Saturday 15 December 2018

Cannock Chase, Wind and Rain: The (N + 8)th Annual Fish and Chip Walk

Staffordshire
This is the 9th of these walks I have written about – I started with the Nth though the exact size of N is still discussed. In recent years I have warned that I am running out of new things to say about a walk across Cannock Chase, but the time for warnings is over, this time the well has run dry.

Almost.

After a wobble last year with only three walkers on a January Chip Walk, it was good to be back in the proper pre-Christmas slot, and for there to be 6 participants: Francis, Lee and me (last year’s stalwarts), Sue and Mike (last year’s missing regulars) and Anne S on her first (hopefully of many) Chip Walks. It would have been 7 but for occasional welcome guest Anne W having to cry off at the last minute.

Mike and I arrived at Chase Road Corner to find Francis’ van parked with the flattest of flat tyres and Francis, Sue and Lee sitting inside, oblivious. We pointed out the problem and while they were taking stock of the situation Anne texted to say she would be ten minutes late. She suggested we set off and she would run and catch up. Her enthusiasm is a tonic, but nobody has threatened to run on a chip walk before; I don’t think it should be encouraged. We waited for her, of course, and she arrived as Lee and Francis finished changing the wheel.

Changing a tyre, Chase Road Corner car park
Those not involved in motor mechanics spent the time enjoying the Chase Road Corner car park’s arctic condition. It is an exposed spot and we set off into a stinging icy wind. I paused to adjust a boot lace and found I was quickly left behind, even the swiftest walkers in the group going just a little quicker to get the blood circulating….

Moving briskly from Chase road corner through a cold and biting wind
….and to be over the lip of the Sherbrook Valley as soon as possible. The descent into more sheltered territory came as a relief.

The descent starts, led by two Geographers and two of Santa's elves
Despite the slightly different starting point we soon picked up last year’s route, following Marquis’s Drive to and through the visitor centre and down to the railway and the A460. In the lowest part of the walk the weather felt positively balmy – at least in comparison.

One of them has disappeared! Marquis's Drive down to the railway line and the A460
A footbridge now spans the railway, but you still have to cross the A460 Rugeley-Cannock Road where the stream of fast cars is much more dangerous than the occasional train ever was.

There is no reason why the climb up to Stile Cop Road seems much easier on Marquis's Dive than the tedious drag up Miflins Valley - they start at almost the same height, are much the same distance and the two paths eventually join - but it always does. We paused for coffee where one of the mountain bike trails joins the main drag.

Coffee stop above the mountain bike trail
We continued to the end of Stile Cop Road and crossed it into Beaudesert Old Park and descended to the Horsepasture Pools. Francis took a nasty tumble on this section last year, but the path is now in much better condition with far less slippery mud, so the descent was made without mishap.

Down to Horsepasture Pools

At the pools we felt the first drops of the promised rain, though it was only spitting as we strolled from the pools to Upper Longdon and the Chetwynd Arms.

Thw Chetwynd Arms, Upper Longdon
The walk had been only 10Km, and we had been fairly swift, so we reached the pub shortly after 12. Lynne and Alison T, who were to join us for lunch were still some distance away. So there was a problem, how do you kill 30 minutes in a pub?

We ordered when they arrived, though as it was a Fish and Chip Walk the only real choice was garden or mushy peas.

Lunch at the Chetwynd Arms
l to r, Alison T, Lynne, Sue, Lee, Anne, Mike, Francis (and I'm hiding behind the camera)
It was Sue’s birthday, and her meal was delivered with a lighted candle. Happy Birthday Sue, and because it is your special day I shall not even mention that you ate vegetarian lasagne on a fish and chip walk.

Happy Birthday, Sue
I was waiting for her to blow out the candle, not realising she had already done it (Duh)
The longer we sat in the pub the steadier the rain became. Three years ago we gave up at lunchtime, but then we had been soaked in the morning and the afternoon looked worse. Also, Lee’s car was in the pub car park, which it wasn’t this year, so the temptation never arose.

The temperature was reasonably mild as we climbed into our wet weather gear and took a sunken path out of Upper Longdon which runs north of the Chase…

Down the sunken lane from Upper Longdon
… and into the field paths above Brereton (which is, I suppose, a suburb of Rugeley). Every walk on or around the Chase offers the opportunity of a view of Rugeley Power Station, but these paths have the very best. Softened by the mist, it has, as Anne observed, a certain brutal beauty.

Rugeley B was opened in September 1970 and burned 1.6m tonnes of coal a year to produce around 9 million MWh of power. There was a plan to convert it to burning biomass in 2012, but that came to nothing and the power station closed in summer 2016. The 120 job losses were regrettable, but Rugeley B is yet another coal fired power station no longer venting carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, and that is good for the whole world. The ever-reliable Wikipedia tells me it is scheduled for demolition next summer, so this may be the last photograph of it to appear in this blog – but I will believe that when I don’t see it.


Rugeley Power Station
We returned to the woods at Chetwynd Coppice, found our way round the exotically named India Hills and returned to Stile Cop Road by the cemetery, 1.5 Km south of where we crossed it earlier. I had expected to turn up the hill and walk to the car park we usually use, but Lee had parked in the cemetery, so that was the end of the walk. The afternoon had been a brief 3 Km jaunt, but even at 3.15 the light was beginning to fade.

Friday 23 November 2018

Oman (10): To the Edge of the Empty Quarter

A 'Lost' City in a Vast Expanse of Nothingness, Frankincense and the Salalah Museum

Khareef and the Mystery of the Empty Hotel

Oman

For the first time in our stay, a buffet was set out for breakfast. Ful, chilli, eggs and cheese went down well, but we still ate alone. We had learned yesterday that the hotel had seven guests occupying five rooms. Were they busier today or was this for show?

We met up with R and drove north across the arid land of the coastal strip towards the even more arid land of the higher ground behind.

North from Salalah

We asked him about the empty hotel. ‘It’s out of season,’ he said. Salalah’s temperature varies little throughout the year, the average daily high being 27º in the coolest months (January, February and August) and 32º in the warmest (May). We wondered when high season might be. ‘Khareef,’ R replied, literally ‘autumn’, ‘all hotels are full then’. The coastal fringe around Salalah is far enough south to just catch the edge of the south-west monsoon so July and August, among the hottest months elsewhere in Oman, are slightly cooler days of mist and drizzle locally called ‘autumn’.  I see enough drizzle in my life and cannot imagine travelling to see more, particularly not hot, sweaty drizzle, but in khareef, visitors come from all over Oman, Saudi Arabia and the gulf to experience rain and enjoy the brief, but dramatic, transformation of the landscape. Proof, if it was needed, that holidays are about different experiences; if sand and sun (and possibly even sea) are your everyday habitat, what is attractive about a beach holiday?

The road north from Salalah during Khareef
Photo by Samadash65, borrowed from Wikipedia

Salalah to Thumrait

Salalah to Thumrait is an 80km drive on a good, if uncrowded road.

The Empty Qarter is a huge dune desert covering the southern third of Saudi Arabia, parts of the UAE, Oman and Yemen.
Its southern edge is some 150km north of Salalah

Camels present a problem but in daylight at least the warning signs are smaller, less obvious and far less frequent than the camels themselves.

Beware of camels on the road to Thumrait

Thumrait is a hot, dusty little town largely inhabited by the nomads who once wandered the desert but now find life easier in settlements around its fringe. The Royal Air Force of Oman has a base nearby but Thumrait mainly makes its living as a truck-stop, a staging point on the route from Yemen to Salalah, though trade with Oman’s war-torn neighbour is not what it was.

Thumrait, basically a truck-stop

Thumrait to Shisr (or Ubar)

A little north of Thumrait we turned onto Route 43 a smaller, relatively recently tarmacked road running 90km north-west to a village called Shisr, though Google maps marks it as Ubar.

The journey started through an expanse of nothing…

An expanse of nothing north of Thumrait

…but further on we encountered some extensive irrigated areas.

Irrigated area on the road to Shisr, the small building to the left covers a well.

Small conical heaps of dark stones started to appear beside the road every few hundred metres. They mark tracks into the desert many of them only a few hundred metres long and all ending at a small cuboid shaped building, like the one in the photograph above. They have an electricity supply and I believe they are wells.

There are two of the 'small conical heaps of dark stones' one on each side of the road

As we neared Shisr there were huge circles of cultivated land. Metal gantries more than 100m long rotate around a vertical axle carrying sprinkler heads to irrigate the whole circle. We had seen identical devices in the deserts of western Washington in the 1980s; Oman, like the USA, can afford to make the desert bloom.

Reaching Shisr

Shisr or Ubar (or Iram of the Pillars)

Shisr is a lonely hamlet deep in the desert. Tamarisk trees grow here without irrigation, and it was once the site of an important well, the last one going north for a very long way. Modern Shisr is a prosperous little place where experimental farms pump water from deep underground. Aerial views show some of the circular irrigated areas are almost 600m in diameter.

Tamarisk trees, Shisr

Shisr also has a roundabout (though very little traffic) a camp site and an archaeological site, with the greeting ‘Welcome to Ubar, the lost city of Bedouin legend’.

There is not a great deal to see apart from some suspiciously newly rebuilt walls…

Recently rebuilt walls at Shisr (or Ubar)

…and a propped up, part-collapsed limestone shelf from which a fort long ago fell into the well below, either because of seismic activity or because the water table dropped. R retreated to the shade to play with his phone, so we read the information boards from which we learned little.

The well and the remains of the fort, Shisr (or Ubar)

The tourist authorities would like us to believe these are the remains of the lost city of Ubar or Iram of the Pillars whose destruction merits a fleeting appearance in the Qur’an. It might be - and they apparently have Google maps convinced - but probably isn’t. It is a long story so it appears as an appendix at the end of the post.

Into the Empty Quarter

Shisr was Wilfrid Thesiger’s last stop before his epic crossing of the Empty Quarter in 1946. It was also the gateway to the Empty Quarter for our less epic visit to the great arid wilderness. At Shisr the tarmac ended and we took to the sand. At first accompanied by a power line…

Leaving Shisr

….but before long there was nothing but sand, as far as the eye can see. We were not yet in the Empty Quarter, though it looked pretty empty to me - apart from the lines of car tracks, all running in the same direction...

And this is not the Empty Quarter yet!

Half an hour from Shisr we drove through the remains of a desert camp. It was intended as a tourist attraction, like the Thousand Nights Camp in the Wahiba Sands, but now lies abandoned.

Abanadoned camp near the Empty Quarter

A little further on a water tanker, old, rusty and huge, lumbered crossed our path. ‘The Bedu used to sling water skins on to their camels,’ R said (or words to that effect), ‘but that’s how they move water now.’

The Empty Quarter has no ‘official’ boundary, but it is reasonable to say it starts with the dunes, which came into view only ten minutes beyond the deserted camp.


The dunes of the Empty Qarter come into sight

We had entered an area of scrub, dotted with surprisingly large shrubs. These are Sodom Apple (Calotropis Procera), which produces a green fruit about the size of an apple. It is largely filled with air and when ripe bursts ejecting seeds and a small quantity of fine fibres which in days gone by were twisted into matches for guns. The fleshy lobes contain a highly poisonous, sticky, soap-resistant latex. A plant to avoid.

Lynne as close to a Sodom Apple as a sensible person would wish to be

The dunes were heavily marked with tyre tracks, but the only two vehicles on them left as we arrived. R drove round the base of the first set of dunes but was reluctant to venture onto them. Once you leave the flat land at the base….

On the firm ground at the base of a dune, the Empty Quarter

…the sand is soft and it is easy for spinning wheels to dig themselves in. We discovered just how soft it was when we set off on foot up the nearest dune.

One step up, three quarters of a step down, climbing a dune in the Empty Quarter

Our car was equipped with a winch – as should any vehicle that ventures out here - but in the absence of other vehicles there is nothing to attach the winch to. We had to respect R’s decision; this is no place to be stuck on your own.

Climbing up through the soft sand was difficult, every upward step included a downward slide so after four paces your lower foot had arrived where your upper foot had started at pace one, a little like running up a down escalator. In the Gobi we had worn thermal boots as protection from the heat of the sand but here climbing in bare feet was comfortable enough.

I don't care about the top, I'm willing to settle for this little plateau

Finally, reaching a plateau, it was time for a panoramic photo.

Apart from our car, the Empty Quarter looks pretty empty

The Empty Quarter really is empty, but once you have seen that, you must either cross it – a challenging journey even today – or turn round and go home.

Back to Salalah

Black Camels

Somewhere near Shisr, we found some black camels among a small group of ‘normal’ camels milling aimlessly around. There is nothing special about black camels; as with sheep a recessive gene sometimes manifests itself in producing a black coat, but we had never seen one before.

Black camel, near Shisr

Lunch in Thumrait

Back at Thumrait we stopped at the Thumrait Palace – an Indian restaurant, not an actual palace – for a belated lunch. A minibus-full of German tourists contented themselves with the buffet while we ordered chicken biryani, salad, vegetable curry and chapatis.

Indian 'guest workers' made up the majority of the customers. Throughout Oman, Omani citizens make up only 55% of the population. 45% are expatriates (62% in the Muscat Governorate) and we had encountered a substantial number of Filipinos and Indians, though many other nationalities are represented.

A Frankincense Orchard

Nearing Salalah we dropped into a frankincense orchard (or is it ‘grove’) though the trees are far more widely spaced than in any type of orchard in less arid countries.

Frankincense 'orchard' on the way back to Salalah

Despite their resistance to the climate they still need irrigation.

Lynne and a frankincense tree, with hoses for irrigation

Frankincense is harvested by slashing the bark, causing resin to bleed out and harden in the sunshine. Trees start producing at 8 to 10 years and are tapped two or three times a year, the final tap producing the most aromatic frankincense. The seeds of heavily tapped trees are reluctant to germinate and current over production is leading to a decline in the ‘wild’ population.

Salalah Museum

The Salalah museum our itinerary had down for our first day in the south had now reopened after the holiday - better late than never.

A frankincense tree dominates the main courtyard, and much of one room is devoted to the frankincense industry.

Salalah museum

Another room covered fishing and sea-faring generally, with models and full sized mock ups of local boats, while a third showed finds from archaeological excavations, including from Sumharam. The information was well-organised and well-presented and the museum gave a fine overview of southern Oman – which would have been even better if we had seen it at the start!

Finds from Sumharam, Salalah museum

Going Home

Then R took us to the airport. Our original plan had been to stay another night in Salalah, and take a morning flight to Muscat to connect with the Manchester flight. By the time we had sorted the details of this trip the only flight early enough for our connection was the only one fully booked.

We spent longer than we would have liked in Salalah airport, including time sitting on the plane while engineers fixed a problem – never a welcome experience. The flight, once it took off was uneventful, but the delay meant we reached our Muscat hotel too late for dinner - never mind, we had enjoyed a good lunch.

Next morning we went home.

And Finally (as promised)…

The Story of Shisr (or Ubar, or Iram of the Pillars or Omanum Eporium)

According to some Islamic beliefs, King Shaddad of  ‘Ad (or Ubar or Iram) defied the warnings of the prophet Hud, so Allah smote the city, driving it into the sands, never to be seen again. The ruins allegedly lie somewhere beneath the sands of The Empty Quarter. The story "The City of Many-Columned Iram and Abdullah Son of Abi Kilabah" in One Thousand and One Nights introduced Iram/Ubar to the west.

In 1930 the British explorer Bertram Thomas, the first European to cross the Empty Quarter, heard tales of a lost city and learned of the location of a track somewhere in the region of Shisr which led to the legendary city of Ubar. He contacted T. E. Lawrence, always an enthusiast of the lost city theory, who suggested exploration by airship. Thomas was never able to return to Arabia.

For a long time Shisr was known merely as a ‘difficult well’, a place where to it took all day to water a herd of camels. Wilfred Thesiger visited in 1946 at the start of his first crossing of the Empty Quarter.

“We watered at Shisur (sic), where the ruins of a crude stone fort…mark the position of the famous well, the only permanent water in the central steppes….At the bottom of the large cave…was a trickle of water in a deep fissure…When we arrived…the water was buried under drifted sand and had to be dug out.” Wilfred Thesiger, Arabian Sands, Penguin

Thesiger made no suggestion as to the age of the fort. I have read that he found some early Islamic pot shards there, but I can find no mention of this in Arabian Sands.

In 1948 a geological party from Petroleum Development (Oman and Dhofar) Ltd carried out a survey of south western Oman. They were unimpressed by Shisr noting “there are no houses, tents or people here: only the tumble-down ruin of this pre-Islamic fort.”

The 1948 survey did not have the benefit of satellite pictures, but amateur archaeologist Nicholas Clapp did and they brought him to Shisr in 1992. His excavation concluded that he had indeed found Ubar/Iram of the Pillars. Sir Ranulph Fiennes was a member of the expedition and in his book Atlantis of the Sands claimed they had discovered the site of Omanum Emporium known only from Ptolemy's 2nd century map of Arabia.

I have no expert knowledge, but in support of Clapp’s or Fiennes’ theory there is definitely something there and the Empty Quarter has been a desert of arid dunes for 7,000 years so no city worthy of the name could have existed for several hundred miles to the north.

On the other hand, the mention in the Qur’an is fleeting. Surah 89, The Dawn deals with the ‘law of opposites, light and darkness, rise and fall, as in nature, so in the lives of men and nations,’ and does so in terms which are opaque, at least to this uninitiated reader. Verses 6 to 13 (of 30) read

Have you not seen what your Lord did to the ‘Ad
Of Iram with lofty pillars erected as signs in the desert,
The like of whom were never created in the realm;
And with Thamud who carved rocks in the valley; And the mighty Pharoah
Who terrorised the region,
And multiplied corruption.
So your Lord poured a scourge of punishment over them.

Juris Zarins of Missouri State University, who is a professional archaeologist said in a 1996 interview "There's a lot of confusion about that word [Ubar]. If you look at the classical texts and the Arab historical sources, Ubar refers to a region and a group of people, not to a specific town. …it was only the late medieval version of One Thousand and One Nights…that romanticised Ubar and turned it into a city, rather than a region or a people."

A fort, though, undoubtedly existed at Shisr. As Wilfred Thesiger tells, the tribes who lived around the fringes of the Empty Quarter were notorious for camel raiding and blood feuds. They largely met (and fought) at wells. Maybe at some time in the past an ambitious ruler built a fort to ensure peace at the waterhole.

When it comes to ‘lost cities’ my instinct is towards scepticism.

Thursday 22 November 2018

Oman (9): The City of Salalah

Again we breakfasted alone, the same smiling Indian youth quickly rustling up masala omelettes, vegetable curry, puris, tea, fruit juice, fruit, cake and halva! Whether he could cope if we objected to an Indian breakfast remained undiscovered.

Afterwards, we walked through the polished but deserted corridors to meet R, who went out of his way to avoid shaking hands with Lynne until he had shaken hands with me. He then explained (to me) how important it was to shake the man’s hand first. Lynne was unimpressed.

The Salalah Clock Tower (Burj al Nahda)

The clocktower (Burj al Nahda) stands right outside the hotel. In this low-rise city it is a major landmark, even appearing on the local coat of arms and is obviously modern, though I am unsure how modern. 1985 can be seen on the tower and that may well be the date of construction though it looks newer.

Burj al Nadha - the Salalah clock tower (and the time is correct)

The Sultan Qaboos Mosque

The Sultan Qaboos Mosque was across the city centre from our hotel, and we were there in minutes.

A week ago we visited the Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque in Muscat, perhaps the most beautiful modern building I have ever seen. But the sultan was born in Salalah, so once he had completed his mosque in the capital, he set about building another here. It opened in 2009, its minarets and 36m-high dome do not quite dominate the city centre, but in low-rise Salalah, they come close.

As in Muscat the mosque is open to non-believers from 8 to 11, and involves acres of highly polished marble. There was a steady stream of foreign visitors and thousands of worshippers will come to pray later; an unseen army of polishers, sweepers and dusters must exist to maintain the building's immaculate condition.

Sultan Qaboos Mosque, Salalah
Modest dress is expected and women should cover their hair.

Ouside the Prayer Hall, Sultan Qaboos Mosque, Salalah
Inside the prayer hall the huge carpet weighs 20 tonnes and has 115 million individual knots.


Prayer Hall, Sultan Qaboos Mosque, Salalah
Visitors were required to walk on the blue carpet, though it allowed a good view of the mihrab…


Mihrab, Sultan Qaboos Mosque, Salalah
…and of the crystal chandelier hanging from the intricately carved dome. Even if it does not quite have the wow factor of the Muscat chandelier, it is still remarkable. The perfect proportions and the Omani preference for muted colours make the hall light and refreshingly calm.

Chandalier, Sultan Qaboos Mosque, Salalah
We encountered a German woman and then a small party of Russians who were not as appropriately dressed as Lynne. They were not challenged, although R had a good ‘tut’. Lynne was as annoyed at them as she had been at R earlier over the handshake. Travelling in Islamic countries requires more negotiation across a cultural divide than other places we visit - and this applies more in the relatively remote and conservative south than in cosmopolitan Muscat. Lynne was adamant that R, with his avoidance of her first hand shake, and the under-dressed tourists were in the wrong. Instinctively I agree, but I cannot understand why we both feel that in the first case western etiquette should have applied and in the second Arab.

Sultan Qaboos and the Al Hosn Palace

We continued to Sultan Qaboos’ al Hosn Palace via a rather ordinary set of traffic lights.

The site of the old town wall, Salalah
The lights stand on the line of the old city wall, demolished after Sultan Qaboos deposed his father, Sultan Said, in 1970. For touristic reasons Salalah might regret losing its wall, but few regret the passing of the old tyrant. A man of extreme and idiosyncratic conservative views – wearing sunglasses was forbidden and those venturing out after dark had to carry a lantern – he had no idea what to do with the oil wealth that was starting to hit the country.

The Sultan’s palace is not far away. Qaboos was born in Salalah in 1940 and educated here to the age of 16 when he was sent to England, Muscat and Oman having been a British Protectorate since 1892. He entered the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, graduated in 1962 and joined the British Army. After military service he studied local government and took a world tour before returning to Oman in 1966, where his father, like any wise 18th century ruler, put him under house arrest.

The entrance to Al Hosn Palace, Salalah
We were permitted to drive up to the door without encountering officious security guards
But this was the 1960s not the 1760s and with the encouragement of friends and support, indeed active involvement, of the British he staged a bloodless coup in 1970 and has been Sultan ever since. He took over a country which had 6km of paved roads and where slavery was still legally tolerated. He outlawed slavery immediately, parted company with the British on good terms and took Oman on a long journey from subsistence farming to stability and affluence - as in Muscat there is little in Salalah that predates 1970. He is personally wealthy but the two huge ‘yachts’ aside not outrageously extravagant and has used the oil money for the benefit of ordinary Omanis.

Private mosque inside the Sultan's Palace, Salalah
He has done much good and appears to be genuinely popular, but despite his apparent liberality he is an absolute monarch and permits no opposition. As the ‘Arab Spring’ rattled the region there were some small demonstrations. These were quickly suppressed and the closely controlled press gave no clue whether the protests were anti-Qaboos or concerned with a particular issue. More worryingly the Sultan will be 80 next year and is in poor health. His short marriage (1976-9) produced no heir, so when he dies the royal family will meet to choose a successor. If they cannot agree they will consult a document he has left expressing his wishes. Given Oman’s oil wealth the process could be an invitation for the ruthless and greedy to grab power, or two ruthless and greedy claimants to start a civil war. I hope to be entirely wrong about that.

The Al Hosn Frankincense Souk

The Al Hosn (sometimes Al Haffa) Souk is close by. It specialises in frankincense, by far Oman’s most important export in the centuries before gas and oil.

Al Hosn Souk, Salalah
Frankincense is the dried sap of several species of boswellia trees, most notably boswellia sacra. The trees grow in Oman and Yemen, and also across the Gulf of Aden in Somalia, thriving on the hot, stony slopes where the coastal plain rises to the desert plateau. Most of the world’s frankincense comes from the coastal strip either side of Salalah, though there is some production in the self-declared Republic of Somaliland (largely peaceful and with a functioning democracy, Somaliland separated itself from the failed state of Somalia in 1991).

Frankincense trees either side of a plank, near Salalah
The essential oils are used in perfumery and skin-care, while the resin can be burnt as incense (‘Frankincense’ derives from Old French for ‘high-quality incense’). You cannot go far in Oman without encountering the heady aroma of burning frankincense.

Inside a shop, Al Hosn souk, Salalah
Traditionally Omanis placed their clothes on a wooden frame over a frankincense burner to ensure they smelled sweet. An obvious fire hazard, this is no longer a common practice, though the frames can still be seen in souks - and there are more informal ways of creating the same effect.

Well at least I'll smell nice
Frankincense was once big business – it was even an appropriate gift for the Son of God, though like myrrh (and unlike gold) its star has waned. Perhaps our need for sweet smells has lessened as life has become cleaner.

We made our purchases and retired to a juice bar. Freshly pressed mango is extraordinarily refreshing on a hot day.

R and Lynne with freshly squeezed juice, Al Hosn Souk, Salalah

A Free Afternoon in Salalah

The museum we failed to visit yesterday was still closed for the holiday so that completed the sights of Salalah, or all those R thought worth showing us. We returned to our empty hotel, and shortly made our way out for lunch, walking past the ‘Prestige’ from last night and down to the main restaurant area.

To prove the point Y made in Sur about Europeans sitting outside while Omanis have the sense to be inside in the air-conditioning, we seated ourselves on the terrace outside a Turkish restaurant. Although it was well shaded and the temperature barely 30º we had the terrace to ourselves, while the interior was packed.

After perusing the menu…

Turkish restaurant menu, Salalah
1 Omani Rial = £2 and is divided into 1,000 baisa
…we opted for the mixed sea food. Salad, bread, hummus, chips, olives and tomatoes turned up at no extra cost (well, we might have paid for the portion of chips).

Mixed sea food, and more, Turkish restaurant, Salalah
The grilled prawns, strips of squid and steak cut across a meaty fish, possibly a small shark, were very good.

A little shopping was necessary as we were leaving the next day. After discovering all the baby clothes that might suit our infant grand-daughter were imported from India or China (hardly a surprise) we dropped into the Lulu Supermarket – large and well-stocked there is one (or more) Lulu every town.

Lulu supermarket, Salalah
When it was a little cooler, we walked south towards the coast. Cities in Oman struggle to be entirely urban and our route passed plantations of bananas, mangoes and coconuts.

Banana plantation, Salalah
We were headed for a road that runs parallel to the coast where we had seen fruit stalls selling tender coconuts – a drink of coconut seemed an attractive idea on a hot afternoon. We reached the road in the middle of a long stretch devoid of stalls of any sort. Disappointed, we trudged back into town, stopping for a coffee on the way. Small cups of strong, black, sweet, cardamom flavoured Omani coffee are available everywhere and if not quite as refreshing as a coconut, they keep you alert.

We walked out again in the evening, past the Rehab Palace (residences, apartments and suites) which looks a little odd in English…

Rehab Palace, Salalah
…and the mosque and tomb of the Prophet Imran (or Nabi Umran). Some believe he was a local prophet, others that he was the father of Mary the mother of Jesus, or even the father of Moses. The first of those stands some chance, but whoever he was, what does he need with a tomb 33m long?

The mosque and tomb of Nabi Umran, Salalah

We found a Lebanese restaurant that we thought would provide a light snack, though we were badly mistaken. A small kebab order magnified itself as bread, pickled carrot and cauliflower, hummus and tabbouleh turned up as well. There are two things I know about tabbouleh: 1) it is traditionally made with bulgur wheat and 2) every Lebanese grandmother had the perfect recipe and every Lebanese adult regrets that they will never taste one as good again. As I lack Lebanese grandparents, and do not usually have bulgur wheat in the cupboard I use cous cous – and so do all the restaurants where I have previously encountered it, though none of them claimed to be Lebanese. What I learned now was that in ‘real’ tabbouleh, the grain plays a minor part; we were brought a plate of mixed herbs with a sprinkling of bulgur wheat. For us, it was not quite right in flavour and entirely wrong in texture – and for that remark I could be banned from Lebanon.

Burj al Nahda, the Salalah Clocktower
I started this post with a picture of the clocktower, so I have finished it with the structure at night, lit up in Oman’s national colours.