In Oman as in most of the rest of the Arab World, camels wander where they please and definitely have right of way. In rural Oman you're probably in more trouble if you hit and kill a camel than you are if you hit a human being. This was shot on the highway between Nakhal and Ar-Rustaq, two good-sized towns on the edge of the Hajjar Range.
After the horrors of the past fifty-odd days of our new Trumpian dystopia, I figure it’s time for a bit of a respite. I’ve diddled around for years with plans for a diary – or series of diaries if there is interest – about the Sultanate of Oman, a Persian Gulf country, where my wife and I lived and worked for twenty-five years. Soon after our initial arrival in 1988, we discovered it was a remarkable country with extraordinary people and traditions, not to mention splendid desert and mountain scenery, a thousand miles of pristine beaches, great diving, excellent marine fishing, and a large and very cosmopolitan expat community. After a year or two, we found we had fallen in love. If I may, I’d like to show you a bit of it.
Located to the east of Saudi Arabia with a 1,300 mile coastline on the Arabian Sea, the Sultanate of Oman is a well-governed and peaceful exception to the rule –- in the West, anyway -- that Arab countries, by definition, are hotbeds of terrorism, torture, and mayhem . Prior to 1970, when the present sultan took over from his father in a bloodless palace coup, the country had been effectively cut off from the rest of the world. The father, Sultan Taimur bin Said was fearful of virtually everything foreign and he made sure that the world was kept out. For foreigners it was an unknown and forbidden patch of land on the Arab Peninsula; for locals it was a desperately poor, and even more poorly developed, country that offered its citizenry little. That is no longer the case, all thanks to a UK-educated young prince, Sultan Qaboos bin Said, who loved his people enough to affect real changes.
You can expect a welcoming smile everywhere you go in Oman. You may not see many of these traditional doors carved from date palm wood, however.
When we arrived in Oman in the 80s, there were only three ways you could get an Omani visa: a job, a resident friend, or an invitation from an Omani. Even then, the formalities were daunting for many would-be visitors. Thirty years on and everything has changed. Two-week tourist visas are available on arrival at airports, seaports, and land borders. Though not free – they cost 10 Omani rials or about $25 – you’re not likely to regret spending the money.
The Corniche along the Muttruh waterfront on a warm spring evening. Muttruh is the old commercial center of the capital, Muscat, which is just one cove down towards the southwest, which is behind the photographer.
I first arrived in Muscat, the Sultanate’s capital, in October, 1988, with a contract to teach English at the new Sultan Qaboos University. Fresh from six years in Saudi Arabia’s dour, sprawling capital city, Riyadh, I was amazed at the obvious differences. Although Oman was clearly not as rich as the Kingdom, it was far more liberal and laid-back. Women were not relegated to small compartments at the back of public buses; I saw no women in all-enveloping, black abayas; and women were as apt to be sitting behind the steering wheels of Toyotas or BMWs as you would men. There was no sign of women wearing niqabs, the eye-concealing scarf tied over the standard hijab as worn by Saudi and (some) Kuwaiti women. Although I did eventually see niqabs out in the much more conservative countryside, there were eye holes at least. But wherever it went, clearly, this was a different world. Indeed, it often seemed difficult to believe Oman shared a planet with Saudi Arabia let alone a border.
Muttruh, the old commercial center of Muscat, is squished between the mountain and the sea. Here, in the lower right, is the entrance to the now refurbished covered souk (market) that has been in continuous operation since the Middle Ages.
Since opening to tourism around ten years ago, Muttruh’s Covered Souk has become a favorite haunt of tourists whose cruise liners lie at anchor just minutes away. Although the shops nearest the Corniche are mostly aimed at those moneyed foreigners, go further in and you find tailors, hardware stores, bakeries, and anything else that a resident might need.
If you have a good eye and know what you’re looking for, there is still some good Beduin silver jewellery to be found in shops like this, which are otherwise filled with touristy souvenirs. The good silver is disappearing, though. Another good buy is antique amber, but you need to be able to tell the real stuff from plastic…
Fishing in Oman
The Fish Roundabout
Fishing has sustained the peoples of the Arabian Gulf for millennia, and Oman is no exception. All along the coast, hundreds of small, 20 foot fiberglass skiffs powered by (mostly) Evinrude outboard motors head out to sea in the wee hours of the morning and return to port just after sunrise. (There are no huge, commercial factory fishing vessels here.) Primarily, they are after yellowfin tuna, king fish, grouper (known locally as hamour), sardines, mackerel, and shark, but you find many other varieties, some rather exotic, for sale.
The covered fish souk (market) is a hive of activity every day except Fridays. Haggling is the rule, of course, and if you’re good at it, you can get a whole fish like these in the foreground for three bucks or so. And obviously, it couldn’t be fresher.
You don’t have to take it home and clean it yourself. Fish cleaning stations are available. For a dollar or so, these guys will clean, cut up, or filet your selection.
Parrot fish for sale! You won’t find these in your neighborhood Whole Foods seafood section.
Baby rays, anyone? I’ve seen my share of fish markets in my time, but I’ve only seen these for sale in Oman and Dubai.
Cuttlefish! I much prefer them to squid or octopus.
Sea bream, sea bass, and pomfret
Little boys and a yellowfin tuna
It’s small craft like these that are used to bring in most of Oman’s fishing catch. They rarely stray much farther than ten miles off the coast. When they’ve filled their nets, which they launch and retrieve by hand, they head back to shore. If you’re on the beach when they arrive, you can buy what you want right off the boat.
Fishermen bring in their tuna catch.
These fishermen are taking a break and playing a game of cards. (Never did find out what games they played, though.)
This old, traditional, fishing boat is made from “barasti”, the aerial roots of the mangrove. I took this shot on the beach near Sohar, the third largest city in the country located near the UAE border. It turned out to be the one and only boat of this sort that I ever saw outside of a museum.
Omani Bullfights
Among the quirkier Omani traditions is their version of bullfighting. Unlike the brutal corridas of Spain and Latin America, this version sees pairs of bulls pitted against one another. Owners place ropes around on back and one front hoof, and when a fight is started the bulls run at one another and butt heads. Whichever animal falls forward on its knees loses. Occasionally one of the bulls will pull loose and try to run off. This happened to my wife and me one time. The bull bolted and headed straight for the audience! We moved very, very quickly, let me tell ya!
Fans are mostly male.
Waiting to compete.
These guys can move much faster than you’d think…
Little boys love this event.
This is all for now. If there is interest, there are lots more photographs where these came from. Btw, the gold the girls below are wearing is all quite real — minimum 18k, the minimum quality that can be sold in the Gulf.
