6

I

t’s twilight in Seeb, an old fishing town on

the outskirts of Muscat, and the souk is back

in business. Evening prayer has ended, and

men in dishdashas and kuma caps gather

and stroll among the stalls. Pyramids of dried

anchovies and prawns and trays of glistening

cuttlefish vie for attention with bags of dried limes and

fragrant cardamom, jars of golden ghee and masses of

local dates. We’re offered a cluster of pale fresh dates

still on the stem. They’re crunchy, astringent, with no

more than a hint of sweetness.

There’ll be plenty more to try during our

adventure in the Sultanate of Oman, from the

capital hugging the serene shores of the Arabian Sea

to the jagged peaks of the Al Hajar mountains, and

then south, following bone-dry frankincense trade

routes, to the incongruously lush and tropical coast

of Dhofar. Dates are not just a staple in Oman, used

in cooking and turned into vinegar and syrup for

marinades and curries; they’re the flavour of Omani

hospitality, offered as an essential accompaniment to

conversation and spiced tea or coffee during almost

every encounter, no matter how casual.

Oman is an exceedingly hospitable place, but it

wasn’t always so. The fabled home of the Queen of

Sheba existed in isolation until relatively recently,

largely undeveloped. Until 1970, the city gates of

Muscat were closed at dusk and a curfew imposed.

That was before the palace coup, when Sultan Qaboos

bin Said, the current monarch, overthrew his father

and ushered in a new era, spending the spoils of oil

discovered in the mid-1960s on infrastructure and

opening the nation to the world.

The oil rush could have turned ugly, but instead

the Omanis have managed to embrace modernity

and maintain a strong sense of their heritage.

The magical Chedi Muscat, set on the beachfront

overlooking the Gulf of Oman, beautifully embodies

this synthesis of old and new. The engaging doormen

wear formal traditional dress: white, ankle-length

dishdasha, turban and a khanjar, the short, hook-shaped

ceremonial dagger worn tucked under the belt. And

while the design is contemporary, the resort has a

bewitching air of the exotic. The almost blindingly

white suites are scattered through eight and a half

hectares of tranquil gardens and decorative pools,

where domed pagodas are likely to be occupied

by dishdasha-clad guests tapping on laptops. Inside, the

suites have arabesque touches in metal fretwork lamps

and sculptural sunken stone baths, and that famed

hospitality comes in the form of decanters of gin, vodka

and whisky, along with plates of fresh fruit, jars of nuts

• and dates, of course.
  On a Saturday night our guides, Issa and Ahmed,
  take us downtown to eat like locals. Muscat is a low-
  slung city bound by the sea on one side and mountains
  on the other, its white and sand-coloured buildings
  no higher than eight storeys by royal decree. Where
  Oman’s flashy neighbours Dubai and Abu Dhabi
  are forests of high-rises, here the Islamic identity is
  maintained, most buildings bearing Arabic flourishes
  and the broad streets lined with curlicued streetlights.
  Beside a small mosque in the Ministries District,
  a café called simply Tea House is the go-to for Oman’s
  crêpe-like flatbread, khubz rakhal. It’s folded over
  savoury fillings such as cheese and egg, or a combination
  of the two with chips, then grilled, and served along
  with frothy karak tea, enriched with condensed milk
  and saffron. The tables are full, inside and out, and
  waiters ferry takeaway orders on trays to a constant
  procession of cars that pull up outside.
  Closer to the corniche we try mishkak, the
  popular grilled skewers of various meats and seafood
  sold on the streets. Trucks and vans congregate on
  roadsides all around the city at dusk, and the drivers
  set up makeshift grills, illuminated by humming
  generator-powered lights. We juggle sticks of grilled
  beef and lamb, doused with spicy tamarind or chilli
  sauce, and watch the parade of pimped-up cars cruise
  by. It’s Saturday night, after all.
  Like many Omanis, Issa is proud of what his
  country has achieved in less than 50 years. In 1994, he
  tells us, Omani women became the first in the Gulf
  region to be given the right to vote and to stand in➤

PREVIOUS

PAGES The town

of Birkat Al Mawz

at the foot of the

Jabal Akhdar

range, Oman.

Left: a mishkak

vendor near the

Seeb souk in

Muscat. Far left:

prayer time

at Muscat’s

Grand Mosque.

GOURMET TRAVELLER 129