I had relatively few expectations flying into Oman. Usually I do some research into a new country first, and I had bought the Oman cultural guide book, but knowing that we were going to be at a Westernized resort for the majority of the time turned me into a lazy researcher, instead relying on the few bits of information we had gleaned from our friends. The rest I could figure out once we arrived.

Fletch and I were flying to Oman to help out our friends Stefan and Tanja with their busy season at the dive resort where they were currently employed. We originally met the German and Swiss couple in Palau. Since then, they had visited us in Fiji, and we had all gone on vacation together to Sulawesi, Indonesia. I know I know, rough life…

I had learned that Oman was, in fact, a whole country. (Stefan and Tanja had talked about working there years before, and I had thought that it was just a city somewhere in the Middle East. Yay for being terrible at geography even after all these years of travel). You probably can picture the boot that is the Arabian Peninsula. One side is shaped kind of like the toe of the boot, about to kick Iran or Pakistan across the gulf. Oman is the toe of that boot. The eastern (or more like south-eastern) coast of Oman is on the Arabian Sea. The Arabian Sea breaks off first into the Gulf of Oman, and then after veering left around the corner of Dubai, the Gulf of Oman becomes the Arabian Gulf. We would be diving in the Gulf of Oman. 

Also, fun fact, and random, useless bit of linguistics trivia, Oman is one of only 11 countries that has 4 letters in its English name. Can you name the other 10? (Thanks Matt for teaching me this one). The answer is at the bottom of this post. 

But isn’t that area of the world super dangerous?

Ah yes, we Americans are bred to believe that the whole of the Middle East is one big, don’t-go-unless-you-have-a-death-wish zone. And then there’s Dubai where all the money is. Oh and fossil fuels, those play into the picture too somehow.

Not all countries are created equally though. Believe me, Fletch and I did our research first. We had our reservations about visiting an area of the world with so many negative connotations. Lesser-known Oman surprised us. On numerous lists ranking every country of the globe on overall safety, Oman consistently ranked in the 30’s, safer than the US, and safer than many of the other countries we have enjoyed. Granted, that is mostly due to extremely strict and well-enforced laws, but safe is safe. I also like to read accounts of solo female travelers before I visit a place, and the few travelers who had written about their experiences in Oman gave it glowing reviews. 

So we decided, why not? We might never get another excuse to see this area of the world, and with people we trust and who already are familiar with the ins and outs. Plus we would be at a mostly European resort the whole time, so we could immerse ourselves into the proper Omani culture as much or as little as we felt comfortable with. I was very excited about the whole idea, as visiting the less touristy corners of the world is something I enjoy. 

We flew from London to the capital city of Muscat on Oman Air. The airline attendants wore what appeared to be teal knock-offs of the Emirates Airlines uniforms (I know, ugh, teal…). The movie selection on the seat-back screens was the most extensive I had ever seen. It offered films from all regions of the globe, from Hollywood to Bollywood; from Arabic films to Asian films. There were even some categories I was unfamiliar with including Urdu and Sinhala.

I watched a short feature on Oman tourism and the 5-minute short showed some photos of the dive shop we were heading. That made me wonder how many places for tourists there really were in Oman. Maybe we were heading to the only one. Maybe I should have done some more research after all, into something other than just the overall safety.

The airline food was much better quality than United, but not quite as real-tasting as Korean. I just appreciated having a vegetarian option on the menu (yes, there was a menu even for economy) without having to call ahead to request it (which I always forget to do). The majority of the people on the flight looked to be Indian, so that probably explained the vegetarian option. 

As we landed in Oman, everything was the color of sand. The landscape, the few scattered clusters of buildings, even the air, all had the same monochrome, sandy tone. It was as if a permanent state of haze covered the entire area. 

The airport was large and brand new. It had obviously been built to impress, with shiny marble columns and tiles everywhere. Wikipedia claims that the new terminal brought the airports capacity up to a max of 20 million passengers per year (a third of the number of passengers who fly through Denver International Airport every year).

The place was completely deserted though. Our entire flight who had debarked with us disappeared to catch connected flights, and by the time we made it to the 10 empty baggage carousels, it was only us, one other foreign couple, and the entire flight crew remaining. The few pairs of feet clacking over the tile floor were eerily deafening within the acoustics of so much emptiness. 

The lady from the other couple decided to take advantage of the opportunity to be a  princess and huffily stated, “excuse me,” as she wheeled her oversized bag full of shoes through the spot where I was standing. An entire empty hall of 10, generously-spaced luggage carousels, and I, the only other foreign girl, was in her way. 

We had been advised to pick up our allowance of duty free alcohol, which turned out to be either 2 wine bottles or 4 bottles of liquor apiece. That’s right either enough wine to last two evenings, or enough rum to satisfy a pirate for the entire trip. We stocked up on rum and vodka, aware that it would be difficult to find reasonably priced liquor again. 

Stefan picked us up at the arrivals, and drove us through the capital city of Muscat. Up close everything was just as monochrome as it had been from the air. All the buildings were white and varying shades of sandy beige. They looked much wealthier than they had from up in the air.

Stefan pointed out the Grand Mosque, a new and outrageously elaborate mosque that covered 4,477,786 square feet (416,000 square meters) and could accommodate 20,000 worshipers. He also pointed out the Royal Opera House where we would be heading in a week’s time for a performance of Carmen. The building was white of course, as white as sand, and blocky as if it had been built out of cubes, but grand and elegant like a palace at the same time. 

Before leaving the city, Stefan brought us to a local supermarket to stock up on food. The supermarkets here are called hypermarkets, and hypermarket is a very apt description. I had never seen such a grocery store before! It had positively everything, and aisles and aisles worth of each individual food group. The meat section was as large as some of our smaller markets back home. The deli section had an entire bar of 30 different varieties of olives at least. The produce section had fruits and vegetables from every corner of the globe, from berries which are usually impossible to find in tropical regions, to favorites from Southeast Asia, such as mangosteen and rambutan. There were even six different varieties of eggplants. I’ve only ever found three of those on my travels. It was difficult to only buy as much as we could eat in the amount of time it would stay fresh. 

When we left the grocery store, Stefan chose the “scenic” route to drive us to the residential area of Sifah where we would be staying. The wealthy, white mega-complexes eventually faded into humble beige villages and then became nothing but miles and miles of sand-colored mountains. The landscape was mostly barren, with the occasional small village where there were more donkeys and goats to be seen than people. Stefan pointed out the fancy long-haired goats that he had been instructed by a local not to hit with the car, because they were worth $500. 

Along the journey to Oman, Fletch and I had been asked numerous times if we were residents of the country. I had thought this a strange question to ask a white couple, and so asked Stefan if there were many expats living in the country. Apparently a lot of foreigners who work in the oil industry do move here for 2-4 year periods. Apparently if you buy an apartment or a house here, a resident’s permit is automatically granted to you. 

We arrived at Tanja and Stefan’s generously spacious, 3-bedroom apartment, where we would be staying in one of the bedrooms. It was by far the nicest place we had lived in any of our overseas homes (with exception perhaps to the cement villa in Thailand. I was particularly fond of that one). The following few days were a blur as we forced ourselves through a sleep-deprived and jet-lagged first few days of work. I will write more on the diving and the resort soon, and instead leave you with some fun facts.

Other things I have learned about Oman so far: 

• There is a mountain ridge that runs along the northern coastline, but the people won’t build tunnels through it. They build their roads either over or around the mountains, because if they die underground, then Allah won’t bring them to heaven. I started to fact check this before posting, and decided better of it. The first few results were ISIS related, and it’s probably best not to have that in my search history if I have any hope of re-entering the US. 

• Insha’allah (sounds like enchilada minus the -da) is a favorite phrase here. It means “God willing,” and is usually the go-to response for any question you try to ask, or farewell you try to give. It is quite unnerving.

“See you later!”

“Insha’allah”

Ummm… is there something I should know? Is God going to smite one of us down in the next few hours?

Or,

“Do we need gas for the boat?”

“Insha’allah”

Seriously? I really don’t think God is going to drive the boat for us when the gas runs out.

• There is a water truck that goes around filling up water troughs for all the goats and donkeys that roam the villages. That is a much nicer factoid to leave you with. 

In response to my earlier trivia question, 11 countries have 4 letters in their English names: Chad, Cuba, Fiji, Iran, Iraq, Laos, Mali, Niue, Oman, Peru, and Togo.