Jebel Akhdar, a walk from Al Aqar to Al Ayn, Wadi Bani Habib, and a night in Nizwa.
Oman chapter four
I’m feeling refreshed and relaxed thanks to the coffee and dates at the Anantra Hotel. Abdullah asks if I’m ready to leave. Not quite, but we’re not spending the night and there’s more to see before we reach Nizwa.
Abdullah takes me to the village of Al-Aqar, leaving me at the edge of the village. He shows me the path around the gorge from one village to the other, reminding me of where I’ll be able to find him.
Al-Aqar is known for making rose water and a number of small shops and factories are open to the public. I stop by one just inside the village and Mohammad shows me around.
His family has been in the business for 150 years, producing on average 600 bottles a year. They’re not actively making rose water at the moment but he takes me around to show me the process and the various bowls and vats in which rose water is made and distilled.
I stop in the Bayt Al Sharaf Museum, a renovated Omani house that now houses exhibits displaying examples of the local life. I wander in to the various rooms, ducking my head to make it through the doorways.
A cafe on the roof offers stunning views of the landscape and I decide to give myself a break. I order a pomegranate juice from the bar and seat myself by the edge of the patio to admire the views while I sip my drink. I write postcards.
Leaving the cafe I walk through a few more of the streets of Al Aqar, finding a viewpoint and some hotels and homestays on my wanderings. Reaching the main road to Al Ayn I follow it down and out of the village as it hugs the edge of the gorge.
Near the midway point I run into a family from Morocco who now live in the Netherlands. They’re a group of six, though they’ve left one back at the hotel with a cold. They’re thinking of hiking to the village but are unsure whether to continue. I leave them as they take shelter in the shade of a small rest area, doing what they can to beat the heat.
Nearing the orchards outside of Al Ayn, but am unsure of the way. I’ve taken what I think is a path that follows the rocky terrain but then I hear voices and see people being guided on a path to my left. I cut across and find myself sliding down boulders to reach the road upon which they trod.
I walk alongside the orchards following a concrete canal that channels water to the fields below. It’s unclear how I can reach the mosque from where I am. Seeing a worker I ask if I can come down to walk through the orchards themselves and he beckons me to do so.
Abdullah is nowhere near the mosque. I walk to the edge of the orchard and back to the canal. A girl sits in the shade of a palm tree selling refreshments. I ask if she’s seen my guide but she doesn’t quite follow.
I continue to Al Ayn and walk through the village up to a parking lot where I find Abdullah resting in the car. He tells me he was waiting with the girl selling refreshments but grew tired of hearing her talk. He figured I’d find my way to the car.
We drive to Wadi Bani Habib. Abdullah waits in the parking lot as I descend a set of stone stairs to the valley floor. Walking along the dry river bed I reach the ruins of another small village made of mud bricks.
It’s fun clambering up the rocky paths to explore the narrow alleys and deteriorating homes of the village. From a higher vantage point I spot another village nestled into the slopes of the hills on the opposite side of the gorge and consider hiking over for a look, but the heat and my lack of water dissuade me from doing so.
Climbing back up to the parking lot I push myself forward with the promise of a reward when I get to the top. There are a number of people selling popcorn and fruits and I buy them both when I’m back, offering them to Abdullah when I find him at the car.
We continue on to Nizwa, the desert giving way to civilization as we approach. I’ve booked my own hotel and Abdullah drives the narrow streets looking for it. We end up going around in circles and at one point I ask him to drop me off; I offer to find it on my own.
He asks directions and with the help of Google Maps we compromise. He parks in a lot and we walk off down a small alley in search of the hotel.
It’s unmarked—a school serves as a landmark that helps me spot it—and I ring the bell at a door that looks like it might be it. We’re let in and I register before we head back to the car to get my bags. How did you find this? Abdullah asks. On the internet.
At the parking lot we settle on a time to meet in the morning so he can show me Nizwa before we’re to set off to check out the various forts in the area. He bids me well and I head off back into the city.
The room is clean and cozy and somewhat dark. Heavy wooden shutters keep out the light (and the heat). When I open them I look out over the Al-Okor Ancient Neighborhood. A cafe stands tall above the palms and I decide to make that my first stop.
On the map, the Tawad Cafe is just behind the hotel, but I can’t figure out how to get there. I walk down various side streets that end up in dead ends or wind away from where I want to go.
Finally I find an alley that seems to head in the right direction but I’m stymied by a kid who wants to sell me a ticket for entry. I decline, suspecting it’s a scam, and retrace my steps to find my way into the neighborhood through the kitchen of a restaurant. (Later, I’ll realize the boy was legit; on the other side of the neighborhood stands a large, formal entrance with a ticket window. The boy was manning the back entrance.)
The neighborhood itself is comprised of a number of restaurants and cafes. I head to the Tawad Cafe, climbing the stairs of the highest building in the area. The cafe is a glass-enclosed box with views of Nizwa in all directions. I debate whether I want to spend the rest of my daylight hours in a cafe, but the ambiance and the cake and coffee menu prove too much and I settle in to watch the sunset from this jewel of a spot above Nizwa.
I order Arabic coffee and a date cake. The pot of coffee comes with its own small plate of dates, and I resign myself to a day of dates. It’s not difficult; between the time I’ve spent in Dubai and Oman, I’ve come to really appreciate a good date.
The sun sets as I eat my cake and drink my coffee, writing postcards to pass the time. A steady stream of Omani families and friends file through the cafe. A small group have brought a drone and ask if they can open a window so they can pilot a it from the cafe. The cafe allows it, and soon I hear the high wine of its propellers before it floats out over the city.
I finish my coffee and cake and pay the bill. The sun has set and I’m glad for having spent the late afternoon ensconced in the cafe. I walk back down the stairs and take another look around the neighborhood before following a raised walkway that leads to the back entrance from which I first attempted to enter. The boy looks to be asleep and I leave him to his rest.
The city itself is lit warmly at night. I lose myself in the narrow lanes, finding my way by turns in quiet areas and then next to commercial districts full of shops catering to tourists and locals alike.
Stretch golf carts ply the streets, colorfully painted nad decorated with high-status emblems, they shift people around town. I wonder what the route is, where they stop, what they see. It makes me want to return without a guide to spend a day or two back in town to watch others as they visit Nizwa for the first time.
I wind my way around the back streets and soon find myself on one of the main streets that lead to the market and center of the city. I decide to have dinner at Tamrah Restaurant, partially for the view over the Nizwa fort. It’s full of foreign toursts, in stark contrast to the cafe I have just left.
I order an Omani shuwa and enjoy the view, stuffing myself with my meal when it comes. When the call to prayer sounds from the mosques around town it’s to the accompanyment of Aerosmith’s I Don’t Want to Miss A Thing, which plays over the restaurant’s speakers.
After dinner I walk around the area, visit a few tourist shops to look at postcards, stop at an ice cream parlor for a cone. The evening is warm and it’s nice being outside. I walk to try to work off some of the calories from the cake, my dinner, and the ice cream.
A few of the shops in the souqs are still open though there aren’t many people shopping at this hour. I walk past the central souq and the outdoor livestock market area. Abdullah had suggested coming earlier in the week to see it, but I had other engagements and couldn’t get away.
Soon, the day’s travel begins to take its toll and I make my way back to the hotel I run the aircon for a bit to cool down the room while I wash up. I open the shutters to take one last look at Nizwa by night before retiring. I’ll be touring the city again in the morning. 🇴🇲
— 26 April 2025
