A Woman's Journey Round The World, From Vienna To Brazil, Chili, Tahiti, China, Hindostan, Persia, And Asia Minor By Ida Pfeiffer
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In The Rocky Valley In Which Muscat Lies The Heat Is Very Oppressive
(124 Degrees Fah.
In the sun), and the sunlight is very injurious to
the eyes, as it is not in the slightest degree softened by any
vegetation.
Far and wide there are no trees, no shrubs or grass to
be seen. Every one who is in any way engaged here, go as soon as
their business is finished to their country-houses situated by the
open sea. There are no Europeans here; the climate is considered
fatal to them.
At the back of the town lies a long rocky valley, in which is a
village containing several burial-places, and, wonderful to say, a
little garden with six palms, a fig, and a pomegranate-tree. The
village is larger and more populous than the town; containing 6,000
inhabitants, while the latter has only 4,000. It is impossible to
form any conception of the poverty, filth, and stench in this
village; the huts stand nearly one over the other, are very small,
and built only of reeds and palm-leaves; every kind of refuse was
thrown before the doors. It requires considerable self-denial to
pass through such a place, and I wonder that plague, or some other
contagion, does not continually rage there. Diseases of the eyes
and blindness are, however, very frequent.
From this valley I passed into a second, which contains the greatest
curiosity of Muscat, a rather extensive garden, which, with its
date-palms, flowers, vegetables, and plantations, constitutes a true
picture of an oasis in the desert.
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