Of course, most people have never heard of Oman. Selling the trip was thus a bit sticky:
"Oman? Where is that?"
"It's in the Middle East," I reply.
"Oh." *makes disgusted face*
After a while I learned to say, "It's on the Arabian peninsula, near Dubai." This response unanimously received a more positive reaction: "Oh good, yes, Dubai, that's great!" They've heard of Dubai, how rich and developed it is, a welcome answer for the geographically inept, but of course most people haven't a clue where it is or that it is not even a country. In any case, platitudes such as this--in addition to the fact that Oman has never had a single incident of terrorism and that the sect of Islam practiced in Oman lies outside of the Sunni/Shia conflict--enabled the trip to be approved by the administration.
Why Oman? In addition to being off the beaten path, we wanted to experience Arab culture, the desert, and to learn more about the millennia of prehistory of the Arabian Peninsula. As a result of being a waypoint for premodern trade between Africa and India, Oman is rife with prehistoric archaeological sites, not to mention fantastic geography. All of these factors gave the place a certain alluring mystique, or perhaps it was just modern-day orientalism. In any case, in early March we set off with 22 students (our largest group yet) to Muscat, the capital.
Part of the reason this trip was so fantastic was because of our guides, Mary and Sharif.* Mary, a European expat married to an archaeologist, was not only an anthropologist but had been resident in Oman for the past seven years. Because of this she knew half of the people in the country and was therefore a better fixer than any Omani we might have acquired. Apart from being extremely knowledgable, she was amiable and had an endless supply of stories, as I imagine one acquires after living in Oman for seven years and having an archaeologist husband.
Our Omani guide Sharif was similarly fantastic. He was young and although not as knowledgeable as Mary, what skills he lacked he made up for in wit, charm, and energy, and consequently he was popular with the students, taking frequent selfies and Snapchatting with the kids.
From left to right: Anna, myself, Mary, Kevin, Sharif, and our driver Farouq. |
Bimma Sinkhole |
The next day we made our way down the coast via Sur to Ras al Hadd, a tiny town situated around a disused airfield built by the British during WWII and famous for its nesting sea turtles. That night, before venturing out to the reserve to spot nesting turtles, we left the hotel for dinner. "Ras al Hadd is very small, which means there aren't any big restaurants, so we're going to eat at a friend's house," Mary informed us. At the house not far from the hotel, we arrived to a courtyard with a small group of Italian tourists puffing on a hookah. As it turns out Mary's friend, Pietro, was an Italian archaeologist who had done work in Oman back in the 80s. He really liked it there, and when the project he was working on came to an end he built himself a house with guest rooms in Ras al Hadd and began catering to off-the-beaten-path Italian travelers in the winter and spending summers back in Italy. He was a large, lively character, speaking with a thick Emilia-Romagna accent and joking frequently with his Italian clientele. "Pietro's family are great cooks--wait until you see what's for dinner!" Mary said. They didn't disappoint; the chef emerged from the kitchen with a steaming pot of homemade tagliatelle in a freshly-caught tuna ragù. Anna was beside herself: "They made fresh tagliatelle for 30 people!" (if you've never made fresh pasta before, this is an incredible task) The pasta was outstanding and we stuffed ourselves. This tagliatelle, however, was only the first course--soon the chef emerged with a 4-foot whole mahi mahi fresh off the grill and a barrel of roasted potatoes. I shook my head at the surreality of the situation: a homemade Italian meal on the shores of the easternmost point of the Arabian peninsula. Unbelievable.
Ras al-Hadd |
The following day we made our way into the interior, where we would be spending the night in Wahiba Sands, a desert region in the east of the country. This was one of the best experiences of the trip. The desert might sound uninteresting, but until you are completely surrounded by endless rusty orange dunes and feel the silken sand under your feet you cannot fathom the beauty and connection to nature you feel. It was a magical landscape and one that is not soon forgotten by those who experience it. Plus, we had a lot of fun dune bashing in 4x4s and riding camels.
After Wahiba Sands we traveled to Nizwa, the former capital of Oman and its second largest city. Nizwa was much livelier and more authentic than Muscat, as well as more historic. The city is surrounded by several old forts and archaeological sites. After visiting the souq or market, we spent the following day visiting various forts around Nizwa, as well as the beehive tombs of the al Ayn archaeological site. About 5000 years old, not much is known about the al Ayn structures, except they were probably used to hold bones that had already been decomposed by the elements.
Nizwa souq. |
Going local. |
Sharif shows us around a fort. |
Al Ayn. |
Dhow construction yard. |
Traditional dhow at right, much like the one we sailed on in Musandam. |
Cliffs of Musandam. |
Tea and fjords. |
In the UAE, one of the first things the visitor notices is the notable absence of Emiratis. With the majority of Emiratis on the dole or working in government positions, most private sector jobs are performed by expats, who constitute around 80% of the population. This is quite different from Oman, where, although a significant number of the population are also expats, it is common to see Omanis performing everyday jobs and doing physical work.
We spent our last day in Dubai. Our hotel rooms were actually apartments each with a kitchen and washing machine, and the complimentary hotel literature was Modern Millionaire magazine. It's time to go home, I thought.
We polished off our trip with a visit to the Dubai Mall, the largest mall in the world, and bought tickets to bring all of the students up to the observation deck (1483 ft) of the Burj Khalifa, the current tallest building in the world. I went up too, shitting myself with acrophobia and did so mainly to not look like a sissy in front of the students. The view, like Dubai, was unimpressive--desert, urban sprawl, more desert. It was sad, but I think it gave the students an appreciation of the traditional lifestyle we had observed and experienced in Oman and showed that perhaps modernity does not always equate to progress.
Burj Khalifa. |
At the top, clearly terrified. |
*Names and details have been changed to maintain the privacy of the individuals mentioned.