Peaceful Town
Shangri-La Hotel, Al Bandar
We zigzagged our way through the narrow alleyways of the Muttrah Souq where some stalls were virtually glowing in the hot afternoon sun, whilst others were in relative darkness, buried deep inside the market where the sun could not permeate. Be it light or dark, the bazaar was a colossal labyrinth overflowing with practically everything: Omani silver, spotless white dishdashas, Arabian spices, frankincense and possibly every kind of household good known to man could be found around every corner. When we finally navigated our way out of the maze, both arms laden with shopping bags, we realised dusk had already fallen on the Muttrah Corniche. A sudden cool breeze off the ocean was a stark reminder that the chill of the night was about to transpire and without a moment to waste, we headed back to the hotel that had just lit up majestically in the twilit sky, in the not too far away distance.
As we neared the hotel I could not help but notice its incredible charm, in particular, the way all of the buildings were of different heights giving the impression it was a quaint little town of its own. Once inside, we were welcomed with the sweet scent of frankincense and an enchanting interior of horseshoe arches and elaborately latticed Mashrabiya screens, reminiscent of Old Muscat. In fact, the entire place seemed to emanate a rather deep and soothing soulfulness with which we felt entirely at peace.
Behind a magnificent staircase leading three stories high, a gigantic window framed the ocean outside which was only barely still visible. As it seemed, day had just turned into night, handing over the illustrious job of lighting our surroundings to an incredible eight-tiered chandelier made up of thousands of glittering crystals cascading down from an opulent domed ceiling above.
Just like the muttrah souq, Al Tanoor was brimming with baskets full of spices, jars of condiments, pottery works and a collection of copper ware in the form of trays, bowls and utensils, still gleaming as if they had just been plucked from an ancient Omani castle. Not far from our table, chefs put on a spectacular show, preparing a scintillating array of Middle Eastern favourites and the whole atmosphere was so exhilarating that the busy morning of meetings that preceded us was soon forgotten. One of the chefs, who reminded me of a dear uncle of mine, personally delivered to our table a serve of his specialty dish — a succulently baked king fish infused with cardamom, cinnamon and cloves. As we admired the gift before us, I thought I felt a soft ocean breeze sail in from the window and over our table, sprinkling the fish with the lightest dusting of sea salt fresh from the ocean, completing this simple but magical dish.
The Italian marble on which I lay flat, felt surprisingly cool, whilst the rest of the room radiated an intense but rewarding heat. For there in the hammam, with its healing frankincense-infused steam, I could literally feel the toxins melting from my body and evaporating into the hot steamy air. Later, in the rasul, I found myself slathered from head to toe with some exotic multi-coloured muds that had the effect of not only cooling my skin but my entire body. The spicy aromas of cedar wood and sage swirled around my head, and together with the mud, had a remarkably therapeutic effect that felt somewhat otherworldly. Then without much of a warning, a warm tropical rain from the ceiling above showered down on me, gently washing away the mud and leaving me feeling not quite myself, but liking it.
