Everything about Muscat was unexpected. I didn't expect to go (a) in my lifetime, (b) with Dua and Savar[^1] (c) while I was in Abu Dhabi. I also didn't expect (d) to enjoy Muscat so much. The old part of Muscat is a collection of gorgeous stone constructions interlaid with a few low-lying stone mountains. Part of the planned activities for our day trip[^2] was for Dua to bargain at the souk. In all my years of knowing Dua, I've thought him as many positive things which notably lacked a proclivity to negotiate. In the boundaries of the souk, nothing was further from the truth. Now we're dancing. Consider the following story. I saw a beat up Casio watch I liked. I asked for the price — ten rials — and after my attempts, which felt extremely aggressive and uncomfortable to me, I was rewarded with a whopping two rials off. Dua decided to calmly walk over. As soon — *as soon* — as he walked over, the merchant offered seven rials. Dua's presence alone was enough to match half of my progress. Dua ended up getting me the watch for *two* rials, by persuading the salesman of its horrible condition. He then performed what I can only describe as the Yurchenko double pike vault of negotiation, as he convinced the salesman to switch this beat-up, near-broken watch with another one in a much better state, for the same price. We did other stuff too: drink saffron lattes on top of a castle, eat a bunch of fresh fish, and meet a member of a prestigious international dual degree program (which, naturally, Savar had heard of and we had not). Negotiation is cool, but will always be secondary in my heart to the good times. [^1]: I met Dua when I was 13; Savar when I was 17. I wouldn't have expected us to be in Oman together, well, ever. Friendship evolves funnily that way. [^2]: One of the main installations — and mandatory rituals — of the biermarkt has been the day trip, a tongue-in-cheek way to see places. It wasn't until travelling with non biermarkt members that I realised how rare the love for day trips really is.