Traveling with a Terrorist - Jordan & Israel

Middle East 2007
Lisa Two months later I'm finally getting around to posting the final blog in my Middle East series. I believe I last left off on the night bus from Egypt to Jordan, a night which made its way to the list of "Longest Nights of my Life." Running a fever and still recovering from my bout of food sickness, I was not exactly feeling my best, so when the heat on the bus died (despite the photos of warm and sunny Egypt, the desert is far from warm at night) and then the bus itself died, I found myself not a very happy camper. Several hours later, bundled up in all the clothes I had brought with me, I hopped on the replacement bus and to continue on my journey to the Israeli-Egyptian border. The Egyptian, Israeli and Jordanian borders all come together within a mile long stretch on the Gulf of Aqaba - although making your way to Jordan from Egypt involves a lot more than just walking though.

First you must pass through Egyptian customs to receive a check out stamp in your passport. You then arrives in a sort of No Man's Land between Egypt and Israel . . which is where the fun begins. We had been warned that it’s quite a process to enter Israel, but I don't think the warning we received did it justice. You first gets into the passport checking line (with a large group of enthusiastic Nigerian Christian missionaries) to give your passport and those of your traveling companions to the custom's officers - who are inevitably always attractive, very put together, 20-something Israelis serving their required military service time. After answering at least five questions on how you know each member of the group you're traveling with, you are escorted to luggage scanning room. While your luggage is scanned, you must step up to a line where you’re surveyed by other Israeli guards - if there is anything suspect (like my cell phone charger) they take everything out to examine it, before being run through the whole process again. (Not that this was a problem for me thank you) but pornographic magazines, books, etc are illegal in Israel, so every magazine, book, etc has to be thoroughly searched and you’re likely to be questioned on the plot of your reading material - 2nd grade book-report style. After everyone has been approved in your group, you then proceed to passport verification, where you discover that your travel companion Jesús shares the same name as an Israeli terrorist and giant, muscle-clad Israeli soldiers wearing reflective aviator sunglasses (Cool Hand Luke-style) and pastel polo shirts, quickly emerge from the back room to haul your friend away.

An hour or so later, they released Jesús and we attempted to negotiate prices with Israeli taxi drivers to take us to the Israeli-Jordanian border. Unfortunately the prices given in Lonely Planet for a ride to the border were not accurate, which infuriated the Israeli cabbies (oops) so we settled for their price and headed for the border. After we paid an Israeli border tax fee, we went through the same problem with Jesús the terrorist before being allowed to roll our suitcases to the Israeli-Jordanian No Man’s Land to pass through Jordanian customs. I will confess the point at which we paid the customs tax probably marked the low point of our trip. No one had really been interested in going to Jordan except Charles, we were tired, hungry and still recovering from food poisoning and hadn’t wanted to dish out more money converted from Egyptian pounds to Israeli Shekels just to enter Jordan for a day and go through all the hassle with poor Jesús - needless to say the trek to Jordan was made in silence.

In contrast to the plethora of questions posed by the Israeli guards, the only one they really care about in Jordan is “You have beautiful eyes, do you have boyfriend?” (I was wearing sunglasses at this point… thanks). Painlessly passed through customs then negotiated with Jordanian taxi-drivers (a completely different breed from the Israeli ones) to take us two hours to Petra. Within five minutes of being in the taxi, I passed out cold and only awoke later to see our taxi pulled over on the side of the road and a new driver hopping in the car . . this could be sketchy. . . but it actually turned out to be a blessing. Our new driver introduced himself as Osama, and then asked where we were from… Philadelphia, Texas and Virginia. “Virginia? Are you kidding?” … “Uh no.. why?” “I studied at the University of Virginia when I was younger.” “Whoa me too . . .” So we talked Charlottesville driving through the mountains of Jordan (RANDOM) and then he asked if we were all doing ok as “our energy looked very low.” We explained our situation and the current tensions within our group and the driver immediately called the other to say they were inviting us to tea and cakes at the next gas station, as he didn’t want us to have a bad impression of his country. Some tea and cakes later, spirits were higher and he began to tell us about Jordan and what we should do in Petra. Before arriving, Osama even pulled over to a gorgeous overview for us to take some photos of the mountains and valleys.

Upon the recommendation of some Brazilian girls we had met at the Cairo bus station we checked into a hostel in Petra. The original plan had been to just go for the day to the natural park there and then head back to Israel, but after all the hassle of customs and the two-hour car ride, the group came to the conclusion we should spend the night and take advantage of two days in the natural park before returning to Israel. Dropped our stuff off in our rooms and went to purchase park passes and a guided tour. As I learned on the tour, Petra was named a World Heritage Site in 1985 and is currently most famous for having been the site of Holy Grail in the movie, Indiana Jones and the Search for the Holy Grail. Upon entrance to the park, you immediately sees windows and doors cut into the mountains where the local people once lived, worshipped or buried their dead. Twenty minutes or so later we arrived at the entrance to “the Siq,” a narrow gorge between two high rock walls which at its end gives way to the famous Treasury. Our guide took us up the steps of the Treasury and explained the ancient Nabataean human sacrifice ritual which was best done by demonstrating on Rachel. As you can see in the photos, the Nabataeans placed the victim’s head over a hole carved into the steps (not really sure what was done to the victim - I guess they were decapitated??) and their blood then collected in the hole and ran down the little trail carved in the steps. The guide finished the tour; we climbed around a little on the rocks then headed back to the hostel for dinner with Nasser the owner.

Dinner was the first real meal I’d dared to eat in days and it was amazing. The Brazilian girls had said we shouldn’t bother going out to a restaurant and they were right. Hummus, freshly made falafel, fresh tomatoes, cucumbers and other simple, but delicious traditional Jordanian foods were served with pita bread. Like everyone else had done in the Middle East we were served tea, but this tea wasn’t the regular Lipton’s, instead there was a surprisingly familiar and delicious taste to it that we couldn’t quite figure out- so we asked what was in it and to our surprise Nasser responded “sage.” Nasser then pulled out his drum for a little musical dinner accompaniment. I would say a good time was had by all and the only thing left to complete the night … yes you guessed it, a game of Backgammon. After getting whipped in backgammon, we requested a packed lunch for the next morning and called it a night - all hard feelings towards Charles for dragging us along to Jordan forgotten.

Day two in Petra was composed of exploring the park a little more, walked through the Siq and taking a right to see the Amphitheatre and climb around. We returned to the hostel around 3 pm, said our goodbyes and took the taxis back to the Israeli border. Crossing the border went a little faster this time as the customs officers remembered us after all the drama we had caused the day before and simply smiled and waved us through. Once we got through customs and took taxis to the bus station in Eilat, we realized the differences between Egypt/Jordan and Israel were like night and day. In contrast to the robes and head garb, the Israelis were decked out in bathing suits, shorts and flip flops, just like you’d see at any beach town in the US. Took out some Israeli shekels and went in search of bagels - which a friend of someone in the group had said were the best in Israel. Arrived at a sandwich shop and faced the first of many to come Israel/Hebrew challenges. First, Hebrew like Arabic is not based on the Latin alphabet and unlike in Egypt and Jordan, almost nothing was written in English and second, the bagel is an American phenomenon . . . so yes they have them in Israel, but not as we imagined them, freshly baked on every street corner, oh well. Ordered American bagel sandwiches for the group and went back to the bus station to wait for our bus to Jerusalem. Apparently the military service receives free transportation on the buses, so we were joined in our waiting by uniform-clad Israelis - most notable were three girls, decked out in army green uniforms and very stylish large sunglasses eating popsicles. Their popsicles apparently took priority over the machine guns they were carrying, as my father’s hunter safety voice began to echo in my head “muzzle control, muzzle control!”

Several hours later we arrived at the Jerusalem bus station and had to pass through both a metal detector and handbag search before entrance into the station. We then went outside (passed through the metal detectors again) to try and find a bus stop. Once again the Hebrew problem arose - when the bus on our side of the street turned out not to be the right one, we trekked across the street to wait for the bus in the other direction and made our way to the Hebrew University. If you read the Egypt blog, you’ll remember that we met some really nice people on top of Mt. Sinai. One of these people was Bastian, a German student studying Hebrew in Jerusalem at the Hebrew University. Bastian had invited us to come and stay with him in the student dorms as he had two empty rooms in his suite. So as random as it was, there we were saying hello to Bastian (who speaks fluent English, French and Hebrew in addition to German of course) from Mt. Sinai. He warmly welcomed us to Jerusalem and introduced us to some of his friends and suitemates. We went out for pizza and to a bar in the student quarter before calling it a night (I will add, as their was only one bed in each room and neither of us wanted to sleep on the floor I found myself spooning in the bed with Rachel covered in bath towels and scarves as there were no sheets - character building!).

We had intentionally arrived in Jerusalem on Thursday because at sundown on Friday, everything shuts down for the Sabbath (pronounced Sha-bat), therefore the majority of our Jerusalem sightseeing was done on Friday. We started the day off by visiting Yad Vashem; a very well-done museum honoring and documenting the Holocaust. I was impressed by the diversity of medium found in the museum, everything from photos, victims’ belongings, sculptures, letters to a imitation cobble stone road through the museum. The most touching/disturbing had to have been the video clips of the survivors telling their stories of being taken away, losing family and friends and their experiences in the concentration camps - so hard to believe such a thing could happen. The museum shut down at 2 pm for Sabbath so we took the buses to the Wailing Wall before they stopped running.

Although sundown gathers the largest crowds to the Wailing Wall, quite a few people were already assembled that afternoon. You walk into a square in the heart of the old city and see the wall in front with a dividing screen separating the men from the women. Our group split up and as we saw everyone else doing, we covered our heads with scarves and approached the wall along with the other women - both tourists and locals, of all religions. I don’t know if it was because the Wall in itself is a sacred site or because of all of the energy of all the people that visit it, but my friends agreed with me in saying there is definitely a special energy to the place. We waited behind the rows of women until our turn came to approach the wall, said our prayers and without turning our back on the Wall backed away.

Our next tourist destination was the Dome of the Rock (the large golden dome seen in my photos), which unfortunately can only be entered if you’re Muslim and know the password. Muslims believe the prophet Muhammad ascended to heaven from this rock to receive the Islamic prayers. The Jewish faith believes the rock marks the site where Abraham was supposed to sacrifice his son Isaac and Christians believe the Ark of the Covenant was placed upon the rock - so obviously there is a lot of religious importance placed on it. Unfortunately, the closest we got to it was a view of the exterior of the mosque from the doorway to the courtyard. As we had had our names henna tattooed on our ankles in Arabic when we were in Dahab, the guards at the entrance to the gate saw the Arabic and took a liking to us, so they let us stand at the door to take a better photo - I was really disappointed I didn’t get to go closer or enter inside, but it was still neat to see.

On Friday night, one of Bastian’s roommates, Ilan, invited us to go to Sabbath dinner with him - quite the experience. Surprisingly there were a lot of Americans and other foreigners at the dinner; even the rabbi was American which was nice because aside from the traditional parts of the dinner being said in Hebrew the rest was in English. I was not aware of this before and maybe this was specific to this particular rabbi, but a lot of drinking is involved in Sabbath dinner. First the rabbi said a blessing and from a certain point on, we were not allowed to talk until after everyone had performed the hand washing ceremony. Food was then divided and distributed to everyone, the rabbi made a toast, everyone ate dinner and then the alcohol was brought out. Just as the food was distributed so was the alcohol (of which the rabbi generously partook of) and some how there seemed to have been more alcohol than food. Mixed in with the story the rabbi shared that 5 shots earlier probably had a message about the Jewish faith to it, were some “enlightened” comments made by one of our dinner tablemates. As we were obviously not Israeli, he asked who we were and where we were from. This man was definitely “special” and I certainly did not take him for a representative of Israel or Judaism, but upon hearing we were living in France he shared his opinion that the French should all be thrown into the ocean - but wait no, that would pollute the ocean, never mind . . Yeah . . luckily I was at the other end of the table and wasn’t required to give a response to that one. Amazing the people you meet at religious functions. Aside from the initial awkwardness of not knowing anyone or knowing what was going on, I felt like I was really getting a taste of Israel as it doesn’t get much better than going to Sabbath dinner in the heart of Jewish world.

On the way back to the dorms from dinner, we encountered our first example of the Arab-Jewish tensions. On Sabbath, the Hasidic Jews (the orthodox, conservative ones) take the belief that no work should be done on the Sabbath to the extent of not even turning lights on or off in their houses. Obviously, there’s no driving done - to get anywhere you have to take an Arab taxi. So as we were walking through a parking lot, there was a car that started flashing its lights at us. We commented on how weird that was and Ilan said not to pay too much attention, they were Arabs trying to antagonize the Jewish walking home from Sabbath dinner. Ilan, an American from Massachusetts studying at Hebrew University for two years, used a very good word to describe the Israelis - abrasive. I think he enjoys being in Israel, but I agree with him, that culturally the Israeli seem to be much more abrasive people.

Our last day, Saturday, was probably my favorite in Israel - we took a van to the Dead Sea with Bastian. With temperatures in the 80s as opposed to the 40 degree rainy days in France, I had no hesitations about putting on my bathing suit for a little time in the sun. My skin actually didn’t get much time in the sun though, as Bastian explained to us, people come from all over the world to take “mud baths” in the Dead Sea. The thick black-clay mud is renowned for having therapeutic qualities when applied to the skin. So whether we received therapeutic benefits or not, it was still fun covering ourselves in mud and it was worth it if for nothing else than the photos. After the mud is applied, you let it dry in the sun then go into the sea to wash it off. The salt content is so high in the Dead Sea (hence the name) that you can only stay in for 20 minutes or so before your skin starts burning. The 20 minutes goes fast though as the salt makes you very buoyant; no matter how hard you try to sink you float right on top of the water, so of course you have to pretend to be superman “flying” through the water. After you wash off the mud, you hit the fresh water showers or else your skin turns scaly and flaking from the salt water. Overall a very relaxing fun day at the beach and a great last day of vacation - I guess that pretty much wraps up Middle East 2007 - we lucked out on the plane ride back to France because we got free upgrades to 1st class - I could definitely get used to that.

Two months later, I can hardly believe my time in France is coming to an end. I have two more weeks here in Chartres, a week in Valencia, Spain with the host family then it’s back to the States after a 9 ½ month absence for me. I’m going to try very hard to do two more blogs before I leave - one on my jiu jitsu tournament in Switzerland and an overall goodbye to France blog. Aside from dreading all the goodbyes I’m going to have to make to the good friends I’ve made here, I’m doing very well. It’s still raining all the time - the thought of sunny summer days got me through the winter - yeah, I’m still waiting on those. Hope everyone’s doing well and your summers are off to a good start - can’t wait to see you all soon!

Much love ~ Me

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