I've taught in a few different countries, as you can see from my blog, but the one place I wanted to go and eventually managed to get into was Oman. The images of Ali Baba and flying carpets and long robes against exotic minarets had stayed with me from childhood. Once I dreamed I was on a flying carpet, only to wake up and discover I had wet my bed. Oh well, push forward and there I was, in Oman.
The moment the outside doors opened from the air-conditioned airport, a gust of air from what might have been a blast furnace whipped find bits of sand in my eyes. I was met by a tall, bearded man wearing a dark dishdasha and beaded kuma, the long gown and hat which is traditional Omani clothing.
'Welcome to my country,' said the driver from the for the school where I'd be working. And let me note that all over the Middle East I was greeted with the same line from the most mannerly and friendly people I've ever met. Another teacher who was just starting, Kate, said hello and together we were driven out to the school, Al Sharkiya University, an hour south of Muscat in the middle of the nowhere.
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