Its position at the confluence of the Indian Ocean and the Persian Gulf has perhaps guaranteed Oman an outward-looking viewpoint denied some of its neighbours. In former days, Zanzibar was part of the Omani empire and the kummar headgear owes much to an east African heritage – as do the features of many of the country’s citizens.
The port city of Muscat also lay on the silk route from China to Europe, and the region produced something that was much sought-after in the ancient world – frankincense, the white gold.
Derived from the sap of the Boswelia sacra tree, whose groves at Wadi Dawkah in the south of Oman are now a Unesco World Heritage site, this substance was not only one of the Magi’s gifts it also served purposes from toothache cure to cathedral perfume.
Frankincense is an inescapable scent even today in Oman. You will smell its distinctive, floral, astringent notes everywhere from Muscat’s Muttrah souk, to hotels, to people’s homes. In the souk you can even buy a kind of frame on which you can hang your dishdasha (or shirt, or blouse) and under which you place the smouldering crystals that will guarantee you stay smelling sweet.
The white gold has another incarnation these days. Omani perfume Amouage has the Sultan’s seal of approval and a rather sophisticated marketing establishment. At its perfumery and factory in Muscat I talk to Hassan Al Saleh, a Gucci-clad and impeccably mannered spokesman for the brand.
Amouage has been in existence for 25 years, he says, and numbers among its retailers the likes of Harrods in London. ‘The idea was to communicate the best of Oman to the rest of the world,’ says Al Saleh. ‘We use only the finest ingredients and we aim to produce a fragrance that is instantly recognisable.’
He takes me through a list of ingredients: sandalwood, rock rose, myrrh, jasmine… Frankincense? He smiles apologetically – you can tell he’s been asked this question before. ‘Actually, no. We aren’t allowed to use real frankincense any more. It might cause allergic reactions. So what we’ve done is create a substitute. It has the same molecular structure, but it isn’t actually derived from the tree.’
The real thing still smoulders away, however, just to the south of Muscat in the vast atrium of the Intercontinental Al Bustan Palace hotel, providing the nose with a thankfully mellow experience while the eyes are overwhelmed by the hotel’s scale, its huge chandeliers and the blue and gold décor.
Recently the beneficiary of a multi-million dollar refurbishment, the Al Bustan is a palace in more than name – its ninth floor is used by the government to host VIP guests. Press the button in the lift marked ‘nine’ and a screen informs you the floor is unavailable. Even the hotel staff do not have access to it.
With its top-class restaurants and impressive rooms and suites, it is also an indicator of Oman’s touristic ambitions.
Pierre Sabbagh has worked at the Al Bustan since it opened in 1985. Originally from Lebanon, he has lived in Oman since 1981 – working initially at the Intercontinental Muscat in the city centre. The changes he has seen since then have been vast. ‘It’s unbelievable,’ he says. ‘When I started if you looked out from the Intercontinental you saw sand, sand, sand, beach. There were hardly even any roads in the area in the early 1980s.’
Money from oil and the sultan’s vision changed all that, he adds, and the area around the Intercontinental is now built up for miles around – indeed it is one of Muscat’s trendier districts.
But, for all its advances, Oman has retained a charm that is not always easily found in this part of the world as well as consciousness of a heritage that numbers among its favourite sons, so the story goes, Sinbad the Sailor, inspiration, perhaps, for the likes of Captain Khaled. Though I’m not sure what the legendary seafarer would make of that ringtone.
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