I grew up in the shadow of 9/11 watching America paint Arabs and Iranians as scary “others.” I watched us invade countries based on lies, torture brown people, and call it freedom. Forever wars are the backdrop of my entire life.
Now again watching news reports of strikes and so much fear in places I’ve lived, loved, and was lucky enough to call home reminds me just how important it is that we see another side.
These are not inherently “dangerous” places full of “others.“ They are full of people living beautiful, complicated lives, with diverse histories, languages, traditions, and beliefs.
So I’m going to listen to folks from the region sharing their complicated truths. I’m checking on my friends to make sure they’re safe and supported.
And I’m gonna keep sharing about Oman with you, as Americans need to see another side, badly.
I went for a run in DC today. The cold air bit into my cheeks while my body tried to adjust to winter again. A few days ago I was in Oman, snorkeling with turtles and walking barefoot on the beach. Now I am shuffling back into my apartment in wool socks, gloves, a vest, and earmuffs, trying to re-enter my real life.
I decided to come back from Oman a few days early because one morning I woke up and realized I had done everything I went there to do. I had woken up the Arabic part of my brain and spent five hours a day, five days a week in a classroom, practicing, stretching myself, enjoying a truly analog process without the constant stream of notifications and emails that make up a typical day. Just me, my flash cards, and my teacher, talking about how renegotiating the performance of gender in relationships has caused a lot of friction in modern dating.
I got time to myself. I spent a night totally alone in the desert. There were no other guests at the hotel, just me and the wind in my hair and the stars in the sky. I got to explore. I got to indulge my curiosity, ask a million questions, experience something new every day. It exhausted me and it left me inspired.
Once I realized I had done what I came to do, I changed my ticket.
That is the joy of working for myself and owning my schedule. With a few clicks I could move my flight. So I flew home and surprised bae. He had no idea I was coming. I arranged with his friends to walk into the restaurant where they were having dinner. It was the best moment, the highlight of my year so far not just because I got to surprise him, but because I got to lean back into the comfort of home. Being back in a place where I know where the gym is, I have a routine, and I speak the dominant language. Where I don’t have to feel so tired just to make myself understood.
Oman really gave me everything I could have asked for.
Exploring Nizwa on a hot day in Oman.
When I was scrolling Instagram before my trip, looking for inspiration, I saw so many videos that started with the same hook: this Gulf country that does not have any skyscrapers. I get why people use that. It is an easy visual frame for Westerners. But the lack of skyscrapers is honestly the least interesting thing about Oman.
In 1970, Oman had only six miles of paved roads. Then a new leader came to power. Rapid investments in education, health, and infrastructure reshaped Omani life. Out of that came what we can experience today: a country that is deeply traditional and very modern at the same time. There are indulgent, gorgeous opera houses and mosques with the finest architecture, right next to traditional dress that’s still worn broadly and a culture that is welcoming and polite, though reserved.
That mix is part of why Oman does not have a skyline like Dubai’s. Strict building codes have limited tall buildings and pulled tradition into the development plan, making sure whatever comes next still fits the landscape.