This was one of my most memorable and satisfying afternoons of the trip, rummaging thru ancient mud-brick towns at the edge of an Arabian desert.
The excitement was due only partly to the breathtaking medieval townscape at these exotic locales. It was also fun to start a journey with my newly acquainted friend Jose, whom I met merely 2 hours ago at the wild and spectacular Friday goat auction of Nizwa.
I'm Canadian; Jose's Spanish; and we crossed paths at this ancient crossroad of desert caravans in Southern Arabia. Both of us were relatively seasoned as backpackers, and we're both seeking that perfect image of genuine Omani culture through our camera lenses.
Having arrived for a couple of days, Jose was familiar enough with the area to act as my co-driver (i.e. human GPS). I on the other hand had a rental car and could take him to places he couldn't access on his own. It was a natural fit and together we had a great time exploring Central Oman.
Neither of us had a set itinerary in mind. Jose carried a copy of the Rough Guide to Oman and I possessed only a few photocopied pages of the Bradt Guide. We knew that we wanted to explore the historic small towns around Nizwa, and I wanted to stop by the UNESCO World Heritage Sites of Falaj Daris and Bahla Fort. Aside from these, we really had no idea what we would encounter on this day.
But first, finding lunch proved to be a challenge as the entire city of Nizwa closed down for Friday worship at the Grand Mosque. Luckily we found one roadside restaurant -- run by non-Muslims of course -- serving the local Indian community which enjoyed the Friday afternoon as a de facto holiday.
Our first stop was the legendary Falaj Daris, an ancient feat of civil engineering in which miles of underground aqueducts were chiseled out of bedrock to channel water from underneath the Jebel Akhbar mountains towards the oasis of Nizwa. Its UNESCO World Heritage Site status apparently doesn't stop it from becoming the community swimming pool, occupied this Friday afternoon by ethnic Indian immigrants while the Omani Muslims congregated at the Mosque.
Some 20km northwest of Nizwa we came across the charming ruins of an ancient town once known as Tanuf. The name is still well-known today for its namesake brand of mineral water bottled nearby, but to the older generation it symbolizes the price paid for peace and unity of Oman as a nation.
There was a time before Saddam Hussein became Saddam Hussein, when Sultan Said of Muscat was the original madman of the Middle East, reigning over one of the world's last feudal states where he was still served by slaves. Traveling within his country was forbidden even for his own peasants, and foreigners like myself would have no chance of visiting even Muscat, let alone Nizwa and the interiors.
Back then existed the Imamate of Oman, ruled in effect by the conservative tribal leaders of the interiors separately from the rich and moderate Sultanate of Muscat. Muscat was Muscat and this landlocked region of barren deserts was the original Oman, where Bedouins roamed the wilderness and sparse settlements existed in this form of mud-brick villages.
Then one day, some 50 years ago, 1000-pound bombs rained down on this ancient town of Tanuf, dropped by the British RAF at the behest of the Sultan of Muscat. These medieval walls of mud-bricks and round stones were utterly destroyed, leaving the centuries-old houses in their current crumbling state.
Whatever survived the bombing -- heavy wooden doors, window frames and roofing material -- had long been cannibalized by neighboring villages over the decades. The precarious arches and half-collapsed walls are all that linger as reminders of that one-sided civil war between Muscat and Oman, won mainly by a foreign force with petroleum on its sight.
But abandonment of the town wasn't fully complete –- at least one devout local was returning to worship at this thousand-year-old mosque that had been reduced to nothing but walls. The Mihrab on the west-facing wall survived and continues to point towards the direction of Mecca, and hence the ancient ritual of worship carries on.
It's a haunting scene with beautifully poignant and yet untold stories -- the suicidal defiance of the Omanis, the young British pilot shot down and buried nearby, and innocent lives in an idyllic medieval village caught in the crossfire. All were merely pawns in a grand game of politics and profit.
After visiting the crumbling ruins of Tanuf we drove further west towards an equally medieval but much better preserved oasis settlement. Navigating through unmarked village roads based solely on directions from the locals wasn't easy, but we knew from the moment we arrived that it was well worth the effort.
This old town of Al Hamra was the classic Omani oasis that we'd been searching for, an intact community of mud-brick complexes congregated beside an ancient system of Falaj still in everyday use. Lush groves of date palms still surround the old town, itself built atop a gigantic slab of rock on a gentle slope, right where the Hajar Mountains start to rise out of the desert.
The best part about the medieval town was that it's still partially inhabited to this date. Locals could be seen herding a few goats down the narrow alleys and electricity wires were the only giveaway that we're in the 21st Century.
The tribesmen here weren't so different from those of nearby Tanuf in opposing the influence of secular Muscat and governance by Sultan Said. But rather than being bombed out of existence, Al Hamra survived the civil war intact and witnessed the ousting of the Sultan by his own British-educated son.
Whereas the old Sultan muzzled the interior Omanis with an iron fist, the new Sultan Qaboos earned their trust with capital projects from his oil-funded wealth. When the townsfolk of Al Hamra cried of harsh living conditions in their 400-year-old houses of mud and clay, the Sultan gifted them new modern homes at the top of the town. Many of these medieval houses were abandoned in various states of decay, and time is still frozen in the 1980's.
But a number of peasants still live out of their ancestral homes, many dating from the Ya'aruba Dynasty and beyond. Partially sustaining these local families to this date are the ancient professions of date farming and goat herding, after Al Hamra lost its function as a major caravan stop with the arrival of motor vehicles in the mid 20th Century.
Jose and I had a great time exploring the now-vacant houses and deserted streets under the warm glow of the afternoon sun. Even in the murderous heat of early August the temperature stayed around 40 degrees Celsius in the shadows of the Hajar Mountains, which was much more comfortable compared with 45-plus degrees at humid Muscat or Dubai.
Nobody seems to know what the future holds for this atmospheric medieval town. While the government knows of its potential as a tourist draw, the town is also encroached on three sides by the new Al Hamra. Unless specific efforts are undertaken to repair and preserve the deteriorating walls after the region's infrequent but devastating flash rainstorms, we may be witnessing the slow and painful death of a historic spectacle.
On our way out we're passed by two local children, no older than perhaps 7 or 8, who would absolutely put me to shame in terms of riding skills. Watching from his new house across the street was their English-speaking father who was also pampering his own ride, an American muscle car with 250 horses. "Toys for the children," said the rich dad as he pointed at the horses, sounding as normal as buying a video game console for his kids.
That may be the reality of 21st Century Oman -- a newly affluent nation shaking off its past as the lazy backwaters of the Arab world. With all that petroleum reserve the Sultan is certainly bringing rapid modernization to his vast and sparsely populated homeland. As a traveler though I just hope that heritage sights such as Al Hamra and Tanuf will be well-protected in the course of progress. After all this is where Oman beats the ultra-modern metropolises of the UAE hands down. Why else would I travel here all the way from Dubai?
