Optimum Oman: Post-Getaway

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When I stepped down the congested and stuffed airplane into the dark welcoming clouds of Muscat, I knew I’m in for a treat. My light luggage helped me be brisk and avoid flip flopping down the airspace. It was midnight yet the lights everywhere were so dazzling, it almost made me believe I’m in a concert hall. We had one more flight from Muscat to Salalah, the city where you will find everything, the tourism hub of the middle-east and my starting point of the Oman tour. After reaching Salalah, I felt I had arrived in a different country. They are just one and a half hours away by flight but by skyline they seem countries apart. Salalah has a unique quiet charm of its own. The airport there, is only as big as the railway station of a remote town in India, except much cleaner and organised. As soon as I reached my place (my dad’s rented apartment), I collapsed with the jet lag on my body begging to rest.

Day 1: The next morning I opened up the curtains to experience the first sun rays in Oman, the brown stoned architecture with the even richer browned soil all around, gave not just a uniformity but a clear definition of the Arabic culture. I heard the sound of the waves and rushed to my mom excited, “Mom, you never said we stay so close by the sea”, she shook her head in confusion. I went out, only to realize, the cars there move at such high speeds without any horns or noise that it can fool you to stupid extents. I wanted to be lost in the maze of this unknown land forever to unravel its richness with my only companion, my Fujifilm SLR. I walked down the roads alone for miles, with the pleasant weather helping me stay energetic. I did not have a problem doing just about anything to get the “right shot”. Sometimes using only my senses to collect the frames my Fujifilm can’t capture like the accents with which two people were talking wearing long white robes or just listening to the roar of the monster Volvo Globetrotter pass in a wink. The whole city seemed sprayed with room fresheners for the aroma it kept offering me even from the hi-tech sewage treatment plants. It was sun down by the time I reached back. My dad had just returned from his duty and was very keen to take me to a Chinese restaurant known for its salads. It turns out that these Arabs are as much food loving people as we Indians are. I collapsed yet one more day.

Day 2: The next day was planned for sight-seeing. A car was arranged (2007, Nissan Sunny) and we started off at their usual speeds of 130 kmph – 140 kmph giving me the unusual thrills! The roads looked as if they all lead to a palace, the street lamps had a unique design from every turn and the blackness of the road shone as if they were polished everyday. As we were ascending to the first point of the dense green Dhofar region (the forest region) I kept asking the driver to stop every time I spotted a potential angle for photography, unsurprisingly my mom was already getting irated being my company, though she was amazed by the quality dive I could make in my passion making me almost numb to the world around when my Fujifilm lenses were at work. A densely fogged river, a sun bathed fort and crashing waves that had almost brought the mountains down: all seemed mouth-watering for any photographer eager to get his landscape collections tighter. I came back feeling my empty buckets of desires finally filling. The exoticness of the Arab land was truly mesmerising. Salalah had offered me all the places one would possibly like to visit in a tour, just within scores of kilometres. No wonder it turns into a honeypot for the other GCC (Gulf Co-operation Council) countries in the Kharif season (the summer months) for its soothing coolness and the wonders God has carved in the form of fresh water lakes and lush green mountains.

Day 3: Even after waking up as late as in the mid-afternoon, I dragged myself to the bathroom carrying some percentage of the previous day’s exhaustion. I decided to give myself some rest and reserved my lethargic body for a night outing. The night life in Salalah is vibrant with huge LED video hoardings on every cross roads, from children to oldies participating in football games on every corner and the sight of deliciously purring sports cars like Lamborghinis and Ferraris zooming past, becoming more frequent. For what it is worth I felt like not sleeping the whole night but keep drinking the charm of the quiet and disciplined crowds until I became sick.

Day 4: The feeling of this being the last day kept pinching me from the start, the feeling of how to make the best of it. Though not much was planned for this day, since I was left with plenty of shopping to take to my folks back in India, I was also giving very little away to keep myself in full-on mode the next day when I would be visiting Muscat. I packed plenty of fluids to keep myself hydrated under the hot sun of Muscat and few packets of Chocolate Croissants. My flight was early next morning, so we hurried back, had a Japanese style roasted fish and put ourselves to sleep.

Day 5: My return flight from Salalah to Muscat was a business class in Oman Air, offering you movies on demand and flawless mannequin British airhostess serving you in style. Taking an impression of Muscat being the 2^nd best travel destination (by Lonely Planet), I had high expectations. The over flowing European tourists in shorts and rafting boards in the airport helped me feel better about those hopes not getting broken. My dad’s friend came to pick me up at the airport in his Volkswagen Passat, which in no time got me to the starting point of my Muscat tour, the Intercontinental Hotel. I freshened up there and had a fantastic Irish coffee from Costa Coffee. The tour was organized by Big-Bus tours, a European based firm who have their branches in over 18 cities across the globe. It had an open roof bus top on the 2^nd tier with the 1^st tier being completely air conditioned. They provided me with head phones and a player which was programmed with the GPS, this kept enriching me with the history and culture about Muscat and their uniqueness as the places kept coming by. It is here I came across Peter, an elderly gentleman from London on a business trip. We talked about every possible topics two strangers can talk on, from the hopes with Modi to David Cameroon’s ties with European Union turning sour, from Audis and Beemers to how different people behave in different countries. He was such a delight to talk to, he alone made a good portion of the tour an entertaining adventure. 

After he got down, not being able take the heat, I thought, I shouldn’t be wasting any more opportunities to click whatever I could. Almost the whole of Muscat got a bit calmer as the time went deeper into the noon, everyone started retreating to their homes and drawing blinds to escape from the blistering sun. I got down at a point called the Sidab Street, since I saw a bag full of chances to photograph. With my Fujifilm round my neck and a back pack, I touched the sun kissed roads, with a bit of skepticism, about how it is going to turn into. I had to walk more than a mile down to get close to the fifty something yachts and speed boats lying deserted. I pulled up my collars, tied my face with handkerchief and covered my arms opening up my sleeves. Not having a soul around was perfect for a photographer trying to click a landscape but what I was scared of was, what if I turn into one myself. With over six 200 ml bottles of mineral water to my rescue and 3 already over I knew it was going to be a test of perseverance. I kept clicking from different angles under the scorching rays piercing through my shirt and knowing I might go down any moment. 

After 2 hours of horrendous episode of sun and pictures, I finally felt like a student rejoicing great results from 12 Grade, just the way a student wouldn’t like to take the exams again however good the results are: though I was overwhelmed with my pictures, I never wanted to go down there again, not at least under that temperature. My bus came to pick me up at the precise time and I went to the next stop. I was very unsure whether to continue my journey or call it a day, my body was against my passions, it was dog tired and so were my shoes that slowly had its sole scraping off after climbing on several untrodden rocks and mountains. But I knew, this was the only day I had since my flight back to India was at midnight. I pulled myself against everything: went up a residential building to get a sunset shot with a curved road by the sea side, climbed up a ladder of the repairmen to get a clear high shot of the road and walked another mile where the dolphin silhouette with the mountains gelled perfect.

In my final few hours in Oman, I went shopping for souvenirs to remind me of the trip that will stick by me even after Amnesia. In the duty free Muscat Airport I loved going around looking through Louis Vitton purses costing above 25k rupees and D & G tees costing above 34k rupees. But I gladly settled for a coffee that costed only 225 rupees (trust me that was the cheapest available)! With few croissants still with me from the Muscat tour and some Snickers that I bought along the way I apparently was eligible to leave Oman. When I was walking off towards the air space I knew I was not going to come back in another year at least and that stabbed my heart to the core. But like all good things, even this had to come to an end. I only had 5 days with me, but I sucked every juice out of this fruit of opportunity like a true money minding Indian. Like Peter told me just before getting down, “You know Suraj, reading will give you depth but a journey will give you horizons!” I intend to journey in my journey of life. 

(Trip Dates:14/07/2014-20/07/2014
All the pictures used in the article are clicked by me)

- Suraj Sunny (imeansuraj@gmail.com)