Last day in Oman

I am writing this looking at my backyard. It is green. This morning I went to breakfast with my father. We ran into our preacher and other church friends. I had to wear a jacket because it was cold. On the last day in Oman, is was 102…
I got up early to say goodbye to folks. I went one last time to my barbers, who on a weekly basis had a razor to my neck. They also continually gave me the best shaves of my life. The little things like that keep us sane.
I wandered over to the beach, and put my feet in until the rolling tide was up to my shorts. 20 minutes in the salt water listening to Iz-Over the rainbow, Eagles-Take it to the limit, and Jimmy Buffett’s Take Another Road. On my way back I stopped at my Baskin Robin’s and had a long chat with the man who works there. I had seen him every week for my indulgence in Americana and he was genuinely sad to hear I was leaving.
I ended up with our friends from Salalah, Amina, and our director Issam at a shisha café on the beach. I was able to watch the sun drop into the Arabian Gulf and say my final goodbyes to friends and leaders who I will treasure forever.

Which begs the question now what?

There were women at the café this morning. It wasn’t rude that I did not wish peace upon all of the breakfast goers when I entered. I had a beer for dinner last night, I told stories and talked of politics. I started laundry and packing for my next excursion (a lovely French sounding city called Des Moines.)