14 October - Jebel Shams to Nizwa

Our destination today is Nizwa, a large city that still hosts a weekly camel and goat auction. Here Bedouin men and woman wearing the traditional black mask trade livestock every Friday.

We deviate to Al Hamra, site of a long forgotten village, with crumbling clay and rock dwellings clinging to the sheer mountainside. We take the opportunity to get out the petrol guzzling Nissan Patrol and walk the 3 or 4 km’s to end of the wadi. Wadi means valley and this one like the others we have traveled so far, has sheer sided rock faces that soar skyward. 

At the end of the valley is a cool date palmed oasis were we had coffee with an Osama bin Laden impersonator and three of his sons. The tradition is to welcome people with dates and bitter Omani coffee. 

You sit around eating dates sipping boiling thimble size cups of coffee with a hint of cardamom. It is customary to drink 3 cups in quick succession, but your host will continue to pour until you return your cup and wriggle your right wrist from side to side. The sons were weaving a narrow rug, flat on the ground, in the sand. We of course wanted to buy one, but in the end decided that we would exceed our baggage allowance on the plane.

We passed through Bahla, this Unesco declared fort is under renovation. However we had found something even more difficult to get home. A pair of clay water jugs. These light beige/ochre coloured thin walled vessels are unique to the area and a wall in Pennington.

We also visited Jabreem Fort, which is similar in design and defense strategy.

A section of the ornately decorated timber ceiling, Jabreem Fort.

13 October – Muscat to Jebel Shams

The tribes of Oman have been at war for an age, so it is not surprising that the main historical sites are forts. On route we visit Nahkal Fort. Its dimly lit interior is relatively cool and being high on the hill has commanding views of the surrounding countryside.

Wherever we travel new roads, schools, medical centers and other infrastructure is being built. 

Even the smallest village has a school and medical facility. We turn off the highway and head up Wadi Bani Awf and Wadi Bilad Sayt, which winds their way through the vertical mountains. 

Work has begun in preparation for tarmac, but we still are able to enjoy the gravel roads that defy the imagination. How they built these passes I do not know, sadly the hard surface may make it easier to travel, but I can imagine the havoc that will be wrecked on the countryside in the process. 

On route we pass the Green Mountain, Jebel Akhdar the scene of  the conflict between Omani forces loyal to the Sultan (aided by British) and Saudi backed rebel forces of the inland Iman of Oman between 1957 and 1959. 

Today the area has been declared a conservation area, to protect the fragile desert ecosystem. The road continues to climb through the 300km long Al Hagar range towards our overnight stop on Jebel Shams the highest mountain in Oman. The area is known as the Arabian Grand Canyon, it is certainly impressive but does not live up to its American namesake in my opinion.

12 October – Muscat

One of 6 royal palaces, the ceremonial palace Al Alam

Just over 3 hours from Jordan, we land in a different world. Suliman our guide for the next 2 weeks, dressed in a neatly laundered dishdasha, is proud to point out that Muscat was voted the cleanest city after Singapore. This modern city has undergone a metamorphosis during the last couple of years. What is immediately obvious is that there are no high-rise buildings as the maximum height has been restricted to 4 storeys. Buildings are built between the mountains, not on them, which gives the city a very uncluttered look.

We head down to the vibrant fish market, which is clean and orderly. Each day the local fisherman return to sell their catch, which is supplemented by fish brought in from other parts of Oman. There is a staggering variety on sale.

We visit the souk, the heady aroma of frankincense wafts in the air. Clothes, perfumes, frankincense, traditional walking canes, Omani daggers and piles of silver jewellery are the main items on sale, by the Indian, Pakistani and Bangladeshi merchants.

Colourful fish and even two turtles swim in the crystal clear blue water of the harbour alongside fishing dhows and the massive bin Said yacht.

Its been 27 hours since we last slept, so within seconds of putting our heads on the pillow we are unconscious. We wake just in time to take a stroll along the corniche, which is obviously the place to be seen, with Maserati’s vying with Lamborghini’s for attention.

Mosques are central to Islam, so what better way to show the countries wealth and the benevolence of His Highness, the Sultan Qaboos, than to build a magnificently opulent Grand Mosque for the nation. 

 

With a carpet that took 400 woman four years to weave, it has 1,700,000 knots, weighs 21 tons, measures over 70 × 60 meters, and covers the 4,343 square meter prayer hall, in a single piece. 

A 14meter high, 8 ton Swarovski crystal chandelier hangs from the central dome. 

The Sultanate of Oman

Bordered by the UEA, Saudi Arabia and Yemen, Oman's capital was originally Zanzibar. His Majesty Sultan Qaboos bin Said, came into power after deposing his father in a coup in 1970 and has since transformed the country using its wealth of oil reserves. Its hard to imagine that 40 years ago there was only 600meters of tarred road as we race along the 3 lane highway towards Muscat. 

11 October – Dead Sea

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To reach the Dead Sea you need to first travel south to Aqaba, which is a tax free city on the Red Sea. By now I was used to asking directions, it was quite surreal getting the info from owners of cars registered in Palestine, Iraq, Syria and Saudi, all neighbours of Jordan.

Leaving the Red Sea, we head north again for about 200km. There is very little of note on this road, aside from one or two areas that have been cultivated. Dotted along the road are lookout posts manned by the army, I suppose the proximity to the West Bank and Israel has something to do with it.

As we descend the temperature rises until it feels like an oven and the haze created by the evaporating sea comes into view. I must say the Dead Sea is a lot bluer than I had imagined and the Red Sea not as red (only joking).

We had a reservation at the RJCN chalets, but they looked pretty rundown and they said we needed to wait until 3 to check in, so we headed towards the Dead Sea Hotels. We decided to use Lorna’s birthday as an excuse and splurge on the brand new 5 star Jordan Dead Sea Royal Crowne. 

Now I am not one for these fancy, glitzy places, but we really enjoyed the luxury and pampering that you can only get at these types of ‘joints’. They even carried our towels and complimentary water down the beach to our waiting sun recliners.

Swimming in the Dead Sea, or more accurately bobbing like a cork is a rather strange feeling, like bouncing on a bungy cord. Its impossible to fully submerge yourself in the oily water, actually as soon as you lift your legs, you end up floating on the surface. 

We had to try smearing ourselves with the famed Dead Sea mud. We will probably get bilharzia before it cures everything is purported to. 

Like all the Rift valley lakes, the Dead Sea is shrinking. The water level has already dropped by 30 meters and continues to recede by a meter a year, due to the damming of the River Jordan, the huge demand for water by all the massive hotels and the potash industry. They reckon that unless something is done the Dead Sea will dry up within 50 years.

We started our final day in Jordan, eating Norwegian Salmon and fresh croissants and then lazed besides the pool and had a final mud pack, before heading out to the airport to wait ……….. for our 1am flight to Muscat.

10 October – Wadi Rum

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The Jordanians pride themselves as being honest, so when the petrol jockey ripped me at the garage, I was pissed, especially as when I filled the tank the first time, I got the impression they wanted me to pay the litre amount instead of the lesser Dinar amount, but I was not sure. On this occasion they started filling without zeroing the meter. The attendant stood in front of the pump and started speaking rubbish. On complaining he handed me back probably half of what he stole. The amount was small, but I was cross for getting stung and because we have really enjoyed not having to look over our shoulders the whole time. I suppose there is always one to mess it up for everyone.

We met our Bedouin guide, Abdullah and headed out into the desert in his square shaped Landcruiser station wagon (Two models earlier than ours, but as strong as ever). 

The Rum Mountains rise literally vertically out of the flat sand plains. It was interesting to see that some walls of rock were flat, as if built or cut by man. We can only imagine that similar walls of rock formed the basis of some of the tomb facades we had seen at Petra. 

Some looked like those sand castles we used to make on the beach or wax from a candle that has dripped down a bottle. 

Many of the rocks have engravings on them that have been attributed to the Nabetaens. We were in our element, enjoying the peace and silence that you can only experience in places like these.

The Bedouin are proud desert people, living a nomadic lifestyle to find water and grazing for their herds. 

As with indigenous people all over the world, many have given up the old ways and moved to the city. I suppose its hard to blame them, life must be pretty tough in the desert. 

Abdullah’s father is one of only 7 families still living in Wadi Rum, but it takes the financial support of his children to allow him to continue.

Over lunch, which was spread out on a canvas sheet on the ground, Abdullah answered our questions about Bedouin life and the changes he has experienced. We detected a yearning to return, but the world has moved on……

As the sun dipped in the sky and the colors changed to burnt orange, Abdullah lit a small fire and brewed sweet sage tea. 

We sat in silence each with our own thoughts until the last rays retreated below the horizon. As we were leaving he gave me a headscarf I had admired earlier, telling me to think of the Bedouin’s desert when I wore it. The cynic in me may have attributed it as a ploy to increase his tip, but I got the feeling the gift was sincere.

Dinner consisted of chicken, potatoes and other veg that had been cooked in a hole in the ground, and then covered by a blanket and sand. Maybe it was the place, but it was the best meal we had had in Jordan.

We had a cold night in a tent made of coarse, rough camel hair. So cold that Lorna and I ended up in the one single bed, sharing our blankets and body heat.

All too quickly it was time to leave, we set out on foot leaving Abdullah to pick us up later in his old Cruiser.

Laurence of Arabia's house