A funny incident in Oman
The day had already drawn to its end. We had sailed from Dibba deeply into the fjord of Khor Al Hablayn in Musandam, travelling on a traditional Omani Dhow boat whose wooden keel, embraced by waters the hue of a jade, crooned and moaned softly – almost sensually – as we steered our way through the rocky formations of the land. Mysterious designs erected on either of our sides, their grey facades now tinted in sunset shades of lavender and crimson. The surface of the sea opalesced, and life mirrored itself in the depths of the liquid irises on which our thoughts were gliding, as all noise faded away and we sat in silence.
Our dhow boat resting in a bay as we went ashore to explore a fishermen’s settlement.
Darkness fell quickly. We prepared our impromptu beds for the night – most of us would sleep on deck chairs to enjoy a forecasted meteor shower – and readied to take the small, fishermen’s boat to exit on the nearby bay for our dinner. It was a moonless sky, and soon the only available light was coming from the stars, the occasional headlamp that would flash for a second, and the memory of the reflections on the surface of the sea. Our presence – our very existence – disappeared into the blackness, leaving behind only the whisper of our breaths and the vibration of our dreams, as we stood under the celestial down, dwarfed by the immensity that invariably takes us by surprise.
The Arabian fjords by twilight.
We glided softly, in reverence, as if waiting in line for the holy communion, when suddenly a heavy splash, followed by a shriek, put an abrupt end to the meditative ambience of the journey. Nervous questions were phrased, hands groped the darkness in search of reassurance, and our minds tried to interpret the incident using the available shreds of information. We were worried: had someone got hurt? Did someone fell into the sea? Did we hit a rock? What had happened?
Apparently, a fish, jumping cheerfully out of the sea, carefree and joyful on this starlit night, crashed on the face of one of the boat passengers, in a slap that sounded nothing less than a fish-fight with Ordralfabetix in the famous Gaelic village far far away. Our momentary nervousness and agitation gave way to laughter, and we giggled our way to the bay where a bonfire and a barbequed dinner were destined to become the crowning moment of delight on a day that had already been uniquely beautiful.
It has been years since that trip and, despite the stunning sunset, the silence of the fjords, the attractive energy of Oman, and our sleep under the meteor shower, I remember only the sound of the fish clashing with a human head in the night. I recreate in my mind the speechless surprise which, I believe, appeared for a fraction of second on both faces, met so unexpectedly in the middle of the sea’s vastness, and I can’t help bursting into laughter for the funny turns life can take just to spice things up.
Another joyful fish jumping off the water, as seen earlier in the day.
Photo credits: © Konstantina Sakellariou.
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