Getting out of tricky situations isn't easy. But along the way, I get to hang out with princesses (they never wear their crowns), camel jockeys (literally!) and famous (well at least quasi-famous) people...all for the love of media and travel.
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Showing posts with label Sultanate of Oman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sultanate of Oman. Show all posts
Some of the greatest characters in history were all wrapped up in their obsession with whales. Ahab chased one. Jonah was swallowed by one. Pinocchio lit a fire inside one to escape. Nowadays, millions of people worldwide congregate on shore or hop on a boat just to see one.
Bird-watching aside, the Middle East is not particularly known for its wildlife, so an invitation to join an Omani whale watching expedition filled me with more curiosity than anticipation.
We sat eagerly, meandering through the deep, calm Arabian Sea. Gentle waves meeting the sides of our boat made the only sounds the warm day provided. Anticipation for the performance to begin was unusually high. The world’s largest sopranos, obscured in the dark shadows of the sea, are masters at making their audience feel suspense. At the height of tension, a deep sudden chord resonates mournfully through the water. Below us, the opera of the humpback whale has commenced.
Graceful and magnificent, humpback whales inspire awe in young and old alike. These gentle giants are celebrated for their singing abilities, belting out seductive ballads to attract mates or to challenge other would-be suitors.
But they also have other talents. Their distinctive hunting skill, called bubble net feeding, involves a cluster of humpbacks working together to capture schools of herring. Each whale has a particular role in the process: one whale swims in a circle while blowing bubbles under a school of herring. When the bubbles rise, the school of herring cannot escape, and they form into a tight ball in the center. Other whales vocalize—groaning or screaming—to scare the herring to the surface, and that’s when the whales then climb with their mouths wide open to swallow the fish.
We’re spending the day on a traditional 93-foot sailing dhow (boat) that is reminiscent of those that once carried sailors and spices across the Indian Ocean. With two masts shaped from massive tree trunks, sails that hang from long curved booms, and high teak sides, the dhow makes for a smart and stylish vessel from which to observe the action. Today’s concert is mesmerizing, with few of us speaking and all of us leaning over the side of the dhow.
Just like some of those star-studded Arabian Nights concerts in Las Vegas, the whales’ songs last up to thirty minutes with the embellishments you expect from master jazz musicians, who use late nights to improvise their way to genius.
Our tour guide is Badr Al Qadr, a rugged, seasoned fisherman, who is the best-kept secret in the region. “Humpbacks have a unique sound that differs from other whaling populations,” he explains. “Only the males sing, so we know there’s a larger male down there. It’s breeding season, so most likely they are looking for mates rather than looking for food.
“Singing establishes a hierarchy among male humpbacks,” he continues. “Singing breaks out among migrating whales as they start to mix and continues not just in their breeding grounds, but to attract mates even during the feeding season.”
The five Al Hallaniyah islands, aka the Kuria Murias, are remotely located in the Arabian Seas and are only rarely visited due to often rough waters. Their seclusion helped make them an asylum for wildlife including dolphins, masked boobies, turtles and our operatic humpbacks.
It must be intermission because the singing has given way to dancing as the whales perform a few classic moves: puffs of wet air spouting 10-15 feet from their blowholes; fluking—when their powerful split tails rise from the water in preparation for a dive; spy hopping—when a whale pops its head above water for a quick look; and breaching—when they launch their entire bodies out of the water for a dramatic but lumbering belly flop.
As if on cue, the acrobatics end and the concert renews with highly structured songs that include multiple themes that are repeated and even seem to rhyme. Soon, I’ll return to Oman’s bustling capital of Muscat, but today we’re alone with the creatures that inhabit the deep blue waters, enjoying a whale of a time at this opera.
The Media Guy grabs his sack of mail...Well, I resisted and resisted; but no longer. The mailbox is full and
alas, people need answers. So, without fanfare, here are genuine emails from my
irreverent readers.
Q: My wife and I spent the last three weeks trying to figure out which
airline you flew that would only have one passenger in business class and not
upgrade the rest of economy so the meals wouldn’t go to waste. I observed that Daniella,
dressed in that green scarf, looked like a career runway model that could still
bring the heat. After much discussion, we created a game: Most Probable
Professions for Flight Girl Daniella if She Hadn't Become a Flight Attendant.
After discussing some possibilities (most likely: Heather Locklear’s
advertising executive nemesis in the third reboot of Melrose Place), we decided
on "First Grade Teacher." Our minds went wild at the thought of FG
Daniella bitching and moaning about not getting paid for parent conferences
before 8:00 A.M. because she doesn’t get paid before the first bell and her
classroom doors are still open, then berating the class about the time it takes
her to pour milk at snack time. But dear God, FG Daniella gets the ultimate
pass because as my wife, the librarian, said “I bet she’s up for kissing me.”
—Jay M., Las Vegas, NV
Adam Ant's Librarian
MG: Do you have any idea how many sleepless nights that Jay M. from Sin
City caused me? Too many, that’s how many. Why? Because I just spent the last three
days imagining the Adam Ant librarian aka Jay’s wife and Daniella locking lips
in business class. Then, I imagined her and Heather Locklear in a
typical Melrose catfight. However you slice it, I’m bringing this to my agent
next week for script development.
Q: I really can’t explain why J.C. Penney decided to go with Ron Johnson
as their CEO, robbing America of the almighty orgasmic pleasures of the Super
Sunday Sales. It’s almost as if he were a plant from Penney’s competitors
designed to bring down the retail giant. Half the fun of shopping there was
rolling out with 22 coupons and mixing and matching them just to “save” $31
dollars. How did he go this long without being on Retail Magazine’s most hated
list? They need to bring back the coupons and the sales. This must be on your
to-do list in your first month as the Ambassador of Sanity for J.C. Penney’s
corporate headquarters.
—Salma Q., Torrance, CA
MG: Although Penney’s hasn't bothered to pick up the phone yet, I think
you hit on something because Corporate Ambassador of Sanity sounds like a
fantastic consulting road show. I could cruise from city to city, company to
company listening to their brilliant marketing and media ideas for 2013 and
2014. Have you seen some of the bright ideas that flew past us during the last
twelve months? The London Olympic Games logo? Quiznos’ disfigured, singing
rodents campaign? Sony's synergy campaign? Sprint featuring CEO Dan Hesse in
their TV ads? All of these companies need an Ambassador of Sanity. Yeah, I’m
getting excited already.
Q: I’m wondering how Chris Brown keeps getting chance after chance with
a suddenly forgiving media who is dying to give him a pass for beating on
Rihanna and women in general with his insane actions. Is it because she’s a
party animal that can’t seem to get out of her own way socially or is there
really something redeeming?
—Samantha J., Kansas City, MO
MG: First and foremost, everyone simply loves a train wreck. Chris
Brown certainly qualifies for that. He also certainly meets rule #2 in the
Media Guy Mandates for a Great Story: HARM. Harm includes violence, damage,
dying, scandals and blood/guts. Perhaps the real reason rests in the Fear
Factor rule whereby the media is afraid a Chris-Brown-type will show up at
their front door to pick up one of their daughters for a nice evening on the
town. This is where you already want to know what a maniac-in-sheep’s-clothing
looks like while he’s promising to get her home well before curfew. Experience
means everything!
Q: There's no more underestimated story line in 2013 than
hypersensitivity. Coca-Cola is racist. Ikea is has (trans)gender issues. Just a
little while back we were patting ourselves on the back about racial and gender
equality and everyone getting along. Everyone thought political incorrectness
was washed up, but all of the sudden it made a comeback and the media has been
all over it. Are we desperate for stories or should we be worried?
—Jordan Smith, Kansas City
MG: Holy mackerel, I didn’t realize how many groups were in an uproar
about the media game already in 2013. The IKEA ad features a Thai man and his
girlfriend shopping. But when she sees pillows sale and get excited, her
decidedly female voice goes soprano on us sending her shocked boyfriend off
running. The ad has riled a Thai transgender group, who calls the ad
"negative and stereotypical" and sprinkled in "a gross violation
of human rights" for good measure. A Thai transgender group seems pretty
niche in the grand scheme of things but then again, I missed sensitivity
training for this particular segment of the population which mosts likely
totals 0.0000001% of the world’s population.
The new Coca-Cola Super Bowl ad has angered Arab-Americans because it
features an Arab leading a camel caravan through the desert.
Warren David, president of the American-Arab Anti-Discrimination
Committee, says "Why is it that Arabs are always shown as either oil-rich
sheiks, terrorists or belly dancers?" Coke says the ad characters are a
"nod to movies of the past."
My take?
I’ve worked with David in the past and
he is right, because the shepherds leading the caravans look something like this:
True story: I took these pictures in Oman a few years back. The shepherd
in the truck was angrier than those lecturing Coca-Cola about their perceived racism. Why? Because I drove in
between his line of camels and messed up their forward progression. Later, we
burned some Frankincense at the Salalah Hilton and all was better. Perhaps Coke should call me to be the shepherd actor next time.
So what’s the lesson to be learned? Better focus test your commercial
to the groups you are showcasing in your ads because you want their stamp of
approval before the fit hits the shan. Then again, perhaps all of the extra
publicity Coke and IKEA are getting from these spots is worth the hassle to
offend underserved ethnic and gender groups. All I know if that this meets rule
#3 in the Media Guy Mandates for a Great Story: CONTROVERSY. Where there’s
controversy, there’s a reporter looking to file a last minute news story. When
you can dream up a controversy, you can virtually guarantee some juicy buzz in
the media.
Twinkies: Yippie-keye-ay!
Q: Not since Reginald VelJohnson rattled off Twinkies’ to John McClane in
Die Hard [sugar-enriched flour, partially hydrogenated vegetable
oil...polysorbate 60... and yellow dye number five] have I longed for a late
night tastes of the golden crème-filled cakes. Will they ever grace the shelves
at Winn-Dixie again?
—Emily-Mae L., Auburn, AL
Q: Sometimes I wake up in a cold
sweat with Ghostbusters’ Dr. Egon Spengler explaining the enormity of the threat facing
New York: "Let's say this Twinkie represents the normal amount of
psycho-kinetic energy in the New York area; according to this morning's sample,
it would be a Twinkie 35 feet long weighing approximately 600 pounds"…
What would this analogy be without the mighty Twinkie? Sign my petition to
bring them back.
—Robert H., Anaheim, CA
How about that 600 pounder?
Q: I feel like Woody Harrelson in Zombieland, searching for the last
Twinkie on Earth. I guess they did have an expiration date. Help!
—Brenda J., Istanbul, Turkey
MG: Never fear, Hostess has let the robber barons into their bakery nest.
Hostess has picked a joint offer from two investment firms — Metropoulos &
Co. and Apollo Global Management LLC — as the lead bid to bring back the
Twinkies and its other snack cakes in a $410 million bid. According to MSN
Money, Twinkies pulled in about $76.2 million, Hostess Donuts brought in $384.6
million and CupCakes brought in $138.1 million during Hostess’s final year.
That’s a lot of calories. Speaking of which…
Q: Nice feature on Ray Lewis right before my Ravens made Tom Brady look
like a deer in the headlights a couple of Sundays ago. Are you taking the Ravens
in the Super Bowl?
—Joe J., Las Vegas
Q: I suppose you’ll be in Florida this Sunday covering the Super Bowl,
right braggard?
—Phillip O., Cleveland, OH
Q: No blogs on the 2013 Oscars, eh? Did they ban you for your
debauchery at the after parties?
—Sandra, K.., Toronto
MG: I am betting on Ray, but not the Ravens on Sunday. There’s a Las
Vegas proposition bet where you pick who has more: Ray Lewis tackles or Kobe
Bryant assists on Super Bowl Sunday. I’m going with Lewis tackles, but the
49ers prevailing 34-19. As far as going to the Super Bowl, I am a no show. I
didn’t even apply for credentials. I’ll be at home analyzing the new ads. I am
unsure whether to tweet about them (Media Guy Twitter handle = @marketingvip)
in real time though. One thing I hope to never miss is the Oscars. I’ll be
there on the red carpet for the second year in a row and blog about it then.
Hopefully, I’ll be stealth enough to bypass security and have a talk with
Angelina Jolie about this screenplay I wrote that is perfect for her (hint,
hint Ms. Jolie).
Q: I read somewhere that sex lasts only about five minutes on average
and burns only 20 calories. Why doesn’t that get more press?
—Dianne R., Toluca Lake, CA
MG: Reminds me of being seventeen all over again. Did your survey
mention the age parameters? The regions of the country or world the data was
pulled from? Male vs. Females? These are important factors in the potential
decline of sexuality in the States. I did find a reference to a 1984 survey with similar stats. I’m hoping things have improved for the women of the world. Which
reminds me that we don’t cover sex enough in The Media Guy Struggles. Why? I’m
not sure since SEX meets rule #6 in the Media Guy Mandates for a Great Story.
Note to self: more sex. (And who can argue with that?)
Q: Did the CEO of Taco Bell call you yet? Is that why their strategy is
giving free churros? Maybe you should call him.
—Nala Z., Ft. Myers, FL
MG: Who can argue with the new spots? The ad made its debut on YouTube a
few days ago and has over 200,000 views with the January 18th teaser
being watched 500,000 plus times. CEO Greg Creed seemed to be riding high with Cantina
Bell, the new Taco Bell “Live Mas” tagline and the Spanish version of “We Are
Young”. That being said, I still think Mr. Creed should ring my phone.
Q: Beyoncé lip synced? Good or bad for the brand?
—Simon S., Winston-Salem, NC
MG: Nothing can derail the Mrs. Jay-Z train. She’s unstoppable and
there is no reason this should have been a continuing story because besides
having the kind of generational beauty that most of us can only wish for, there
is one thing she can do without question and that’s sing circles around anyone.
Whitney lip synced at the Super Bowl and her rendition hit #1 on the charts
soon thereafter. Beyoncé is much bigger that Whitney ever was.
Q: What are you going to do with “The Voice” now that Christina
Aguilera has been replaced with Shakira?
—Jon M., Oklahoma City, OK
MG: I deleted my Season Pass on The Dish.
Q: Do you think Christina Aguilera caused Hillary Clinton to pass out?
—Josephine P., Kuala Lampur
MG: Very much a possibility.
Q: Any truth that our favorite diva Miss Aguilera stepped aside to
spend time with the Media Guy?
—Stephanie C., Manchester, England
MG: Uh, no comment.
Q: There were two typos when you initially posted your last column. Who’s
proofing your columns.
—Nadia W., Tucson, AZ
MG: Sorry, Monica is on vacation.
Q: You nailed it in your Valentine’s Day column, it’s ruining the
office. Any more tips to help out here?
—Marc W., Wichita, KS
MG: I reached back to Ernest Quansah who told me that the brain’s
feel-good “love” chemical – oxytocine – usually increases when women are
presented with novel activities, beyond those established and preferred
routines. He says to abandon old traditions and do something to sweep her off
her feet with these five steps:
Before the big day, drive her wild with anticipation by telling her
that you have the most amazing surprise for her. This promise will keep her
guessing and make her think about your evening.
Know her favorite flowers. If you don’t, don’t panic. You can find
out by making a comment, like “I’ve noticed plants blooming early this year …”
and steer the conversation from there. In a beautiful vase, arrange an exotic
bouquet and hide it somewhere in your home on the special day. She’ll like that
you created the presentation.
Go to your local chocolate shop and select her favorite kinds of
chocolate. Have it boxed and nicely wrapped to prevent her from knowing what it
is when you present the chocolates to her.
Create a dish and name it after her. For example, if her name is
Anne, you might call the dish “Tournedos Princess Anne.” This step is the most
important. I can assure you that after having spent time in some top-notch
restaurants, food that is named after a person is a special honor. We all know
how women love it when their men do the cooking. What I do is cut and precook
the vegetables, and I even make the sauce beforehand to make sure I get it as
perfect as I can. Leave everything in the fridge. Then, on Valentine’s Day, I
set the table before I start the cooking part. On both plates, place a fresh
RED ROSE. The single rose is just part of making her think that that is all the
flowers she will be getting (but we know differently). When she gets home, make
sure to get her to promise you that she’ll stay out of the kitchen. Tell her
not to spoil the surprise!
When everything is ready, plate the food, cover it and take it to
the dining table, and then ask her to come and sit. Before you uncover the lid,
have her close her eyes. Retrieve the hidden bouquet, place the flowers on the
table, and ask her to open her eyes. Pay attention to how she responds. Tell
her what you’ve named the dish. But that’s not all – after the meal, take her
by the hand, walk her to the living room and sit her down. Bring out the boxed
chocolate, go on one knee and tell her, “This is for you,” or, “You make me
feel whole,” or, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world and I love
you.”
Remember, you don’t have to know why this works...only that it does
work.
Q: The Bachelor – how do you see Sean navigating the insane women he
has on his hands?
—Kimberly G., Dallas
MG: There are some crazies this season. Poor Sean. I promise a separate
column next week with a recap and my vision to how it all plays out.
Q: I think we all know your love of Angelina Jolie – of course in a
non-stalker, yet borderline stalkerish way – but seriously, do you need help
distracting Brad Pitt while you try to talk her up at the Oscars? My bestie is
a dead ringer for Jennifer Aniston and has a similar crush on Mr. Moneyball.
Any affinity to forming a partnership to get what you both want? You can email
me at any time.
—Brooke Y., West Hollywood, CA
MG: Yes Virginia…these are the reader friends of the Media Guy Struggles.
“He who never made a mistake never made a discovery. ”
I love this quote quite frankly; it says it all. I hope this past weekend, I didn't make a mistake with my forthcoming book.
In the weeks after two wildly lucky winners in Missouri and Arizona divvied up the $600 million Powerball jackpot, I found myself enviously pondering, as I tore up two my December Starbucks allowance, what I would do if I woke up one day with an extra $300 million in the piggy bank. While I was doing that I received this email:
From: maggie, the book editor assistant [mailto:xxxx@xxxxxxxxxxxxx.com] Sent: Wednesday, January 9, 2013 1:17 PM To: 'Michael Lloyd' Subject: RE: Lloyd Book Changes #41 Michael, Happy New Year! Just hung up with Amazon and we are awaiting Landscapes to go to press. I know we’ve asked for an interminable amount of changes, but we need to shorten the six weeks we gave you to bring it all to final AND we need the new layout by Jan. 25th. Get back to me when you can and, uhm, no pressure, Maggie
Well, happy new years to you too, Maggie! When you get an email like that, what’s a Media Guy to do? I mean, I was still planning what to do with my first hundred mil... I’m fairly certain that ]I would not have poured it Lakers season tickets or JCPenney stock — my first order of business might have been finding a Westwood apartment with a few bedrooms, and maybe donating ten million or so to charity. But now I just had to get to work. I sequestered myself away from humanity and whacked my 250-page Landscapes of Life tome down to under a hundred pages. Really taking a book like this from 160 photos down to 90 was akin to choosing which of your children you love the most.
The new book cover designed by Anna Aladadyan.
I guess it could have been worse. Take a look at who didn’t make the cut elsewhere:
Anyway, I bring this up to honor five of my favorite photos that didn't make the cut for the book. Without further ado…
5. RAZI. When you see images from the Middle East and similar places in Afghanistan and India, women are often depicted as rights deficient thirsty from the parched climate of domineering men whom seek to enslave their every whim: No shoes. Six to 10 children in tow, once always attached to the hip. Each woman with the same "help me" look sewn into her face. Razi, shown here, explores the beauty that multiplies from within. The picture seems to show her emerging from a cocoon ready to embrace the world and have it embrace her back. Her expression emotes innocent confidence and traces of power that we hope will be realized along with her dreams.
4, ABANDONED. Living in the bigger cities typically doesn't give you the access to large areas that lack the residue of human activity. While traveling in Salalah, such a place exists near what would be the equivalent of prime beach real estate in Malibu. These hand-built row of ancient tract homes still stood tall, yet uninhabited as if they were resistant to the atomic bomb that surely must have detonated here. The area begged for answers. Who lived here? How did they live? What would make an entire town move en force?
3. THE LONG MARCH. On my way to Wadi Rum, the desert run where Lawrence of Arabia led the Arab Revolt, I spotted these two Bedouin trekking forward. I love the way they are walking while a truckload of people move past them; two generations of transportation dueling in opposite directions. The questions loom: How long was their trek? Where were they going? How hot were they in their black abayas on a hot desert afternoon?
2. NORIAS OF HAMA.The water wheels of Syria, aka Norias, have been delivering water to Hama for centuries. They also deliver a soul crushing sound that haunts the ears in a way that no other architecture ever has. Take a listen here.
1. THE MAN OF PALMS.By far my favorite picture that, alas, didn't make the cut. The Yemani man in his traditional dress sat in this single spot for hours. He was there when I left to visit an abandoned fort. He was there when I came back for lunch. He was there when I ventured out the next morning. Same position. Same happy-go-lucky look on his leather face. He never seemed to move and was more part of the botanical surroundings than the palms he sat among.
With that bittersweet countdown behind me, I now hand of my book to the acclaimed Los Angeles designer An Na who will turn the images and descriptions that did make the cut into a work of art.
In the southeast corner of Arabia lies the Sultanate of Oman, a charming blend of the old and new. Near its capital in Muscat is one of the most amazing sites: immense sandstone citadels that were carved naturally from the wind and have petrified over the last four centuries to remain in nearly the same form you would have seen in the 17th century.
Here I am, rocked you like a hurricane
Here I am, rocked you like a hurricane
My body is burning
It starts to shout
Desire is coming
It breaks out loud
Lust is in cages
Till storm breaks loose
Just have to make it
With someone I choose
The night is calling
I have to go
The wolf is hungry
He runs the show
He’s licking his lips
He’s ready to win
On the hunt tonight
For love at first sting
When I was a kid, occasionally Leonard Nimoy’s mug would pop onto my Sunday evening television and take me to a world of unsolved mysteries with strange and unusual occurrences. In his 22-episode “In Search of” series, he looked at places and situations that defied explanation and understanding—Bigfoot, Stonehenge, UFOs—and provided "a possible explanation for the phenomenon being examined.” Since then, I’ve been on my own search for people, places and cultures that challenged the norm.
Something away from the coastal lifestyles and experiences that defined my own existence in the boroughs of New York, Seattle’s waterfront, and the suburbs of Los Angeles. Often when I am cooped up in my office, I do what millions of other vacation-bound travelers do: search for the magical place, loved by Mother Nature, untouched by Father Time and not ruined by tourism that tramples the land and disrupts the atmosphere.
I stumbled across a webcam on a weather Internet site showing live feeds from Muscat in Oman. This particular camera is perched above a white sand beach on the southeast coast of the Arabian Peninsula just a stone’s throw from the United Arab Emirates. I clicked on to see the morning sun rising above the calm of the Gulf of Oman and the beautiful palms that line the beachscape. The day’s earliest risers take a stroll with their morning coffee, while others kayak in the calm waters.
It is easy enough to place myself across 12 hours of time zones and conjure the emotional pleasure of breathing pure air and then donning a dishdasha—aka the national dress for Omani men,as I head off to work. It is a simple ankle-length gown with long sleeves; a muzzar—a turban of finely woven cotton fabric wrapped around an embroidered cap known as kummar; and comfortable leather sandals.The Oman I’ve come to know is not some repressed society where women are bottled up and illiterate or where dirt paths serve as infrastructure. It is the vision of His Majesty Sultan Qaboos Bin Said, who took power nearly 40 years ago from his father. Oman now stands as a picture of peace and prosperity. Forty years ago, this country’s outlook wasn’t as bright. It was a medieval land where the twentieth century barely infringed upon daily life. With only three continuous kilometers of paved highway in the entire country, talk was more about the civil war in the south and countrywide tribal tension than how Oman could recapture its stature as the primary and historic seaport in the region and capitalize on its treaties and trade agreements with Great Britain and the United States. In 1970, its single major hotel, the Muscat Intercontinental, was known as the “hotel in the desert,” surrounded for as far as you could see with nothing but desert. There were 3 schools with 900 students, and now there are 1,000 schools with 65,000 students—over 50 percent of which are women. Indeed, it’s not His Majesty’s father’s Oman.
The Sultanate now belongs to this visionary ruler, who saw and understood the intrinsic value of 2,700 kilometers of coastline. I find it ironic that Dubai and all of its well deserved publicity is derived from manufacturing over 1,000 kilometers of beach to add to its coastline and to build its man-made islands and marinas when Oman possesses so much coastline. All of it (it seems) uncommercialized and sublime. Oman is the direct opposite of capitalistic Dubai, in touch with its heritage, now progressing naturally and all the while happy for it.
When I arrived in late summer, with my wife, I came there to find myself like some wayward worker, worn from the rat race of meetings, memos and blackberries. I felt the grind and needed a total reversal and found it my first morning.
Now I walk along Boushar beachfront where the crystal Gulf waters mirror images of glorious mountain ranges, creating an oasis of mysticism and luxury. The magic I was searching for surges through me, taking over as if being drawn again by one of those clever Pixar animators. We’re greeted by passersby with the all-purpose, ahlan wa salan! (welcome). I return the greeting without thinking, as if I’ve said it all my life.
Although a lot has changed since 1970, that welcoming hospitality remains despite growing tourism, mainly from Germany, Great Britain and Australia. “It’s good that more people are coming,” says Saif Hamad, owner of a small shop in the Old Muttrah Souk. Oman’s oldest souk is reminiscent of Cairo’s Grand Bazaar, except that the frenzied negotiation and cajoling is practiced by experts in Egypt. Here old world charm hugs you and invites you to shop and experience. Saif sells two things, muzzars and kummars. There are lovely cashmere muzzars that sell for 15 riyals ($45 USD), silk ones that go for 10 and touristy ones for a couple of riyals. The merchandise is for locals and tourists alike. He’ll even teach you to wrap it “hurr.” Gratis. Free.
“There are people who come across many oceans to Oman, and many don’t even know where they are,” Hamad says. “Sometimes when people say ahlan wa salan, it hurts my ear.”
The concept of acceptance implied by the term has come to mean everything and anything here, and sometimes nothing at all. “For Omanis, ahlan wa salan is not just some hollow tourist slogan you say to make the next sale or give yourself some false sense of cultural pride,” Hamad says. “We are still living it day by day.”
This may be. But the real ahlan wa salan is always easy to find in Oman, whose transformation is on full display and not masked by a pretentious show of fancy props and billion dollar resorts that hide the real face of the land. Oman’s greatest asset is Oman, itself, in this version of Earthly Paradise. Actually, nature’s perfect pentagon thrives in Oman. Lush mountains. Arid deserts. Exotic marine and animal life. Tropical oases and the aforementioned beaches. They are all there ready to be enjoyed, although it is indeed at odds with the ambitions of those who promote tourism here. After all, with only 9,500 hotel rooms in the entire country, even a small bump in tourist growth would illustrate the need to fast track the plans on the board to increase lodging capacity.
One result of the country’s renaissance and modernization is that the readily available adventure guides are equipped with handy GPS systems and well planned itineraries. In Oman, I love to scout a new spot and make plans for a three-day getaway. Our favorite is a desert trek through Hatta and then crossing the northern Hajar Mountains of Oman over 3,500 meters above sea level. I love to wake up before sunrise, slip on my hiking boots, canyon shirt and my convertible pants and dive into the day, hiking, idly getting a feel for the culture and traditions of the local mountain people Jebalis. This is a trek of variety, making our way through sand dunes, dry and wet wadis and challenging mountain tracks. I have spent entire mornings in the desolate camel country, pausing to inspect a massive caravan of the migrating humpbacks, then passing an afternoon with the Jebalis, who typify ahlan wa salan with offers of Arabic chai and unlimited stories of days past. (When walking through their idyllic villages it’s helpful to have a guide to translate their unique language.)
On this trek, my ambition might be no stronger that to spend the night stargazing. In Oman, it was the first time I really saw stars. My mind screamed. As a young man growing up in Seattle, I remembered seeing stars, but never like this—millions of tiny lights struggling to outshine one another. As they succeeded in illuminating the deep, dark night sky, a surge of emotions filled my body along with the cool breeze originating from the fresh rainfall that had settled in the nearby wadi. I couldn't have stumbled upon a more romantic place on earth, and there I was spending it with my wife and soul mate. For the first time in our lives we communicated without uttering a word. It is here that we hid from the obligations of the world and connected through our love of the terrestrial world.
Surely others have seen the untouched beauty of Oman. It is my hope that those to come will leave it as I first found it in my search for the magical exploration.
