This evening wasn't the evening I was expecting. I planned to go to a salsa class, this time alone as my friends were busy with other things. I haven't taken many taxis before by myself in Oman, and I was still a bit nervous, partly because a women travelling alone can sometimes encounter awkward moments, but also because my sense of direction in Muscat is pretty poor. So, I hailed a taxi (which is very safe to do here, unlike in Lima), and negotiated a price with the taxi driver. All the taxi drivers are Omani, so it's a good opportunity to practice Arabic. I said that I was happy to share the taxi, which is a cheaper way of travelling around the city. It means that other people can hail the taxi, and if they are wanting to go in the same direction they get into the taxi too.
I sat at the back of the taxi, as automatically climbing into the front passenger seat as a woman can give off the wrong signals. The taxi driver, who noticed that I could speak Arabic, started chatting to me. Firstly just pleasantries: how are you? do you like Oman? And when I proved to him that I was actually competent in the language, and not just some tourist who had studied the wikitravel Arabic phrasebook before arriving in the country, he continued the conversation. 'Masha'Allah (an expression of praise), you speak Arabic! Where did you learn it? ... How long? ... What are you doing in Oman? ... Masha'Allah, Masha'Allah!'. Now don't take this to mean my Arabic is perfect, far from it, getting a masha'Allah is quite easy here because people see you and think there's no way you'd bother to learn their language. However, I got some good Arabic practice in, and as a bonus, he said that he didn't want to stop for other potential customers so that he could continue talking me in Arabic, but would keep the price the same!
When I arrived, the building seemed too empty for there to be a salsa class, so I asked the receptionist, who I often talk to in Spanish, if the class was definitely on. He shook his head and told me that it had been cancelled, and the instructor had sent out messages to let people know. I don't think he had my number, so I hadn't been told. I was disappointed that I wouldn't be dancing tonight and we searched on-line to see if there were any other classes nearby, with no luck. 'Qué pena..' (Spanish: 'what a shame') he said, when he found out that I'd come all the way by taxi for there to be no class. Demonstrating the characteristic Omani kindness, he offered to take me home in his car once his shift finished after 45 minutes. We chatted away in Spanish during that time and during the journey back to my apartment, covering many topics. I learnt more about the Omani culture, and different sub-cultures within it, and the time passed quickly. Before I knew it we were turning into the road by the apartment block.
As we turned into the road, he had a look of surprise on his face and rolled down the window, greeting another Omani who seemed to be a friend of his. His said to his friend that he'd drop me off and come back in a few minutes. Then he turned to me with a look of genuine happiness on his face, telling me that he hadn't seen that friend in 8 years!
I think it's an important Year Abroad, and general life lesson to learn: when one door closes, another opens. Although I didn't get to do what I intended to do tonight, I got to practice both languages, learn more about Oman, and indirectly helped someone reconnect with an old friend. The Year Abroad is always full of surprises!
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