#2 - Chandelier in Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque in Muscat, Oman

We were standing on a rock ledge looking down at the village in the valley below, examining life in miniature: an occasional car driving down the road, two boys playing outside, three men sitting together on a mat on the rooftop.

Earlier, Mr. Mojo had wondered aloud why we hadn't yet heard a call to prayer after being in Oman for over a day. Now, as we all watched the village, a male voice, a chant, broke the silence.

"Ah," Mojo and I sighed simultaneously.

The song lifted from the mosque to the sky, surrounding us. And I was surprised to find that, in the first few moments, its unfamiliarity frightened me. It was urgent and haunting and, to my uncomprehending ears, it could have been a battle cry. Or a wail of mourning.

But I knew it was a call to prayer. And as the sound filled the open space, I closed my eyes so it could fill me, too.