat. She was passing through Istanbul at the time, on a ten hour layover. It was wonderful to catch up with her again, this time on her turf. We wandered the Mutrah Souq, visited an art gallery, and snacked on various goodies.



Not only did Sue share her knowledge about Oman, its art scene, and charismatic leader, Sultan Qaboos bin Sa‘id (who I am fascinated by, and want to learn more about), she introduced me to "honey" pancakes. Crêpe-like and slightly crispy, the pancakes are filled with a honey made from dates— the perfect companion to milky çay. I love dates, and anything containing the sweet gems starts me salivating in seconds. I simply must learn to make this "honey".



Thank you, Sue!

accents of white

in the cool blue morning

The air smells of salt and frankincense, and in the cool blue morning, Indian Rollers flash their turquoise and lapis wings, while Rose-ringed Parakeets laugh in a green blur.

the muscat festival

After we indulged in a restorative siesta, Gil came home and suggested we check out the Muscat Festival in Amerat. Since 1998, the Muscat Festival has been celebrating Omani culture in a month-long event which includes both traditional and non-traditional performances, the selling of local handicrafts, as well as demonstrations on how they are made, and of course, food.




We perused the food stalls, which all seemed to offer the same thing: crepe-like pancakes, boiled chickpeas, boiled fava beans, and fried bread— easy fair food. I scanned the row of ladies wrapped in colourful cloths, trying to decide who to buy our chickpeas from. What impressed me was how diverse the ladies looked— all were Omani, but some of their features revealed African roots, while others were clearly Arab. Gil explained that Oman was once a powerful empire which roughly stretched all the way from present day Qatar to Mozambique, a fact that had somehow escaped me. A bit shy to sketch, I found a face with a beautiful smile which I hoped I could at least photograph, and walked over to get our food from her. I greeted her with a timid salaam alaikum, and pulled out the number two in Arabic from my memory, hoping that more words would surface— but they didn't. She grinned, ladled steaming chickpeas into plastic cups, then pointed to some chili powder and looked at me with a raised brow. When I nodded yes, her grin widened and I got an "aywaaaa" of approval.

salaam, oman

I've just returned this morning from six days in stunning, sunny Oman, where I delighted in summery weather and plenty of its perfect complement, minted lemonade. The blue skies, pinkish ochres of the desert, gleaming white dishdashas, and brilliant splashes of crimson, fuchsia and emerald on the scarves and dresses of some women (others were head to toe in inky black)— was nearly too much to bear for a colour-starved girl coming from a dismal, wintry Istanbul.

We arrived in Muscat around six in the morning on a Saturday. It was already warm, and my wool coat was beginning to itch. Blinking in the sun, a bit dizzy from our red-eye flight, we waited for our friend Gil, who generously offered us a home during our stay. Once we dropped off our bags and changed into something more appropriate for the increasing heat, Pedro and I headed down to a little nearby beach in search of Sooty Gulls and whatever else we might find.



Sooties we found, casually strolling in the sun, competing with House Crows for dismembered crabs. I kicked off my shoes and dreamily followed them to the shore, where the Arabian Sea spit out shells of all colours mixed with chunks of sanded green glass. I was six again, brown-skinned and curious, my toes coated in fine pebbles and glittering with nacre— my mother collecting shards of coral and cowries nearby. This little beach was so much like the beaches from my early childhood in Dubai, before it was Dubai. A desert sweeping into the sea— the waves and laughter of gulls, its only sounds.



Salaam means peace in Arabic.
Oman was beginning to feel so very good.