Lines and Curves The rooftop of Al Hazm Castle provides a good example of the solid defences and elegant lines seen in many Omani forts.
The Sultanate of Oman is a land of forts and castles.
Sitting at the southeastern end of the Arabian Peninsula, this Middle Eastern country has always been a centre of regional trade. As early as 120 AD, a branch of Nabataean Arabs arrived in the vast desert interior. By the 1600s, the Omani Sultanate was an empire, vying with the Portuguese and British for influence in the Persian Gulf and Indian Ocean.
Over the years, internal tribes have warred for power, and the area as a whole has had to defend against outsiders. Small surprise then that “[o]ver 1000 forts, castles and watchtowers continue to stand Guard over the Omani landscape”. These various forts, castles, and towers were built over the years by various Sultans, or by invading Portuguese and Ottomans, and modified by whomever followed.
I certainly didn’t visit anywhere near the 1000 forts on offer, although I saw several from a distance when I was in Muscat (see: Between the Past and the Future and On the Arabian Sea). On my second full day in the country, we drove from Muscat to to the fishing village of Barka where we visited the fish market (see: Morning in the Barka Fish Market) before spending time in the nearby Bait Al Na’aman Castle.
Bait or bayt (بيت) is house in Arabic. Bait Al Na’aman is believed to have been built in 1691-92 by Iman Bil’arab bin Sultan as a royal retreat and rest house for journeys between Muscat and Rustaq. Fortifications were added by the Al bu Said dynasty a century later. The building was restored in 1991 with traditional fittings and furnishings and now operates as a museum.
Al-Hazm Castle is a true fort, built to withstand – and return – cannon-fire. Constructed around the beginning of the 18th century, it was the home – and later the tomb – of Imam Sultan bin Saif II. It is considered to be one of the best examples of Islamic architecture in Oman and has been submitted to the tentative list of the UNESCO World Heritage sites. What stood out for me was the colossal wooden doors equipped with receptacles for pouring boiling date syrup over would-be attackers.
Sticky!
Bait Al Na’aman This fortified castle was originally built around 1691-92. It was was restored in 1991 and is now open as a museum.
Entry Door The fortifications on these old buildings have a beauty of their own.
Guides in the Doorway Guides love getting together for a chat. Both men are wearing the traditional white dishdasha. Our guide, Said, is in one of his many round kuma caps, while the museum guide has on a massar or turban.
Lattice Window The interiors of these old buildings are dark, with very little light coming through the latticed window-covers.
Jewellery In the dark interior, display cases contain period items that might have been used by the families living here. The traditional silver jewellery is heavy and ornate.
Rooftop There is plenty of light on the flat roof, where the sun pounds the parapets and the wind ruffles the Omani flag.
Museum Guide I had a chat with the local guide, the father of 16 children; eight to each of his two wives. He’s considering marrying a third woman so he can have more offspring.
On the Road Omani highways are smooth and straight; it’s about a 45 minute drive from Bait Al Na’aman to our next fort in the Al Rustaq hills.
Al Hazm Castle The fort is an impressive structure, one of several built in the Rustaq region during the reign of the Al-Yarubi tribe over Oman.
Said at the Castle Entry Our guide precedes us though the elegantly simple courtyard doors.
Castle Cannons Mounted cannons leave one in no doubt as to the building’s main purpose! The castle also contained a prison, a mosque, and religious classrooms.
Arch and Door
Door Details
Family Outing One of the more recently renovated castles in Oman, the site is a popular destination.
More Door Detail
Guide in a Doorway Said waits to lead us through the network of rooms.
Doors and Arches This is where you could be coated in boiling date syrup if you were not welcome!
Date Storage Many parts of the interior, including where the dates are stored, are almost pitch black.
On the Rooftop From the expansive rooftop, we have commanding views all around.
Curves on the Rooftop Much of what we can see are the palms that provide the dates that are an integral part of every aspect of Omani life.
Dates in the Garden
Guide in a Doorway
Coffee Set
Beautiful Walls and Deadly Cannons
Omani Man in a Massar This is my favourite time in any fort visit: …
Guide in the Garden … when we settle into the garden for qahwa (or kahwa), coffee blended with saffron, rose water, and cardamon and other spices, …
Story-Teller … served up with dates and good humour.
With a head full of facts, photo cards full of images, and more than enough dates and qahwa in our bellies, it was time for the hour-and-a-half drive back to Muscat.
Flying the Greek Flag On the craggy outcrops above the very pretty Preveli Beach, a flag proudly heralds our location.
If you want to knock the long-haul fatigue out of your mind and legs, I can think of no better way than a visit to a Cretan beach.
But, I clearly didn’t fully understand the trip description! The fact that I was – by far – the oldest person on the tour bus should have given me a hint.
Preveli (accent on the first syllable) Beach, on the south coast of Crete, with its unique palm-lined river flowing into the Libyan Sea, is touted as stunningly beautiful.
Which it undoubtedly is.
It is also a 250m (820 ft) drop in altitude from the bus parking lot – which means you access it via a steep, rocky track better suited to mountain goats than my old legs! Going down was testing on my thighs and knees; coming back up in the midday heat – no shade in sight – was nothing short of gruelling! You can actually drive to sea level on the other side, and access the beach via a five-minute walk. But then – as one site pointed out – you miss out on the spectacular view from the tall cliffs on the west side.
Of course, being at the mercy of tour buses or convoluted public transport, I went where I was taken!
The beach is delightful, and visitors – mostly from Northern Europe – were enjoying Grecian September sun and the warm waters of the Libyan Sea. Not being much of a beach person myself, I followed a narrow sandy path through a unique forest of Cretan date palms, up-river along the Mégas Potamós – the Great River. Officially called Theophrastus palms (Phoenix theophrasti), these trees are distinct from the more common date palms (Phoenix Dactylifera) that they resemble. They are only found on Crete and in limited other locations around the Aegean. Remarkably, this particular forest, and thousands of hectares of land in the region, was razed by fire in August 2010. You’d never know it today!
I was in search of a waterfall I was told was twenty minutes up-river, but when I hit a wall of boulders, I had found no more than a few little trickles over rocks. It was a very pretty area, even so.
Recognising my limits – still being exhausted from travelling across more than half the world – I turned back. I had taken note note of what the down-hill trek felt like, and was determined to set back up the hill early and give myself plenty of time to pause and recover.
But, the hard work was unquestionably worth it – as I’m sure you will agree.
North Coast The bus follows the highway along the rugged coast of Crete between my starting point near Heraklion, and the turn south at Rethimno.(iPhone12Pro)
Big Buses – Narrow Roads -Rocks Falling After turning south into even more rugged terrain, we follow another tour bus through the breath-taking Kourtaliotiko Gorge. (iPhone12Pro)
Asomatos Hills Finally out of the gorge, the sea is just visible in the distance, and the fields whizzing past are patterned with crops, orchards, and olive groves.
Glimpses of the Libyan Sea We watch as the sea comes into view. Meanwhile, our tour guide gives us an overview of the place we are going to visit in four languages! (iPhone12Pro)
At the Top When we finally arrive at the top of the cliff, the almost-noon-day sun is pounding on the earth …
The Impossible Brightness … and mountains in the distance float over the Libyan Sea. That is probably Gavdos, the southernmost Greek island, to the right. But we are only a few hundred kilometers from Libya and that may be what we can see on the distant horizon.
A Dramatic Coastline The water changes colour from one minute to the next, and the beautiful coastline stretches out forever.
Preveli Beach Is a Long Way Down! As I continue to pick my way along the rocky path, I can see the resort that allows access to the beach from the other side.
Preveli Beach Those beautiful turquoise waters are getting closer …
A Steep and Rocky Path … but the path remains treacherous, requiring constant attention.
Preveli Beach and the Palm Forest Finally, we get a view over the fabled palms that line the riverbanks of the Great River.
The Palm Forest Odysseus, the King of Ithaca and the bane of High School English students, reputedly stayed near here, and there is a magical story (which I cannot entirely remember or find on line!) about the origins of this forest. What is scientifically remarkable is the rarity of these palms – named Phoenix Theophrasti for the Grecian scholar of botany – and their ability to recover from fire.
Lookout Overhead When I look up, I can see that I have made progress, …
Incoming Boat … but I admit: I’m starting to feel a little envious of those who are coming in by boat!
Rocks in the Bay
More Boats – More Rocks
Noon-Heat Pounding Just a few more bends in the pathway, …
In the Waters … and finally! We can appreciate the beach itself.
Where in the World? Many of us have come a long way to be here!
Into the Palm Forest Rather than swimming or sunbathing, I follow the sandy path upstream through the palm and oleander forest.
In the River Majestic cliffs rise up all around, but even so, Great River (Μέγας Ποταμός – Mégas Potamós) seems a rather ambitious name for a river you can literally wade up! Elsewhere, I have found it named the Kourtaliotis River for the gorge where it originates, or the Kissano Faraggi.
Rocks in the River There is meant to be a waterfall here somewhere, …
Trickles over Rocks … but the canyon was blocked with rocks. I made do with this little cascade.
Tree on the Canyon Wall It is incredible to me the way life clings to these almost-bare rocks!
A Primordial Landscape This landscape took its current shape about 3-4 million years ago, but I can imagine dinosaurs wandering here. More recent animal fossils: giant tortoises, crocodiles, squirrels, wild boars, and antelope among them, have been found in the area.
Sandy Path Following the same gritty-sandy path back, …
Down Stream … I soon glimpse the beach at the river’s mouth.
Rocks on the Beach Back at the beach, people are rock-climbing, sun-baking, or enjoying the water.
Bougainvillea and Old Props I opt for a Greek coffee in the semi-shade. Named for the Moni Preveli Monastery nearby, these lands are now protected under the Natura 2000 program, meaning permanent facilities are limited.
Narrow Path Too soon it is time to start clambering back up that goat track.
A Rugged Coast I make plenty of stops on the way back up the hill – ostensibly to admire the coastline.
Berries … or the local vegetation.
Steep Stairs
One Last Look Naturally, I make another stop at the lookout, before dragging my tired self back the rest of the way to the top.
Fortunately, at the top of the hill, the bus was waiting with the air-conditioner running!
Once I sat down, I felt quite proud of myself and forgot how tired I was.
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Runkurakay – “Pile of Ruins” This Inca building is thought to have been a tambo or inn, a stopping point for couriers on their way to Machu Picchu. For us, it marked our second pass in a long, hard day of walking the Inca Trail.
The Inca Trail is a 45 km (26 miles) trek from Piscacucho, a locality 82 km (51 miles) from Cusco, to Machu Picchu. The path follows a small part of the larger UNESCO-listed Qhapaq Ñan, the Inca-built network of roads and tracks through the Andes Mountains. The classic walk is usually done over four days, coming down into the 15th-century Inca citadel through the Sun Gate on day four.
Unfortunately, during the rainy season in 2006 – the year we walked it – part of the trail to the Sun Gate was washed away. This meant that we had to detour down to the town of Aguas Calientes and climb up to Machu Picchu from there.
This made our Day Two – the dreaded day that takes in two mountain passes – even longer than normal.
Our group of six trekkers, thirteen porters, and two guides had survived a rainy 14 km (8.7 m) walk the day before (see: The Inca Trail Day 1), but Day Two was going to be the test. We agreed to break camp at Wayllabamba (2943 m / 9655 ft) in the dark and walk two hours to Llulluchapampa (3800 m / 12,500 ft) before breakfast so that we could start the assault on our first high pass early.
It was a beautiful morning. The rains had washed the countryside clean.
From Llulluchapampa, it was a steep climb to the top of Warmiwanusca Pass (akaAbra de Huarmihuañusca or Dead Woman’s Pass), which was our highest point (4270 m/14,000 ft ) and where the winds wrapped cold, wet clouds around us. We picked our way carefully down steep stone steps to the Pacamayo River (3600 m / 11,811 ft) and lunched where we were originally meant to have camped the night. I was grateful we weren’t staying there – as pretty as the campsite was, reaching the toilet block meant winding through the bushes and crossing two small creeks, using a single-plank wooden bridge in one case, and slippery rock stepping-stones in another. I couldn’t imagine making the trip safely at night, even with a head-lamp flashlight!
Instead of staying at the Pacamayo campsite, we pushed past the one at Runkoruoay (3760 m / 12,335 ft) and through to Sayacmarca (3625 m / 11893 ft).
As the day wore on, the rains and the ups and downs took their toll. The gap between the fastest walkers and the slowest widened dramatically. This was in the days before mobile phones, and at the agreed end point, most of our group waited in the dark campsite, cold, tired, and hungry, and wondering what had become of our second guide and remaining trekkers. Eventually they staggered into the evening camp by torch light, as the rest of us breathed a sigh of relief.
Fortunately, dinner, when we finally got it, was superb. Our crew of kitchen staff and porters could not be faulted, and we all went to sleep exhausted, but warm and with full bellies.
Morning has Broken It is still cold and dark in our campsite at Wayllabamba as the dawn sneaks into the skies over the surrounding Andes.
The Huayruro River at our Feet The pre-dawn forest is noisy with the sounds of rushing water as we start to climb.
Locals and Porters The track rises steeply, …
The River Below … and before long, we have left the little river behind.
Tangled Vegetation The sub-tropical jungle is dense, and I am grateful for the well-constructed Inca pathways.
Andes in the Clouds We get glimpses of mountain peaks disappearing into the hovering clouds.
Inca Steps The stone steps seem to rise forever! Gabe and Elvis wait for us slower folks.
Run-Off Channel The Inca understood water – they built runoff channels into the pathway.
Peruvian Mother and Child At our breakfast stop at Llullucha, a Quechua woman and child greet us.
Our Staff In addition to our guides, we have kitchen staff and a crew of porters. They generally get to our stopping-places before us to set up our meal tables and/or tents.
Llulluchapampa The little village nestles in the lee of the steep mountains.
Llamas Grazing On the hills around us the llamas graze on the puna, the grasslands.
Quico – Bidens Andicola Asteraceae There are wildflowers all around us; …
Seed Pods … most of the plants are unknown to me.
Quechua Woman Many years ago, the Peruvian Government rolled out restrictions on numbers along the trail.
Quechua Guide Only licenced guides can operate; it was nice to meet one who was a female!
Dead Woman’s Pass (4215 m) It’s a 1215 m ascent to the Abra de Warnmi Wanusca– Dead Woman’s Pass. When we finally made it, we were enveloped in cold swirling clouds and buffeted by winds. They claim the name is because that’s what the mountain looks like – not because that’s how you feel once you get there!
Down After conquering the ascent, we start on the descent. The steps down might be easier on the lungs, but the knees get a work-out!
A Welcome Toilet This was not in the guide book! We were all very excited to see this little toilet in the middle of nowhere – it was the first one that we had seen in 2+ days that wasn’t a squat, and it was actually clean!
Waters Flowing Down After a wetter-than-usual rainy season, it is not uncommon to see rivulets flowing down the mountainside.
Wild Plants against the Mist The mountain clouds are settling in all around us.
Wild Bush
More Wildflowers
Lunch Tent Finally we reach the Pacamayo River (3600 m) where our tent is set up for lunch. This was meant to have been our campsite for the night, but because of the early start, we were pushing on over the next pass.
Raining Again In spite of the rain, we start climbing again through more grasslands, …
Runkurakay … this time, up pass at Runkurakay (3950 m).
Runkurakay We pushed past the campsite next to the ruins of this ancient Inca inn, into the mists and …
Sayacmarca – Sayaqmarka … down the darkening mountain towards our campsite near Sayacmarca (3625 m / 11893 ft).
Sayacmarca is Quechua for inaccessible – place you can’t enter.
Certainly – arriving there after dark, and after a very long and arduous day, we weren’t even going to try! Time enough to explore this sacred area dedicated to the mountains in the morning.
Dwarfed by Uluru Uluru / Ayers Rock rises up 348 metres (1141 feet) from the flat red rocky sands in the centre of Australia. The path around the base is 10.6 kilometres (6.6 miles) – giving walkers plenty of time to admire the rich variety in the surface of this amazing red monolith.
At a distance, it made me choke up with emotion. Close up, it was simply awe-inspiring!
Uluru. Ayers Rock. The heart of Australia.
It sits almost dead-centre of a very large land mass, a long way from anywhere else. Formally recognised by UNESCO World Heritage for both its natural and cultural values, it has been home to the Indigenous Anangu people for as far back as they can remember – back to the arrival of their mythical ancestors, the Mala (rufous hare-wallaby) people. Anangu creation stories, called Tjukurpa, tell how each feature of the rock was formed and explain how the marks on the landscape that are still seen illustrate these stories, and lead to laws to live by.
Uluru feels older than time – and is as old as the Australian continent itself. The origins of the rock date back more than 500 million years, to around the same time the whole continent was forming. The sand that became the arkose sandstone of Uluru was dumped at the bottom of a pre-historic mountain range, and resurfaced from under an inland sea some 400 million years ago.
Today, it rises 348 metres (1,142 feet) out of the surrounding plain, sitting 863 metres (2,831 ft) above sea level, and extending for at least another 2.5 kilometres (15 miles) under the surface. The rock is about 3.6kms (2.2 miles) long and 1.9kms (1.2 miles) wide, with a circumference of 9.4kms (5.8 miles). The Uluru Base Walk skirts wider, to keep people away from the most culturally-sensitive places; although it is listed as being a 10.6km (6.6 miles) walk that will take about 3.5 hours, if you detour into the waterholes (as you should!) it will take you longer.
This is desert country, where temperature extremes are to be expected. My SEIT Uluru trek started very early on the easternmost side of the rock at Kuniya Piti. As much of the north side of Uluru is sacred to Anangu men under Tjukurpa, the Anangu religious philosophy that links the people to their environment and ancestors, we were not allowed to take pictures of the rock there. So, it was ideal to finish this section of the walk in the low light of dawn.
Join me on a counter-clockwise walk around the sacred rock that is the very heart of Australia:
Sunrise in the Trees Our day started early! We left the resort in the dark, and the sun was just breaking over the horizon and through the desert oak trees when we reached the approach to our walk.
Approaching the Rock : Kuniya Piti It is not yet 6am on an October (mid-Spring) morning. The air is chilly, and that magnificent rock is bathed in red light. A small covered stand exhorts us to drink more water: dehydration and heat exhaustion are real risks in this area any time of year!
Long Morning Shadows Photographs of much of the north rock face of Uluru are are not allowed, as this area is culturally sensitive to the Anangu people. I kept my eyes – and camera – on the track, and into the rising sun.
The Mighty Rock Our path skirts wide around the rock until we are out of the most sacred sections. The tall, long-tap-rooted desert oaks (Allocasuarina decaisneana) scatter across the flat ground in front of us, and black algae marking on the rock show us where waterfalls race down the face during the rare rainfalls.
Kulpi Minymaku Just before 7am, our track meets up with the Mala Walk, and we stop to explore the ‘Kitchen Cave’.
Kulpi Minymaku – Kitchen Cave There is something surreal about knowing that women have been grinding grain here more than 10,000 years.
Rough Surface Even more surreal is the age of the rock itself! How does one grasp the concept of 500 million years? Contrary to my expectation, most of the surface was not smooth: it is flakey with bits of rock left behind after water and oxygen have decayed minerals in the rock. While the underlying rock is grey, the distinctive red outer layer is due to iron oxidation.
Outside the Caves The textures have another-worldly feel – as if we are on the moon, …
Cave Textures … ore even Mars!
Pathway This section of the Mala Walk takes us to Kantju Gorge, the site of one of Uluru’s semi-permanent waterholes. You can just see the black stripe where less than a week before my visit, rare rainwaters were rushing down the vertical drop.
Kulpi Minymaku Boulders The path to Kantju Gorge takes us in and back the same way, giving us a different perspective on some of the caves we have already seen – like the kitchen cave.
Mala Walkway
The Mala Story in Stone Inside the Kulpi Watiku – the mens’ cave – the story of the Mala (rufous hare-wallaby) people is illustrated in the stone: this is where they camped when they first arrived at Uluru, and where the senior men prepared their ceremonies.
Kulpi Nyiinkaku – The Teaching Cave Since time immemorial, boys on the brink of manhood, or Nyiinka, spent time here with their grandfathers and away from the rest of their families, learning hunting skills, self-reliance, and discipline. The elders illustrated their lessons on the cave walls.
Red Rocks and Flakes
Like a Another World The rock-shapes we pass as we continue around the base, are just incredible!
Home of the Marsupial Mole Only very resilient plants and animals survive in this rugged environment.
Crested Pigeons – Ocyphaps Lophotes It is almost eight in the morning when we reach the Mala Carpark, where benches allow us to stop for breakfast. I enjoy watching the pigeons almost as much as I enjoy my morning coffee.
Please don’t Climb! Back when people climbed the rock, with the aid of a chain-link hand-rail, this is where they did it from.
Climb Sign It was a year to the day that climbing had been officially stopped: the scars on the rock were still visible.
Pock-Marked Rocks Continuing around the base, we pick up the Lungkata section of the walk.
Rock Markings According to the Anangu people, the various markings on the rock face show the journeys of the ancestors, and in many places around the rock, markings are part of complex creation stories.
Admiring the Paintings Kulpi Mutitjulu (the Family Cave) is where generations of Anangu families camped.
Kulpi Mutitjulu Cave Paintings Anangu families told stories around the campfire, illustrating them on the rock using paints made from ochres, charcoal, and ash.
Mutitjulu Waterhole An absolute hush falls as we contemplate this spot, home to a wanampi, an ancestral water snake.
Hearts at the Waterhole Everywhere I look, I can imagine my own stories in the rock markings.
Split Stones near Kulpi Mutitjulu
Kuniya As we come back around to our starting point, we pass formations whose name I couldn’t find, and learn the complicated story of how the battle between Kuniya, the python woman, and Liru, the poisonous snake man, helped create this landscape. Kuniya is still here, somewhere, protecting and avenging her family, in the rocks.
View of the Rock On our way back to the resort, we stop at the viewing area for a last look at the giant rock we have just circumnavigated. It looks so different from here – as it does from the air (see: Over the Red Centre).
Roasting Mustard Seed In the medieval Newari town of Khokana – just south of Kathmandu, Nepal – mustard oil is produced in the traditional way.
The terraced fields of the Kathmandu Valley were bright green and yellow with blooming mustard plants the last time I visited (see: People of the Rice Bowl).
I couldn’t help but wonder what it was all being used for! I’ve always thought of mustard as a condiment, designed to add piquancy to an Austrian/SlovenianKransky and sauerkraut, English bangers and mash, or an American hot dog. What I didn’t realise, until I mistook Australian fields of canola for mustard, was that the plants are related, and both are grown to produce cooking oils.
I find it fascinating to see how food gets from the fields to our tables. So, I was pleased to learn that – as part of a photographic workshop in Nepal with Jack Kurtz (sadly, now deceased) and Gavin Gough – we were visiting the historic Newar village of Khokana, 8 kilometres (5 miles) south of the capital Kathmandu. For centuries, Khokana was the centre of mustard production and oil extraction, and the name is still synonymous with the most sought-after cooking oil in Nepal (e.g.: OnlineKhabar Khokana).
But, even in these small villages, times have changed.
Today, less mustard is grown in the surrounding local fields; with the ever-expanding population in nearby Kathmandu, there is more profit in fresh vegetables. Most of the locally-grown seed is used by the farmers themselves, and commercial oil production requires seed imported from other regions, and from India, Australia, and further afield. Only two workshops using the traditional Newari methods remain in Khokana: one is a community-owned collective, and the other is the private enterprise that we visited.
Photographing inside the factory was challenging! It was hot and dark and noisy, with small streaks of sunlight sneaking in at odd angles. The few workers employed there were busy, and the sorts of Occupational Health and Safety Regulations we take for granted in the West were absent, making it pretty important to watch where you put your feet. And, there were a few of us, so we had to take turns staying out of each other’s way.
Because various stages in the process were happening at the same time, it took me a while to figure out the actual sequence of production. Even so, I have left the pictures roughly in the order in which they were taken, rather than sorting them according to method.
I love these naturalistic peeks into the everyday lives of other people, and I hope you enjoy them too. Join me on the factory floor:
Mustard Factory The brick and wood factory floor is rough hewn and crowded. Many oil mills in this region were damaged by the 2015 earthquake; I don’t know if this one was, but prior to that, it was closed for thirty years before being re-opened by the current owner (see: Khokana’s Famed Tori-Ko-Tel).
Shovel in the Seed Today, the seeds that go into making traditional mustard oil are sourced from India, or further.
Roasting the Seed One of the first steps in the process is roasting the mustard seeds.
Funky Worker This young man – an employee of the mustard-oil factory – had/has an eye condition, and was, therefore, wearing his sunglasses in the dark factory interior.
Newari Woman Given this woman’s proprietorial air within the factory, I assume she was part of the organisation.
Khokana Gabu Jaaysha Those woven sleeves are what the roasted seed goes into before being manually pressed.
Oil Can Around the factory floor there are interesting colours and shapes.
Oil Expeller Yes, that is what it is called! This electric press is used last, when no more oil can be extracted mechanically. This second pressing is considered lower grade, and is used as a massage oil.
Shovelling Seed Seed is shovelled into wicker baskets to be ground up.
Still Life Found
Pouring Seed
Newari Press The traditional Newari mustard press is unique: the metal sleeve containing roasted seed is placed between two huge wooden beams …
Spinning the Press … and these are squeezed tight by turning a wooden wheel.
Straining the Fresh-Pressed Oil This valuable first pressing is collected below …
Bottled Oil … and bottled for sale as premium cooking oil.
Old Machinery The first step in the process is to grind the seed before roasting it.
Seed-Fall I was mesmerised by the flow of seed coming out of the grinding machine.
Old Machine Like all the other machinery in the factory, this unit looks old and heavy-duty.
Quality Control
Tending the Roaster Each step of the process was repeated multiple times: several batches of seed were roasted while we watched.
Pounding Fibre When all the oil has been extracted from the seeds, the remaining cake is broken up and sold as animal feed or compost.
Pride The workers loved sharing their time with us, and showing off the age-old traditions. Tourism – local and international – helps offset the increased costs of producing oil in this traditional manner.
Naturally, I couldn’t leave without buying some oil to take away: a couple of large bottles for our hostess, and some smaller ones to take home with me.
- Performing the Ganga Aarti from Dasaswamedh Ghat, Varanasi
- Buddha Head from Shwedagon Pagoda, Myanmar
- Harry Clarke Window from Dingle, Ireland
- Novice Monk Shwe Yan Pyay Monastery, Myanmar
Packets of 10 for $AU50.
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Until next time,
