A Most Unusual Christmas

Christmas day we went to Nizwa, the ancient capital of the country. Nizwa is about one and a half hours into the mountains to the west of Muscat. These mountains are extremely unusual in that they were thrust up from the bottom of the ocean millions of years ago when two tectonic plates collided, and the oceanic plate thrust up over the continental plate.


They are barren and forbidding, yet fascinating in shape, and brutally steep. In many places they come right down to the edge of the town.


For this day trip our escorts were Mohammed’s son Ahmed, and his nephew Ali. Above, Carolyn, Ahmed, and Ali (with Rodger taking the photo) lunch at a traditional Omani Restaurant, sitting outside at a table. Inside were small private rooms where diners ate sitting on cushions on the floor. We lacked the necessary flexibility to dine in that traditional manner.

We are so fortunate to have as guides these members of Mohammed's family who are interesting and fun to be with, and who speak Arabic and English. Ahmed is currently a college student in Toronto, and Ali is a colonel in the national police.


Nizwa is located at an oasis in a wadi (a dried up river bed) between these mountain ridges.


One of the main attractions of Nizwa is its ancient fort. Forts abound in Oman, and the fort at Nizwa is one of the most famous. We went inside through a carved wooden door between two cannons, and bought tickets from a walleyed man sitting above us.

On the wall above himwas the inevitable portrait of His Majesty the Sultan.


Inside the fort was, by turns, very close...


...and surprisingly spacious.


There was a small but interesting gift shop where Ahmed and Ali bought us souviners.


There was also a snack shop where we had something cold to drink, and where Carolyn took this shot out the window of Ali (on the right) talking with another visitor.


We climbed several flights of steep interior stairs to reach the top of the fort. These stairways were strewn with various ingenious booby traps to ensnare invaders, such things as a series of seven trap doors in the floor of the winding staircase which, when stepped upon, caused warriors to fall into a deep pit – thus the origin of the word pitfall.


There are narrow slits in the top of the battlements through which boiling date juice was poured on unsuspecting invaders below, or water to put out enemy fires. Over time changes were made to accommodate cannons and other firearms.


High atop Nizwa Fort Ahmed points out a spot of dust on my camera sensor.

On the way back to Muscat all traffic was stopped at a checkpoint along the highway because of an upcoming summit of the Arabian Peninsula heads of state, of which Oman was the host country. With policeman Ali driving, we had no problem sailing right through.



The day before, Christmas Eve, we'd gotten a call from Mohammed telling us that a driver would pick us up at 6:00 pm Christmas evening and take us to dinner with members of the Omani Royal Family. Idriis arrived on scheduled, and drove us to the palatial home of a nephew of the Sultan, Kais Al Said and his American wife, Susan. Their home was well up a hill behind the Grand Mosque, and provided a panoramic view of the city spread out below.

Hesitant to ask permission to photograph, Rodger left his LX3 in its bag (so there are no photos for this section of the post).

Besides the two of us, there were four other guests, all friends of the family: a German artist who spends half of each year in Oman, an Indian couple involved in importing cars into Oman from all over the world (him) and in a psychiatric practice (her). After dinner had begun, another guest arrived, a physical therapist who treats his highness for partial paralysis due to a stroke he had several years ago. Also there were two of their children, an older son home from college in England and a younger son home from boarding school in Vermont with three of his European classmates.

When we addressed our hostess as “Your Highness," she immediately told us, “Call me Susan.” In addition to caring for a disabled husband, raising three children (a daughter works in an art gallery in LA), and running a royal household, this high energy lady also owns an art business in downtown Muscat, the Bait Muzna Gallery, where she sells art all over the Middle East.

Dinner was a traditional English Christmas dinner at a long, festively decorated table that comfortably seated the fourteen of us, with waiters hovering, anticipating our every need. There was a Christmas tree and Christmas Carols playing softly on the sound system in the background. Particularly good were the roasted turkey, the garlic mashed potatoes and gravy, and the honeyed parsnips. And we had very fine red and white wines, which we would not have expected in a Muslim country. There was an extensive desert table (which Rodger managed to almost entirely avoid).

After a magical and wholly unexpected Christmas evening arranged for us by our friend Mohammed, we said our goodbyes, having made arrangements to meet Susan at the gallery the following day.