Michael Evans was born and raised in beautiful Perth Australia. He is a recent university graduate with a thirst for life and storytelling. Inspired by adventure his photos explore the beauty of the natural world and those who inhabit them.
To see more of his work, follow him on 500px, visit his website, or check him out on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. This post was originally published on Michael’s blog, and is being republished here with express permission.
Prologue
The idea of travel seems nonsensical at first. Leaving the comfort of your own surroundings to explore a completely different (and probably uncomfortable) way of life sounds outrageous on the surface of it. And yet, inside everybody I know I see a thirst for adventure and to experience the world in all its unique and mystifying glory.
Though I had never traveled before, especially on my own, the only way to move forward in life is to take calculated risks, and ever since finishing university this risk seemed to be the big-but-worthwhile next step.
Photography has turned into a lifelong passion of mine, and what I truly love about it is capturing images of a place in time that no one has ever seen before. A photographer’s paradise usually is described as places like New Zealand and Iceland, but I didn’t want that kind of adventure. I needed to go somewhere that both sated and drove my thirst to explore the unknown. I wanted to experience a culture that only a few get to see. That’s how I discovered Oman.
Located along the Arabian Peninsula pocketed amongst the UAE, Saudi Arabia, and Yemen, it’s a country vastly different to its neighbors. Like much of the middle east, oil contributes much to its economy though a significant portion of their trade is made up of fish, dates, and a number of unique agricultural produce.
Oman has experienced huge modernization in the last 40 years; however, traditional practices are still a big part of daily life. Oman has also avoided much of the conflict that has crippled that part of the world for many years, nestled peacefully in the mountains and along the coast.
During my initial research I couldn’t help but notice the lack of international representation this country has. I often heard of the romanticization of these hot Arabian nights, though I had little clue of what the country was really like.
The generalization of the Middle East is men with turbans wearing long gowns and women who are very reserved in society, though I had a feeling Oman was very different and a country that would open my eyes to the generosity and welcoming nature of a very secluded group of people.
Perth to Oman & Back
On my lonely trip over to the other side of the world, I had a lot of time to think about the journey that lay ahead. It was always a constant battle between being so scared that you question what your doing and so excited that you want to take every opportunity that comes your way.
Arriving in Oman, I was blasted by the cultural shock of experiencing a land so foreign to what I know.
Renting a car, I joined a road system that completely flipped all that I knew and shocked me with the downright dangerous driving of the local population. After settling in to my room for the night, I did what any photographer would do: I hit the streets and hid behind my camera, snapping away at anything and everything just to get used to the atmosphere of the place.
Then, slowly but surely, I found myself lowering my camera and opening my eyes to where I was.
I was empowered by a new goal: to experience everything I could of a culture that, at a glance, was buzzing with conversation and fragrant with the smell of exotic spices in the air. This allowed me to find myself interacting with the locals a lot more, in conversations that were made up of broken english/arabic and yet were still hugely beneficial in finding out what Oman was really about.
One conversation that really struck me was when talking about entering the Nizwa Mosque with two gentlemen.
I began by saying, “I can’t go in there I’m not Muslim.” With a stern look back he said, “Do not worry, you are Christian. I can go into your Church, you can come to our Mosque. At the end of the day Allah loves all, we are one of his creation, why would he show any difference to someone of a different faith.”
I took a photograph of that man, who had not only introduced me to one of the main themes of my stay in Oman—tolerance—but had made me feel very welcome in a country that was very foreign.
One of the biggest things that I came to love is the landscape of Oman. From a distance, it can be misperceived as unappealing: mostly dessert, hardly any greenery, with rocky and arid outcrops. But despite missing the greenery of home, the harsh environment unravelled into one of unparalleled beauty inside one of the harshest climates on Earth.
As I made my way across the country I began to discover that the modernization of the country has had a huge impact. In 1970, the first paved road was constructed in Oman, and since then the city has developed into a thriving connected metropolis. It became clear though that, despite everyone having mobile phones and satellite TV, they very much still respected the traditional practices of the country.
I loved that kids actually played outside. As depressing as it sounds that this was a surprise, it was wonderful to see how after school and before dark there are hundreds of kids running around playing on the streets and enjoying the afternoon sun.
Finally, I was left with the impression that everyone knew everyone else. Talking is still the primary means of communication in Oman, and word of mouth is the primary means of advertising. This meant that everywhere I looked I felt as if I was experiencing a past existence, and one that I cherished greatly.
I feel we could learn and thing or two from this way of living.
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