Oman, in the words of my friend, was like a fairytale land. To be honest, I didn't even know it existed until about two weeks before I arrived... I had planned to visit family in China but, well, it would have been a little awkward at the border without a visa. But I'm so glad that instead, I discovered Oman in all its beauty, the generosity of its people, the uniqueness of this country so far removed from what I had known before. I was drawn in by the features of the desert, but I was captured by all the new people who gave me all the kindness of an old friend.
I arrived in Muscat after my first land border crossing - a smooth transition, with free visas on arrival for those coming from Dubai. Otherwise, however, Oman specifically positions its tourism industry as non-backpacker-friendly. Thankfully food and petrol are cheap, and I found relatively cheap accommodation at Delmon Apartments. It's far from the main sights by the Corniche, but has its own spice with a local market across the street (rather, highway).
Given cheap car rental, several kilometres to the Corniche, insanely cheap petrol and insanely expensive taxis, I decided to rent a car. And drive overseas. For the first time. On the right (but so wrong) side of the road. On my provisional licence. Well, I figured if they're willing to give me the car, I must be okay to drive, right?
Oh - the signs are in Arabic too. Needless to say I only drove for one day, choosing later to sacrifice accommodation quality for proximity.
Still, the freedom of taking myself wherever I wanted for a day was liberating. I picnicked in the Rose Gardens of Al Qurm Park, thankful for some shade in the 37 degree (Celsius) heat, and cruised around the Corniche at night. Matrah Souq, the main market, was filled with the same touristy souvenirs as Dubai - thankfully the mesmerisingly vibrant colours and shoppers made up for the disappointing merchandise.
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| Al Qurm Park |
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| Conversing in Matrah Souq |
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| Strolling along the Corniche by night |
Along the Corniche, lights of different colours highlighted the Sultan's Palace and forts perched on rocks overhead. Unlike the neon-lit mega-cities of Asia, these soft lights succeed in accentuating the beauty of the old stony buildings. I was surprised by the unsupervised kids on the streets at 10pm, playing soccer, riding bikes, chasing each other between arches leading up to the Palace. One, barely a teenager, beckoned me over for a personal tour; I couldn't help but laugh as I rode his (child-sized) bike around, one of the kids for the night.
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| Lighting up the Sultan's Palace |
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| Kids hanging out way past their bedtime! |
After relinquishing the car, I decided to head to Ras Al Jinz on the east coast to see green turtles nesting ... largely convinced by a heavy last-minute discount offered over the phone for this lone traveller. However, my 4 hour bus ride to the nearby town of Sur turned out to be a highlight in itself.
It began with an early arrival (hold back your shock friends from home, yes I did learn punctuality while addressing my fear of missing transport in a foreign country) that gave me the opportunity to befriend my driver. Unexpectedly I ended up receiving simultaneous lessons in Arabic and Spanish from him - well, why not? He even made some unplanned stops for me to see some of the beautiful desert valleys, Wadi Al Shab and Wadi Tiwi.
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| My terrible photography just can't do this justice |
But he wasn't the only character on the bus. I spent part of the journey lamenting the potential US$50 taxi ride I faced for the 40 kilometres to the resort at Ras Al Jinz (keeping in mind my 200km bus ride cost less than an American burger) to a medical student, Abdul Rayem, who joined our conversation. I must have been either insanely annoying or Puss-in-Boots-pleading-eyes cute, because when we stepped off the bus in Sur, he told me simply to wait. So I waited. Lo and behold, his best friend, Ahmed, arrived with a modern pumpkin carriage. They not only drove me the 40km to the resort but they waited at the reception to see me checked in, refused any gifts of gratitude, and left without any further ado.
Rather than the creepiness you might expect from 2 men with a young foreign girl in their car, we instead had an insightful conversation ranging from technology connecting yet separating us, to studying and working in Oman. Ahmed was studying engineering, as many do in this oil-producing state. But if he wanted to work part-time while studying, he said, people would look down on him and ask, "Why doesn't your father just give you money?" Our conversation made me appreciate living in Australia, where I can not only defy Asian stereotypes to become a hairdresser as well as a lawyer, but I can also choose to be independent.
Ahmed left me with two more wonderful thoughts. The first was his succinct description of the traveller's dilemma: "We need 3 things: time, money, health. But at every stage in life, young, middle-aged, old, we only ever have two, and the third is missing." The second was a discussion of how we we can help people in our careers, but as he said to me, "even now we are helping you by driving". My takeaway? You don't have to be Bill Gates or move to Africa to make a positive difference in the world - even small things can make a positive difference in someone's life, and who knows how that will resonate.
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| Thank YOU! |
Arriving at the Ras Al Hadd Turtle Resort disproved the cliché that "it's about the journey, not the destination". Almost immediately, I was adopted by a Bolivian family. Although I had been prepared for lonely enjoyment of the turtles, the memory was honestly enhanced by sharing the beauty and wonder with this fascinating and funny family. After a month away from Aus and several more since I'd seen my parents, it was heartwarming to sit for breakfast with the father, and to play games with the brother and sister. In the end, I'm not sure who I was more fascinated by... The turtles, of which we saw the entire life cycle (even death) before the mothers slowly returned to the edge of the sea, to be washed in by the tide as a beautiful day dawned around us; or the family, headed by a woman of the Bolivian highlands and a jetsetting pilot, and their down-to-earth son who made me contemplative and made me laugh.
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| Nesting turtles on the beach of Ras al Jinz |
I took a break from getting lost among the homes, eating a cheese and honey crepe at a small café west of Matrah Souq. A man approached me and asked if the spare seat was taken, but instead of moving it elsewhere when I said no, he sat to join me. However, as Ali explained his routine to me, I realised I was the intruder; every day, around 4 or 5, he would sit at this exact table for one glass of tea, part of an ingrained daily routine. He was well-travelled and well-educated, eager to share his experiences. Before he left to continue his routine, I complained that I was disappointed in the markets, wanting to find a distinctly Omani souvenir for my mum. So, he offered to take me to find something appropriate when I returned to the Corniche.
Unfortunately, I spent the next day in a 4WD instead, exploring the desert sands and nearby miracle of greenery in another wadi east of Muscat. Well, not that unfortunate - I had a lot of fun 4WD-rollercoastering the desert dunes, jumping off a bridge into the wadi, and climbing deep into the gorge with a local kid. (Heaps of local kids hang around to take foreigners to otherwise hidden sights with some fun informal caving, for a tip of course.) I was particularly astounded by the desert, having never really seen such expanses of undulating sand before... but it was to be just the first of a few on my travels. I was also lucky to split the cost with three fun German backpackers ... also to be just the first of many on my travels.
My last day was a relaxed one, visiting the museum Bait Al Baranda and again getting lost in the back streets of Mutrah. I loved the unique houses with their flat roofs for the abundance of sand, and the intricate designs on the mosques' minarets. Finally, I climbed the worn-away stones that once formed a staircase to a fortress, writing my journal in peace from this lofty ancient place. Somehow I don't think that last one is technically open to tourists, or locals for that matter... but I thought of myself as exploring new frontiers, unbound by society's rules. Hey, a girl can dream.
I left Muscat with two final indelible memories. The first, a sunset from the Portuguese Fort overlooking the water. The second was Ali. I thought I'd missed him, stalking the café twice in the afternoon with no luck, but the owner saw me and sent him my way as I prepared to leave for the airport. "I don't have time to go to the market with you any more," I told him sadly when he found me. "That's okay," he replied. "I brought this ring for your mother."
If you ever visit Muscat, look for Ali at the Coffee Shop next to the Seagull Cafe and Cafe A, and tell him I'm thinking of him. Like the kind-hearted Omanis before him, he refused any repayment, and sent me on my way with well-wishes and a heart full of love for the diverse people I met and the new country that introduced them to me.
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