This forsaken ghost town was my favorite memory of the Middle East.
It was our final day of wandering these barren semi-deserts for myself and my newly acquainted Spanish companion Jose. Just 20 km south of the ancient capital city of Nizwa, we arrived at a little known locale called Manah.
I realize that most travelers don't have the Sultanate of Oman on their list, and far less would ever make it to this landlocked but culturally fascinating region of Central Oman. Even for those who do make it, most would only visit the landmark Fort of Nizwa, the Friday goat auction or the UNESCO World Heritage Sites of Falaj Daris and Bahla. The ruins of Tanuf, the medieval town of Al Hamra and the mountain village of Misfah are lesser known but still featured prominently in guidebooks. But where is this Manah?
It wasn't until after returning home when I realized the significance of this unheralded ghost town, the subject of international research for its remarkably preserved architecture. We arrived with no expectations, and came away with some of our favorite photos and memories of the trip.
We parked underneath a windswept tree outside Manah's massive fortified walls. There's no ticket booth, no official entrance, and we soon realized ... NOBODY at all! Just a thoroughly deserted and unguarded medieval town, and then us.
This was as close to a National Geographic expedition as it got for my 4-day mini-trip -- an intact town of medieval mud brick houses, skyscraping watchtowers and solemn mosques, all abandoned as if the natives all disappeared overnight. This reminded me ominously of Pompeii, or perhaps ancient Thira.
But natural catastrophes didn't swallowed up the locals ... 20th Century urbanization did. As medieval as these crumbling mud brick dwellings may seem, this was a fully inhabited and functional town until the 1980's when all residents moved to the new town to the north. All the infrastructure from the defensive walls to the watchtowers to the water wells were still in working condition just a generation ago.
The atmosphere was surreal as this ... ahem ... team of Canadian-Spanish explorers combed the labyrinth of courtyards and houses. Some of the private houses appeared entirely livable with small caches of household items left behind by the original inhabitants, from empty earthen jars to mysterious wooden chests that remained locked. As Jose quipped, it was very Indiana Jones.
"Bat, man!" I replied, pointing to the new occupants of these not-so-vacant houses. I managed to flush a few of these bats out of an alcove and one of them hit Jose's head on its flight out the door. All in a morning's adventure.
Thick earthen ramparts and round turrets betray a history of tribal warfare, back in the days of the Ya'aruba Dynasty of Imams when Manah was a highly desired watering stop for desert caravans. Somehow the watchtower over the main gate was built in a rectangular Yemeni style, 1000 km away from Sana'a. These towers were among the best preserved structures in town; some of the private houses had started to fall apart after only a quarter century of abandonment.
Manah is a desert oasis after all, and its ancient houses of mud and straws were never meant to withstand the increasingly frequent rainstorms brought on by 21st Century climate change. The wood-and-thatch roofs were the first to collapse, followed by the fragile walls of the peasant homes. As we entered the town we were careful to avoid the caved-in houses and took extra caution in climbing onto what remained of the upper floors.
The real danger lurking within the deserted town was its system of ancient water wells, still functional and fully exposed to those who wish to gauge their depth with a stone throw. An accidental trip would be deadly ... nobody would likely pass by for weeks even if the victim survives the 15m fall down the shaft.
Among the best preserved architecture in town were several 500-year-old mosques, some of the oldest surviving in Central Oman. While some of the Mihrab are left fully exposed to the elements, one could still identify the intricate geometric patterns carved out of earth and clay. This led to my favorite discovery of the entire trip ...
The mosque had its holiest spot ornamented with the most unusual treasure -- a piece of antique blue china porcelain from medieval China! Arguably more surprising was how the holy Qibla wall became adorned by the image of a Chinese phoenix which, as any devout Muslim know, is considered taboo by Hadith traditions as the portrait of a living creature.
How did this porcelain dish make its 5000 km journey from Ming Dynasty China to this remote corner of Arabia, 6 centuries in the past? Possibly via the Maritime Silk Road from Quanzhou, through the Malacca Straight and the Indian coastline to Muscat, then crossing the desert in a caravan of camels before reaching medieval Nizwa. The full story will likely never be known -- that's just part of the mystery of these ancient towns, and I loved every bit of this.
As we bid farewell to fascinating Manah we noticed an official-looking signage for the restoration of the old Bilad. I had a queasy feeling about it, but it appeared that the Sultanate was planning to turn this unknown ghost town into a managed tourist attraction.
Having seen the renovated Fort of Fiqain pictured above, I really didn't want to see more restorations that would undoubtedly turn charming mud brick walls into smooth mortar. To any reader intrigued by these pictures of Manah: go now, before it's too late.
We drove by yet another renovated fort at Birkat Al Mawz before taking the highway back to Muscat. Renting a cheap Nissan Tiida was the best decision as the gasoline price of OMR 0.12/L worked out to about CAD$0.3/L, compared to CAD$1.30/L in Canada. My 600km journey from Muscat and back ended up costing only CAD$12 in gas!
The total cost was much more expensive as I received TWO traffic tickets by photo radar along the highway. I still had the time of my life here, navigating the labyrinth-like alleys of a forsaken medieval town and rediscovering a beautiful treasure from a faraway land. To this date the excitement of finding that blue china dish remains vivid in my mind ... it's a little slice of adventure that I rarely taste in my 9-to-5 job.
