Some of the greatest characters in history were all wrapped up in their obsession with whales. Ahab chased one. Jonah was swallowed by one. Pinocchio lit a fire inside one to escape. Nowadays, millions of people worldwide congregate on shore or hop on a boat just to see one.

Bird-watching aside, the Middle East is not particularly known for its wildlife, so an invitation to join an Omani whale watching expedition filled me with more curiosity than anticipation.

Available in The Media Guy’s Getty Images Media Collection

We sat eagerly, meandering through the deep, calm Arabian Sea. Gentle waves meeting the sides of our boat made the only sounds the warm day provided. Anticipation for the performance to begin was unusually high. The world’s largest sopranos, obscured in the dark shadows of the sea, are masters at making their audience feel suspense. At the height of tension, a deep sudden chord resonates mournfully through the water. Below us, the opera of the humpback whale has commenced.

Graceful and magnificent, humpback whales inspire awe in young and old alike. These gentle giants are celebrated for their singing abilities, belting out seductive ballads to attract mates or to challenge other would-be suitors.

But they also have other talents. Their distinctive hunting skill, called bubble net feeding, involves a cluster of humpbacks working together to capture schools of herring. Each whale has a particular role in the process: one whale swims in a circle while blowing bubbles under a school of herring. When the bubbles rise, the school of herring cannot escape, and they form into a tight ball in the center. Other whales vocalize—groaning or screaming—to scare the herring to the surface, and that’s when the whales then climb with their mouths wide open to swallow the fish.

We’re spending the day on a traditional 93-foot sailing dhow (boat) that is reminiscent of those that once carried sailors and spices across the Indian Ocean. With two masts shaped from massive tree trunks, sails that hang from long curved booms, and high teak sides, the dhow makes for a smart and stylish vessel from which to observe the action. Today’s concert is mesmerizing, with few of us speaking and all of us leaning over the side of the dhow.

Just like some of those star-studded Arabian Nights concerts in Las Vegas, the whales’ songs last up to thirty minutes with the embellishments you expect from master jazz musicians, who use late nights to improvise their way to genius.

Our tour guide is Badr Al Qadr, a rugged, seasoned fisherman, who is the best-kept secret in the region. “Humpbacks have a unique sound that differs from other whaling populations,” he explains. “Only the males sing, so we know there’s a larger male down there. It’s breeding season, so most likely they are looking for mates rather than looking for food.

“Singing establishes a hierarchy among male humpbacks,” he continues. “Singing breaks out among migrating whales as they start to mix and continues not just in their breeding grounds, but to attract mates even during the feeding season.”

The five Al Hallaniyah islands, aka the Kuria Murias, are remotely located in the Arabian Seas and are only rarely visited due to often rough waters. Their seclusion helped make them an asylum for wildlife including dolphins, masked boobies, turtles and our operatic humpbacks.

It must be intermission because the singing has given way to dancing as the whales perform a few classic moves: puffs of wet air spouting 10-15 feet from their blowholes; fluking—when their powerful split tails rise from the water in preparation for a dive; spy hopping—when a whale pops its head above water for a quick look; and breaching—when they launch their entire bodies out of the water for a dramatic but lumbering belly flop.

As if on cue, the acrobatics end and the concert renews with highly structured songs that include multiple themes that are repeated and even seem to rhyme. Soon, I’ll return to Oman’s bustling capital of Muscat, but today we’re alone with the creatures that inhabit the deep blue waters, enjoying a whale of a time at this opera.

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The Media Guy grabs his sack of mail…Well, I resisted and resisted; but no longer. The mailbox is full and
alas, people need answers. So, without fanfare, here are genuine emails from my
irreverent readers.

Adam Ant’s Librarian

Twinkies: Yippie-keye-ay!

Q: Not since Reginald VelJohnson rattled off Twinkies’ to John McClane in
Die Hard [sugar-enriched flour, partially hydrogenated vegetable
oil…polysorbate 60… and yellow dye number five] have I longed for a late
night tastes of the golden crème-filled cakes. Will they ever grace the shelves
at Winn-Dixie again?

How about that 600 pounder?

Q: I feel like Woody Harrelson in Zombieland, searching for the last
Twinkie on Earth. I guess they did have an expiration date. Help!

1. Before the big day, drive her wild with anticipation by telling her
   that you have the most amazing surprise for her. This promise will keep her
   guessing and make her think about your evening.
2. Know her favorite flowers. If you don’t, don’t panic. You can find
   out by making a comment, like “I’ve noticed plants blooming early this year …”
   and steer the conversation from there. In a beautiful vase, arrange an exotic
   bouquet and hide it somewhere in your home on the special day. She’ll like that
   you created the presentation.
3. Go to your local chocolate shop and select her favorite kinds of
   chocolate. Have it boxed and nicely wrapped to prevent her from knowing what it
   is when you present the chocolates to her.
4. Create a dish and name it after her. For example, if her name is
   Anne, you might call the dish “Tournedos Princess Anne.” This step is the most
   important. I can assure you that after having spent time in some top-notch
   restaurants, food that is named after a person is a special honor. We all know
   how women love it when their men do the cooking. What I do is cut and precook
   the vegetables, and I even make the sauce beforehand to make sure I get it as
   perfect as I can. Leave everything in the fridge. Then, on Valentine’s Day, I
   set the table before I start the cooking part. On both plates, place a fresh
   RED ROSE. The single rose is just part of making her think that that is all the
   flowers she will be getting (but we know differently). When she gets home, make
   sure to get her to promise you that she’ll stay out of the kitchen. Tell her
   not to spoil the surprise!
5. When everything is ready, plate the food, cover it and take it to
   the dining table, and then ask her to come and sit. Before you uncover the lid,
   have her close her eyes. Retrieve the hidden bouquet, place the flowers on the
   table, and ask her to open her eyes. Pay attention to how she responds. Tell
   her what you’ve named the dish. But that’s not all – after the meal, take her
   by the hand, walk her to the living room and sit her down. Bring out the boxed
   chocolate, go on one knee and tell her, “This is for you,” or, “You make me
   feel whole,” or, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world and I love
   you.”

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“He who never made a mistake never made a discovery. ” 

I love this quote quite frankly; it says it all. I hope this past weekend, I didn’t make a mistake with my forthcoming book.

In the weeks after two wildly lucky winners in Missouri and Arizona divvied up the $600 million Powerball jackpot, I found myself enviously pondering, as I tore up two my December Starbucks allowance, what I would do if I woke up one day with an extra $300 million in the piggy bank. While I was doing that I received this email:

From: maggie, the book editor assistant [mailto:xxxx@xxxxxxxxxxxxx.com]
Sent: Wednesday, January 9, 2013 1:17 PM
To: ‘Michael Lloyd’
Subject: RE: Lloyd Book Changes #41


Michael,
Happy New Year! Just hung up with Amazon and we are awaiting Landscapes to go to press. I know we’ve asked for an interminable amount of changes, but we need to shorten the six weeks we gave you to bring it all to final AND we need the new layout by Jan. 25th. Get back to me when you can and, uhm, no pressure,
Maggie

Well, happy new years to you too, Maggie! When you get an email like that, what’s a Media Guy to do? I mean, I was still planning what to do with my first hundred mil… I’m fairly certain that ]I would not have poured it Lakers season tickets or JCPenney stock — my first order of business might have been finding a Westwood apartment with a few bedrooms, and maybe donating ten million or so to charity. But now I just had to get to work. I sequestered myself away from humanity and whacked my 250-page Landscapes of Life tome down to under a hundred pages. Really taking a book like this from 160 photos down to 90 was akin to choosing which of your children you love the most.

The new book cover designed by Anna Aladadyan.

I guess it could have been worse. Take a look at who didn’t make the cut elsewhere:

• 12 proposed U.S. states that didn’t make the cut 
• Forbes 400 Drop-offs: Those Who Didn’t Make The Cut
• Sorry Jill, you didn’t make the cut 

Anyway, I bring this up to honor five of my favorite photos that didn’t make the cut for the book. Without further ado…

5. RAZI. When you see images from the Middle East and similar places in Afghanistan and India, women are often depicted as rights deficient thirsty from the parched climate of domineering men whom seek to enslave their every whim: No shoes. Six to 10 children in tow, once always attached to the hip. Each woman with the same “help me” look sewn into her face. Razi, shown here, explores the beauty that multiplies from within. The picture seems to show her emerging from a cocoon ready to embrace the world and have it embrace her back. Her expression emotes innocent confidence and traces of power that we hope will be realized along with her dreams.

4, ABANDONED. Living in the bigger cities typically doesn’t give you the access to large areas that lack the residue of human activity. While traveling in Salalah, such a place exists near what would be the equivalent of prime beach real estate in Malibu. These hand-built row of ancient tract homes still stood tall, yet uninhabited as if they were resistant to the atomic bomb that surely must have detonated here. The area begged for answers. Who lived here? How did they live? What would make an entire town move en force?

3. THE LONG MARCH. On my way to Wadi Rum, the desert run where Lawrence of Arabia led the Arab Revolt, I spotted these two Bedouin trekking forward. I love the way they are walking while a truckload of people move past them; two generations of transportation dueling in opposite directions. The questions loom: How long was their trek? Where were they going? How hot were they in their black abayas on a hot desert afternoon?

2. NORIAS OF HAMA. The water wheels of Syria, aka Norias, have been delivering water to Hama for centuries. They also deliver a soul crushing sound that haunts the ears in a way that no other architecture ever has. Take a listen here.

1. THE MAN OF PALMS. By far my favorite picture that, alas, didn’t make the cut. The Yemani man in his traditional dress sat in this single spot for hours. He was there when I left to visit an abandoned fort. He was there when I came back for lunch. He was there when I ventured out the next morning. Same position. Same happy-go-lucky look on his leather face. He never seemed to move and was more part of the botanical surroundings than the palms he sat among.

With that bittersweet countdown behind me, I now hand of my book to the acclaimed Los Angeles designer An Na who will turn the images and descriptions that did make the cut into a work of art.

The post They Didn’t Make the Cut… appeared first on Media Guy Struggles.

In the southeast corner of Arabia lies the Sultanate of Oman, a charming blend of the old and new. Near its capital in Muscat is one of the most amazing sites: immense sandstone citadels that were carved naturally from the wind and have petrified over the last four centuries to remain in nearly the same form you would have seen in the 17th century.

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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.

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.

“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.”

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