Why you should visit Oman

As many of you know, I'm in Oman with my old friend JL. Like many countries on the Arabian Peninsula, Oman has a Cinderella story that involves emerging from the desert into the modern age in 30 years or less. Oman, however, has blazed its trail without the help of much oil wealth. So, what it doesn't have is sparkling towers, sleek hotels or well-stocked international grocery stores (outside of Muscat). What it has instead is a sultan with a plan and the ability to inspire his people to get the job done. It also has had space and time to shape its own future without oil companies and oil politics gumming up the kitchen with too many cooks.

True, I've been here all of two days, but it's enough to have developed a deep admiration for the place. JL and I left Abu Dhabi on Wednesday morning and drove for the border just on the other side of Al Ain. (It was very hard to leave K and Teni behind, but Teni's UAE visa prevents her from leaving the country and re-entering on the same trip.) Truly, it was the strangest crossing of an international border I've ever experienced. We practically had to beg the UAE to issue us exit visas (which involved much milling around an unmarked office) then drove about two hours out of our way to implore Oman to grant us a corresponding entry stamp. Along the way we were helped by a series of friendly young men in crisp white dishdashas and low-key turbans in a variety of pastel-patterned hues. When we finally got our visa (no hassle, just a lot of driving and faith that surely someone would eventually care that we had entered the country), we pointed the car toward Nizwa and the startlingly beautiful and toothy Hajar Mountains. (The view from midway up Jebel Shams, one of the tallest mountains in the Hajar range.)

We drove through scrub desert, rock desert and soaring painted desert, along neatly paved roads with clear signage in both English and Arabic. In 1970 there was about 10 kms of paved road in the country. Now there are thousands of kilometers, most lined with street lights. In 1970, there were seven doctors. In the whole country. Now, there are hospitals and clinics (also clearly sign posted). In 1970, there were two primary schools. Now, there are universities, which admit women in numbers that any nation in the region should be emulating.

They call it the Omani renaissance--and when I say "they," I mean, the Omanis themselves call it the renaissance. They experience what has happened in their country in the lifetime of so many as a literal rebirth. And they give credit, with smiles on their faces and without a trace of cynicism or irony, to Sultan Qaboos bin Said, who took control from his father in a bloodless coup in 1970 and hasn't looked back. Without the flush of wealth or strategic importance that so benefitted his brother Arabians, he has marshalled his resources and enacted the vision that should be the first chapter in any book on development. I'm sure the man isn't perfect. But he's earned the deep respect of his people (and this visitor). Omani men at the livestock souq in Nizwa

Because what he did first, they say, was rebuild Oman's forts. When I post pictures, you will see a sample of Oman's forts, often nestling among date palm oasi or perched upon hilltops. The forts, to Qaboos, were the soul of the nation's history, so they were what he he poured money into. He grounded Omanis in their past before he asked them to step into the future. He had been educated in England. Most of his people didn't know how to read. But they lived and worked beside crumbling symbols of their heritage, so he shored them up--a literal and figurative bulwark to help them withstand the coming waves of change. What kind of a genius is this guy? He also started an annual "meet and greet" tour where he goes out (in sultanic style, to be sure) and sets up camp all over the country where real people can bring their requests to him. It's said (though I have no way to confirm this) that if you ask for electricity to come to your village, the necessary materials will arrive within the week. What's more, Oman is FULL of Omanis (unlike the UAE, which is about 80% expat). The shopkeeper, taxi driver, Internet cafe worker--all Omanis. (A restored fort near the corniche in Muscat.)

Now don't get me wrong...Oman is not a utopia (for one thing, it's hard to find anywhere to eat). And it's still a developing country, for the most part, unlike most others in the region. But it has managed to leap hurdle after hurdle on the road to the 21st century with its heart and soul intact, which I find utterly stunning in today's world of short-sighted decisions (mortgage crisis anyone?) and uber-capitalist priorities (umm...mortgage crisis anyone?)

I'll be writing more and posting pictures in the coming weeks. But feel free to Google Oman and/or Sultan Qaboos in the meantime and add to the conversation.