Travels in Oman

Almost every town in Oman is dominated by a fort

Oman, in the south-eastern corner of the Arabian peninsula, prides itself on being the oldest independent state in the Arab world. It's a country that's held a lifelong fascination for the BBC's Andreas Gebauer.

My first direct encounter with Oman happened almost by chance. I was visiting the city of Al Ain, in the United Arab Emirates - a thriving oasis town in the middle of the desert.

A quick glance at the map revealed that Al Ain was in fact the western part of a much larger oasis, with the eastern section, Buraimi, owing allegiance not to the Sheikh of Abu Dhabi, but the Sultan of Oman.

Cars and people moved freely between the two parts of the city. The border was only marked by a flag and huge humps in the road.

There were no border controls. And yet, despite this freedom of traffic, there were marked differences.

Khasab port: Reminders of Oman's seafaring past

There was no doubt that the Omani part was less wealthy than Al Ain. The souk, or market place, had fewer touristy trinkets and more household items.

And the people looked different. The Omanis were clearly a more mixed race - Arab, African, and subcontinental features appearing side by side or rolled into a single face - a vivid reminder of their seafaring past.

A natural wonder

I then went to Oman, deeper into the country, to the parts beyond the Buraimi oasis on the other side of the border checkpoints. And I was not disappointed.

Oman is a country of stunning natural beauty. Along its northern coastline stretch the mighty Hajar mountains, rising without much ado from sea level to 3,000 metres.

The stark beauty of the Musandam peninsula

The northern-most province, Musandam, an exclave separated from the Omani mainland by parts of the UAE, is one of the natural wonders of this world.

Barren, rocky mountains, dropping precipitously into the dark blue sea, with fjord-like inlets adding to the dramatic interplay between land and water - it is like Norway transported from the Arctic circle to the tropic of cancer.

Virtually every town and settlement is dominated by a powerful fort, some of them dating back as far as the early part of the last millennium.

They give evidence to a history that until recently was marked by insurrections and constant tension between the coastal areas and the mountainous, desert-facing hinterland.

The watchtowers of Nizwa's fort

Take the town of Nizwa, separated from the capital Muscat by the Hajar range. Its fort, with one of the most massive watchtowers I've ever seen, was the seat of a rival dynasty of imams.

Until a few decades ago, foreigners, certainly Christian foreigners, wouldn't set foot there - they might never get out alive.

It took the Sultan in Muscat 10 years to face down the imam. The British, keen on securing concessions for oil exploration, were only too pleased to help.

New schools

When Sultan Qaboos rebelled against his isolationist father in 1970, there was hardly any infrastructure to speak of - three schools, one hospital and 10 kilometres of paved road was all he inherited, and a people thirsting for development.

"Who are you?"

Thirty years later, the number of schools and roads has increased 300-fold.

We went to a picturesque mountain village, with old dwellings growing out of the rock. In its centre, a warren of half-covered alleyways was lined by mud brick houses.

Curious eyes were following the intruders from behind small windows. And yet, two kilometres away, glistening in the relentless midday sun, a modern school building awaiting completion - a concrete temple of learning for the mudbrick kids.

Oman is a young country. There are children everywhere - curious children still fascinated by the strange-looking visitors from abroad. Wherever we sat down, for a picnic or just to get some shade, we weren't alone for long.

Soon, two, three or four kids, sometimes with their seemingly shy mothers in tow, moved closer to us, until they were near enough to catch our eyes and extend a welcoming "Who are you?"

In the UAE, visitors are largely ignored, by children and adults alike. In Oman they are an event.

Mudbrick houses seem to grow out of the rock

It was one such encounter that proved to be the defining moment of our trip. We were having lunch in a shady palm grove near the centre of an old village.

My friend's two young boys kept themselves busy floating palm leaves in the fast flowing water of a little irrigation channel.

We had hardly finished when three women and half a dozen children appeared, the women carrying trays on their heads with dirty crockery. It was washing-up time.

We said "Salaamalaikum", they said "Who are you?". They didn't mind acknowledging me, a western male.

As it turned out, their English was quite a bit better than our virtually non-existent Arabic. Where had they learnt it, we asked. In school, was the mothers' reply.

And on television, said one of the kids, whereupon another butted in and uttered the word "Pokemon".

Now there can be not a shred of a doubt - Oman has truly rejoined the rest of the world.