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The Chedi, Muscat

The magic of water transforms this desert oasis in Oman

By: Mary Gostelow

Oh the magic of water! Arriving at The Chedi, Muscat - Oman's only Leading Hotel of the World - the car swung noiselessly up to a turning circle, around a shallow pool, square with its corners rounded.

I was greeted by another tall guy, white dishdash (full-length loose robe, immaculately pressed), head in a low turban formed of a patterned shawl. I went up four terracotta steps into the lobby, a large square - tent, 27 big paces from one side to the other. Yes, really, architect Jean-Michel Gathy has put in proper walls but a tent canopy, soaring up to a height of 50 feet. From its pinnacle hang 50 lanterns, half dull rust-red, and half cream.

Gathy is so precise that back home in Belgium he must cut his frites by computer. For this project he ordered what seems like acres of a few-inches-deep water garden, all in exact square or rectangular format, and an endless supply of white paintings for his square, flat-topped buildings. He also requested computer-similar palm trees (real, of course) and unlimited number of 12 ft-high white columns, either round or about 18 in square, but all set vertical. Take also as many panels of dark wood slats as you need, and a big calculator. The last implement is needed because everything in this place is exact, and you feel as if Gathy has personally been around to check that not a half-inch is out of place. The open courtyard outside The Restaurant has 18 square columns around it, forming a cooling cloister (there are those wood slat panels overhead). The adults-only 42-yard blue-tiled infinity pool has circular columns four across running down one side, and extending one end to form a cooling loggia, the other to shield the refreshment area where jazz nights are held. This is symmetry personified.

So far our color palette is limited, to white, the Guanaja-chocolate of the Assam teak, mahogany and walnut woods, plus the soft-stone colors of the outdoor terrazza walkways and the soft blue sea, softer blue sky. Add to this the vivid grass green of the immaculate lawns, and the muted colors of the palm trees (and by the way, if you have not already guessed, even these are exact, set in such lines that if you stand by one, you cannot see the lines behind - this is such military order that any commander of a major national force would give full marks).

It is also peaceful. Are there really 156 rooms here? Some are, admittedly, clustered in a three-floor block that reminds me of The Imperial, New Delhi - as do the gardens, here designed by Karl Princic, of Intaran Design, Bali.

I go to my room, 1103, a 630 sq ft premium Club Suite, upstairs in a two-floor white block 30 yards from the narrow, somewhat-shell- studded beach. It looks rather Sukhothai, I think, as we approach it: my block has one suite up, one suite down, but at flat rooftop level more of those fretted planks join us to an identical two-floor, two-suite block, ten feet away. So we go up 22 terrazza steps and into a sanctum, about 12 by 12 x 12 feet. It has grey terrazza flooring, cream walls, lots more heavy wood. Going in, I see on the left wall six four-by-four (feet) recessed windows, set with three above the others - and above them, same-sized recesses holding backlit vases. The windows have wood blinds. The right wall has two pairs of tall wood doors flanking a recessed fabric-covered panel bearing a metal tray above the Sony wall-set flat-screen, a cream terrazza desk with two iPods - his and hers - and the minibar. There are two brown rugs, two low brown tables, C-shaped back less seating with mole-colored under-cushions, rust-red upper cushions, and mole scatter cushions. Grey linen folders hold guide to services, room service menu and, cleverly, all magazines. As in all Club Suites at The Chedi, the decanters of whisky, gin, vodka and the non-alcohol mini bar are all free, as is wireless Internet - and breakfast and cocktails, in the library.

The further pair of doors leads to my private terrace, with ample rattan seating. The nearer door leads through to the bedroom, with wood floors (grey terrazza surround) an inset wood headboard raises almost to the ceiling. The bed, on a wood base, is made up entirely and solely in unembellished white linens - at its foot is one of the room's three wood stools, all with the same mole-under, rust-upper fixed cushions. Two low-low ceiling-hung lights are either side of the bed, far too low for in bed reading but interior designer Jaya Ibrahim has thought of that - there are exactly positioned ceiling-set fibre optic lights. Lying in bed, you face north, looking straight out, through two pairs of six-foot high wood-blind windows, over the terrace, through palms, to the beach and the sea. Between the pairs of windows a ceiling-high column holds inset wood cupboards for, from top, the music system, a television, a safe with integral socket for recharging laptops.

Decoration? Forget paintings and other wall hangings here. This is simplicity. On either side of the bed's foot is wall suspended mirrors, seven feet tall, wood framed, and hung so they tilt somewhat dangerously forward. In front of each is a three-foot tall cathedral candlestick with a glass-sleeved altar candle. Go beyond the bedroom and you enter the bathroom area, with straight ahead a floor-high sunken grey terrazza tub and window (and yet another wood blind). The big shower is on your left and the frost glass-doored toilet and bidet on your right. Both end walls have an identical vanity unit, with hemispherical cream sink rising from a cream terrazza shelf. There are towels already hanging from hooks, and more folded, there are Bulgari White Tea toiletries and the loofah pad that should be compulsory in all top hotels. Robes, hanging in the pair of closets, are pale grey cotton, and there is a beach bag, surprisingly striped white and navy, which at least add another color to the Chedi color palette.

I find the gym - lovely views, right over the ocean, but only four pieces of Technogym equipment so at 6:30pm they are all taken - and have a fabulous swim in the adjacent Chedi pool (there is another, the

black-tiled Setai pool, is for those with kids). By night, the entire resort is a fairytale of clever illumination, with the guards of honor of palm trees showing all the more clearly. Everywhere, it seems, there are little groups of people sitting, having a drink by one of the lit fire bowls.

I am with the luxury resort's German GM, York Brandes. We are dining in the outside seafood Beach Restaurant, right at the water's edge. Plain wood tables, all-white china and simple glassware, and a great menu, which you can easily read, are all presented perfectly. The breadbasket, which included squid-dyed black grissini, had three spicy Asian dips, plus pink and black salts from Hawaii, and a vanilla-flavored Halen Môn salt. The amuse bouche was a miniature preserving jar holding an oriental hotpot. My Asian vegetable broth came with noodles and tofu bits. Crispy salmon was served in a boat-shaped dish, with a piece of ravioli on top. A signature is the side order of chorizo-studded mash potato, truly divine (I love both ingredients, said the jolly Sydney-sider chef, James Viles, whose pedigree includes years with Orient-Express).

Afterwards, back home, I found my blinds closed - 11 of them, in total, all with additional roll-down blackout blinds - and the pair of cathedral lights lit (the only way to extinguish them was with water). I put out the Do Not Disturb, a disk showing a local person saying “Shh!”, clicked the automatic door lock and slept like a log. Because of all those blinds I overslept, so it was quickly up, floor exercises and a quick run around the locale of Gubrah, where I coincided with the regular morning traffic jam, caused by simultaneous opening of government offices and schools. I retreated to the calm oasis of The Chedi, got on the gym's ellipse machine and then did another ten lengths.

I had planned on the continental breakfast of The Library but could not find it, so I took the laptop and the copy of The Times of Oman, which had been hanging in a mole bag marked Newspaper, to The Restaurant. I am glad, as that breakfast was one of the best buffets I remember. I sat outside, looking at those pillars. My wood table was set with white Narumi, white linens, Beurre d'Isigny, in its pot, in a china container. Two, not one, glasses of great juice were brought, and a silver-topped glass cafetiere of excellent coffee. One of the main serving stations prepared to order a whole mango, admittedly apple-sized, and papaya, and there were little glass pots of homemade yogurts. There were cereals, and cold cuts, and every type of bread and hot dish you could think of. A waiter asked if I wanted any lime and brought me a bowl full: he later asked if I would like another pot just as I was about to run out of coffee, which I drank while downloading a couple of files (the entire location appears to be wireless).

Aha, the library was found. It is like a chapel, a wholly spiritual place, lined in wood, with two pews bearing a total of four laptops ready and waiting. Open a rood screen and you find an outstanding library, a National Geographic compendium, and the history of ikats, latest novels, everything hardback. Next visit I will be here, not only for breakfast but also for cocktails, inside or on its private terrace. And next time I will book ahead, as one must if you wanna get in, for a treatment at the spa. The combination of the growing global popularity of wellness, its Balinese staff, its Australian Jurlique products and the GHM reputation means that the spa is not only fully-booked most of the year but its four treatment rooms, all for couples, have been expanded to add three former bedrooms. Who knows, I might even bring my tennis racquet, though the best time to play probably coincides with the cool of pre-dawn.

There was just time, after a plausible lapse of a few hours, for lunch inside at The Restaurant, under one of eight giant clear-glass Venetian chandeliers (Yasuhiro Koichi of Spin did this room). The menu is divided into international, modern and traditional Arabic and Asian. A beetroot and baby spinach salad, and papardelle pasta with crispy eggplant fitted the bill beautifully, and while we waited we were brought more of those delicious breads, and a charming waiter from India, using my name correctly, filled a little bowl with first olive oil and then balsamico.

Omani bigwigs, a combination of expats and locals, surrounded us - those near me seemed to favor whole lobster, despite the 28-degree exterior temperature. Talking of temperature, by the way, Muscat has especially cooling winds so that, unlike elsewhere in the Gulf, it is not unbearable during the summer. June through to September is a delightful time to visit, I am told, added to which the luxury The Chedi hotel is not running at 100 percent, as it is most of the rest of the year, which means that you do not have to book the previous night to get early check-in, or the following night to get late check-out. And you should be able to pick up any spa reservations you want!

I shall certainly be back, I thought, as the Mercedes slid away, with two minders taking me back to the airport, a mere 15 minutes' drive away. www.ghmhotels.com www.chedimuscat.com

The Chedi Muscat, Muscat, Oman
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