WORLD TRAVELS: In Search of Magic

When I was a kid, occasionally Leonard Nimoy’s mug would pop onto my Sunday evening television and take me to a world of unsolved mysteries with strange and unusual occurrences. In his 22-episode “In Search of” series, he looked at places and situations that defied explanation and understanding—Bigfoot, Stonehenge, UFOs—and provided "a possible explanation for the phenomenon being examined.” Since then, I’ve been on my own search for people, places and cultures that challenged the norm. 

Something away from the coastal lifestyles and experiences that defined my own existence in the boroughs of New York, Seattle’s waterfront, and the suburbs of Los Angeles. Often when I am cooped up in my office, I do what millions of other vacation-bound travelers do: search for the magical place, loved by Mother Nature, untouched by Father Time and not ruined by tourism that tramples the land and disrupts the atmosphere.

I stumbled across a webcam on a weather Internet site showing live feeds from Muscat in Oman. This particular camera is perched above a white sand beach on the southeast coast of the Arabian Peninsula just a stone’s throw from the United Arab Emirates. I clicked on to see the morning sun rising above the calm of the Gulf of Oman and the beautiful palms that line the beachscape. The day’s earliest risers take a stroll with their morning coffee, while others kayak in the calm waters.

It is easy enough to place myself across 12 hours of time zones and conjure the emotional pleasure of breathing pure air and then donning a dishdasha—aka the national dress for Omani men,as I head off to work. It is a simple ankle-length gown with long sleeves; a muzzar—a turban of finely woven cotton fabric wrapped around an embroidered cap known as kummar; and comfortable leather sandals.The Oman I’ve come to know is not some repressed society where women are bottled up and illiterate or where dirt paths serve as infrastructure. It is the vision of His Majesty Sultan Qaboos Bin Said, who took power nearly 40 years ago from his father. Oman now stands as a picture of peace and prosperity. Forty years ago, this country’s outlook wasn’t as bright. It was a medieval land where the twentieth century barely infringed upon daily life. With only three continuous kilometers of paved highway in the entire country, talk was more about the civil war in the south and countrywide tribal tension than how Oman could recapture its stature as the primary and historic seaport in the region and capitalize on its treaties and trade agreements with Great Britain and the United States. In 1970, its single major hotel, the Muscat Intercontinental, was known as the “hotel in the desert,” surrounded for as far as you could see with nothing but desert. There were 3 schools with 900 students, and now there are 1,000 schools with 65,000 students—over 50 percent of which are women. Indeed, it’s not His Majesty’s father’s Oman.

The Sultanate now belongs to this visionary ruler, who saw and understood the intrinsic value of 2,700 kilometers of coastline. I find it ironic that Dubai and all of its well deserved publicity is derived from manufacturing over 1,000 kilometers of beach to add to its coastline and to build its man-made islands and marinas when Oman possesses so much coastline. All of it (it seems) uncommercialized and sublime. Oman is the direct opposite of capitalistic Dubai, in touch with its heritage, now progressing naturally and all the while happy for it.

When I arrived in late summer, with my wife, I came there to find myself like some wayward worker, worn from the rat race of meetings, memos and blackberries. I felt the grind and needed a total reversal and found it my first morning.

Now I walk along Boushar beachfront where the crystal Gulf waters mirror images of glorious mountain ranges, creating an oasis of mysticism and luxury. The magic I was searching for surges through me, taking over as if being drawn again by one of those clever Pixar animators. We’re greeted by passersby with the all-purpose, ahlan wa salan! (welcome). I return the greeting without thinking, as if I’ve said it all my life.

Although a lot has changed since 1970, that welcoming hospitality remains despite growing tourism, mainly from Germany, Great Britain and Australia. “It’s good that more people are coming,” says Saif Hamad, owner of a small shop in the Old Muttrah Souk. Oman’s oldest souk is reminiscent of Cairo’s Grand Bazaar, except that the frenzied negotiation and cajoling is practiced by experts in Egypt. Here old world charm hugs you and invites you to shop and experience. Saif sells two things, muzzars and kummars. There are lovely cashmere muzzars that sell for 15 riyals ($45 USD), silk ones that go for 10 and touristy ones for a couple of riyals. The merchandise is for locals and tourists alike. He’ll even teach you to wrap it “hurr.” Gratis. Free.

“There are people who come across many oceans to Oman, and many don’t even know where they are,” Hamad says. “Sometimes when people say ahlan wa salan, it hurts my ear.” 

The concept of acceptance implied by the term has come to mean everything and anything here, and sometimes nothing at all. “For Omanis, ahlan wa salan is not just some hollow tourist slogan you say to make the next sale or give yourself some false sense of cultural pride,” Hamad says. “We are still living it day by day.”

             

This may be. But the real ahlan wa salan is always easy to find in Oman, whose transformation is on full display and not masked by a pretentious show of fancy props and billion dollar resorts that hide the real face of the land. Oman’s greatest asset is Oman, itself, in this version of Earthly Paradise. Actually, nature’s perfect pentagon thrives in Oman. Lush mountains. Arid deserts. Exotic marine and animal life. Tropical oases and the aforementioned beaches. They are all there ready to be enjoyed, although it is indeed at odds with the ambitions of those who promote tourism here. After all, with only 9,500 hotel rooms in the entire country, even a small bump in tourist growth would illustrate the need to fast track the plans on the board to increase lodging capacity.

One result of the country’s renaissance and modernization is that the readily available adventure guides are equipped with handy GPS systems and well planned itineraries. In Oman, I love to scout a new spot and make plans for a three-day getaway. Our favorite is a desert trek through Hatta and then crossing the northern Hajar Mountains of Oman over 3,500 meters above sea level. I love to wake up before sunrise, slip on my hiking boots, canyon shirt and my convertible pants and dive into the day, hiking, idly getting a feel for the culture and traditions of the local mountain people Jebalis. This is a trek of variety, making our way through sand dunes, dry and wet wadis and challenging mountain tracks. I have spent entire mornings in the desolate camel country, pausing to inspect a massive caravan of the migrating humpbacks, then passing an afternoon with the Jebalis, who typify ahlan wa salan with offers of Arabic chai and unlimited stories of days past. (When walking through their idyllic villages it’s helpful to have a guide to translate their unique language.) 

On this trek, my ambition might be no stronger that to spend the night stargazing. In Oman, it was the first time I really saw stars. My mind screamed. As a young man growing up in Seattle, I remembered seeing stars, but never like this—millions of tiny lights struggling to outshine one another. As they succeeded in illuminating the deep, dark night sky, a surge of emotions filled my body along with the cool breeze originating from the fresh rainfall that had settled in the nearby wadi. I couldn't have stumbled upon a more romantic place on earth, and there I was spending it with my wife and soul mate. For the first time in our lives we communicated without uttering a word. It is here that we hid from the obligations of the world and connected through our love of the terrestrial world.

Surely others have seen the untouched beauty of Oman. It is my hope that those to come will leave it as I first found it in my search for the magical exploration. 

Media Portraits: Arriving in Style

Luxury at the Burj Al Arab helipad, 1000 plus feet above a man-made island.

As we flew over the cranes and heat of the burgeoning lands of Dubai, my wingwoman looked over at me and said, "sometimes life serves you champagne in diamond encrusted flutes."

Flying above modern marvels of architecture and the embodiment of the entrepreneurial spirit, with the warmth of the sun on our side and a cool breeze of copter air conditioning, I realized that I was in nirvana. For that fifteen minute flight, it was the life of Trump or Gates. It allowed us to enjoy everything about our trip – the sights, the smells, the sounds and even the pilot – in a way that no other ground transfer could have. The Burj Al Arab Marhaba Welcomeat is the epitome of true Arabian hospitality: arriving guests arriving are greeted with rose water, refreshing cold towels, dates, Bakhoor and authentic Arabic coffee.

I've happened upon this phenomenon just a few times before, when a particular transportation method unites with a unique situation to create something incredibly memorable. It is an experience that I wish every travel enthusiast would enjoy in their lifetime. What an incredible start to a whirlwind media excursion.

Dealing with Mr. A-Hole!

I’m here to tell you that the only thing worse than the self-proclaimed expert/consultant is the ‘asshole.’ We encounter them all of the time. At the office, in the car, at Starbucks, at your kid’s soccer game, and more. In the media game they’re almost everywhere because of the inherent entitlement issues that are rampant in the industry.

In the media game, people love to get assholes together and let them duke it out. If you aren’t picking up what I’m putting down, then think about the fish owner who likes to put two betta splendens (aka Siamese fighting fish) in the same tank and relishes in their distress. Now you know the mentality of the media game. Every morning when they wake up and the first thing they say is, “I really think there needs to be more feuds.” And I’m not being sarcastic – the more feuds there are, the better it is for sales reps, gossipmongers and rival companies. There aren’t a whole lot of epic guy feuds going on right now. Generally they just punch it out and move on.

So imagine my surprise last week when the ultimate industry asshole unleashed wholly hell in his top rated blog. In his nasty note, this big wig went after a colleague who’s on a bit of a roll and is inciting jealousy. His Asshole Blog (as we call it now) spent copious and precious Internet space calling our “colleague’s ugliness…oddly fascinating” in a debate over whether he could land a Kendra Wilkinson-type without having secured a “top cosmetics account in questionable fashion just a week prior.”

One might assume that our affable colleague would shrug off the insult with a friendly, Big Bird-ish chuckle, but behold, his amazing response when asked about the incident: “Yeah, that guy’s a real asshole. I actually ran into his office whipping boy yesterday at a Coffee Bean and he’s like ‘you know, I’ve got to kind of apologize because apparently the guy who runs our agency doesn’t like you so much.’ And I said ‘well I have reason to believe because I think your boss is a moron with a small member from all I can understand so it makes sense he doesn’t like me.’”

I definitely don’t blame him for being pissed – that would flat out hurt most people’s feelings. It just seems more in his “Big Bird-ish” nature (wonderfully apt description, by the way) to at least pretend to be fine with it and maybe even add a self-deprecating joke or two. I’m not sure I would have, but the first role in dealing with an asshole is to develop a thicker skin.

After all, the asshole loves to incite an incident. That’s his manipulation. His reward, if you will.

Mistake #2 is trying to get Mr. Asshole to like you. No matter how nice you are to him, Mr. Asshole will still act like an asshole. That is, Mr. Asshole was still confrontational and disagreeable about almost everything. I say that an asshole is always one because there is crap coming out of their mouth. There is no reason to befriend Mr. A. You should know by now that you can't make everybody like you and/or respond favorably to you. Now just kill him with kindness and let him embarrass himself at the absolute worst time.

Sometimes you need powerful arsenal to deal with certain types of people in your life. The reality is that most assholes are created over time. You, on the other hand, have the regrettable fortune to cross his path. If you’re blessed, you can make it a ‘one-time’ meet and greet, then avoid the person for the rest of your life. But, then, there are the jerks we can’t avoid. These people may come in the form of a loan officer or client.

When it’s a client, you may be screwed in the short-term. The Asshole Client loves using the avoidance tactic. I had this one client who loves to get us rolling on projects and then disappear at horrific times. I remember one time having a dozen press people call looking for itineraries. My office was in panic mode looking for answers.

“Where’s the client?” one associate asked, demanding an answer.

“Oh, he’s in France,” I said.

“FRANCE?!” she shrieked (yeah I know, but it was a shriek).

My reply: “They were floating around the excuse that he might not make it due to volcanic ash that I guess is still affecting flights from the UK, France, and Germany all the way to North America. He’s hiding out because he’s an asshole. I saw the advance tip sheet for a party happening tomorrow night and his name was ON IT. So if he’s not supposed to be back in LA, how come someone told the party organizers that he’d be showing up?” Because his plan all along was to have a jerked-out adventure in France. Wouldn’t it be awesome if he stayed there, a la Roman Polanski? Maybe he’d turn into another fugitive from justice.

“Anyway forget about him for a minute. Let’s get on the horn with press and ask them to hang tight and will have answers shortly.”

The way I look at it is this—if someone is being an asshole, it's really just your job to make sure that the collateral damage is controlled and the agency’s reputation is protected. Really? Have I ever let the client and the press down? Never.

My ego may not like that I can't succeed in getting the Client Asshole to think the way I’m thinking or be accountable to the projects at hand, so you move to plan C without shrieking about it or muttering "asshole" under your breath. I don’t know about you, but I’ve given up trying to understand The Nation of Insufferable People.

So after all of these ramblings, what’s the answer? Truth is, I don’t have one. Just keep your Felix the Cat magic bag of tricks loaded with patience, a dash of sarcasm and a boatload of plan B’s and C’s.

Hugs and Kisses,
THE MEDIA GUY


P.S. If you’ve noticed, I’ve called the assholes here all “hims” and “hes”. I hope you don’t think I’m an asshole for avoiding the other gender. If I did, I’d need another secret identity to hide out from the marauding angry mob.

World Travels: Yemen

Set in Stone—A tall house carved from a rock mountain provides shelter for just a single family. Each floor and wing is devoted to a specific use: livestock and seasonal storage on the ground, kitchen and dining areas, living and sleeping rooms at the middle, with the top reserved for the mafraj (sitting room) and its grand views for entertaining and the afternoon qat chewing ritual.

MGS Cuisine: Custom Bloody Mary

Every good Media Guy needs a signature drink. You would think I would have one by now, but I'm still searching. During a trip to the St. Regis Mexico, I stumbled upon this little nugget.

Each St. Regis Hotel bar creates a Bloody Mary recipe unique to its destination. The tradition stems from 1934, when Fernand Petoit became a bartender at The St. Regis Hotel New York, bringing with him a vodka and tomato juice drink he started making in Paris. Since the name "Bloody Mary" was deemed inappropriate for the King Cole's elegant clientele, it was christened the "Red Snapper." While the name may not have stood the test of time, Fernand's spicy concoction certainly has, and it remains the signature cocktail of the St Regis. 

1 oz. to 1 1/2 oz. (30-45 ml) vodka in a Highball glass filled with ice.
Fill glass with tomato juice
1 dash celery salt
1 dash ground black pepper
1 dash Tabasco
2-4 dashes of Lea & Perrin's Worcestershire sauce
1/8 tsp. horseradish (pure, never creamed)
Dash of lemon or lime juice
Garnish with celery stalk

(Bloody Mary recipe courtesy of the New York School of Bartending)

World Travels: QATAR

Labor of Love—Teak. Oak. Pine. Cotton fabrics. Nails. Dolphin oil. Axes. Saws. Chisels. It is a recipe as old as time. The recipe is simple, however, crafting the fishing and transport dhow is a labor of love, requiring thousands of man hours without a machine to be found. Everything is done by hand, from the shaping and sizing of the wings (which require exact and equal size and weight) to precisely affixing the external panels to the layering of the water resistant dolphin oil that guarantees generations of use for the intricate dhow.

From CBS NEWS: Hussein, 8, Fights Rare Disease Against All Odds

Watch the Emmy-nominated CBS News special report on The Pulse...click here.

LOS ANGELES - Hussein Balhas is like any other 8 year old; eager to learn, so curious about everything, and loves to eat. His mom says it has not been easy for him. He has had 13 surgeries at such a young age, more than any kid should have to endure.

Born with a condition doctors now believe to be Frasier’s Syndrome, he has been forced to learn how to deal with having webbed feet and hands, one eye completely covered by skin, and the other eye incapable of closing. He also has severe birth defects; including one on his skull that his mother has always covered by the way his hair was cut.

Kids with Frasier’s Syndrome usually don’t survive past 5 years old, but Hussein has, and he is everything to his family.

And now he is everything to Wafa Kanan, founder and president of the Alo Cultural Foundation. Two years ago her organization funded hearing aids being given out in Beirut. Hussein received a pair, but had no idea from that moment on his life would change forever.

Video from the relief group of Hussein and his mother pleading for help made its way back to Kanan. “I couldn’t see a mother wanting something for her kid, and not being able to do something about it,” says Kanan after reviewing the footage.

It was a call Wafa could not ignore, and with the help from ALO magazine editor-in-chief Michael Lloyd, who also doubles as Hussein’s tutor, a trip for him and his mother was organized. Everything was taken care of from host families to stay with as well as a team of doctors.

Kanan remembers the day Hussein was told the good news, “It was like the American dream…his mom told me he would run into the streets and tell people he was going to America to get his operation.”

His eyes, ears, and much more will be worked on by specialists at Cedar Sinai Medical Center. Doctors feel most challenged with his left eye because the reason for is defect is still quite puzzling to them.

Hussein knows he is different than most kids, but he is starting to feel accepted, something he has never felt before. He dreams of running on a track when his feet are fixed, and now even dreams of what he wants to be when he grows up.

People who meet him often say his spirit is contagious.

To learn more about Hussein, click here. To make a donation click here.