Oman is what Dubai was pretending to be

Dubai is a shopping mall that figured out how to charge for the ceiling. Oman is fifty miles away and approximately forty years less exhausting.

Muscat is the actual thing. Muttrah Corniche runs along a harbor that doesn't have a luxury yacht waiting list. The souk inside the old town — not the one with the signs in English, the other one, past the fish market — has a spice vendor named Ahmed who will tell you exactly what to do with dried limes if you ask him in something other than a shout. Al Hamra, three hours inland, is a crumbling stone village with date palms and no tour bus in sight. Wahiba Sands is a desert you can drive to alone in a rented Corolla if you know to deflate the tires to 18 PSI before you hit the sand — no operator, no 'authentic Bedouin experience' that costs 400 USD and ends with a fire dancer. Budget, if you're being careful: 60 to 80 USD a day, including a decent room and food that isn't hotel food. Honest drawback: June will end you. Not 'it's a bit warm.' Your organs will negotiate a separate peace with your body. Go in November.

The reason nobody goes is that Oman is quiet about itself. It doesn't have an ad campaign. It doesn't have a skyline designed to trend. That is the reason you should go.