Muscat

We explore the merits of Muscat and end up bewitched Discuss this article

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‘Everybody believes in jinn,’ mutters Khalafan, and a delicious chill runs down my spine. It’s taken some coaxing, a bit of wheedling and several furtive glances out the car window, but my Omani guide has finally mustered up the nerve to speak about jinn: Oman’s version of the boogieman.

Lowering his voice, he tells us the tale of his first experience with jinn – fiery spirits that can take on human form. Years ago, he awoke in the dead of night to see a very old woman shuffling towards the mosque. Puzzled, he followed her to make sure she was alright when suddenly, she disappeared. He searched in vain, fearful the old woman had hurt herself; but she was gone. Vanished into thin air. ‘There was nowhere she could have gone,’ he wails mournfully, forever scarred by his brush with the sultanate’s paranormal.

Later that day, we talk to a local cab driver who points out Muscat’s haunted house, a large villa opposite the InterContinental hotel. ‘There are strange lights there every night,’ he hisses conspiratorially. ‘But nobody lives there!’ Shooting me a wry expression, my companion looks sceptical, but I’m not so sure.

If ever there was a land of legends, it has to be Oman. From jinn and the Tales of 1001 Arabian Nights to the Lost City of Ubar in the south of the country, no matter which part of the sultanate you visit, a mysterious, fantastical story can be found.

Local folklore will have you believe that Sinbad (the funky Japanese animé sailor) hails from Sur, a coastal town a couple of hours south of Muscat. Being from Basra and all, it’s highly likely that Sinbad was Iraqi (shhh – don’t tell the Omanis), but it’s a fantastic legend – and it’s pretty easy to believe once you glimpse Muscat’s shimmering coastline, a seductive cosmos of blue. Down at Marina al Bandar, where dolphin watching and snorkelling expeditions depart, we join a tour, watching a local fisherman haul in a tuna so huge it could feed an entire family of jinn.

It’s impossible not to feel slightly giddy by the water – or Muscat’s beauty. Especially at the Oman Dive Centre’s whisper-quiet bay, a favourite hangout for local expats and divers, who take PADI courses during the day and watch the sunset dip behind the mountains at night from their barasti huts, mojito in hand. Or at Qurum beach, where you can stroll along the palm-fringed pathway that winds past toothpaste-white villas (painted so according to local law), strewn with splashes of fuchsia-coloured bougainvillea.

Even the corniche overlooking the port, which for all intents and purposes should be ugly, is magical – especially at night, when Omani families, tourists and expats mill around, heading to nearby Muttrah Souk. It’s here you can buy silver trinkets, old khanjars (Omani daggers), and packets of frankincense, a scent that permeates the country. Omanis burn frankincense by tradition every day, using it to scent their homes, government buildings and even their clothes to ward off (surprise, surprise) jinn.

If you fail to fall in love with Muscat’s peace and quiet, the landscape or the culture (which is unlikely), we guarantee you will fall in love with the people. Relaxed, modern and generous, Omanis have to be the most likeable souls in the Gulf, and the best part is that you encounter them every single day.

The sultanate’s Omanisation policy means locals are employed everywhere, from the souk to the supermarket. Should you buy a tube of toothpaste from Lulu’s, for example, you’ll probably hand over your rials to an Omani cashier.

It’s a sore point for any cash-strapped traveller, but Muscat taxis are meterless, although the cabbies will happily chat for hours and undoubtedly have you in stitches. Most of these masters of fast and furious haggling speak English and all are keenly curious to know where you are from and your opinion of Oman.

Any Arabic words you can muster will, of course, come in useful for communication, but if you run out of small talk, just ask the cabbies what they think of Sultan Qaboos. You’ll be hard pressed to find an Omani who isn’t utterly enamoured with the dignified, well-groomed leader, who has ruled Oman since 1970 and regularly travels across regions and ‘wilayats’ (local districts) to hear out his people’s woes with an open door, face-to-face policy. The sultanate is one of the only countries left in the world to be ruled under an absolute monarchy, and it does seem to work for Oman. The mere mention of Sultan Qaboos’s name is a sure-fire way to evoke an enraptured monologue from even the most timid Omani – either that, or probe them for a while about whether they believe in jinn.