Living (Almost) Like Bedouins.(Special Report)(Oman)

Byline: Sophie Grove

Unlike its neighbors, Oman aims to lure tourists with its history and natural beauty.

Oman's Bedouin have always eschewed the coast in favor of the arid desert. Here, pitched in what is the largest expanse of sand on earth, Abdullah Al Harthy's desert camp could be a scene from "The Arabian Nights." The tent walls, made of goatskin and cloth woven from camel hair, are ancient solutions to the blistering heat. Indeed, nothing appears to have changed since the third century B.C., when the country produced frankincense and served as an important stop on the trade route from ancient Mesopotamia to the Indian Subcontinent. That is, until visitors pull up in a Mercedes SUV and step into the cool blast of an air-conditioned tent. This is not, in fact, an ancient Bedouin settlement but one of Oman's most popular tourist ventures.

Despite a few modern conveniences, the setup couldn't be further from the glitz and superconsumerism found in Dubai, just over an hour's flight north. But that is clearly the point. The oil-rich sultanate has set out to rival its neighbor by offering almost the exact opposite sort of attractions. Where the United Arab Emirates has slick skyscrapers and uber-modern malls, in Oman's capital, Muscat, and its port town Matrah, the whitewashed houses and labyrinthine souks--a distinct hybrid of European and Islamic architecture--speak of the country's previous occupation by both the Portuguese and the Persians.

The two forts of Al Mirani and Al Jalali--among the few high-rise fixtures on the landscape--face out toward the Indian Ocean as testament to an Omani empire that once stretched as far as East Africa and parts of modern-day Pakistan. Unlike other Gulf cities that sprang out of the desert since the discovery of oil, Oman's allure lies primarily in its ancient, checkered history. It is quickly becoming the antidote to anodyne cities like Abu Dhabi. "Oman is the exception in the Gulf," says Ali Chambers, a British filmmaker who lives in nearby Qatar and flies over to Muscat for a regular dose of authentic Arab culture. "I love the five-star glamour of Doha, but no matter how much money they have they'll never have history."

While frankincense was once its mainstay, it's now oil that dominates Oman's economy. And although Oman's reserves pale in comparison to the vast fields owned by its smaller Gulf neighbors, oil still represents more than half its GDP. "We know that one day our oil will run out," says Salim Al Mamary, Oman's director general of tourism. "We know we have to diversify, grow and modernize. But our aim is to preserve the authentic, historic character of our country. Our watchwords are controlled, reserved and cautious."

Conservatism is something Oman knows plenty about. For most of the 20th century the country was essentially a time vault. Years of isolationism imposed by the then sultan, Said bin Taimur, left little in the way of infrastructure. Just a few kilometers of paved roads crisscrossed the country's vast tracts of desert. Due to his staunchly anti-Western stance, even sunglasses were banned--so it's no surprise that tourists stayed away. When Taimur's son, Sultan Quaboo, deposed his father from power in 1970, he began plowing the country's petrodollars back into tourism. The British-educated autocrat has kept a tight rein on development ever since, imposing height restrictions on buildings to keep a consistent Omani style and taking a personal interest in planning applications. Outside the ...