Forming the N/E portion of the Arabian peninsula, we are across the Gulf of Oman from Iran, and our stop at Salalah is approximately 30 miles up the coast from Yemen, neither one of which are current feel good spots for Americans. The mountains, arroyos and blue water remind us of southern Baja – I guess it’s called a desert.
Oman is also our first contact with Marco Polo country, since he stopped here, returning to Venice by sea from one of his trips to China.
Salalah is the world’s historic source of frankincense, brought to the birth of Jesus by the three kings and delivered to Zanzibar and India by early sailor/traders.
Our cabbie for the day, Noah, just became a father the previous day, adding to his children, who are 25, 24, 14 and 12.
We drove into the mountains to see Job’s tomb, crowded because it was a post Ramadan holiday.
Along the way, we passed literally hundreds of acres of a festival site, which occur annually over a month or two. By its size it must dwarf Coachella or Burning Man.
Hotel sized homes dotted the road. The size accommodates a wealthy man, his multiple wives and children.
The desert and foothills were scattered with camels, domestic and wild. They control the roads, since there are no fences.
The capital, Muscat, is a dead ringer for Indian Wells, California. Date palms, and bougainvillea, Mount Eisenhower and the Living Desert, no high-rises, just white-washed villas and green lawns – tiled palaces and mosques, with the Sultan’s two yachts bobbing in the harbor.
The current Sultan deposed his father in the 1970s and has used his oil and gas dollars to create a clean attractive capital, which has half the population of Oman.
With the exception of a few old stone forts, the development is all post 1970.
Large roads, cut through the coastal range to allow expansion of the city inland, keeping the port village, small and quaint. Inland the row of car dealerships line up, like Los Angeles, including all the exotic manufacturers.
A planned community with a planned economy, and with total iron fisted control, which results in this kind of eye candy, is almost tempting to endorse.
Lots to learn. I hope I remember with my old brain!
Photos are awesome and the cow is too skinny
I agree. The cow was foraging for food in areas that had nothing. Very sad.
😍Oh my ! What a May Day memory! What a privilege to see a place I’d never be👍🏼! Women must be fully covered?…(you w/scarf wrap…while Bill bare legged and hatless?) Do they frown upon picture taking of their religious rites? You be very brave me thinks😬! oxo
Hello. What we have learned is that in Muslim countries out of respect female tourists should cover their shoulders and knees. To go in a mosque they their hair must be covered and wear something to their wrists and ankles.
At Job’s tomb it was suggested that I cover my head but I didn’t have to be covered to my wrists and ankles.
It is recommended that men cover their knees but it is not enforced. They do not have to cover their heads.
Everyone had cameras. Our cabby told me to take photos. I specifically asked about the men praying and he said it was ok. I used my phone so it wasn’t as bold as my large camera.
Such an unbelievable trip and journey once again you are on… feel like I am there through your beautiful pictures…If you are responding to me I am still not getting anything. Can’t figure out why???? It says to log in withWorld Press or FB- I must be on one of them before but not sure which one? I have just filled out my email and it fills in my info so whatever… LOL I am such a horrific techie.. LOL
Thanks – it’s been a fun trip so far. I’m so sorry about the replies. I reply to each one. I wrote an email to the tech department complaining that you and others are not getting notifications. I’ll let you know what happens.