What Might've Been

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I’d fancied a trip to Oman for a while. From afar it seemed to have the good points of the Middle East without the bad. Apparently, ex-pats who live and work in this part of the world do indeed know Oman as “Middle East Lite”.



But that title is perhaps not doing it justice. Oman has enough qualities to make it worth a visit and not just because it compares well to its neighbours. What attracted me were Oman’s high and spectacular mountain scenery, its beautiful sandy desert, and fantastic diving among lost shipwrecks and stunning reefs. Unfortunately I never got to see any of that.



So this blog is a story of what might’ve been and wasn’t. The plan had been to hire a car, drive around the country, see the sights; we never did that. We only actually got out of Muscat once in the week that we were there. And Muscat was disappointing.



The Oman trip was really just an extended stopover on our way back to the UK after a 3 month trip in India and Bangladesh. We wanted to call in on friends in Muscat but otherwise travel around. As my previous blog revealed, I spent the last week in India in a hospital bed attached to a drip. This meant a delay in reaching Oman therefore cutting our trip short. This also meant I didn’t initially feel up to hiring a car and driving vast distances across the desert.



So we decided to use our friends’ house in Muscat as a base and explore from there. This turned out not to be as easy as it sounds.



I know a bit about the history of Oman, especially the ancient days of the Sultanate when Muscat was the capital of a proud seafaring people that sent ships across the Indian Ocean and ruled a territory extending right down the east coast of Africa as far as Mozambique. Zanzibar was part of the Omani empire and a source of much wealth through trading spices and slaves. Therefore, the image of Muscat I had in my head was like Mombasa or a bigger version of Stone Town or smaller version of Istanbul. Unfortunately, it isn’t at all like any of those.



Muscat is more a string of towns along the coast that have joined together and doesn’t have a centre. The part known as the Old Town and site of the ancient port is Muttrah. The old harbour has gone to be replaced by a modern fishing and container port and, with the exception of the two little forts atop rocky promontories, Muttrah looks as recently constructed as the rest of the city.



We were staying in the west of the city amongst swirls of brand new motorways. This area of apartment blocks, shopping malls and no pavements is how I imagine US cities to look. You step out of your air-conditioned apartment into the lift, descend to the basement, get in your air-conditioned car, then drive to the basement car park of an air-conditioned mall. You remain completely isolated from any external influences. At first I was surprised when our friends would put jackets on to go out, despite the 30 degree temperatures. The first time we went for breakfast in a mall and I sat shivering in a t-shirt I realised why jackets are necessary.



According to various websites, Muscat has three “must-sees”. Muttrah Souq and Corniche, and the Grand Mosque. There is also one “must-do”: diving. When I look back at our week in Oman and wonder how we managed to do so little I remember that it took two attempts before we got in the mosque, three before we got in the souq, and many attempts to go diving were completely fruitless.



We thought the Grand Mosque, or to give it its full name; the Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque, closed to tourists at midday so we got there at 11am. It closes at 11am. We first tried to go to the souq at 3pm; it is closed from 1pm to 5pm. The second time we went in the morning; it was closed due to freak thunderstorms causing a flash flood through the middle of the souq.



When we finally did get in, the Grand Mosque is beautiful. It was finished in 2001 and manages to achieve an ostentatious show of wealth without being too garish. The men’s prayer hall is home to the world’s largest chandelier hanging above the world’s largest carpet. Both quite unnecessary claims to fame when the building itself of purest white marble with intricate mosaics and patterns is so wonderful.



Paddling in mud along the main thoroughfare of the thoroughly modern “ancient souq” brought us to endless shops selling souvenir tat to cruise ship passengers. Toy camels with Oman written on the side, small brass models of mosques, and “genuine cashmere” scarves that we had seen selling for a fraction of the price a couple of months ago when we were in Kashmir. There was no hard sell because the stall holders soon realised we were not from a cruise ship (being neither Russian nor American who made up 99.9% of the tourists that day from the two huge ships in the harbour). Choosing the alleyways angling away from the souq finally brought us to some more authentic Arabic life with shops selling cloth, household goods, food, but quickly the passageways led us back to the promenade and stalls selling “I Love Muscat” t-shirts. Something I did like about the souq was the constant aroma of burning frankincense. I bought some, along with some myrrh, pots of a mixture of the two made great Christmas stocking fillers (I didn’t throw any gold in).



The corniche is definitely worth a stroll. And it is nice to stroll after generally being unable to due to the motorways and lack of pavements. The white buildings and minarets of Muttrah look better when viewed across a bit of water and contrast with the dark layers of bare rock that jut up in the background. As well as the little forts, built by the Portuguese in the 1500s, a gigantic pretend incense burner sits atop one rocky hillock, testament to the frankincense trade that once brought wealth to the country (Oman only recently lost the crown of being the world’s leading exporter of the deliciously smelling resin). Between the promenade and the sea are stacks of modern-art-looking sea defences, put into good use as fishing platforms by the large male South Asian immigrant population.



Whenever you see any work being done in Oman, it is being done by an Indian or Pakistani or Bangladeshi. Road works, building construction, gardening, cooking, street cleaning, security, the workers are always men from South Asia. In the malls and in restaurants you will be served by women from the Philippines or Indonesia who also comprise the house cleaner and nanny population. I’m sure Omanis do work, other than driving taxis and checking your passport at the airport, but they certainly appear to leave the physical or mundane jobs to others.



We did make one Omani friend while we were there, and from him we learnt the most about the country. That was Mohammed the taxi driver. If Muscat has a public transport system, I never saw it. Therefore, you have to rely on lifts from friends or taxis. It is quite far between the Grand Mosque, Muttrah, the beach, the malls and the apartment where we were staying, consequently much of our expenditure during the trip went on taxis – and we were getting mates rates. However, we started to enjoy these long taxi rides as we got to know Mohammed and learn about the history and culture of Oman.



After our awful final week in India we wanted a bit of relaxation and recovery time. This began with a trip to the massive cliff top Crowne Plaza Hotel to lounge around the pool. Quite a contrast to our India trip; the cost of renting a towel and using the changing rooms was far more than our daily budget in India for food, accommodation and travel. The beach at the Oman Dive Centre was another welcome escape; nice sand, quiet, very pretty rocks enclosing the bay, and good lime mint juices. But again, the taxis there and back and the entry fee were equivalent to days of Indian travel.



I’m not just being tight and comparing everything to the inherent cheap costs of travelling in India. Even compared to the UK, Oman is expensive. Petrol is ludicrously cheap but food and drink in restaurants and in supermarkets (I paid £2.50 for an aubergine!), transportation, and general goods are very pricey.



Our best day in Oman was definitely the trip to Wadi Shab. It’s a long way from Muscat but the journey is fast due to the wide, smooth, and not very busy motorway that heads southeast to Sur. The sparse rocky scenery along the way was not unpleasant and the sea on the other side was a deep blue as we passed mile upon mile of deserted rocky beaches and coves. You don’t pass too many settlements and the few you see all seem to comprise fairly new identical blocks; most of which were large individual houses. What the people do for work out there I couldn’t guess.



Where Wadi Shab meets the sea you park beneath the huge motorway bridge and take a little boat across to the opposite bank to begin the walk. The rocky sides of the wadi get higher, steeper and close in on you as you go deeper into the gorge. Soon you are walking along a ledge clinging to the vertical face above crystal clear water. The gorge opens out again as you go upstream where a bit of vegetation pokes up through the boulder field you have to leap and clamber across. A few ramshackle dwellings and date plantations are present, though apparently any attempts to farm up here are regularly wiped out by flash floods. Some irrigation channels remain and balancing along their edges is a quick route across the boulders. As the pools of water become more frequent you must get your swimming gear on and balance your bag on your head as a few of the fords are neck deep. Then you reach a point where bags, clothes and cameras must be left behind and it is a fairly long swim through the cool refreshing water up a seeming cul-de-sac. Echoing voices at the cliff at the end confirm that the adventure doesn’t stop here. A natural crack in the rock opens out under water and a quick duck dive and underwater swim leads you into a waterfall-filled cavern. It’s a lovely spot, and a welcome patch of shade, though you must keep treading water or try and cling to the vertical rock walls if you want a rest. A few other underwater passages lead behind the waterfall and there’s even a little cliff jump if you fancy your chances scaling the slippery cascade.



Reassuringly our bags were still present, now in a heap along with those belonging to the many other tourists who had hiked up the wadi that day. The walk back to the car was much more pleasant after the refreshing dip and the only thing missing at the end was an ice-cream van in the car park.



So what happened to the diving? As I mentioned before, freak thunderstorms had caused a lot of flooding, including in Muttrah Souq. Mohammed recommended staying off the roads altogether during this weather as the drains couldn’t cope with the excessive water. Puddles soon turned to ponds and we were almost knee deep crossing some streets. As well as restricting our movements, the rains really messed up the diving. For several days I was in regular contact with many of the diving companies who told me that muck washed into the sea had ruined the usually fabulous visibility to the point that the dive boats were not even going out. Next time.





Looking back on the trip, Wadi Shab was my favourite day. I’m sure if we had have hired a car and driven around more of the country we would have had more days like that one. So Oman, we didn’t enjoy you that much, but next time I’ll try harder to experience the best that you have to offer – and please refrain from dumping a year’s worth of water on us in a few days.

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Photos

Muttrah Corniche, Muscat
Modern art sea defences in the foreground, world's biggest frankincense burner in the background.

Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque, Muscat
Under that there world's biggest chandelier is the world's biggest carpet.

Muttrah Souq, Muscat
Haggling over African cloth.

Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque, Muscat
Note who is doing all the work.

Muttrah Souq, Muscat
Frankincense and myrrh made great Christmas stocking fillers.

Muscat
The little beach in front of the Crowne Plaza Hotel

Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque, Muscat
That there is the world's biggest chandelier.