That Time Again

A day of relaxation and acclimatisation (so important don’t you think?). First up the breakfast - so expensive that you’ll never be able to eat your money’s worth. It didn’t help that we were a bit on the late side and the US Navy guys had thronged the waffle making man. It seems there’s a ship in, according to one of the hotel staff. Judging by their drunken cavortings the night before they’ve stepped down from a state of maximum readiness. Shouldn’t they be on their boat anyway, instead of monopolising the waffle counter?
Then a step out to the deserted beach - deserted as it’s not seemly to be seen in just your semmit hereaboots. So back to the pool for a lounge. And a splash. And a doze.
Later, when the academic was off to give her inaugural lecture, I stepped out the 2km to the nearest supermarket. It’s the Embassy quarter in Muscat - clearly there are about ten taxis per inhabitant and every one of them peeped and stopped to 'offer' me a lift. I was having none of it.
There were other pedestrians occasionally - heading to meet other big groups sitting beneath the trees - Asian workers waiting for their buses back to their hostels. No peeping for them.