I filled a bit of time on Friday evening by visiting the main souk in Mutrah, a sprawling maze of alleyways lined with small shops selling everything from gold jewellery, exotic perfumes, colourful garments and shawls, cardamon coffee, real and replica khanjars (daggers) and all manner of antiques, artifacts and tat for passing tourists. The souk has a main entrance on the corniche where most visitors make the mistake of buying their trinkets and paying double or treble the usual price. The trick is to keep walking, taking a few lefts and rights before you start shopping. I did not bring my camera as I would be charged more so there are no photos for now.
After a long wander through the alleyways I found a row of four Frankincense shops, their elderly Omani owners sat outside looking thoroughly bored. I entered the first one and, after some bargaining, purchased a kilo of Frankincense, charcoal, two small clay pots and a miniature blowtorch for all of 8 rials and 500 basers (about £12). At the rate I am burning it my supply will last a good few months. Either way it does a good job of covering up the smell of curry in the house, my main staple since moving here. And it beats buying those preposterously expensive candles and diffusers you find in John Lewis; for the price of one candle you can purchase 5 kilos of the stuff. So if any wise men happen upon the birth of a new prophet, it is no longer an option for impressing the mother!
On Saturday I woke up to a scorching hot day. Summer has arrived, albeit the intense humidity has not yet taken hold. I decided to drive south east towards the coastal town of Quriyat, about 30 kilometres further down the coast from As Sifah (but only accessible from the main coastal road). The carriageway is an impressive feat of engineering, winding its way across several valleys before meeting a barren plain, passing through the sprawling town of Al Hajar, and then following the edge of the impassable mountains which stretch for 50 kilometres east from Muscat along the coast.
After an hour I spotted some brown signs (tourist site) for "Wadi Dayqah Dam" and decided to take a look. The road cut across a few ridge lines before the huge concrete structure came into view, towering over the nearby town of Al Mazara. The dam was about 80 metres high and 400 metres across with water tumbling down the face. At the bottom of the dam local people were cooling off in the water (it was 43 degrees), whilst the more adventurous were scaling up the dam and sitting on the steps.
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| Wadi Dayqah Dam |
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| One way to cool off. |
Since the dam was completed it has became a major tourist attraction and boasts a large car park, visitor centre, restaurant and helipad. I saw a few Government Officials and some visiting Saudi and Emirati nationals (you can tell by number plates and / or dress) whilst I was there. In one of the driest countries on earth the sight of a blue freshwater lake surrounded by mountains draws large crowds, old and young generations alike. Despite advances in technology and increasing numbers of desalinisation plants, water is still of great importance to people across Oman and Arabia, especially many rural communities still dependent on the ancient natural Falaj systems for their irrigation. The coming of rain is still much anticipated even if it is just a passing shower. I think the complete opposite can be said of my home country.
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| The resulting lake stretches 6km back through the wadi. |
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| An oasis of date palms fills the valley close to Al Mazara. |
I left Wadi Dayqah and headed north to Quriyat. At 1530 in the afternoon the town was empty, apart from the hundreds of tired goats hogging every available spot in the shade. I eventually found a small dishevelled cafe where I ordered a chicken sandwich and orange juice. I regretted the decision after the owner spent half an hour dissecting dozens of oranges and carefully removing bread crusts. From there I decided to head back, although I ended up taking a wrong turning and following a windy (and very fun) mountain top road which eventually met up with the main carriageway. When I arrived back in Muscat I stopped by Ruwi district to catch the sunset. Between 1830 - 1900 the whole valley lights up as numerous calls to Maghrib prayers from the mosque loudspeakers echo over the rooftops.
Once prayers were over everybody hit the shops and I spent another half hour stuck in the chaotic traffic out of Ruwi. Unlike the chicken sandwich, I didn't regret it for seeing sunset.
