Taxi, Bus, Camel

Ok, so there wasn't a camel, but it made a catchy title! I haven't written for a while because I am studying for the MOH board exam to try and get my Dubai license. Plus, I was in a slump. It happens!

I couldn't resist telling about my latest little adventure in-- you guessed it! Muscat. I think I could write a whole book about the Omani bus drivers. Just when I think I've seen it all, they do something new to surprise me.

The day had begun in the typical fashion. I poured myself into my clothes while still half asleep at 5:30 am, and then hit the streets of Dubai on the way to the Omani Bus Station. A city bus ride and metro trip later, I walked quickly to the Muscat bus and made it just in time, proudly waving my "Frequent Traveler Voucher" for a free trip. Yes, buy five get one free. I never dreamed I would be taking this trip long enough to use that offer. Good thing I saved my receipts as souvenirs!

We passed through the border crossing easily, I was now a pro at this ritual. First stop, passport inspection. Stay on the bus. Next stop, exit the bus and get an exit visa stamp from the UAE Border Patrol. Five minutes later reach Omani customs inspection. Exit bus and open bags on a big folding table in the middle of the highway. Male guards inspect the men's bags, but a special lady guard in Green army uniform with an elegant black hijab inspects the ladies' bags, before we line them all up and a dog sniffs them carefully. One male passenger has a suitcase that opens up into a shortwave radio unit. It looks ancient, but in excellent condition. It causes a stir among the guards. They reluctantly allow him to keep it, and we get back on the bus. Next stop ten minutes later, Omani visa stamp. Pay 200 Dirhams, thank you for contributing to the country of Oman. Back on the bus. About an hour later, a bathroom break. The driver always says "Five minutes" but he really means "Two minutes" and starts honking impatiently. This is all part of the routine.

Several hours later, after entertaining my fellow passengers with musical snoring from underneath my hijab, I was jostled awake by the familiar stops and starts of heavy traffic. Stretching and yawning, I looked about and realized that there were only three passengers left on the bus. The other two were local gentlemen, engaged in conversation with the driver. Suddenly the driver noticed me in the rear view mirror and yelled "SISTER!" I blinked in surprise and answered timidly, "Yes, sir?"

"Where are you going?" he demanded. As if he didn't know that I was on the bus to Muscat. "The bus station. BUS STATION." I repeated at his frustrated glare in the mirror.

"Which bus station, Sister?" he sounded annoyed at my ignorance.

"At the end, by Kentucky Fried Chicken. KENTUCKY FRIED CHICKEN." He nodded in understanding, then discussed this news with the other passengers in Arabic. Suddenly he pulled the bus over and stopped next to the median. We were in the middle of the freeway, and not near any intersections.

"You are going to take a taxi, to save petrol. I will pay for the taxi. No need to take this big bus."

What was I going to do, argue? "Ok, sure. No problem," I nodded agreeably, grabbing my backpack and purse and quickly making sure I had my belongings before descending the steps into the glaring sun. The eight lane free way was zipping with traffic, but the driver easily flagged a taxi. I headed for it but he waved me away, putting one of the other bus passengers' bags in its trunk. Then he hailed another taxi. I was surprised that it pulled over because it already had three male passengers.

My bus driver opened the front passenger door and evicted the occupant, making him sit in the back. Then he escorted me to the seat, and I looked up at the surprised taxi driver with a sheepish smile as I fastened my seatbelt. The other bus passenger was squeezed into the back seat with the three original taxi passengers, and the bus driver paid the cab. He didn't ask the price, he just offered an amount and the driver didn't question him. There was no meter in the cab, I noticed. My bus driver told me again, with a significant look at the taxi driver, that my fair was paid. Once we all had an understanding, we sailed into traffic.

The sprawling metropolis of Muscat reminds me of Kansas city. Instead of tightly compacted skyscrapers, it is spread out and buildings are modest but nicely constructed. The main Omani bus station is on the northern edge of the city, and my KFC bus station is on the other side. I suppose it was more cost effective for them to pay two taxis to ferry passengers to their final destinations, but I wondered why the driver was so motivated to save money on fuel. Was he one of the owners? Did the Omani bus company reward drivers for saving fuel? These are questions I pondered, as the big bus faded from view in the side mirror of the taxi.

Even though the cab driver had received instructions from the bus captain, he still seemed confused about my destination. The four gentlemen in the back seat all had different drop off points, and as they exited they paid an amount that seemed to be predetermined. I was a bit relieved that one of the other passengers knew where we were going, even still we pulled over to consult another taxi driver for clarification. Soon we came to a recognizable neighborhood, and I gave him the directions for the rest of the way.

When he finally dropped me off, I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as I opened the door to my good old KFC. The manager recognized me and smiled a greeting, I dropped my bags at my usual table, and went to order some comfort food. Ohhhhh, something new on the menu? Gravy and Mash? Hallelujah! Mashed potatoes and gravy have finally made it to the Gulf! I'm so happy.