So last Thursday, our first chance to run away from Amman, my classmates and I headed to the southern deserts of Jordan. The actual task of leaving town was much more complicated than expected. We wanted to go to Wadi Rum (which means Rum Valley), which is literally in the middle of the desert. After going to 4 different bus companies we found one to take us! Our drive, “a three hour tour”, winded through the empty and dry desert. There were sandstorms and camels along the highway, even goats crossing. Check out the pictures…
We arrived in the Wadi Rum Preserve, which is an area protected by the government. It was amazing, I wish the pictures could do the area justice. I haven’t spent much time in the American Southwest, but I assume it looks similar. The steep walls of the valley were dramatic and dwarfed the Bedouin village of Rum. Rum Village, which has no rum, houses 1000 family members of the same Bedouin tribe. Muhammad, our guide, lived in a lovely home surrounded by the gorgeous scenery and pomegranate and lime trees, with camels basking in their shade. We piled into 4x4s and ventured out into the desert to see the sun set.
There are two rock bridges, which we got to scramble (climb up without the assistance of ropes or gear). At the top of the first, and smaller, rock bridge I overheard a man say, “oh, there are some Tar Heels”. I smiled and asked him if he was a fan. It turned out that he, Brandon Short, had lived in Charlotte and played for a little team we like to call the Carolina Panthers. He and his new bride were on their honeymoon. I just find it so funny that we run into someone who had lived in North Carolina on top of a rock in south Jordan!
We took the obligatory pictures, and scampered down toward another larger rock bridge. I’m not afraid of heights, but I thought I might die climbing up or down this rock. Ok, dying is a bit exaggerated; I could have easily broken another arm. The entire time we were joking about how this would never happen in the US without pages of insurance information and waivers. After surviving the trip down the rock we ventured to see the sunset.
Speeding through the empty desert was surreal. With wide open spaces it was difficult to grasp how quickly we were moving. Literally racing the sun our guide got us to a beautiful sand dune to watch the sun set. As you can see on the picasa page I diligently tried to capture the awe of being there. The sand was like paprika, so soft and a lovely burnt red color.
“When the stars align and the east meets the west, when the new moon arises and we’re put to the test, when we come to the crossroads and you know we’ll find a way, a new day will begin, we could trip away through the atmosphere, gonna close our eyes and disappear, lose ourselves like a rocket man, take a trip to Neverland, this time we’ll get it right, we’ll be together when the sun goes down at twilight”
Twilight, Dexter Freebish
With the sun past the horizon we drove to our camp for the night. Upon our arrival we were greeted with traditional welcoming tea. The special tent for singing, dancing, and music (which was played by elders) was lively and full of spirit. The kids grabbed the ladies and we danced around the tent to traditional Bedouin tunes working up an appetite. Our dinner was delicious. I have no idea what I ate, but it was wonderful and very filling. I had tiny scoops of everything on my plate in hopes of experiencing it all!
After a full day and full stomachs we were exhausted. The Bedouins have black goat hair tents which we were going to stay in, but because it was so warm we moved our stuff outside and slept under the stars. I have seen lovely nights and bright stars in the sky, but nothing as wondrous as this. You could see all the constellations, lots of shooting stars, and no light or clouds at all. This may be another no-duh moment, but the moon did not come out until 4am. I can’t say I obsess about the time of the moon, but in North Carolina, if I remember correctly as it becomes dark the moon begins to appear. It was quite a site to see a dark sky full of stars and no moon until almost sunrise. The moon was visible at 5:15 when I woke up to a blazing sun beating down upon me.
Bedouin breakfast was excellent as well and prepared me well for my virgin camel ride. A week or so earlier Tristan and I had a lively conversation about camels and their habit of spitting. I shared that I was not eager to be spit upon, as most people would not be. He started laughing and said “I could just see you getting spit on by a camel and then you slapping it!” This is preposterous, but nonetheless funny. I hoped at getting the opportunity to make a mock video chronicling me pretending to slap the camel, but I was worried about being sued by PETA if they saw it on the internet.
So…I got to ride a camel, which was awesome. It was a short ride, but I imagine if it were longer it would be not so enjoyable. Camels are not the most graceful walkers and have no shocks, so it was a friction filled experience. A young village boy led the camel around as I rode. I asked him for the camel’s name, which he said it didn’t have one. The expression on the boy’s face was priceless, it was as if he wanted to say, “Dumb girl, why would I name my camel?” This prompted me to name him Archimedes. There was really no reasoning behind this name, but it seemed appropriate.
After our Bedouin adventure we took a taxi to Aquba, which is Jordan’s only seaport. Aquba lies on the Red Sea and is the only resort in Jordan. As we drove into town the brilliant blue of the water was breathtaking. Again, none of the pictures do justice to the blue, aquamarine, and turquoise colors of the water. The beauty was juxtaposed with the taxi drivers’ offer to take us to 4 countries in 30 minutes. How is this possible you might ask? Think of the US Four Corners…Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Israel/Palestine, and Egypt are all close together on the Red Sea. Though I would have loved to “travel” to all of those countries the UNC Study Abroad Office asked that we not leave Jordan during the duration of the program. I attempting to be integritis (one who is full of integrity-a quasi made up word) declined the taxi drivers’ offer.
Instead of quickly gallivanting across borders, we went on a wild goose chase for a Turkish hammam (bath or bathroom) to see if some group members could visit the spa. Ultimately, we headed to a beach area to spend a leisurely day. I wanted to go scuba diving, but decided that snorkeling would be the budget-friendly alternative. A guide took us out to the coral reefs. I was expecting to see the reefs far below the surface, but they were in fact not deep at all. The salinity of the water helped maintain buoyancy, but large waves from huge cargo ships thrashed us into the reefs. Our guide found sand dollars, lionfish, sea anemones and other wonders of the sea. He had a small stick to prompt the coral to react. It was as if I were participating in an interactive Discovery Channel show. All the wonders of the sea they show were there! Even seahorses-which don’t look like much, especially when mating-and Clown fish like Nemo! It was well worth the long trip from Amman to see the Red Sea.
On a cultural level, many of the women at the beach were covered in hijabs and long pants, not just any pants-jeans. Some of you may know my worst nightmare is wet jeans and wet socks. I couldn’t imagine swimming in jeans-ugh. Anything but jeans! As a group of mostly white Americans we got a lot of stares, some curious, others more predatory or sexual. This is the one area that my lack of Arabic is useful. .. when rude or sexual comments are made I easily can ignore them, because I have no idea what is being said. What a defense strategy! The other notable cultural event on the beach was the fact that people brought stoves or cook tops to make Arabic or Turkish coffee on the beach. It was so hot I couldn’t imagine drinking hot steamy bitter coffee on the warm sunny beach…but who am I to judge J
