As the tantalizing aroma of pure Frankiscence wafts around my house, I’m drawn inexplicably to the box of Omani halwa that beckons from my kitchen counter. Ignoring the warning from my brain, I spoon some into my mouth. As the richness of the wheat and nuts melts into my consciousness I’m transported back to Salalah and hey presto, it’s Khareef all over again.
After living three decades in Oman, I finally found the vigor to drag my mortified self to the Khareef Festival in Salalah last week. This jaw-dropping negligence could be attributed to the 45-degree heat in Muscat city which more or less makes it difficult to get away from an air-conditioned room. However, visions of a Kashmir type landscape with overhanging mist are hard to resist so a group of us booked tickets on Salam Air and traveled to Salalah getting a head start on the crowds.
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