The Grand Mosque was the same as it’s been on the five thousand visits except that I was rather brusquely told to move away from the area outside the main prayer hall while wearing shoes. I pretended I was French.The souq was also mind-numbingly similar. Fortunately, Chris managed to buy souvenirs for her huge family in the space of an hour which meant we did not have to dash around Muscat looking for last-minute gifts for auntie Doodah or Uncle Wotsit.We headed back to base for lunch, a swim, a snooze and a recharge.
The Turkish House restaurant was our venue for the evening as it’s such a good, reliable, friendly, multicultural place to take visitors. The salad and huge floppy bread starter would probably have been sufficient, but we bravely chomped our way through several of their speciality seafood grills. Phew.
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