OMAN

JULIE ALPINE, SUB-EDITOR

It’s about as far from a suburban London street as it’s possible to get, a desert oasis. On the south-eastern tip of the Arabian Peninsula, a three hours’ drive north of port capital Muscat, Wadi Bani Khalid materialises like a mirage out of the camel-coloured sand. A labyrinth of emerald pools flanked by the kind of palms more usually seen on phone cases and House of Hackney cushion covers, this is a place for simple pleasures: taking a dip in a crystalline swimming hole; hiking through canyons; finding a giant boulder on which to sunbathe.

From its wadis to its Empty Quarter, in the country’s south-west, which offers 650,000sq km of sandy solitude and zero arguments over screen time, to the frankincense-scented Mutrah Souk, a frustrated shopper’s paradise, the Sultanate of Oman offers a feast for the post-lockdown senses. After exploring the magnificent mosques, museums and restaurants of the capital, an hour’s drive west takes you to the launching point for the Al-Dimaniyat Islands Nature Reserve. Comprised of nine idyllic islands, the area is home to nesting sea turtles and migratory birds – and dozens of diving and snorkelling sites. Jump off a boat into the warm, shallow waters to discover healthy hard and soft coral to rival much of what can be found in Southeast Asia, swimming among clownfish, butterflyfish, angelfish, Arabian Picasso triggerfish and, if you get lucky, the odd whale shark. For those harbouring Castaway dreams, camping on the islands is permitted between October and February. On disembarking back in Barka, find sticky halwa for sale on every corner. Made of dates, saffron, almonds, nutmeg and rose water, it is prepared in vast copper vats, over fire, stirred for many hours with long, wooden paddles. I’ll be devouring mine alongside a cup of qahwa (cardamom-laced coffee), the daily routine seemingly a million miles away.