Can we talk about drivers in Salalah for just a moment? Do you feel as if you've been assaulted by wild buffalo when you arrive at your destination? Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. Those lunatics who bear down on you in the "slow car" lane, driving right up on your bumper before careening into the fast lane in order to do it again, flashing their headlights whilst casually smoking a cigarette and sending messages via whatsapp. Or so I presume.
It isn't a question of IF you will get in an accident here in the loverly town of lala, but WHEN. My first happened not long after I arrived here, and it couldn't have been a more pleasant experience if I do say so myself. I drove along that stretch between the RAFO roundabout and where Carrefour is now, and an older Omani gentleman simply bumped on up the side of my teensy rental car. I was a tad startled. He simply didn't see me. I pulled over to check the car, and so did he. Now in the grand U.S of A, a road accident usually involves some anger and denial of fault. Not so with me. He came and looked at the scrape on my car and said, "No problem, no problem." I would later find this is the Dhofar mantra, but I was new to Salalah. I said yes, problem. He promptly came and sat in my car while I called Budget, leaving his kin in the giganto SUV. He wanted a bit of a chat with the English speaking lady in a hijab. He was very nice in a geezerly, aged way. I think he might even have been, ahem, important. He was a retired judge or lawyer or some sort, educated in Russia. He asked if Americans like to dance, and shared that he'd quite enjoyed a bit of a dance when he was in Russia. I tried to visualize this, and failed mightily. Once Budget arrived, he accepted responsibility for everything, and drove off with a wave, having left me his business card with an admonition to call should I ever need help with anything.
There is too much to say about driving issues here in Salalah for one post, and I have a stinkin lot of posts to write, so no worries there. It isn't India out there (trust me, if you haven't been driving in India, you don't know what you're missing) but the roads ARE dangerous. Until not long ago, there was one largish road in Salalah. Now? Lotsa roads, and lotsa drivers. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to call my husband for a lift to yoga class. I gave up my car a month ago, and it feels oh so much better!
It isn't a question of IF you will get in an accident here in the loverly town of lala, but WHEN. My first happened not long after I arrived here, and it couldn't have been a more pleasant experience if I do say so myself. I drove along that stretch between the RAFO roundabout and where Carrefour is now, and an older Omani gentleman simply bumped on up the side of my teensy rental car. I was a tad startled. He simply didn't see me. I pulled over to check the car, and so did he. Now in the grand U.S of A, a road accident usually involves some anger and denial of fault. Not so with me. He came and looked at the scrape on my car and said, "No problem, no problem." I would later find this is the Dhofar mantra, but I was new to Salalah. I said yes, problem. He promptly came and sat in my car while I called Budget, leaving his kin in the giganto SUV. He wanted a bit of a chat with the English speaking lady in a hijab. He was very nice in a geezerly, aged way. I think he might even have been, ahem, important. He was a retired judge or lawyer or some sort, educated in Russia. He asked if Americans like to dance, and shared that he'd quite enjoyed a bit of a dance when he was in Russia. I tried to visualize this, and failed mightily. Once Budget arrived, he accepted responsibility for everything, and drove off with a wave, having left me his business card with an admonition to call should I ever need help with anything.
There is too much to say about driving issues here in Salalah for one post, and I have a stinkin lot of posts to write, so no worries there. It isn't India out there (trust me, if you haven't been driving in India, you don't know what you're missing) but the roads ARE dangerous. Until not long ago, there was one largish road in Salalah. Now? Lotsa roads, and lotsa drivers. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to call my husband for a lift to yoga class. I gave up my car a month ago, and it feels oh so much better!
Not my picture. Please note the hilarious parking along the road.
Today's cake is banana cake made with olive oil. Frankly, I just didn't want to use butter today. Banana cake gets no respect, certainly not from me. I am not wasting precious butter in a banana cake! I refuse to even follow the cake routine. You know, sift the dry ingredients, whip the oil and sugar, blah blah blah. No. For banana cake, you mash the bananas, throw all the ingredients in a bowl, stir, and dump into a greased pan. Finito my friends. F.I.N.I.T.O.
"Her" cake
Completely copied and pasted.
1 2/3 cup plain flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/3 cup castor sugar
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon Vanilla extract
2 eggs
1/2 cup olive oil
3 mashed bananas
1. Mix all the dry ingredients- flour, baking powder,
cinnamon, caster and brown sugar in a bowl.
2. Make a well in the middle.
3. Add olive oil, vanilla extract, 2 eggs, 3 mashed bananas
4. Mix altogether
5. Pour into greased loaf tin, or line with baking paper.
6. Bake for 45 mins to an hour - 160 degrees.
My cake, dusted with a little confectioners sugar.
The yoga ladies will partake shortly.
I read a statistic today that said only 10 percent of bloggers who start this are still blogging in six months. Truly, I can understand that! I will persist people! Inshallah.
Love,
Felicia El Aid
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