After a quick chai and samosa breakfast, Cindy and I headed to the Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque. Like the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque in Abu Dhabi, it’s a recently constructed mosque and was the brainchild of the country’s national leader. Also like the Abu Dhabi Mosque, it’s spectacular. We arrived three minutes before non-Muslims are prohibited from entering in order to let Muslims pray. The man at the door signaled to his fictitious watch and we understood the message.

The grounds of the mosque received much more attention than Abu Dhabi’s. There are several gardens and courtyards, all of which we raced through in order to reach the main prayer hall.

Garden

Mosque from outside

At one point we reached a rack of shoes. We threw ours onto the piles and raced into the room. “This is much smaller than I thought it would be,” said Cindy. We walked outside confusedly and I saw that we hadn’t even reached the big dome yet. “No way this is it,” I said. We put our shoes back on, rounded the corner, and saw signs pointing to the room we had just exited. The signs indicated that we had just left the women’s prayer hall. Oops.

The actual main prayer hall is just as grand as it should be (picture above). It has the second largest carpet in the world (title usurped by Abu Dhabi’s mosque), and an appropriate number of chandeliers and wall carvings. I was told the style of the mosque is much more traditional and orthodox, while Abu Dhabi’s is more like a mutant in that it combines many styles and a little bit of whatever the Sheikh wanted.

With the Grand Mosque under our belts, it was time to say goodbye to Muscat and head to our next destination, Bahla. The previous evening, Abbas told us that Bahla is known for its djinn, or spirits. Arabs from all over the region regard Bahla with a certain amount of spirituality. Luckily, said Abbas, we don’t speak Arabic, so the djinn can’t do anything to us. See that? Chinese is so difficult that even spirits can’t learn it.

Indian lunch

Bahla was a quick 2.5 hour drive away. Google Maps had our hotel incorrectly plotted, forcing us to drive aimlessly and ask people where it might be. None of them knew. Cindy had a brainstorm and searched for the directions from the hotel’s TripAdvisor page (we purchased a 5 riali SIM card instead of a 35 riali GPS) and found the correct location.

Our plan was to simply rest in preparation for a strenuous day of hiking. But a quick espn.com check revealed that El Clasico was that evening. How quickly plans changed. Our 1,200 channel satellite TV didn’t have a single channel that broadcasted the game. I checked with the reception desk downstairs and they informed me that a coffee shop nearby would have the game. Some of my fondest memories during my last trip through the Middle East were watching World Cup matches in random locations. This was going to be fun.

Sure enough, the coffee shop was projecting the game onto a large concrete slab that they had painted white. Since it rarely rains in the desert, everyone was just sitting outside staring at the concrete slab. I joined them. And thus humanity was united.