Oman's Concrete Army

Everyone’s heard of China’s Terracotta Army. This morning while riding through Seeb, I discovered Oman’s equivalent ‘Concrete Army’. Thousands of dolosse were lined up in a field next to the road waiting to be used in the new Seeb port development. Most of the blocks were the traditional jack shape, but the biggest dolosse were clearly modelled on the Star Wars TIE Fighter.

Going home

'Once you are checked-in, leave your baggage at one of up to 96 Fast Bag Drops and go through Security - the whole process should take around 10 minutes' claims the BA website. Actually it was more like half an hour in one of 96 'Fast Bag Drop' queues. On the way to security, we found an Italian delicatessen and remembered that we needed wine vinegar at home. While examining the exciting products on the shelves, I realised that we could not buy anything as we were still on landside. 'So, who buys these things if you can't take them through security?'' I enquired. 'Yes, it's a problem.....would you like to see the manager?'

Having obtained two upgrades in the past few days, I thought I would try my luck one more time. 'Sorry Sir, we don't do free upgrades - you'll have to pay £150 each if you want to sit in Traveller Plus.' Glad she couldn't read my mind.

As I waited for our baggage at Muscat International, Sarah reported that the ladies’ toilet was ‘disgusting’. Welcome back.

Cabin etiquette

Little did I know I was sitting next to a nutter. He seemed to have little control over his limbs and was unaware of aircraft personal space etiquette. His best habit was making a load 'huwaaa' noise when yawning which took place every bloody five minutes throughout the flight. I’m sure the guy in front thought it was me. The finale was an almost predictable spilling of the coffee. My body language spoke volumes.

Smelling of stale coffee, I met the driver from Hotel Daisy in arrivals and I was soon taking a short recharge nap in the company of the owner. A few hours later, Sarah arrived and we spent several hours redistributing our combined booty by weight into three cases.

That night, the staff prepared a splendid final meal comprising Spanish pork stew with potatoes and chorizo with a Woodbridge Californian Shiraz and a delightful Chateau du Moulin Noir 2004 Lussac-Saint-Emillion. For desert we compared Willie's Venezuelan Delectable Cacao 72 against Peruvian 70 chocolate. The chefs were felicitated.

Hot dogs and erectile dysfunction

Having almost missed flights at San Diego airport in the past due to enormous queues, I arrived three-and-a-half hours early for the first leg to Dallas Fort Worth. I therefore had plenty of time in which to search for something edible for breakfast. I did not succeed.

There were two restaurants. The sign outside 'Nathan's ' illustrated a range of breakfast hotdogs. The second option was 'Bloody Mary's' where I reluctantly ordered a rubberised egg sandwich (cheese and bacon withheld) served with deep fried potatoes. The paper underneath this arrangement was designed to soak up surplus grease.

As the morning progressed, the noise level in the bar increased as customers in pink and yellow shirts supplemented the British Open commentary with words I did not understand. The woman on the table next to me caught me smirking at an advert for Cialis (a treatment for erectile dysfunction), which stated at full volume, ‘…..when the moment is right, you’ll be ready’. She may have misunderstood.

Thankfully the flight to DFW passed quickly leaving just over an hour to change planes. A request for an upgrade was met with initial sucking of teeth and a dog’s bottom mouth. After tapping away on the keyboard, the agent reversed her decision stating that a seat in Traveller Plus had already been allocated. I wasn’t going to argue.

Sarah's travelling pants

The closing session finished at midday leaving the afternoon free for some eleventh hour shopping. On returning to the hotel, I collected a package of trousers from the hotel concierge. These travelling pants were sent by our friend April from Florida (3,500 km) and will travel another 9,000 km to London followed by a further 6,000 km to Muscat*.

My last night in San Diego had to be spent in the Argentinean restaurant where the Uruguayan waiter convinced me to try the pizza. His suggestion that the Terraza red was not as good as the previous Pascual Tosco required a taste test. He was correct. The latter followed a bottle of Argentinean Quilmes beer to accompany the cheesy pizza.

*One pair was later returned from London to Florida, a further 9000 km.

Murder on the high seas (again)

The 'Carnival Elation' cruise ship was docked in front of the hotel this morning. Among the herds of suitcase-laden tourists waddling around the dock was a cluster of trucks from the local TV stations. The lead news story that night concerned the murder of a woman during the one-week cruise. I’m sure a woman went missing on a cruise last year. It's the American way.

My post conference wanderings included a trip to ‘Hot Licks’ in Sea Port Village for a couple of bottles of sauce for Alex. He almost killed one of his colleagues last year so I purchased lower down the Scoville scale with roasted garlic and roasted habanero chilli sauces.

Drinking responsibly

During an interval in patchy sleep, I watched a programme this morning about wine and how it should be drunk. Please note that wine should not be described as a ‘beverage’ and does not need to be accompanied by nanny state health warnings and orders to drink responsibly. Just enjoy it.

After a day of technical sessions, I walked for several hours round the Gas Lamp distinct in an attempt to cross a few more things off the list. I rested weary legs in ‘Sushi Itto’ where a Chicken Yakisoha and an 8-piece Sushi-Sashimi combo were assisted by a cold and crisp Asahi beer and small sake.

Plenty of restaurants but nowhere to eat

My determination to find good food lead me to an Argentinean restaurant, ‘Puerto La Boca’ in Little Italy. I started with bread and olives and a delightfully perfumed Pisco Sour, which brought back memories of Chile and Peru. I also remembered some of the restaurants in Buenos Aires that were entirely meat based and usually featured a steeply inclined rack of meat above an enormous grill. 'Vegetarian' is not an Argentinian word.

The waiter, who was from Montevideo, recommended Ravioles ‘Mabel’ (filled with beef and spinach) with a glass of Pascual Toso Argentinian red. Exquisite.

The ESRI conference begins

There was standing room only at the opening session of the ESRI User Conference at the Convention Centre. Eventually I found a seat next to a woman that smelt of muscle rub ointment.

I worked my way through Sarah’s list of pills and potions in the late afternoon. Many restaurants were closing as I walked back to the hotel – it was 8 pm after all.

To San Diego

I sat people watching in Itsu, a Japanese 'health and happiness' bar in Terminal 5. A smart American lady wearing enormous wraparound sunglasses was cutting the salmon on her (seemingly able) husband's plate while another rotund and sweaty businessman made short work of a half bottle of wine with his breakfast. Other novelties included a man strapping on a false leg in front of a family with a very confused little boy, and a man tied to a very large musical instrument.

A request for an aisle seat resulted in a cabin upgrade on the flight to Chicago. After the barbaric conditions in Economy from Oman, World Traveller Plus provides reasonable conditions for the human body. Contrast that with American Airlines’ flight to San Diego where the service has declined to that of a slave galley – cramped conditions, no entertainment, no food (except ‘beverages’ for $5.00 or a sandwich box for $10.00) and air crew past their sell-by dates.

The dim light of dusk disguised the dated look of the Holiday Inn on Harbor Drive in San Diego. The roller coaster culinary ride of the last few days took another dip in the hotel’s ‘Elephant & Castle’ pub where the beer had to be returned, the fish was overcooked and the chips grey and lifeless. Oh dear.

The worst café in Britain?

Alex and I drove back to London leaving the girls in Falmouth. The journey took seven hours due to a fire on the A30 and congestion on the A303. We found a relic of British culinary history just before Yeovilton. The toilet block outside the sinister looking and inappropriately named ‘Jolly Diner' smelt of stale urine. Inside the café there was a faint whiff of cleaning fluid masking the smell of decades of grease. The staff wore yellow nylon dinner-lady outfits. The walls were decorated with bizarre pictures and hand-written signs, including one which threatened extermination if outside food was consumed on the premises. It’s hard to imagine a worse place to eat.

Hotel Daisy is situated next door to our house in Hampton. The owner and namesake, Miss Daisy, was a bit aloof but her staff, Mandy and Simon, looked after me splendidly for the evening. Hotel activities included a blind taste test to see if we could identify the difference between Tesco and Bombay Sapphire gin. My sleep was somewhat erratic during the night as I had to fend off the owner’s advances on a number of occasions.

What's Trago Mills?

The happy landlady cooked us full English breakfasts which provided sufficient calories for a day of shopping.

We later met Emma’s surrogate parents, Annie and Lorne, who have looked after her for the last few years, before visiting the rest of her extended family who have recently moved from Poolesville in Maryland to Port Pendennis marina in Falmouth. We enjoyed an evening of grilling, beer swilling and family toilet humour.

Time to visit the babies

The departure lounge at Muscat International has a new concourse sporting a typical array of shops, ubiquitous coffee chains and fast-food outlets, including a Cream & Fudge which doesn't sell fudge, or cream for that matter. Sarah covered herself in hot chocolate before we headed to the gate to board the cattle containers at the back of the Boeing 777. In Abu Dhabi, we had to wait for the flight loony who fumbled to her seat shouting, ‘There aren't enough chairs!’ She was not wrong. During the flight she adopted a clever strategy of upsetting nearby passengers who relocated to avoid her ramblings. While the rest of us tried to sleep in insufficient space, she was able to stretch out across three seats in perfect comfort.

After a long night of napping in an almost vertical position, I fiddled with a rubbery breakfast omelette while questioning the strategy of providing the coffee and tea (it's the same thing) with the breakfast tray so that passengers can finish the meal with cold brown liquid in tiny plastic cups. The loony lady had to be coerced into sitting up for the landing. We saw her later in the queue for the car hire bus - she was either very confused or intent on driving on British roads.

With Alex on board, we began the drive to Falmouth to stay with our Flossie. I took a nap after three hours while Sarah and Alex investigated the alleged improvements in the ‘Little Chef' in Podimore. After somehow spending £22 on lunch, their conclusion was that Heston hadn't yet reached this branch. I had to see for myself. Yep, no radical changes there; tired decor, lard-based food, disinterested staff and high prices (the first of many occasions we would utter, ‘How much?').

We plodded on accompanied by the banality of BBC Radio Devon until we reached Falmouth. After a quick cup of tea, we drove to the B&B where the nice landlady finished every sentence with a laugh.

At the opposite end of the culinary spectrum from our lunch venue, we spent the evening at Tabb’s in Truro. The emphasis is on quality rather than quantity from the elegant decor to the beautifully crafted, locally sourced food served by a knowledgeable and charming host. We began with a complimentary starter of mushroom soup with truffle oil followed by lamb (quite exquisite) for the girls and duck for the boys. A good clean Vin de Pays des Côtes de Gascogne supported the early rounds, but Alex and I noticed another customer with a local bottled beer which married well with the richness of the duck. The deserts were quite delightful as was the plate of local cheeses. A meal to remember.

Sweaty

We saw an article on Sky news a couple of days ago with a reporter standing on Brighton beach holding a thermometer stating that the temperature had already reached 26C (gasp). It was expected to reach over 30C. Hee, hee, snigger, snigger, what a bunch of girlies. The maximum temperature in Muscat today was 44C with heat index of 53C. Tonight's low will be 30C with a heat index of 48C. That's proper weather.

Packet of pinces please

Good news for those of us in the Seeb area. Just across the road from the fish market there is a shop selling pince's (with a free apostrophe).

It is possible that something has been lost in translation as the Arabic wording مكعبات الثلج means 'ice cubes'. You have to admire the translator's sense of humour.

A proper bike shop

While waiting in the dentist last week, I read an article in an old Oman2day magazine about a new bike shop in Muscat. Having visited a few scabby bike shops in the area, it came as some relief to find Oman Bicyle, located in Al Khuwayr on Al Maha Street behind the Radisson Hotel. They must be relatively new as Omantel hasn't had time to screw-up their website (www.omanbicycle.com).