I have returned from my odd combo-holiday: Oman and Sri Lanka! (Or more precisely: Oman, Sri Lanka and various intermediary airports. Turns out it’s possible to be both delayed by four hours and still almost miss your flight… a feat I managed in Dubai. But I digress.)
Oman first, to visit Sophie who’s been living and working in the capital Muscat.
Me and Sophie in Muscat
This was my first time in the Middle East, and the most striking thing was the almost complete lack of ‘city’ in the European sense, i.e. a central touristy bit where you can walk around narrow streets without cars. There is an old section, but it’s very very small, and so the city kinda resembles American suburbia but plonked in a desert. (It wasn’t unbearably hot, but that’s probably because of all the air-conditioning – outside it does feel like a hairdryer is switched on in your face.)
Welcome to Muscat. Bus population: 0.
That said, the people were all pretty relaxed and friendly, and when Sophie was working I got driven around by some of Michele’s friends thrice removed, Abou and Wangchuk. (Dear AIESEC, I contribute nothing and just freeload off your enviable social connections. I’m sorry. Love, Dom.) We saw the Royal Palace, found somewhere you could drink (foreign hotel bar) and then hung around on a beach until the sun came up 🙂
It’s hard to do selfies in the sea
It sounds ridiculous, given how many mosques there are in London, but I’m pretty sure this trip was the first time I’ve heard calls to prayer in real life. (From the beach we could hear them start just after 4am, which is just too early for anyone to be contemplating anything.) On the way to the airport I also risked another lateness incident by squeezing in a whistlestop trip to the Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque, so you can finally have a photo which looks a bit more Middle Eastern:
Sultan Qaboos
And then it was on to Sri Lanka to hang out with my cousin Josh (who I haven’t seen in two years!) and his friends Saul and Ella. We spent a little time in the capital Colombo, but to be honest there isn’t a great deal to do there and my most memorable moment was getting laughed at by a giant group of schoolchildren for being white. (Joke’s on them though: by that point I was mostly sunburnt red with some attractive purpley mosquito bites.) Instead we mostly hung out in two beach resorts further south, Hikkaduwa and Unawatuna.
Cow. Beach.
Me and Josh
Josh, Ella and Saul
These were relaxing and chilled days – with not many people about as we were outside the tourist season – and consisted mostly of beach, beer and curry. For short journeys, we got around by tuk tuk, which are cheap and kinda thrilling – unlike being a passenger in car you don’t lose your connection with the outside world, and indeed can contemplate just how close you are to colliding into that outside world and toppling over.
On my very last day I felt bad for not having seen any elephants (you can’t go to Sri Lanka and not see elephants!) and so we got a driver to take us sight-seeing: the elephant orphanage, the Royal Botanical Gardens and the Buddhist Temple of the Tooth in Kandy. Although the elephants were cool, it was actually more of a thrill to come across monkeys in the park the same way you might come across squirrels here.
Your Sri Lankan elephant photo
I’ve seen Jungle Book, so didn’t want to get any closer
The journey home was a mind-numbing four flights long, but I did at least get to spend the bulk of that time with Emirates who – I’m almost disappointed to report – are actually very good. Their boastful luxury branding almost made me hope they would be rubbish, but I have to admit that coming home on their double-decker plane was one of the nicest flights I’ve ever had. And it gave me a chance to catch up on some films, so I’d like to round off this post with a cheap imitation of Abbi’s Film Friday juggernaut:
Dominic’s Unconnected Thoughts On (Mostly Disney) Movies
The Amazing Spider-Man 2
Spiderman wasn’t going to miss out on his fake Masters
A poor corporate governance regime leaves sprawling business empire OsCorp (never trust a company with ‘corp’ in their name) in the hands of emo Harry Osborn. Harry is angry at Spiderman for refusing to poison him, so teams up with Electro (giant, blue, somewhat electric, also angry) to get revenge.
I actually enjoyed this, despite not having seen the first film in this ridiculously premature reboot. Fun fact: we saw it in the cinema in Colombo, where for some reason they project a countdown onto the centre of the screen shortly before intermission.
Frozen
Anna had no interest in the ‘Chicago weather’ fetish
Unable to control her power of magically freezing things, Elsa (in my head played by Natasha Self) goes all cold on her little sister Anna (in my head played by Katie Self) instead of saying “hey, I’m scared that I might accidentally kill you if we play the magical freezing things game again, so let’s try badminton instead”. To pass the time, Anna sings some damn catchy songs before falling dangerously in love and triggering a disastrous explosion of magical freezing.
I loved it, though, and I don’t care who knows it. I’m so glad Disney got back into its groove with Tangled and the like.
Psycho
Weirdly, Norman’s Tinder wasn’t getting much interest
Oh, you know this one. On the run after nicking $40,000 from her employer, Marion Crane checks into a creepy motel run by Employee-Of-The-Month Norman Bates and participates in Iconic Shower Scene. Gripping, suspenseful and with a twist ending which I miraculously avoided having spoilt for me before finally watching this, Psycho is a justified classic.
Brave
We’ll see about those phone-hacking charges…
I’d heard mixed things about Brave and I have to agree it’s not one of PIXAR’s best. Rebekah Brooks lookalike Merida is a fiery princess who quite naturally objects to her mother’s plans for a forced marriage. Turning to a witch for help, she requests a spell to change her mother which unexpectedly transforms her into a bear.
You can see where they were going with this – it’s a valiant effort to do a good mother-daughter story – but the problem is that Merida herself is sometimes pretty off-putting. And I’ve been wondering if that’s some deep-rooted sexism in me wanting female characters to be ‘nice’, but actually I think I would be a bit perturbed if a male hero took so long to feel apologetic for deliberately poisoning his mum too.
Michele is here! And after a week of English breakfasts, a magical everlasting Indian takeaway, Russian books in Waterstones Piccadilly, pubbing with Vlad south of the river and the British Library’s exhibition on the Georgians (spoiler: they were like us but wrote in longer sentences and with fewer emoticons) we escaped the city for Valentine’s Day weekend and headed first to Salisbury.
In Salisbury
The next morning, we took the train down into the New Forest and began our hike from Brockenhurst to Burley. It turns out that the advisable, direct, ‘sane’ route between these two villages is a pretty boring trek by the side of the road, so we made a detour off into the woods and were soon embroiled in an adventure of mud, slippery logs over flooded rivers, fallen trees and wonderfully helpful fellow travellers. By the time we arrived it was almost sundown, but it was with a great sense of achievement that we collapsed into the wonderful deer room, revived ourselves with pub food and watched Robin Hood. Y’know, Disney’s Robin Hood – the awesome one with the music from the Hampster* Dance.
Obstacle #1: Water
Obstacle #2: Trees
(*Yes, it was spelled this way.)
This blog is turning into a bit of a travel diary… 
So last weekend I just had fun with Simon and Patrick in Paris, while trying (but not always succeeding) not to be those obnoxious Brits abroad. True, there were moments of unintended hilarity at our botched attempts to pronounce French menus, while Simon narrowly avoided causing an international incident on the Metro with a party of grumpy New Zealanders. But I did manage to see all the stuff which I’ve missed before: the catacombs, Musée d’Orsay, Versailles, the Conciergerie, and all still within that curious but delightful French paradigm of “people under 26 really shouldn’t have to pay for anything”. They’ve also recently pedestrianised a former main road right by the river, which is now rather lovely to walk down, and another sign (if any were needed) of the joys of freeing our cities from as many cars as possible.
Voila, catacombs
Voila, Versailles
Simon and Patrick
(There’s nothing like wandering around Paris, of course, for reinstating a feeling of European togetherness. Yes, we are yoked to France in the perpetual rivalry of squabbling neighbours, but isn’t it better for this to stay within the big EU tent? Maybe I’m just bitter because of the absurd double-checking of passports which Britain insists on at Gare du Nord when getting the Eurostar back home, as if we can’t possibly trust the standard of French passport-checking a few metres earlier. It’s needlessly unfriendly, especially after moving within Schengen for a week.)
(Having said that, we really need to stop flogging our public utilities to their state-owned multinationals.)
And, yes, I spent the week in Stockholm and then Helsinki for work (and reindeer-eating). Which was pretty awesome, because I’ve always wanted to visit Scandinavia, and this got me two in one go – albeit not for very long. (Nit-picking: Finland is not necessarily Scandinavian, I know, I know.) It did surprise me how different they felt from each other, both in terms of people and general atmosphere, with Helsinki very obviously showing its Russian influences. But both are so wonderfully sane, with the sole exception of their airport food prices, which are not.
Obligatory American anecdote: as we left the excellent Masculine / Masculine. The Nude Man in Art from 1800 to the Present Day exhibition – and take it for me, I’m not a natural art exhibition fan – we did pass one unimpressed visitor who was complaining to her friend that “if you want to see a lot of naked butts you can just look them up online”. Which very neatly allowed us to pretend to ourselves that we hadn’t been murmuring bawdy jokes to each other the whole time, and adopt the traditionally smug pose which Paris brings out so very well 
I loved Handbagged. Absolutely loved it, even by the high standards of the Tricycle. But then, you’d expect me to, right? The comic imagining of the weekly audiences between the Queen and Thatcher is a rollicking blast through 80s politics, but without the superficial clip-show feeling of The Iron Lady, and was laugh-out-loud funny and terrifying in equal measure. In a small theatre, having Thatcher march onto the stage and start hectoring the audience is genuinely scary, like finding yourself trapped in a cage with a wolf. To have escaped living through it in person is a relief, of sorts, although Kinnick’s famous ‘I warn you’ speech is sadly still as prophetic as ever.
And so having enjoyed a second dollop of left-leaning British political theatre and\or silly songs (we’d seen News Revue a few weeks back), Michele and I both spent the rest of the week working in Milan. (Italian geography lesson 101: “Milan seems much less crazy than Rome… is this where businesses usually base themselves now?” “Usually, unless they’re connected to the government. In Rome they all stop at 3.”) Anyway – the food, oh, the food! The food was so good
Dining out in Milan
Back in Britain, we spent last Sunday wandering around Cambridge to find out which bits Yale decided to steal, getting nostalgic about libraries and meeting up with Simon for pub drinks so we could mock the people’s government of the United States of America collectively. (Which is still closed, incidentally, although all in a noble effort to halt the march of national socialism and ‘the worst thing that’s ever happened to us as a country‘. I salute your stoic sense of perspective, anonymous vox poppee! America has endured terrorism, killer bees and the finale to the first season of Heroes, but clearly health insurance for the poor requires a whole new level of fortitude.)
A pretty English moment
The Fridge of Journeys
Oh, come now dear Americans, I’m only being mean as a defence mechanism to convince myself that this drizzly island is still the best place to call home. Because (as our glorious fridge of many faraway magnets nicely demonstrates) all paths still lead back here, and the last couple of nights have proved what a good thing that is. From dinner at Andrew and Bonnie’s, to pizza, beer and impromptu Year 6 test-marking with my parents, to a wonderful flat night at ours punctuated by lots of shouting between Brits and Yanks about whether ‘porn’ and ‘pawn’ are homophones (they are). To Thai lunch followed by milkshakes with Lucy, to a determined march up to Highgate only to baulk at paying £4 to see Marx’s grave (look, I never said I was against price signals…), to a wonderful farewell-to-London evening for Michele in the corner of – where else? – a local pub, so many of the people and places I care about are here.
This is not a reason to stay rooted to one spot forever, but a good reason to enjoy it while I am 
‘Your Christmas card this year’ – Lucy
Hello, again. While I was away there seems to have been a definite shift towards the cold and the wet and the blustery. Which is good news, in case you were wondering, because it means coats, huddling indoors with mugs of tea and Cat’s welcome home plate-piling roasts
Just stunningly beautiful
So this is where I’ve been: Canada! Specifically, starting out in Calgary and then travelling up via the Canadian Rocky Mountain Parks with Michele and Nisa. Let it be said from the outset that we are both eternally grateful to Nisa for a) hauling all our stuff around in her car, b) being the expert on tents, stoves and other wilderness skills and c) stopping us getting eaten by bears.
Oh, Canada. How to describe Canada? If America was created by a benevolent deity lazing away a free weekend by playing a giant continent-sized edition of The Sims, then Canada is the result of that deity reaching for the cheat codes in frustration when its Sims remained stubbornly unhappy the first time around. The landscape is still clearly North American, pretty much, albeit with fewer billboards (and, delightfully, billboards which still make archaic boasts for food with ‘great tasting flavour’ rather than using impetuous upstart spellings like ‘flavor’). The glistening green lawns of suburbia still sprawl across giant infernal grid systems, and even relatively quiet cities like Calgary (sorry) have unapologetically giant skyscrapers. (You don’t get the impression that anyone in North America has ever worried about maintaining the equivalent of ‘nice uninterrupted views of St Paul’s’, or – indeed – written any ‘view management frameworks‘ which run to over 30,000 words.)
But, at least on this trip, Canadians did a good job of living up to their reputation as the more chilled-out and at-peace Americans. Little things. Smiling faces. Teenagers unironically saying ‘dang it!’ after missing the bus. Cars which stop for you to cross the road. “What’s the national mood like in Canada at the moment?” I asked one of our hosts. “Well, you might remember we had some pretty bad floods here recently…” he replied. (I didn’t, of course, but tried to mumble sombrely and sympathetically.) “Yeah, they really helped bring everyone together to rebuild. It was really nice.”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is Canada.
From the holy mountain teashop
Of course, most of this trip was spent with Canadian trees rather than Canadian humans, and of this there are plenty of highlights: hiking up a mountain for the sake of a teashop at the top, lying in a tent looking up at the stars, being disabused of the notion that bearspray is just a joke product, morning cups of tea, evening cups of gin, and deciding that “because it’s cold” is certainly no reason to avoid swimming in a beautiful lake between the mountains. Blissful.
Michele and me
And one sadder note: we also visited a glacier which Michele remembered from a family trip a mere ten years ago, only to find that it’s almost gone. We were able to stand on ground which had once been ice under the Bush presidency, and by the time of Obama is now earth and stone. Soon it will all be gone. Even if you don’t know what it all means (so what’s the impact of losing this glacier?) it’s a sobering demonstration of just how quickly the grand, awe-inspiring structures of the natural world around us can change and disappear.
The glacier that’s almost gone
P.S. Oh, and I legitimately used a sonic screwdriver toy in lieu of a flashlight. Because I am cool.
Team Canada: including car, tent and food
Jeff DuBowe on Haarlem globetrotters: “One of our favorite spots. Super walking city. I think we were the ones who told your In-Laws about it…” Oct 14, 15:15
