And so it begins… My one year journey, out of South Africa, to explore what some of the World has to offer. I have been in Oman for just over a week now and my, has it been a busy one. But the story starts before landing in Oman. All the way back in SA, packing up our lives to move overseas.

January brought the arrival of my dad, Peter, my mom, Linda and my sister, Lauren to South Africa. 2015 started in Arniston, Western Cape as we brought in the New Year watching some incredible fireworks whilst all imagining how amazing this year would be. On the 3^rd of January, my parents tied the knot for the second time, after many years of being separated and to many exclamations of “It’s about time”. The wedding was a hit and both bride and groom made it to ‘I do’ without putting on running shoes. 

My dad left South Africa on the 9^th January and we girls flew to Durban. This is where the true journey of getting to Oman starts. We had two obstacles before flying to Joburg at the end of the month. The first was to successfully pack up my little world and the second and far bigger task was getting through our storage unit and deciding what we kept, threw away, donated or left behind. This posed a giant task that we would not have managed to get through without the help of close friends, who have become extended family. But we did it. After almost three weeks of unpacking, sorting and re-packing, storage was officially empty and we had a truck filled with boxes containing all our collected and prized possessions ready for shipping.

In true Wilson style however, we worked hard in the day and had fun with friends at night. Even in such a short space of time, we managed to see all the important people for final chats and goodbyes as well as stealing one last photograph with each of them. Reminds us that we are so blessed with the people who choose to share our lives and in fact, are rich because of it.

Once my car had been sold, the boxes delivered to the shipping yard, my room cleaned out and our bags packed, it was time to leave Durban. On the 27^th January, we officially flew out of Durban leaving many special people behind and a few tears but onto new adventures. Joburg is a whole different ball game to Durban. Everyone has a quickened pace and most often, people are wearing suits. So I made the decision to replace slops with heels and enjoy our ‘free time’.

With no storage to unpack and sort out, no room to clean up, we had time on our hands and we could actually relax to a point and of course plan our social gatherings! I was able to catch up with close friends on the Tuesday night. Wednesday night we spent with our hosts and got to experience some amazing cuisine at a restaurant where a friend works. Our final night was spent at a venue called the Throbbing Strawberry. What a treat to see friends in Joburg that we hadn’t seen in years! Sitting outside in the Joburg sun, we were able to exchange some great stories. However the clouds rolled in and we got rained out and so quickly ran inside to escape the storm. Once we had repositioned, the chats continued. Finally enjoying a late night drink at Hogs Head, we called it a night and got some good rest in for our trek to Oman. I would just like to take a moment to say a big thank you to everyone who made the effort to meet us and make us feel so special.

Friday was traveling day. What a rush! Juggling weight to make sure we were all within our allowances to avoid hefty payments, we finally managed and all bags were equally distributed, with a minor exception of an extra 10kg bag we decided we were going to pay for. However, this was where the fun started. Because we had to fit all our luggage into the hired car. We strategically packed the boot (or so we thought) and got all the rest into the backseat of the car. Only to find, that the boot didn’t close. Not because we had over packed it, but because there was some contraption that took up space as the boot closed. So everything out! And we start again. I can assure you that we were so exhausted by the time we managed to successfully get everything in the car, with all forms of doors closed that neither of us wanted to man the gps, due to utter exhaustion. Airport here we come.

Flying with Ethiopian Airlines is quite different to flying with other airlines, even though it was voted Africa’s number one airline, three years in a row. You can’t just give them your reference number for your flight reservation and get a boarding pass. There are many other security checks that are required. We also had the task of charming someone with a tiny bag to maybe share weight with us so that we could potentially get this 10kg bag in for free. But after checking the potential suspects, we decided we would rather take the chance of getting it through on our own. To our luck, a young man ahead of us had a tiny bag and when he checked in, we saw the weight sitting at 11kgs. That was our chance and we spoke to the lady who allowed us (sneakily) to ‘use’ his 12kg deficit to allow for our bag. Getting a bag in for free = success.

Landing in Addis Ababa, you really did feel like you were in an underdeveloped part of Africa. Not the biggest airport and certainly nothing ‘sparkly’ about it but an airport nonetheless. There was one tiny security checkpoint which required us to undress. Almost everything had to come off bar shirts and pants. Everything else had to be scanned. The little café area looked like it had been setup a few hours earlier like something from a carnival – nothing looked like it was left there overnight. The departure boards showed our gate numbers, to which we discovered every gate number was incorrect. 

There was a little man that came and shouted out different destinations and if you didn’t hear him, you missed your flight. Lauren decided to hide from the world with Mom attempting to cool us down with vanilla spray. It made for a funny moment as Lauren had a coughing fit from the spray and we were all trying to sit still to avoid sweating as the aircon wasn’t working. We were not given boarding cards for the second leg from Addis Ababa to Muscat from our lady in Joburg and this caused a problem. Eventually, after much smiling and patient standing, we were given handwritten boarding cards and were allowed on the plane, smelling beautiful thanks to the vanilla spray! All in all, the whole experience was actually quite fun and I would happily fly with them again. Also, the ‘rural’ airport was a nice change from the glitz and glam of other airports these days. Somehow made one feel alive.

Muscat airport is pretty much straight forward. One has to follow instructions to buy a visitor visa of which 3 days, 1 week and 1 month are available, all with the option to renew. Once that is done, it’s get your passport stamped, through to baggage reclaim and out into the hot air. Very easy, so you can all come visit! My Dad picked us up and it was a lovely welcome, having not seen him for three weeks. However, the most excited welcome came from the dogs on our arrival. What an experience to see that much excitement all in three dogs. Peanut, my Jack Russel, was a ball of energy and ran around us, a bit confused I guess from all the shrieks of delight but soon I had her in my arms and it was one of the best feelings in the world after not seeing her since September 2014.

I managed to setup my phone with an Omani number and get all applications synced. I welcome news from everyone and would love to hear how you are. Next entry to follow soon as my first week in Muscat has been very eventful and I have many stories to share! Happy 2015 J