Oman: Turtles, Karak Tea, Warm Seas and a Change of Heart

Much like Cyprus, the run-up to my Omani adventure was full of tension and uncertainty linked to Trump and Israel’s war on Iran, and the angry Iranian reaction all over the Gulf. While Oman’s capital, Muscat, was never attacked during the Iranian onslaught, a couple of its ports were bombed. Therefore, the trip only became certain when the plane took off from Istanbul and lurched towards the edge of the Strait of Hormuz.

My companion for these travels was an old friend, Jonathan from Norfolk, who visited me on Siargao Island and Ayoke in 2014 and with whom I’d kept in touch across the years. He’d felt particularly low through the dark English winter and had surprisingly accepted my invitation to join me as a practical way of lifting his spirits for a few days at least.

Actually, the trip began with a 12-hour stopover in Turkey’s capital, where I got to show Jonathan around a city I’ve visited a few times over the past couple of decades. The day started with a train/ferry combination to take us into Sultanahmet, where we had a £50 breakfast fit for a king at Seven Hills overlooking the Hagia Sophia. Onwards to the Blue Mosque, the Grand Bazaar and across the bridge to Galata Tower, before jumping back on a ferry/train combo to check in for our red-eye flight to Muscat. 

During the flight, I befriended an interesting Turkish national, Ender, and it was with him and Jonathan that I caught the 3am bus into central Muscat after clearing immigration. Utilising my iPhone map made getting off at the right stop really easy, and we navigated on foot over to Basil’s Hostel, where we self-checked in and dumped our stuff. Ender went to a different hostel and Jonathan went to sleep, but I was too excited to be back under a Middle Eastern sky in a country I had dreamed of visiting since my father told me tales about serving in Oman during the 1970s.

No, this wasn’t a time to sleep at all. Instead, I wandered down lonely, smart residential streets — like a posh version of small coastal cities in KSA — and found the beach and a warm sea to swim in while the sun rose right on time.

Over the days that followed, we did it all: the remarkable Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque, quaint Mutrah Corniche, stunning Wadi Shab, flawless Daymaniyat Islands, pristine Chedi Hotel for brunch, and frequent swims at Azaiba Beach, where a particularly big turtle swam just a few metres away from us. Ender joined us on most of these adventures, beautifully changing the dynamics of what might otherwise have been a Brit-only two-person trip. The ongoing Iranian war kept tourist crowds to more-or-less-zero, and it felt like we had Muscat to ourselves — likely to change in the future with Oman marked for rampant development. It was an absolutely perfect stay that didn’t cost that much either.

Two things really stood out for me. First, drinking karak tea for 20p on Muscat’s streets was probably the most memorable thing we did. That tea was just so delicious! And the warm, but not oppressive, weather made sitting out such a vibe! Second, time in Muscat made me realise I shouldn’t be in a mad hurry to abandon my wife and son in England for another extended contract in Saudi. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy the Syrian hummus, Caffè Farah’s exceptional carrot juice, Omani breakfasts, swims in the super-warm Gulf or mall time — I did — but all of it reminded me of the years of loneliness in the far corners of the Eastern Provinces, where I’d stored up treasure in the form of riyals, only to see Super Typhoon Rai sweep most of it away in a night.

So, as the Pegasus jet soared into the sky, leaving Muscat behind, I realised more than ever that I was flying back to the right country for now, to be with my wife and son as they rebuild their lives and strive for something more. No, Britain doesn’t feel like home and I can still dream of a final exit and a life back on the island, but I don’t need to hurry back to Saudi at the moment to chase more riyals. That’s not for right now, even if a final Saudi season is still on my mind and in my medium-term plans.