This was a solo trip I never thought I would take on. And by the journey's midpoint, I wasn't traveling solo anymore.
Oman had never been on my radar as a traveler, which is probably also true for most travelers I know.
So what the heck was I doing there?
At the time I was on short-term assignment in Dubai, which was as non-traditional as it got in the Muslim world. My coworkers always joked that it was the Las Vegas of the Middle East, where underground booze flowed freely and money could buy all sorts of pleasurable delights so long as you didn't do it in public.
As a foreigner it's easy to adapt to such a liberal and forward-looking city, which was (and still is as of 2014) striving to truly become a first-world metropolis in both infrastructure and personnel. But as a traveler I cringed everyday at the rapid Westernization of the city and yearned for something genuine and conventionally Middle Eastern.
So I frequented places like the fishermen's moorage on the creekside, photographing their Dhows and getting invites for tea on their boats as I craved for that last remnant of pre-globalization in the world's most rapidly developing city. I knew that I had to leave Dubai to find the Middle East I wanted to see, before my short-term assignment ended.
That's when I realized that the more conservative Sultanate of Oman was within striking distance from Dubai, the legendary capital of Muscat being a half-day's bus ride away. And the most interesting part of Oman IMHO, the landlocked desert regions of Dakhiliyah and Dhahirah, were also accessible by long distance bus. Within days I put together a trip plan, called a few places in Oman in advance and hopped on a bus to Muscat.
Originally I wanted a bus ticket to my ultimate destination of Nizwa, but the religious holiday of Isra and Mi'raj was on and tickets in the direction of Nizwa/Salalah were sold out. At the end I settled for Muscat as a jump-off point for the trip, where I would need to rent a car and drive to Nizwa for the first night.
The 6 hour bus ride turned into 9 hours as the Omani border customs was flooded with thousands of Emiratis and migrant Indians waiting to cross. As a Canadian I had to hand my passport with a "handling fee" to my bus driver in the hope that he'll return it stamped for admittance. We didn't get to the lunch stop until 14:00, and it was close to 17:00 when we finally arrived at the Ruwi neighborhood of Muscat.
This complete stranger insisted that I take his picture. Being merely several hours removed from the frantic pace of Dubai, laid-back Muscat felt a world away with its friendly locals and historic architecture. My first day here lasted two hours as I picked up my rented Nissan Tiida and hurried off to Nizwa, but on the third day I came back, along with a Spanish traveler I picked up in Nizwa, and explored the city in more depth with his guidance.
For 2000 years this has been one of the world's famous trading ports, where civilizations collided and jostled for control of the maritime trade routes between the East and the West. The Persians came and went, and so did the Portuguese and the Ottomans. The grandeur of the forts and palaces in existence today still reflects the city's great wealth and power in the 18th Century, when it controlled territories as far away as Zanzibar.
The Portuguese made their mark in the 16th Century with impressive fortifications such as the al-Jalali, still standing guard at the outer edge of Muscat's old harbor to this date. The Corniche below the fort has recently been adorned with a curious collection of foreign sculptures including a Chinese carp, reminding of the city's glorious past as an international trade hub.
Sheltered between two Portuguese forts is the one unmistakable landmark of the city, the boisterously golden and blue palace of Sultan Qaboos. Despite being the nation's most photographed sight, the courtyard outside the al-Alam palace was practically devoid of tourists during our visit, which was quite a shock as I had grown used to Dubai.
Having some free time we drove by the Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque, one of the largest in the world and the only in Oman that opens its doors to non-Muslims. Here my Spanish companion pointed out one inconvenience about Oman for backpackers -- public transportation was difficult to come by, and it's nearly impossible to get around without renting a car.
My favorite place in Muscat was the old Souq of Muttrah, said to be one of the oldest marketplaces in the Middle East by virtue of its location at the Corniche of this ancient trading port. While its outward appearance has no doubt changed through the centuries, even after 2000 years it remains a dark labyrinth filled with the exotic aromas of frankincense and spices.
But what I loved most about the Souq was the genuine slice of daily Omani life on display. Here I learned to appreciate the multi-ethnic nature of Muscat, seeing Omani children growing up with Pakistani ones while their mothers joked and laughed from the nearby market stalls. That's quite the opposite from the closed, tribal towns and villages around Nizwa ... but I'll talk about that in the upcoming articles.
Just look into the dark sparkling eyes of these children. They are the future of Oman, and will decide whether the country will remain the sleepy backwaters of the Arab world it has been for the past hundred years, or to be developed into something more influential in the model of nearby UAE or Qatar.
At the end I stayed for only one night, my last night of the trip, in Muscat, optimizing my time in the fascinating desert region of Dakhiliyah instead. That first evening I drove 200km straight to Nizwa and settled down at a local guesthouse, in anticipation of the famed Friday Livestock Market of Nizwa the next morning.
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