24 Hours in Oman: Lasting Sensory Impressions and Unexpected Cultural Connections

Oman is a country full of delightful surprises. Though I spent just over 24 hours there, I left a small piece of my heart somewhere between the Royal Opera House and the Muttrah corniche. As Anthony Bourdain masterfully remarked in “Parts Unknown”, there’s something inherently social about the word “corniche,” and it became clear once I set foot on the long stretch along the coast.

 

In addition to the delightful combination of sophistication and authentic chaos, Oman felt oddly familiar in strange ways. This was no surprise, given its rich history, including Portugal’s historical ties with the country. A true testament to this was the Al Mirani fort we visited, which also happens to be the host of the 8m³ – an experimental platform featuring a single exhibition space for artists of all mediums and disciplines. Each corner is filled with either 19th-century muskets or beautiful contemporary art installations. Unsurprisingly, the fort felt both modern and ancient, its timeless spirit augmented by the vast landscape that enveloped it.

 

The Gulf of Oman hugs the rocky shore, making it both welcoming and unyielding. Each hill stands guard over the palaces and homes of the locals and their guests, inspiring reflection on one’s place in this particular moment. In a world so Western-centric, I found myself wondering whether the gardens of Sintra and the fortress of Óbidos resemble what I saw in Oman, or if what I witnessed in Oman mirrored those places. It’s a strange yet comforting feeling, reassuring me that the world is much bigger than I could ever imagine. It also leaves me yearning to explore more of Muscat and Muttrah, the city’s historic centre.

 

Bait Al Zubair is a private museum housing the Zubair family’s collection of Omani artifacts, widely regarded as the finest privately owned collection. Among the many stunning pieces, including Khanjars (traditional Omani daggers adorned with precious stones and exquisite silverwork), I was particularly fascinated by the tradition of accessorizing as both protection and a symbol of belief. My favourite part was the ethnographic section featuring female rings (as well as bracelets for wrists and ankles), each with a specific purpose and unique design. There are five distinct styles:

• Shdabiyyah – A ring worn on the little finger, featuring a pyramid shape made from small round beads soldered together.
• Khatim Mrabba – A large square ring worn on the third finger, often with geometric or floral designs.
• Heisa – A diamond-shaped ring worn on the middle finger with rounded edges, boasting a flat, incised, or raised surface.
• Shahid – A pointed ring worn on the index finger, often raised during the recitation of the Shahada in prayer (a declaration of faith in Islam).
• Gabrayyah – A ring worn on the thumb, featuring stylised studs running down the length of the joint.

Next, I visited the Souq, which, despite being busy and overwhelming, felt so alive and exhilarating. Bargaining for the best Kashmiri or Omani scarf can take longer than expected, but be prepared to see some of the most stunning traditional embroidery. The haggling adds excitement to the experience, but it also helps to understand your customer. As a Slavic descendant, I was intrigued by my bargaining opponent, and our verbal sparring culminated in me acquiring an additional kaftan. An Italian woman nearly walked away with my prized possession – one I had secured after a lengthy negotiation, but it was all worth it.

One stop we didn’t manage to make was at the famed Amouage Factory near the airport – home to the luxurious fragrance brand beloved by the world’s richest and chicest. It’s worth visiting simply to appreciate the craft and admire the stunning Swarovski-adorned bottles.

 

However, nothing beats a sunset in Oman. Although we didn’t make it to the breathtaking hills of Nizwa on this trip, I promised myself that I would return during pomegranate season (August to late October) or during the rose-picking season in Oman’s Jebel Akhdar mountains, which takes place around May. This, too, is a beautiful synchronicity with my own heritage, reminding me of the splendour of our very Bulgarian rose valley.