a short story on Masirah island - heaven tucked in Oman in Arabian peninsula

1. MASIRAH ISLAND: HOW I GOTSTUCK ON A DESERTED ISLAND IN OMAN
Do you rememberthe time I got stuck on Masirah Island?
The hill wasgentle,mybare feetslidingbackwardinthe sandwitheverystepItook uphill.After
reachingthe top,I turnedaroundto lookat the endlesswhite sanddunesstretchingouttosea.
Wave afterwave crashedon the shore,but the roaringwindinmy earspreventedme fromhearing
them.The sand blewovermyfeet,myarms,and myface,stingingme witheverygrain,butIhad to be
careful.
I was alone.
There were onlytwosignsof humanlife:the roadinfront of me,its blacksurface distortedbythe sand
that ran across it,and twosmall,ricketystructuresassembledfromdriftwoodandfishingnets.
I had stoodhere the nightbefore,watchingthe sunsetbehindthe promontoryinthe distance.Thenit
was quiet,the streetemptyandsparkling,andthe dunessettledamongthe bristlingvegetation.But
nowit wasanotherworld.
I had startedthe five-dayvacationonMasirahIslandwithfriends.Butaftertwonightsof strugglingwith
windblowntents,windblownsand,noisycampersnearby,andagrumpysleepless13-month-oldboy
whokepttryingto swallowthe sandfroma whole beach,theydecideditwastime togo home and head
for the ferry.I wasalone.
The road around Masirah Islandonlytakestwohoursto drive,sothere wasplentyof time forstopson
my trip.Gravel roadsleadup the barrenRocky Mountainsto whoknowswhere.Istoppedtosayhelloto
twocamels.
Lonelybeachesscreamedforwandering,andIcrosseda flatrocky coast of what wouldbe another
islandat hightide.A trilliondifferentseashellscrackedundermyfeetandsome local guysshowed
concernfor me,fearingI'dbe stuck on the islandunderthe risingtide.
ThenI climbedthishill inthe sanddunes.The sunsetinadramaticscene,castinglongshadowsfromthe
smallestof dunesandsendinggoldenlightthroughthe spraywaves.The streetglowedblackbelowme
and no soundpiercedthe air.
Later, onthe wayback to town,supermomstoodupinthe hillsinfrontof me,pointingouthow glorious
that afternoonhadbeen.
Early inthe morning,he metme on the road around the island,lookingfordifferentlights,different
views,anddifferentstops.Forthe firsthour,Iwas alone,standingonrockybeachesandhillswithno
othersoulsor cars in sight.Ona longweekendwhenMasirahIslandwas"busy"itwasamazinghow
emptyitwas.

2. A beachhut haphazardlyassembledfromdebrisanddriftwoodoverlookedabeautiful white sandbeach
withcrashingwaves.
Camelswere restingbyapinklagoon,otherdirtroads headedintothe mountains,andemptyroads
stretchedoutbefore me,luringme inwiththe solitudetheyoffered.
Finelycarvedheadstonesfromanoldcemetery(ok,notasoldas the bat graves,but still old) blended
intoa hill above the road.If youweren'tlookingforit,youwouldneversee it.
The extreme tipof Masirah Islandiscompletelycoveredinwhite sandandrollingbluewaves.Standing
on topof a hill andwatchingthe showson the sea,I washit bythe windwhichwasgettingstrongerby
the minute.Butthere wasstill time togetthe ferry.
I got intothe longqueue at the platform, rolleddownthe windows,andturnedoff the engine,letting
the breeze blowthroughthe car to cool me downinsteadof the air conditioning,LookedlikeIwasgoing
to be sittinghere fora while.
Cars passedme inthe otherdirection,slowly,andthenone stopped.
"Loren?The mansaid.
I was surprised.Who?What?Howdidhe know myname?
“Don't waste time waiting,he said,there won'tbe aferrytoday.
Andjustlike that,I was stuckon Masirah Islandforanothernight.
NowI knowyou're thinking'Oh,poorJenny,youwere supposedtostaylongerthanexpectedona
deserted island(literally),life isawfullyhard...'butgive me a breakhere.Because there'sthisthing,you
know,where youcanhave fun somewhereandwishyoucouldstaylonger,butas soonas youcan't
leave,that'sactuallythe lastplace youreallywantto be.
I had heardthe firstbad newswhenIarrivedat the National FerryCompanyoffice tocollectmyticket.It
was toowindysothere wouldn'tbe a boat today,butI couldtry my luckwiththe local ferry.In strong
windsandrough seasthe same one,the passingcrew pointedoutandtoldus not to take as theirsafety
procedureswere somewhatquestionable.
So eventhoughIwas queuingforthe local ferry,Iwas a bitterrifiedof takingthe dangerousboatinbad
weather.ButI didn'tknowwhatelse todo. I hadto leave MasirahIsland.Workwas waitingforme to
come back in twodays,and anywaythat nightI hadnowhere tostay.It consoledme thatif I couldn'tget
off the island,Iwouldat leasthave myowntent andmy owncar to sleepinif all else failed.
AndthenIbrahimfoundme.Wasta (influence orrelationshipswithimportantpeople) isabeautiful
thing.Someone atworkinmy friend'sdepartmentarrangedthe ferryforusand gave her a contact if
there wasa problem.We hadalreadybeenincontact withhimonce whenwe were late forthe ferry.

3. So,as I sat inthe car waitinginline,Ibrahimpassedme andstopped.Idon'tevenknow how he knewI
was still there,orif he knewIwas waitingforthatferry,or if he wasluckyhe foundthe onlyforei gngirl
inline andhe realizedshe wasone of uswiththe trash..Andyou betterhelphim.
Ibrahimtoldme not to waste time waiting,tookmyphone number,andsaidhe wouldcall me when
there wasthe hope of a ferry.
What to do? I headedforthe hills.
An incredible stroke of luckbroughtme backto the same room inthe same hotel thatI had justleft,
despite half the touristsonthe islandlookingforaplace to spendthe night.Ithankedmyluckystars
that I shouldn'thave triedtopitchmy tentinthat wind.
A quicktour of the town of Hilf toldme it wasdefinitelynotasprettyas the restof the island,andthe
strongwindand blowingsandmade gettingoutof the car uncomfortable.So,tiredafterthe long
morningdrive,Iwentbackto my room for a longnap.
Got a lotof stares while diningata sidewalktableinHilf thatnight,Iguessit'srare to see a foreign
womaneatingalone inHilf.
Early the nextmorning,the ferryqueue circledthe marinaanddownthe street.Ihadn'theardfrom
Ibrahimandneededtogethome,sothere I was,witheveryone whohadbeenstucksince the day
before.Iturnedoff the car and wentto the frontrow, where aman toldme he had beenwaitingsince 4
a.m.For a ferrythat mightnotleave.Everyone hadtogoback to work the nextday.
But my rubbishreallyworkedandIbrahimphonedme around8 am.Be inthe office at8:30, he said.I
wentstraightawaybut had to waitmyturn behindacrowd of people.
"Go straightahead,"the womansaid,handingme the map.I was confused.Of course,the ferryisdirect.
Where else wouldhe go?
He clockedthe clock.9:00 was printedonmyboardingpass.My phone said8:50. "Go straightahead,"
he said.Oh. Finished.
I passedeveryone else inmycar,wavingmyboardingpassat the police stoppingcarsfromdrivingalong
withthe narrow platform.Ibrahimwasthere,inthe cars,and I gave himan incrediblygrateful thank
you.I was finallyonthe ferry,withalongride aheadof me,but at leaston myway back.
So if youare goingto Masirah Island,checkthe weatherforecastfirst,unlessyouwanttoget stuck.And
take some litter.
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