Oman: something for the wrinklies

In an effort to find something for the old people back home, I took Duncan to the souq for that last minute thoughtful gift. Without women in tow, we seemed almost invisible to the pashmina salesmen as we ambled along the sweaty corridors. Eventually, with something tasteful in a bag, we headed out of the market. I pointed out the frankincense in a shop in front of which stood two tall ladies with blond hair wearing black Omani abayas. One of them then turned to me and said emphatically, "we’re not Polish.” We’re still wondering what she meant.