Oman Is Quiet, But She Has Range

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.

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.

That emphasis on tradition is something you should keep in mind if you visit. You should dress modestly. You can be arrested if you dress provocatively, though it’s rare and only in extreme cases. Pants and a T-shirt are fine. I mostly wore dresses and my typical clothes, just no tank tops, crop tops, or short skirts. I also chose not to wear shorts. But even with my facial piercing, short hair, and tattoos peeking out of my sleeves, no one ever side-eyed me or was rude. Omanis are some of the most polite people I have ever encountered anywhere.

Traveling through Oman is incredibly safe. It is consistently rated among the top ten safest countries in the world. As a woman solo, that felt freeing. I could go almost anywhere and interact with anyone, and I did not have a single problem. My nervous system unfurled. I slowed down, partly because the pace of life is slower, and partly because I let myself step out of the American 24-hour news cycle.

I still think it is important to be informed, but I also think the way we do it in the US almost guarantees burnout. We have to be more deliberate about it, pick how we get our news, choose a form that is sustainable for us, decide which issues we will stay engaged on, and do what we can when we can. But I digress...

When I stepped off the plane in Muscat and stood in the immigration hall, it looked exactly as you would expect. Sterile, quiet, people tiredly waiting in line. What cut through all of that was the smell. I noticed these big black towers with little puffs of smoke coming out of the top. Incense. Oman has a long history with frankincense (and perfumes). They have produced it for thousands of years, and everywhere you go there are incense burners going. It becomes part of the welcome. You are brought into a space by scent as much as by the words someone says to you.

I was also obsessed with the food, which is why there are almost no food photos from my trip. I was too busy fucking eating. Most local meals are simple on paper: rice or bread with meat or fish. Because Oman is a sea-trading society with a long colonial history and ties up and down the East African coast and to Balochistan and other places, the flavors touch so many different places that even when a meal is technically simple, it feels layered. It has range.

The landscapes are vast, stunning, dramatic. For such a calm country, Oman has real flair. Ancient villages cling to cliff sides, and you can hike through them in the mountains, even if at certain moments the drop beneath you makes your stomach flip. There are wadis with cold, clear water where you can slip in and swim. In the desert it can feel like you are the only person on earth. Compared to some other Gulf countries I have visited, Oman feels like an ideal place for people who want to be in nature, not just look at it through a hotel window.

This is a country that is so different from home, and yes, there were things I chafed at. I like wearing my short shorts and crop tops. But that’s my personal preference. It does not cancel out the way I experienced the country.

Go swim with turtles. Go unplug from the news cycle for a bit. Talk to people. Omanis are famously a little reserved and also deeply welcoming. I remember telling my language partner, “Omanis are so welcoming but also so calm, so reserved.” He said, “Thank you,” because it is something Omanis are proud of. They are calm. Every person I talked to was a chance to step outside my American, Eurocentric mindset and pay attention to what other people value and how they live.

And this was not the main intent of my trip, but in the back of my mind I wanted to see whether I could host a trip in Oman one day. After five weeks there I think the answer is, absolutely. There is a richness that feels so beautiful and somewhat rare.

So, Oman 2027?

I’m off to frolic with my man and release some of the trauma in my body through shaking my ass this weekend and spending time with friends. I hope you make time for some self-care too