And back to our Middle East Extravaganza Report…

While still basking in the glow of the pyramids, it was time to pack our bags and head for the Emirates. At Soenke’s request, we flew Royal Air Jordanian for this leg (rather than the dodgy Egypt Air), luxuriating in quite possibly the poshest economy class I’ve seen. Our Royal Air Jordanian experience was truly remarkable: after we checked in and were off lounging in an airport café, the check-in guy came by to personally alert us that our flight to Jordan was now considerably delayed. When I mentioned we had a tight connection to Dubai, he sat down next to us, ordered a cappucino (offering to buy us one too), got on his cellphone and called the “powers that be” to request that our connecting flight to Dubai be held until our arrival. He also offered us, as a backup, a 5-star hotel room in Jordan in case we were worried that our luggage wouldn’t make the transit (we of course contemplated this with interest, but took our chances on the connection). Feeling like two sultans, our VIP status appeared even more elevated when this fine gentleman boarded our plane prior to takeoff to personally reconfirm that we were good to go for our connecting flight. Both overcome with appreciation (and wonder), we practically offered him frankincense and myrrh in gratitude.

We happily caught our connection in Jordan. I took special note of the airport security check: a security woman in her abaya and shayla (black robe and head cover) took me into a private booth in order to conduct my check, ensuring that male eyes had no opportunity to probe. After the very-personal friskings I’ve gotten in Frankfurt, I appreciated the deference. We passed wistfully by the Royal Air Jordanian’s “Petra Lounge” (snazzy business class lounge) – which unfortunately I didn’t have time to talk our way into. Soon we were soaring high over Saudi Arabia. Being nighttime, I sadly couldn’t get a visual on the vast desert below. Instead, I quietly contemplated the incredibly different life that the women below me lived, and basked gratefully in my freedom to roam the world at will…man or no man… wearing anything I choose…doing anything my heart desires. It is a freedom I value more than anything on earth.

We landed down in glittering Dubai at 1:30am. The airport was a hotbed of activity, since many European and African flights arrive in the middle of the night. The driver from our hotel greeted us with a swanky new SUV, snacks, and chilled water for the 45 minute drive out to Ras el Khaimah – a smaller emirate – and our hotel, the Al Hamra Resort. (Let me mention here that our driver was the most intelligent, helpful individual we met during our entire course of stay at Al Hamra, if that’s any indication…)

I wish I could say that I adored this five-star, very popular “Arabian-nights”-style resort as much as the person who gave me the recommendation. The grounds were beautiful, the beach location impeccable, but the hotel was staffed with confused employees who barely could speak English (the primary language of the hotel), and the private beach – the resort’s main attraction - had stocked about ½ a beach chair per person. Our room was small and blah, and it seemed that some perpetually loud-and-drunk hotel employees were living in a room a few doors down. I started wishing for a magic carpet to whisk me away.

The only solution, of course, was to rent a car and start exploring the barren-yet-somehow-inviting tip of the Arabian peninsula. While filling out the paperwork, the hotel’s surprisingly-coherent Hertz employee announced “you will need special insurance if you want to go to Oman.”

OMAN????!!!

“Yeah heck, we DEFINITELY want to Oman. Sign us up. Where’s Oman?”

Nothing like a little road trip to Oman. And that’s where the fun began…..

(Sorry, no photos for this post. Plenty a’comin’ though….)