Richard And Jo Demeester's photos

After boarding our wooden dhow, we thought we might be waiting for more passengers. However, we soon pushed off, and it was just the two of us. We could swap from shade to sun, snorkel as long as we wanted, opt in and out of stops (which we did opt in for all), There were drinks and fruit available the whole time, and a lunch fit for a Sultan or Sultana.

Fort with concise and informative on-site museum. We particularly loved the restored wooden boats in the compound, showing the different styles which had been in use in the area over the last century or so.

We had booked a "king room" at this hotel, and it was actually a small corner suite. We could see the cliffs that come down to the sea on both sides of Khasab, and the complete harbour. Docked just opposite was the Sultan's yacht. The space between the road and the mooring had 5 or 6 armoured vehicles, Occasional helicopters circled. I have to confess, I felt odd trying to take photos. The soldiers were all on alert, and I felt that opening curtains from such a prime location might already draw attention. So, opening windows or taking photos might invite a full police tactical unit to visit us. A little later, walking through town, we came to the main road to find it fully blocked. Soon after, streams of police and military vehicles came, followed by many brand new green four-wheel-drives, followed by a vehicle with the sultan, and then more entourage, and more security. Overhead, helicopters kept a watchful eye on the proceedings. People along the road waved and took photos. We waved and took photos. We got a wave back, too.

Looking down from the ancient remains of Khor Rori. This hilltop town had a harbour below, once a critical stop for trade coming out the Red Sea or from North Africa, heeading across to India. At this stop, traders would take on Frankincense.

In the wet season, the water apparently flows over all these rocks, and then further downstream, runs off the plateau. Occasionally, once every ten years of so, that run off becomes a curtain of water. We were actually surprised to see any water flowing, given how dry every thing is. So this lovely scene was a bonus.

Looking down to Wadi Darbat. It really felt like looking down at a scene from Africa, especially if the camels had been giraffes. The water level is low, and as it is now a dry season in Oman. Still, the travellers come to see the lake and waterfalls. The lake inside the wadi is the largest natural lake in Oman. That is not saying a lot, as on world standards, it would be considered tiny.

Ayn Razat is a year-round spring near Salalah. A small strip popular with locals, where the water literally gushes from the rocks. The various pools were filled with fish, of many different varieties, while water birds waded around availing themselves of the self-serve buffet.

Wadi Dawkah, a natural reserve to protect an ancient grove of Frankincense. Even the smallest drop of sap, rubbed between one's fingers, emitted a sweet aroma, not dissimilar to a sweet pine-like fragrance.

We don't expect to find camels on the beach, but when the desert meets the sea, I guess it's inevitable.

Dramatic cliffs as viewed from the Mugshail Blowholes.

Perhaps the greatest threat when driving in Oman. Even on sunny days with good visibility, they can be difficult to spot, and like most animals, can be unpredictable. At night and during poor weather, they are a significant cause of road trauma.

Flying from Muscat to Salalah. The dry watercourses that have been forged by torrential flows scar the barren landscape.

I am not just deflecting blame, I know this was all the fault of Google Maps navigation. Well, maybe some fault lies with the hotel. Driving in to Tunis, well after dark, rain fairly heavy, trying to keep our calm with the nutty displays of local driving. A check of our reservation confirmation listed that the accommodation had parking. So, when Google had a plotted path to the front door, we followed. A few turns from a main road, and we were driving along some narrow cobbled streets. We were not too concerned, there were other cars about. But the streets got narrower and the turns it proposed got tighter. At one point, it proposed a turn I knew we could not do successfully in the car, little as it was. So Google gave us an alternative. I was convinced this must be the route - narrow, yes, but confidently marked. I had conviction, and we folded the mirrors in and progressed carefully... until a man shouted and stopped us. Where were we going? He warned us of the stairs coming ahead. So, we had to back out. This took about 15 minutes, with mirrors folded, and 3 or 4 locals guiding us in the rain. The whole saga felt like a cross between James Bond and the Griswalds. We returned on foot, the following day, to take photos. Hmm, even in daylight, I might have attempted the manoeuvre. But rain or shine, day or night, we were not going to get our little Kia hire car down those stairs.

With one of the world's largest collections of mosaics, the Bardo struggles to find space to display the wondrous pieces. There is a combination of thematic presentation, and a general chronological progression as one wanders through (assuming one starts at the beginning, which Jo tends to do), In the end, there are some examples so significant and so large, that presentation space has obviously been specifically designed and modified to hold it.

A 4th or 5th century baptismal, beautifully lined with mosaic tiles, pictures, patterns, and inscriptions. Bardo Museum in Tunis.

All through the country, we have seen cats sitting in cute perches. Peering out windows, on ledges, sitting in boxes (as cats are want to do) or up on bar stools. Any where they can find to stay out from under-foot. I thought this nonchalant feline, watching the medina busy-ness,a stand out example of such behaviour.

OK, not really, but a photo had to be had.