How strange, I mused, that postcards and souvenirs often depict the desert with images of isolation and vastness—camel trains trudging across endless sands, with nothing but the occasional cactus to break the monotony. Yet here I was, in Oman, covering the 100 km from Salalah airport to Mirbat in the Dhofar region on a swanky highway in just 55 minutes.

　　While its neighbours have built towering skylines, vertical cities and intricate flyovers, Oman has focused its ambitions on the land—creating smooth highways that stretch like silk across the vast desert. The open road here is an integral part of the experience, connecting villages, wadis, and coastal towns effortlessly.

　　Abdul Aziz, my guide, snapped me out of my reverie to show in the far-sighted horizon, standing in expansive glory, Alila Hinu Bay, which would be my refuge for the days to come. The luxury hotel and resort, situated on Oman's southwest coast in Mirbat, spans 45 hectares of untouched beachfront along the Arabian Sea.

　　Oman: The Land Of Frankincense

　　Dating back to the 7th century, the coast was renowned for exporting frankincense (known locally as luban) to far-off lands like China. At Alila, a lot has to do with frankincense, from its decor to the indoor frankincense grove and the delicious frankincense ice cream. This resin-like substance, derived from the Boswellia tree, holds such cultural significance that it even appears on Omani currency. Throughout history, it has enchanted travellers with its aromatic allure, earning a place as a poetic muse, a symbol of trade, and now a national heritage. As early as the 10th century, Arab writers like al-Hamdani referred to Ash-Shihr (a city in Yemen also known as Al-Shihr) as the “frankincense city,” with one poet even singing, "Go to Shihr and leave Oman!"

　　Here, you won't find dates, but you'll find luban. However, it appears that only a century later, Ibn-Idrisi spoke of frankincense in the mountains of both ash-Shihr and Mirbat or Zufar, i.e. Dhofar. By the 9th century, Mirbat had become a stronghold as a breeder and exporter of tough Arabian horses. The town's architectural heritage, also slightly illustrated in Alila, features Yemeni-style mud-brick structures in its desolate yet rich ecology.

　　Nearby, along Oman's Arabian Sea coast, is the Mirbat Beach, integral to the town's maritime activities. While the beach played various roles throughout history, it is celebrated for its rich marine life and coral reefs today. While the others in our group went snorkelling, I stayed back being the least adventurous and lacking the appetite for adventure.

　　I whiled away my time on the shore with Aziz in the shade of his formidable four-wheel drive. As we chatted, I learned many things about him, like why he'd never quite left Oman as he had intended and that he was a great Shah Rukh Khan fan.

　　"When I'm driving in the desert during sunset, I play some SRK songs and that is the most satisfying thing ever."

　　Later, lunch was served at a local restaurant, a humble cabin with no furniture save for thick rugs that lined the floor. Upon these, plastic rolls were unfurled, and a grand feast was laid out—camel meat curry, crispy chicken fries and aromatic biryani. Satisfied tolerably, it was time to see more of the coastal town. At the farthest reach of the horizon, towering mountains loomed outside the restaurant, their jagged peaks dwarfed by the misty greyness that shrouded them. That was Djebel Samhan, our destination and a nature reserve, informed Aziz.

　　Rubbles of History

　　As we cruised outside the city towards our destination, we crossed Mirbat's Old City. Once a bustling hub of trade and culture, the old city of Mirbat now lies in rubble. Looking like a war-torn, evacuated site, the old town had a history to explain its plight.

　　The Dhofar Rebellion in the 1960s and 1970s, particularly the Battle of Mirbat in 1972, inflicted considerable damage on its infrastructure. Today, the Old City silently witnesses Mirbat's rich and tumultuous past.

　　The looming clouds over the desert running along the bluest ocean I'd ever seen was surreal and soon we were at the Anti-Gravity Point near Mirbat. Twenty seven kilometres from Taqa on the Taqa-Mirbat road, this site has intrigued travellers for years. As Aziz put his car in neutral gear, the car seemed to climb uphill on its own, as if aided with some ghostly assistance. This "anti-gravity" effect is an optical illusion known as a gravity hill. The surrounding landscape's layout creates a deceptive visual perception, making a slight downhill slope appear as an uphill incline. When a vehicle is placed in neutral, it seems to roll uphill, though moving downhill.

　　The phenomenon is not novel. For instance, the Magnetic Hill in India's Ladakh and the Gravity Hill in the United States exhibit similar optical illusions.

　　A few kilometres ahead of this pitstop just before Djebel Samhan, the grand Baobab Grove in Dhofar welcomed us. Ensconced in Djebel Samhan Nature Reserve, the grove is home to the region's most striking and ancient baobab trees. These iconic girthy trees, often called the "upside-down trees" due to their unique inverse shape, are known for their broad trunks and sparse branches that resemble roots.

　　Baobabs are not native to Oman. However, their presence in Dhofar is attributed to ancient trade routes to Africa or Madagascar. Over time, the trees adapted to the local environment, thriving in the region's climate.

　　If all of this wasn't surreal enough, towards Djebel Samhan, I witnessed a spectacle I shall not get out of my mind anytime soon—camels on hills. Having forever known them as the ships of the desert, seeing camels grazing in the hills was nothing short of being in one of Dali's ungodly dreams.

　　At a viewpoint where Aziz took us, we were enveloped in dense fog. We savoured piping hot Omani tea from a nearby stall and savoured the fresh air.

　　At the end of the evening, we took the road towards Alila with just one more pitstop: Wadi Darbat.

　　Thirty kilometres from Djebel Samhan, Wadi Darbat is renowned for its verdant landscape, terraced waterfalls and rich birdlife. The wadi was formed through the erosion of limestone and sandstone by the seasonal monsoon rains, creating a fertile valley. During the kharif (monsoon) season, the wadi transforms into a vibrant oasis, with waterfalls cascading down the cliffs and lush vegetation carpeting the landscape.

　　Incidentally, kharif season is the best time to be in Oman when the country's natural elements are in full bloom. A traveller at Wadi Darbat can also explore the Tawi Ateer Sinkhole, a geological feature and one of the largest sinkholes in the Arabian Peninsula.

　　Now, out of the wadi, we were on the road again, Djebel Samhan now in the far distance, barely visible. The evening sky was bathed in hues of copper and crimson as the sunset unfolded slowly.

　　With Aziz playing the iconic "Mahi Ve!" from the hit 2003 movie Kal Ho Na Ho, the notes swirled through the air, and I found myself looking out of the window, suddenly carried back home.

　　I glanced at Aziz, who was grinning at me, his eyes mischievous, urging me to join in. "That's the way!" the song rang out, and just like that, the road stretched ahead, winding endlessly, while the melody carried us forward—two travellers caught in a moment between memory and the now, life surreal as ever.

　　The Information

　　Visa: Indian nationals must apply for a tourist visa online before visiting Oman.

　　Best Time To Visit: To enjoy more outdoor activities, visiting between October and April is ideal when mild temperatures prevail.

　　Getting there: Fly into Muscat International Airport through common carriers like Oman Air, Emirates, or Qatar Airways.

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