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Salalah, Oman
The Sultan's walled mansion. Salalah, Oman
Along the journey I sent off occasional emails to several tour operators in the Salalah region. Two of them replied with word-for-word responses under different names, and the rest didn't respond at all.
After our experiences with tuktuks in Columbo and cabs in Mumbai, we heeded the frequently-heard warnings of unscrupulous cab drivers in Salalah who renege on agreed prices and itineraries. Because of the taxi problem (and stories afterwards illustrated that the warnings were justified) we opted for the overpriced transfer bus to a souk (marketplace) put on at the last minute by the ship.
This is an industrial port, so no there are no passenger services. We were off to a poor start with an overbooked bus on which we and others were left standing in the aisle. Guides were aware of this but offered no options. We retrieved our tickets and moved ourselves to another bus, which revved up and took us out past the exit gate, where we saw several forlorn-looking cabs and drivers waiting alone in the dust. We moved east along the road that runs with the beach on the right and desert on the left, and through pretty foothills
Salalah, Oman
Looking for a holster for your rifle...? and mountains just starting to show green where the rains had recently been.
From the coastal road we got tantalizing glimpses of mountains and valleys in the inland distance. We stopped for photos outside a walled mansion which, we were told, was that of the Sultan of Oman. I can say the Sultan has very high walls and a nice driveway garden outside the walls. We stood outside the walls, looked at the walls and were told how beautiful it is on the inside of the walls. Uh-huh, uh-huh.
Down the road, leaking a/c units drenched people in the back with dirty water. A new bus was called. We sat on the side of the road for some time. An Aussie complained that they should have stopped somewhere where there was cold beer. "Sorry, sport, Muslim country." "Yeah, so? Muslims drink beer too, yeah?" "Um, do you understand where you are?" We finally set off, and time at the souk was cut accordingly.
Just as well. The souk, 20Km from the city center, took 30 to 45 minutes to thoroughly explore. After the colour and variety and excitement of the markets in India and Malaysia and Indonesia,
Salalah, Oman
No idea who this young man is. He insisted on the picture. what a dump was this. Allotting two and a half hours was a poor decision.
Row after row of stores sold identical goods of very poor quality (excepting frankincense, which varied wildly). While the ship's blurb on Salalh said, You'll find the country's signature item, the khanjar, in almost every market, in varying price points and degrees of quality." They weren't talking about this market. The price points varied considerably; the quality did not. One 'genuine Arab dagger" was sheathed in molded plastic, and when turned around, displayed a common North American Indian graphic silhouette.
We realised that the unfriendly-looking men openly carrying firearms were having their guns fitted for holsters and carrying cases. Nevertheless, it was at first alarming, then continually disquieting to see armed civilians in the streets. The locals were not at all friendly, assuming, I suppose, that we were all American, when in fact only a few were from the US. 90% of the locals are Sunni Muslims, who don't very much like the small Shiite population. Or Americans.
Vendors, dealing with infidels as they were, felt no compulsion to be fair and bargained hard and unpleasantly, some outrageously. Several tourists paid the
Salalah, Oman
The souk (marketplace) from the Arabian Sea shore. Middle of nowhere! inflated price simply to escape the encounter.
There were no options to fill the remaining time. The neighborhood offered no distractions other than the souk and a limited cafe and no wifi. We thought that the souk was actually in the city. Instead we found ourselves stuck in a remote area. Nearby sites were considered, (archaeological site, Frankincense museum), but the untrustworthiness of local cabs and the grouchy-looking rifle-toting men roaming about made people reluctant to venture further.
Even though we returned on a different bus, we encountered the same a/c dirty water problem.
The guide did his best to keep us engaged, and we learned that are many designated nature reserves and some city ruins in the region. The two major ports, Muscat and Salalah, have been trade centers for thousands of years. Marco Polo spent time here. Copper and frankincense, which for those who may not know, is dried tree sap burned as incense. It comes in four graded purities of dried, chunky, chalky resin, and at the market in baskets, looks like four kinds of crack. It supposedly has some therapeutic value, but we were cautioned that any beneficial effects may be overstated.
Salalah, Oman
Frankincense and other goods. The political history of this region is long and bloody. The al-Said family has held political control since the 18th century and in true local fashion, the current ruler seized power from his father in a coup.
Colonialism, as we have seen in many countries over the last while, leaves scars. So it is here, where Vasco de Gama seized control and the Portuguese ruled over Oman for decades. Then the Omani allied with the Brits, who betrayed them in different ways. Finally, they took control of their oil production and like on the streets of Columbo, we can perhaps look to a fractious and violent history as a reason for the reticent demeanor, and even hostility, of locals towards visitors.
Although our guide himself was amiable and informative, this was an extremely disappointing day, and once we returned to the ship, the prospect of trying to go further afield in a cab was fraught with reasons not to.
Almost everyone who tried using local cabs reported abuse of some sort or another, whether it was arguing about per person rather than per trip, Euros or Rials over dollars, itinerary, destination . . . one guy reported
Salalah, Oman
Keeping close tabs on the tourists! that a kilometer from the port, the driver pulled over and told him to get out, that they were changing cars. There was no other car. He refused to get out. Another pair reported a fight between cruiser and taxi, broken up by local cops.
We complained to the Excursions desk, on the basis that in addition to the water problems, it was a singularly crappy tour, not at all up to Holland's expected standards and certainly not worth the money. A nice note from the Excursions people completely missed our points, refunding half our money because of the water problem and offering cleaning services for damaged clothing. The bus was annoying, yes, but the tour itself was execrable.
The extent of Salalah's hospitality perhaps consists of a school of thought that the foreigners are to be shaken down, preferably inverted, so that their pocket change rolls free.
Screw the infidel? Not a great tourist philosophy. At least we left behind very little cash.
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Evie J
non-member comment
Wrong side of Salalah
I am very sad reading your story of Salalah. And unfortunately, as I see, you were taken to a "tourist souk" only there for tourists, being herded there. As it is, there are some fantastic souks in the city of Salalah, with actual real market places, for real people, friendly vendors and no rip-off prices. As I was there, had the same experience at first, being taken to a god forsaken tourist souk, but with a few friends, escaped that (with a taxi, without any conflicts) and went to the real city center, with gold souk and absolutely fantastic markets, swarming with local people, who all were very curious about us, but also very friendly.