Oman’s second largest city after Muscat, Salalah is also the perfume capital of Arabia, Chris Pritchard writes
It’s odd but no mirage. From a sandy vantage-point, I gape at a vista of bananas and papayas – growing uniquely on the Arabian peninsula. Monsoons make the desert bloom, transforming it into fertile farmland.
Salalah is renowned, too, as where frankincense – a seductive ingredient of many perfumes – was first grown. It remains important in Oman’s far-southern governorate of Dhofar, where Salalah, the sultanate’s second city, is located. Elsewhere, it thrives in Somalia and Yemen. Myrrh grows here, too, used similarly if less. To the untrained eye, the trees are similar. Both dribble prized resin. Three wise men among jewellers in Salalah’s Haffa Souq (market) confirm suspicions: gold costs far more than frankincense or myrrh. Oman – with Muscat its scenic capital – borders Saudi Arabia, Yemen and the UAE.
Fat papayas dangle from trees in the Hilton Resort Salalah’s landscaped gardens. A dull thud, as I wallow in a free-form pool, signifies a coconut hitting the ground nearby – in a place where date palms flourish. Cute golden weaver birds table-hop at an adjoining outdoor bar from which I see desert just beyond a narrow verdant band.
Arabs, along with expatriates based in nearby Dubai, are lured by this lushness – escaping extreme heat and enjoying coolness during June-October high-season rains. But greenery isn’t the main attraction. World Heritage-listed antiquities – ruined ancient frankincense ports – bring charter flights from Sweden and cruises from Germany.
From a balcony – attached to my resort-style room – I watch gigantic ships gliding towards a modern part. Downtown restaurants are mostly no-frills shawarma (meat wrap) and kebab joints, but the Hilton’s own outlets come recommended: informal Al Maha with creamy chickpea-based hummus and other Arabic dips, more formal Sheba’s with Omani-style biryanis featuring lamb or chicken and, my favourite, beachside Palm Grove where I’m quickly hooked on grilled hammour (a type of grouper fish) and locally caught lobster, followed by cardamom-spiked Omani coffee.
Between the Dhofar Mountains and the Arabian Sea, an asphalt ribbon whisks me 40km to my prime reason for coming here: Khor Rori.
Khor Rori lacks the instant wow-factor of Cambodia’s Angkor Wat or Peru’s Machu Picchu, but it’s extraordinarily impressive – the ruins (see bottom left) of a fourth-century frankincense-exporting port called Sumhuram, which flourished centuries before oil and gas industries.
“Let’s stop at Taqah,” my driver suggests as we head back to Salalah. An ancient town, its fortress-like Taqah Castle was a local ruler’s residence. This Dhofari town is famed for pottery and silverwork. I watch a potter shaping frankincense burners, buying one for US$2. The castle’s enormous timber doors open onto reception rooms, sleeping quarters, shady courtyards and, strangely, a small prison.
At the edge of Salalah, I amble through Al Baleed, ruined remains of another frankincense port. It is alongside the Museum of the Frankincense Land, one of Arabia’s best expositions with archaeological relics, dioramas of Omani life and material about current ruler Sultan Qaboos bin Said Al Said. Al Baleed, like Khor Rori, is a Unesco World Heritage Site.
Our car climbs into the Dhofar Mountains for an hour, reaching a third World Heritage site: Wadi Dawkah Frankincense Park with many trees sprouting defiantly from inhospitably arid ground.
“Frankincense is a prized Omani symbol,” says my driver, sniffing the aromatic resin.
