There are two seasons in Oman. The cool season and the hot season. When the hot season starts the air becomes hazy and humid and the mountains disappear from sight. The days become longer and we sit outside but with standing fans. In the period 'inbetween' the house is too hot without the AC but too cold with it. You can't get the room temperature right in the night. It is now almost time to switch the waterheaters off, because the water coming from the cold tap is boiling from the sun outside, and the water which usually comes from the waterheater is then cool and the perfect temperature for showering.
We are in the transition phase. The last few days have been muggy and cloudy, the sky quite black and ominous in the evening. A few drops of rain have been falling from the sky. We saw a rainbow in Muscat today, a really unusual sight. It is a little windy and my mother's glass chimes make gentle music outside. The car is contantly dirty because the fat raindrops show up the dust. I love this time though. It is sensuous and tropical and has a mystical feel, there is an atmosphere of anticipation. I feel vaguely lethargic, but I love the heat and the slight constant glow on my skin. It is not the full-on sauna feeling of July.
There is a part of me that never never relaxes in western Europe, that is always some degree of cold, and that part of me finds space here to expand and not hold itself tight.
The dates are swelling on the trees, a promise of the heavenly harvest to come. This sounds like an exaggeration, but it is not! I love the summer for the fresh dates. There are so many kinds of them in differnt shapes and sizes, and we look forward to them ripening on the trees in succession and gracing our palates one kind at a time. They are the perfect combination of tart and sweet, crunchy and soft, dry and succulent in one fruit. The colours are always rich and earthy, varying from deep red to pale gold.
I walked home tonight from my neighbours, the sounds of goats and lambs and children coming from the enclosed courtyards. Some ladies sitting out enjoying the evening breeze, a group of young men playing cards in front of a house. I walked alone and looked up at the lemony moon peaking lazily from behind the evening clouds, and felt so peaceful and part of it all.
We are in the transition phase. The last few days have been muggy and cloudy, the sky quite black and ominous in the evening. A few drops of rain have been falling from the sky. We saw a rainbow in Muscat today, a really unusual sight. It is a little windy and my mother's glass chimes make gentle music outside. The car is contantly dirty because the fat raindrops show up the dust. I love this time though. It is sensuous and tropical and has a mystical feel, there is an atmosphere of anticipation. I feel vaguely lethargic, but I love the heat and the slight constant glow on my skin. It is not the full-on sauna feeling of July.
There is a part of me that never never relaxes in western Europe, that is always some degree of cold, and that part of me finds space here to expand and not hold itself tight.
The dates are swelling on the trees, a promise of the heavenly harvest to come. This sounds like an exaggeration, but it is not! I love the summer for the fresh dates. There are so many kinds of them in differnt shapes and sizes, and we look forward to them ripening on the trees in succession and gracing our palates one kind at a time. They are the perfect combination of tart and sweet, crunchy and soft, dry and succulent in one fruit. The colours are always rich and earthy, varying from deep red to pale gold.
I walked home tonight from my neighbours, the sounds of goats and lambs and children coming from the enclosed courtyards. Some ladies sitting out enjoying the evening breeze, a group of young men playing cards in front of a house. I walked alone and looked up at the lemony moon peaking lazily from behind the evening clouds, and felt so peaceful and part of it all.
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