As a defender with Sedar FC, a club playing 50km outside Muscat, Abdullah doubtless knew all about stonewalling.
He dusted down and reproduced his skills each time he was challenged him on the question of turtles.
Abdullah, it must be said, was greatly responsible for three-and-a-bit magical days in Oman. It may seem posh to hire not only a Land Cruiser (whisper it; I'm supposed to loathe 4x4s), but a driver, too. Yet it is beyond question that we saw a huge amount more than would have been likely without him.
On turtles, however, Abdullah is on the blasé side. When we joined a group waiting on the beach at Ras al Hadd in the hope of seeing them come ashore to lay eggs, he warned us to prepare for disappointment. As often as not, he said, people went away without having seen a thing.
He made us feel fortunate to have passed by a tank with a few newly hatched specimens.
And luckier still to have seen two green turtles swivelling in the large holes they'd dug in the sand. I say green with the confidence of someone who has read that this is the colour of the turtles that frequent these parts of the Omani coast. To the naked eye, the ones we saw might have been no more than piles of wobbly sand.
No picture I took of the spectacle is worth publishing here. If that is a reflection of my equipment and/or photographic prowess, it is also indicative of how little we managed to see. And it is fair to say that Abdullah showed every sign of wanting to be away as quickly as possible.
Next morning, after others at our little hotel - or, rather, collection of huts with dhow-shaped reception and restaurant - boasted of all the turtles they had watched, Abdullah shrugged his shoulders. And when we said they'd also returned first thing to catch more activity, he simply questioned their powers of recollection. "In the morning, only picnicking," he said.
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