
The villagers were ready for us, offering bargain prices for string, bracelets and rugs. There were some intense negotiations before all three ladies came away with things to hang on walls. Clutching several large banknotes, the crusty gentleman was pleased to pose for photographs.
On the trail, the three Billy Goats Gruff clambered over the rocks while chatting about ladies’ problems and knee operations. We st

The village children were still peddling their wares as we reached the car and I made a hasty retreat before the thought of buying something else was even considered. Back at the Jabal Shams Travelling and Camping Centre we were treated to an unexpectedly good lunch of rice, chicken curry and vegeta

Back on the mountain road, I thought the ladies were joking when they asked to stop at another scratchy string stall. They were not. More bargaining ensued, some of which was conducted in German to fool the rather astute young girl with an excellent command of market stall English. She drove a hard bargain, requiring April to perform increasingly exaggerated theatrical responses to the young girl’s outrageous prices. As we got back into the car, my heart sank as I knew there were at least two other stalls on the mountain.
All the other stalls were thankfully closed and we returned to the bottom of the jabal without spending any more money. We continued to Nizwa and onward to Muscat on almost empty roads.
After freshening up, we spent the evening around an excellent piece of brie as a light rain shower bounced off the metal car port roof.
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