Photobombed. March 2015.
the taxi driver who fell in love with me
Even though Oman was great, it was like Saudi Arabia in that it had almost no public transportation and taxis were punishingly expensive. I asked if the hotel could arrange something for me to see the city and they set me up with the guy pictured above. Upon reflection, I think someone at the hotel front desk called up a friend and said, "hey you want to make a few extra rials?"
He was from India, I had a terrible time understanding him, and he stuck with me like glue. Price and itinerary agreed upon, we started to drive around Muscat which is really a bunch of small towns in a loose confederation under the name of a city. Because the writing textbook I used in Saudi Arabia was for Arabic speakers, many of the place names in the exercises were from actual places in the Middle East. I knew about neighborhoods in Amman, Cairo, and Muscat. I wanted to visit a few of the them just to associate a name with the place (and to tell my students I had actually been there). Of course, one of the must-sees in Muscat was the Opera House.
The building was huge and over the top in luxury. It felt so out of place - like Sultan Qaboos [see: palace], the late leader of Oman and father of the modern nation, built it just to say "see, we are cultured, we are modern, we have an opera house". Dubai followed suit years later in Festival City [see: Dubai Festival City]. Maybe a signature opera house (like in Sydney) is something a city erects to say "we have arrived?" The music venue was dazzling white with very hot, exposed courtyards. I wanted to take a selfie and the driver literally would not get out of the frame. I realized that it would be funny later (it is) so I just let him be in my selfie.
I managed to escape him in the cool AC of the interior of the building where the high end gift shop was open. I guessed he was afraid to enter? I got to explore a bit of the inside (which was just as luxurious as the outside), cool off from the glaring heat of the courtyard, and escape my new "best friend".
We finished the tour, I had seen many places known in name only, and he dropped me at the hotel. I wanted some rest and he wanted to be invited up to the room. Yes, it got very weird. I told him I was tired and needed a break. Then he insisted that we meet later for more touring. I told him I would contact him. Back in the room he messaged me from the nearby McDonalds [see: McDonalds] where I had taken breakfast. He wondered why I was online and not resting. I could see his car in the parking lot. He stayed there for HOURS. I think it was the first time I ever felt stalked - it was just very very weird.
I assume he had a real job because the next day he was gone (although he did message a few times). I never really understood the why and what of meeting him. At least I got to see more of Muscat at a somewhat reasonable price.
Thus ends the tale of "why the taxi driver is in my selfie at the Opera House in Muscat, Oman". It is hilarious now, but as with many such things, at the time it was not as funny.
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