The Journey
Our bus left Tel Aviv central station at 11:59 pm on Sunday night. Anne-Laurence (Ana) and I were on our way to Jordan. She is a Swiss, German-speaking, blonde and blue-eyed cheery neighbor of mine, doing a semester abroad in Israel. The 4.5 hour bus ride (which we almost missed it thanks to me carefully preparing a vodka tincture for the road to ensure our comfortable sleep) took us to Eilat, the resort city at the far south of Israel on the tip of Red Sea. Arrival at 4:30 am wasn't so nice and we slept on the floor (they had anti-bum seats) in the bus station until we were literally kicked awake around 6 am and told in so many Hebrew words that our presence was not appreciated any longer.
Aqaba
The sun was on the verge of cresting the horizon so I deconstructed my hard-boiled egg I had brought and gobbled it before hailing a taxi to the Jordan border. The crossing was a breeze, but getting a taxi on the Jordanian side was an angering racket--fixed price at 5x what it should be. Grrr. Feeling cheating and scammed, we arrived in Aqaba--Jordan's Red Sea City, where I had told Ben a meeting point. He is my Taiwanese friend in Amman, and would be taking the bus down to join us. He wouldn't arrive until noon so we thought to take a nap on the beach for a while. Ana did, but this plan was thwarted when I was overcome by the smell radiating from the Turkish coffee stand. Unable to sleep, I sat under a tree and watched the glass-bottom boatmen linger alongshore.
After much pleading by a group of four Palestinian-Jordanian young men (many Palestinians sought asylum here after 1967 and now cannot return to Palestine) I had a second cup of coffee with them under a shady tree. Now underslept and severely overcaffeinated, tired of speaking slowly in basic English about whether I'm married or not, I was ready to be along my merry way. So was Ana and we slung the packs over our backs and moseyed up the hill to to find some food in town.
One restaurant stood out above all--the sidewalk tables were packed so we slithered through to find a spot. Hummus, baba ganouj, foul, and pita, with a spicy topping and amazing fresh pickled vegetables to accent. A while later (no hurry for us on this lazy holiday morning) we were enjoying our breakfast and I noticed a pair of men look at us as they took a table a row away. The man facing us had somewhat of a striking appearance and was clad in army colors, camo pants, and the typical red and white pattern Bedouin head scarf over locks of dark hair with golden highlights. I felt like he was looking at me so I didn't look at him again. Our plates were clean and as we sipped tea, satisfied, I took out my guidebook for us to make some plans. Apparently this was the guys' cue to ask if we needed help. "Join us for a cup of tea please" (they also begged after we declined). So eventually and skeptically, we caved and were glad we did. Turns out they were just what we were looking for. Ahmad and Sammy both ran Bedouin style camps in Wadi Rum--our chosen destination and just the type of price and environment we had in mind. Sammy offered free transport to the desert and told us of the delicious home-cooked meals that were included. Sounds good and all, but we need to find Ben.
They then gave us a ride to our meeting point at the five star Movenpick Hotel (which I chose so we would have a reason to go inside and admire, and use resources if need be). For not being guests and looking a bit travel-worn, we were still treated like royalty when we asked to make a phone call. Sammy said he'd come back for us after we found Ben, but he had to leave by 1pm, so give a call before then. Ben's phone was off, the meeting spot was ambiguous (turns out there were two Movenpicks) and just when it started to seem dire, Sammy showed up in the lobby with news he had found 'the Chinese guy' outside. Gleeful that all had worked out thus far, the five of us were off into the vast expanse of the ancient Bedouin sand dunes and red rock magic wonderland.
Wadi Rum
Upon arrival at Caravan Camp, Ahmed served us Bedouin tea (black tea with sugar and herbs added--thyme, mint, sage, or cinnamon) and we then napped on the colorful rugs and cushions in the temperate shade of the tents. The midday heat passed as we wiled away the afternoon chatting over teapot after teapot.
At 4pm the three travelers and Ahmed went on a tour of the dunes and rock formations of Lawrence of Arabia's old stomping grounds in a 4x4 pick-up truck equipped with cushion-covered benches in the bed. We saw spectacular views of Wadi Rum by climbing up some the highest rocks and entertained ourselves by running/jumping/tumbling/freefalling down the steep sand slopes. There were carvings on high rock faces of yesteryear's directional markings indicating the Caravan trade route from the Arabian peninsula to Petra. There were cave dwellings, the occasional man with camels, and a donkey or two. We stopped on a plateau overlooking a vast plain, where Ahmed built a fire and made a pot of tea. We climbed to another outcropping to a high place to watch the sun sink over the rosy red-rock backdrop of the wind-swept movie-set landscape.
Back in the truck, it drove lopsided over the dunes, fast to get a running start up the hills, slow over the dangerous hidden rocks, and jalopy-like back to the camp. We had another pot of tea and relaxed in the evening coolness as the stars were not yet bright enough to warrant moving to a place under the open sky. A humble yet delicious dinner was served to the three musketeers of Europe, America, and Asia, with the company of the Arabian guide. Herbed chicken and spiced rice, a variety of salads with tomato & tahini, yoghurt & cucumber, parsley & tomato & cucumber, apples for desert, and tea.
We sat around the campfire drinking tea again when Ahmed caught my eye and whispered "I have a surprise--come with me to the kitchen" So I followed and we munched on a few dates as he revealed to me the majestic embroidered Bedouin dress and face mask. "Put this on and sneak around the tent back to the fire circle. They won't recognize you and sit down and surprise them!" It took a few tries to tie the mask on properly, and the coal eyeliner was also a struggle to apply.
Everyone was delighted around the campfire when the mysterious strawberry blonde Bedouin woman stopped lurking in the shadows and joined the circle to reveal her identity. They all took turns trying on the outfit. We talked into the night as the infrequent car passed on the highway, lighting up our camp for a brief moment like a few frames from a movie projector and we stargazed until our eyes were heavy.
Day Two
Ben came a-knocking on the canvas door to wake us for sunrise at 5:30. The three of us set chairs in the clearing and bundled up for the chilly pre-dawn desert morning. The sky was light long before the sun rose, but at 6, the glowing sphere peaked over the point of the mountain across the plain and we gasped in enchantment. It was a lazy morning because we had a lot of time before our appointed camel ride. But I, loving the desert, full of joy and wonder and anticipation could not sleep any more.
We relished in the newfound warmth the morning sun brought to the skin; glistening under the pink-orange morning brilliance; I was in a sublime state of peace. Around 8 am, breakfast was served out in the open--pita, three salads, labneh, hummus; my absolute favorite was the zatar (herb mixture with sesame) mixed with copious amounts of fresh olive oil. I mean fresh, it was so rich and flavorful! And our guide showed us to mix the cream cheese triangles with marmalade for a nice treat on the pita. A big plate of halvah beckoned me after I finished the salty things.
At 9 am, a Sudanese-turned-Bedouin arrived with two camels. Ana and I cautiously climbed to the top of the humps and sat on the blanket-with-handles contraption. Ben walked alongside and talked to Abdallah in broken Arabic and found that he had found it easy from Sudan to assimilate in Jordan, being already and Arabic speaker.
The rest of the day we spend drinking tea, taking a trip into the village for groceries, and doing a marvelous exploration of our surroundings on foot, climbing imposing rocks, sliding down perfectly-formed sand dunes. There were some newcomers to the camp--a pair of Spanish men so we chatted with them in the afternoon and lounged around on the cushions in the shade, reading and drawing.
Later that evening, a large group of Australians came in. They were not particularly outgoing, so neither were we. And maybe we were just a bit sad that we no longer had the quietness and vast open desertland all to ourselves. But with more people, the dinner was increasingly fancy. Tonight it was lamb and chicken cooked in the subterranean pit, Polynesian-pig style, and a cornucopia of roasted vegetables.
Shooting stars abounded and the sand was cold and the night too beautiful to describe.
Sunrise again over peaks woke us for the new day. We waited in the freshness of morning when everything's new and clean and bright for a car to take us away from this extraordinary place. It finally arrived, and we sorrowfully piled in with the Spanish guys. We waved Ana goodbye as she was making her own way to the Sinai peninsula to meet another friend. The driver took us to the junction on the Desert Highway where we separated; the Spanish continued to Aqaba and Ben and me hopped out to meet the bus here to go north, it would be a 2 hour ride to Wadi Musa on this bus that only ran once each morning (foils if we miss it)...
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