The time since my last blog was full of negative superlatives: It was the most boring, most frustrating, most expensive and by far hottest (referring to the temperature) time since I started in Sharm el Sheikh. The only positive superlative: The safety.But I feel it's getting better since I came to Iran yesterday.

But first I'll continue where I've stopped writing: I explored the surrounding mountains of Salalah by hitch-hiking and trekking for two days. Like on the border with Yemen I've found large forests of francinsence trees, which dissapear on the northern slopes of the highest ridge, where the "khareef" (rainy season) never reaches and the Rub al Khali begins. The most beautiful spot was Wadi Darbat where I really felt like in central Europe. The Jebeli, the mountain dwellers, speak a language referred to Mahri and Socotri, and the men also wear a mawaz. When I returned to Salalah I became quite ill, probably because the Omanis love to drive in freezing inside-temperatures. A very generous one drove some 120 km back to Salalah, when he saw my slight chances to stop a car.

Most of the over 1000km road from Salalah to Muscat lead through the Rub al Khali, but of course not through the sand dunes, so there's really not much to see. Muscat, namely the district of Matrah, is probably a bit more charming than Salalah, but also much hotter. Also here the most important languages on the street are Hindi and Urdu, but probably this impression deforms the real ratio, as the Hindustanis simply like to gather on the streets, while the Omanis rather hide in their cars behind obscured windows. For example an Omani would never get out of his car to order a snack in a restaurant. They honk shortly and a (indian) waiter hurries out to provide the driver.

The Omanis are very easy to identify by their white or cream jallabias, and the "kumma", their typical caps. I always use these caps as signpost when I search for information, as the Hindustanis usually point to the next Omani (if there is one around or not) or simply shake their head when being attacked with questions.

Next I started a trekking tour to Jebel Akhdar (which means "the green mountain"). For the very first time I was armed with a special trekking guidebook, but I never before spent so much time with searching for the track. The most frustrating moment was when I couldn't find the "staircase" in the descent through a 200m vertical cliff, though my position according to the books sketch was well-defined, and I had to climb up again after 2 or 3 hours of searching. I claim to be quite good in reading maps (I learnt land survey) and in finding paths, but the paths described were in most cases a product of the author's fantasy. Fortunetly, the thorn trees, wild qat bushes (chewing qat in Oman is neither common nor allowed) and junipers contribute to the "green" of the mountain plateau, but don't grow too dense to hinder from walking.

In the mountains the trend is to leave the old villages deserted and to build a new one nearby. There are a few single households in difficult accessible gorges or slopes that are stil not left, because of the rich palm plantations fed by water springs. The area is quite rich of water and one often finds a pool of clear water take a bath. On most afternoons I was also refreshed by a thunderstorm - though it was not the rainy season - and I was lucky not to be in a wadi when the rain started, as there were deadly superflashfloods. But even without rain the temperatures were very moderate at 2000m above sea level. I was told that in last winter there was even snow.

I decided to finish my trip in the "snake gorge" downstream of Bilad Seet, with the strongest river in the mountains, instead of continuing to the top of Oman, Jebel Shams (3009m). From there I found a car to take me to Rustaq, where I sleept in a hotel after six outdoor nights.

My last destination in Oman was the peninsula Musandam, an enclave in the UAE, and the closest point of the arabic peninsula to Iran. I arrived there after a boring stop&go serial with shared taxis along the flat, nondescript coast and a stopover night in Dibba (UAE). I was interested in the fjord-like landscape there, though it's not compareable with Norway and New Zealand. Until Khasab, the regional capital, there's a paved road, but from there, the small coastal villages are only accessible by sea. My plan was to take a boat to Kumzar - which took 30 minutes -and return on foot, which might have taken 3 days or more. But somehow, after I started from Kumzar, I got some really serious breathing problems and was lucky to arrive in the small village of Rurm after 8 hours, though I was supposed to reach it in only two hours. Rurm's only inhabitants were Hindi workers employed on an island with a military station. Later a medical check proved that I'm okay, so it seems like I have to blame the heat and postpone this trek to a winter in the future.

The historical center of Musandam is Kumzar, a village of probably 1000 souls, that fills out a small area of flat land between the sea and mountains, with no space for any further buildings. The Kumzaris speak their own language with arabic, persian, indian and english(!) influences. The influences came because of it's geographic position an the edge of Musandam, where all the ships entering the persian gulf are passing by. The women wear a strange mask that looks like a giant moustache at first sight.

Finally I went to Dubai to apply for my iranian visa and find a transport to Iran. Beside this I feel pretty out of place in the Emirates. The best thing in Dubai is that one can buy original Milka chocolate, which I was missing so much since I have left.

Yesterday the ferry from Dubai took me to Bandar Lengeh in some 6 hours. I speak only a few words farsi, but nonetheless I feel very comfortable here, simply because of the kindness of the people here. Today I continued to Lar, halfway to Shiraz. I stil didn't see much interesting, but let's see what's going to come.