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Published: January 3rd 2024
Starbucks Cave
My caffeine addiction says yes. My background in security says no.I put a deposit down on an apartment in Tel Aviv for the month of November with the idea I would leisurely find my way from Egypt to Israel via Jordan and Lebanon. When Hamas kicked the Israeli hornet nest on October 7th, I was in Luxor, and I suddenly had to scramble to enact a plan B.
As any seasoned traveler knows. You have to be ready to pivot your itinerary at a moment's notice when something unexpected happens. In my case,
ugly War. What do the kids say nowadays?
NBD. No Big Deal. Guilty confession. I ate road nuggets at the Cairo airport Maccas. Cardboard ones. I had deemed them necessary amongst the chaos and uncertainty. From Cairo, I flew Royal Jordanian to Amman, Jordan. My ticket said economy, but after being presented with a hot towel, a luxurious pepper steak wrap with a Baklava for desert for only an hour-thirty minute flight, I’m not so sure. Inside the Queen Alia terminal, I expected a higher presence of security but was met with a clean, very organized, and calm environment.
Almost as though nothing was happening in the Middle East. Because my Tel
Shop Keepers
Standing at their posts, beckoning anyone to come inside to see what they have to sell. Aviv plans exploded, I asked Intrepid tours if I could join their fully booked Jordan tour. Those lovely travelers I met in Egypt were continuing on to Jordan despite the developments in Gaza. Intrepid granted my wish and I was reunited with the gang, and four additional Germans. These travelers, a mishmash of Europeans, Australians, Americans and me, the token Canadian, get along exceptionally well. We all have diverse backgrounds with an array of ages, but after 8 days in Egypt together, we were eating food off each other's plates, spying on locals in coffee shops, helping the token boomer with his tech gadgets, and hanging out beyond the tour's itinerary.
I haven't even assigned any of them a cheeky nickname yet! Oh wait, that's not true. I have been calling my little Gen Z roommate,
Habibi.
Jordan is amazing. The city of Amman was exactly how I pictured it. White-washed multi-dwellings gleaming in the midday sun. Narrow, treelined roadways winding precariously, joined at the center of the city.
It had all the feels. That Middle Eastern charm. Clean, bustling, lively. And of course, everyone was out and about. Strolling, shopping, eating. The shopkeepers beckon you in with
The Great Float
Such a strange sensation to float like a marshmallow suspended above the water. samples of their wares.
I, of course fell victim to the Jordanian Khanefu, or as I pronounce it, Kha-nef-eh.
It’s my kryptonite. Middle Eastern cheesecake. So delish.
Dinner was at the popular rooftop eatery called Zajal which overlooked the processions going on street level. A traffic jam of vehicles packed with occupants waving Palestinian flags and Israeli protestors chanting anti-war slogans back and forth. I ordered a delicious Mansaf, a roasted lamb with fermented yogurt sauce, but alas, it was difficult to swallow with so much turmoil brewing below.
Our tour was pretty basic but it hit all the Jordan highlights. One of them, visiting the seaside city of Aqaba. I was surprised to discover lots of American expats live here, I had a couple of them ask me what state I was from and look disappointed when I said the United States of Canada.
We had a quick look around, bought trinkets, and ate freshly roasted nuts before visiting the Aqaba Fort. Our afternoon was strictly reserved for lounging at a seaside resort. Musa, our tour leader, kept looking at his watch. After 15 days in dusty Egypt, I suddenly converted into my beach holiday mode.
Desert Glamping
Same experience, I think we probably stayed in a 1 star but I have heard some are very fancy 5 stars. NBD I dipped my toes in the Red Sea for the first time and snorkeled and ate fried seafood. The salty aquamarine reef off shore had seen better days but a few tropical fish still loitered.
Just over those distant mountains, thousands of Israelis and Palestinians were fleeing for their lives from the Gaza Strip before Israel unleashed a retaliation upon Hamas.
It felt sad and foreboding. As dusk descended quickly, Land Cruisers came to fetch us. Our backpacks were loaded up by our host Bedouins and we were driven deep into the desert. We are staying for two days at one of the camps dotting Wadi Rum. The family fed us a tasty buffet under the stars and we spent the night watching satellites whiz past in the non-existent light pollution. All the creature comforts of home, flushing toilets, hot showers, and phone chargers. Plus a roaring fire with Bedouins lounging on mattress pads, sizing us up. At one point the old guy playing the Rababah sang us a song.
The horsehair tents were also cozy, me & Habibi burrowed under blankets in our twin cots, and snored unapologetically.
The following days were spent unplugged with
Amman Jordan
Full of street art and interesting murals, it is a interesting place to visit. the only planned activity being hiking, massive amounts of sand trails zigzag amongst the scenic desert Wadis. I did worry about the scorching midday heat but we had a reconnaissance jeep follow just in case anyone was overcome. Luckily we were blessed with a breezy tailwind so the first 15 clicks were quite enjoyable.
Our hosts did offer us camel rides and jeep 4x4 excursions as well as hot air balloons or sand dune scrambles for scenic pictures. Earlier on at the Jordanian airport ATM, I rudely discovered that my Canadian dollar does not go very far in Jordan. So. For me that meant I had to refrain from any add-on tour temptations. The boomer in our group partook in every offer, as he was more in his "spending the grandkids inheritance" phase of his life. As apposed to my, "I don't want to end up eating cat food under a bridge" phase with my newly acquired pensioner status.
Wadi Rum is best known for its famous land bridges made of petrified sandstone, here we encountered influencers wearing keffiyeh scarfs and doing jumps on top of these earth sculptures carved out by the winds over millennias. The posted
The Red Sea
Nice little oasis amongst the red sand desert. Too bad there is a war going on over those distant hills signs say,
Danger of collapse. Do not climb or jump on. In English.
But what an absolute spectacular part of the world, eh? I must remind myself regularly to stop, breathe, and take it all in.
You’d think nothing could survive out here in this blast furnace but signs of life are everywhere. A few flowers have bloomed from a recent rain. We guessed at the critter tracks made in the sand and were told they were gerbils, lizards, scorpions. Stoic herds of camels greeted us, hobbled so they can't sneak off. We already knew they were lurking nearby, their camel toe prints and poops were all over the sand dunes.
Speaking of sand. I took home a pocketful of Wadi Rum. It will go in a fancy jar where I keep all my other travel knickknacks on display in Canada.
Hey, some people collect fridge magnets or shooter glasses, I collect sand. During these hikes, the Bedouin Jefe would pull up on us in his Land Cruiser for the tea and biscuit breaks. Our accompaniers, the boss's teenage relatives, secure a shady spot near a Wadi and they'd put down straw mats for lounging while
The Siq
The narrowest part of the canyon that opens up to the Treasury. It was so cool to walk the same as many have done for thousands of years. a fire of sticks was made to boil water. These boys spoke perfect English and referred to themselves as
free men. They all had a crush on Habibi with her green eyes and auburn hair, and would take turns flirting. Later in the day, they'd gather us up again for bumpy jeep rides all over kingdom-come to get those magical sunset shots. My iPhone again, doesn't do any of it justice.
Against windswept mountain vistas, the multicolored sands seem to take on a life of their own, changing shape as the sun crosses the sky.
Our glamping experience ended after a hearty Bedouin breakfast, and we piled into a van and headed north. The Germans wanted to stop at Jafr where Lawrence of Arabia was filmed to explore the locomotives left to rust. I never saw the movie, so I wandered around confused. Then the enactment train pulled into the station and so did bus loads of tourists to experience it. We left.
From a Canadian's point of view, everything in Jordan is just a short drive away. All along the Kings Highway are roadhouses that sell everything imaginable. We do at least three stops per journey
Kitchen Tent
The main hall where you ate your meals, very comfy with plenty of places to lounge and look at your photos of Wadi Rum. for snacks and washrooms. I really don't need a bedazzled coat rack or peacock armchair. My claim to fame is I've discovered in these shops a heavenly elixir, a mint lemonade in a tetra-box that is out of the world.
OMG. I must have drank sixty of them.
And then peed sixty times subsequently. Didn't care.
We had time to pop into the Kerak Castle, a fortification on top of the town of the same name for an interesting explore inside, before we hit one more roadhouse and one more mint lemonade, then cascaded down into the town of Wadi Musa after viewing it from a mountaintop lookout. Our tour guide Musa then orchestrated a visit to a conglomerate of widows who ran a bakery. Donating to get a delicious savory pastry, super fair. The ladies behind their black burkas were shy but friendly, and we left with our bellies full.
Musa issued us each a map of the entire Petra complex and rambled on with tips on how to explore everything within two days. Thousands upon thousands of tourists are here to do the same thing, so it was elbow room for most of the visit. No
Treasury Petra
Okay, probably not the best shot I could selfie but I tried every which way one ever tells you that the entire Petra complex is over 60 square kilometers.
This was going to be an ordeal. But like a true Canadian,
I gott'er done. Walking through the Al Siq entranceway, dodging horse buggy drivers and golf carts, and seeing the Treasury itself peaking through that familiar narrow opening.
Magical. I think I first saw it on Star Wars or the Raiders of the Lost Ark?
I wasn’t sure. The carved walls of this gorge don't seem real.
My mind briefly takes me to thoughts of my BF cousin Shell, who died before she got a chance to see such wonderous places like this, furthering fueling my need to explore more of them.
For her. Known locally as Al Khazneh, the Treasury's purpose isn’t really clear but there are plenty of guesses, a tomb for a Nabataean king or an Egyptian Pharaoh. Some archaeologists believed it to be a temple, while others thought it was a place to store documents, or as the name suggests,
treasure. However, the most recent excavations have unearthed a graveyard beneath it. Whatever it was created for, it's been preserved frozen in time, minus a few bullet
Tell it like it is
I mean, for a country that doesn't support alcohol, there was shops everywhere. I thought this one was very well named. holes and camel poops. I am besot by how they spectacularly carved that rosy-red limestone.
I'm also fascinated by the young Bedouin men milling about. Wearing Johnny Depp eyeliner that emphasizes their already bloodshot eyes, let’s just say they wouldn’t pass a sobriety test, they swashbuckle around on crazed horses, it's feels like you've walked onto a set of a movie. None of them will let me take their portrait, that is, without an astronomical fee.
I was so awestruck throughout my visit to Petra, I didn't even realize how much I saw of it. There is an entire street of facades which feature more Nabataean tombs, the byzantine mosaics in the Petra church, and its incredible to sit in gigantic roman Amphitheatre carved directly into a rock face. How did they do all this in ancient times? Musa encourages us late in the day to make the steep pilgrimage to the high place of sacrifice,
I highly recommend being a goat for this. There were obelisks carved right from the rock, this particular site was used to kill animals to appease their Nabataean gods Dushara and Al Uzza.
For me, it was a very old snarled
Sneaky Desert Camel
Hobbled and not happy pistachio tree that had seen better days, my Hortie instincts wouldn't be surprised if it was at least 500 years old. I sat under it in a spot probably also used for millennia as a gathering reprieve from the hot sun. Along the dry river bed is the ancient colonnaded street, originally built by the Nabataeans but improved by the ancient Romans, these perfectly laid stones lead to the ruins of a Great Temple, which is a massive site built in the first century AD for the Nabataean King, and once again, taken over by the Romans. Finally after another shade break and bathroom stop, we hauled ourself up another staircase trail to visit the monastery at the end of the park.
Heading back out, we met a Kiwi lady named Marguerite van Geldermalsen and she told us how she married a Bedouin man who sold trinkets near the Treasury, and lived with him and their three children in an actual cave nearby, giving back to her community in Petra by working in the local clinic as a nurse. Later, I bought a copy of her autobiography at the Jordan airport.
Fascinating! Although she didn't mention it, she had
Mount Nebo
Overlooking the Dead Sea, Moses spent the remainder of his life up here and apparently died on this mountain top. It was breathtaking spot with the olive trees and rocks. met Queen Elizabeth II and Queen Noor of Jordan who visited her cave in 1984.
Wow! What an exhilarating day that was! Nothing is more wonderful for a traveler than visiting a place you had heard about all your life. As dusk settled in, and the park was near closing, I realized I was happy but heat exhausted, my marathon of sightseeing Petra went very well. I did not need a second day.
The Germans however went back to Petra the following morning to hike up some secret paths Musa knew of, and to enjoy lookouts most tourists don't get to, and I’m like.
No. I’d rather enjoy the hotel buffet breakfast leisurely before venturing out for a visit to the Petra museum, and then later on, going for a local Hammam.
Much to my surprise, Habibi tagged along with me. At the local Hammam, Walhla-Wallie was my scrubber and she got a robust tip for getting out all my kinks without physically assaulting me, unlike the Russian scrubbers did in Morocco.
Sharif Don’t Like It Our group reunited for dinner on the rooftop of a place called My Moms Recipe. Did I tell you I'm loving Jordanian
Selling snacks in Amman
I found all the vendors very friendly but also a bit sad. The war was weighing heavy on many that were originally from Palestine. food? Kofta meatballs with rich tomato sauce with rice for me and an inverted presentation of Maquba for Habibi, which everyone tasted. In this group no one has an annoying food intolerance or food phobias, they just plunge into the menu with glee. As our conversation flows, we all pitch in to continually help our technically-challenged boomer connect to WIFI and read the tiny writing on the menu for him. Later, we elect to have a hang in a cave lounge that serves adult beverages, and chat about Petra while listening to their live music and having a little shisha session.
Up early and back on the road, we had a mandatory stop for Turkish coffees at the first of many roadhouses along the way. We've been reassured by Musa we will hit the Dead Sea before noon. He's a 25 year tour veteran and runs a tight ship, happily sharing his historical version of the Middle East and quipping Arabic antidotes while we all ride along in a comfy van. He phones ahead to order us the best falafel wrap with tahini sauce I’ve ever eaten from a little local shop far off the tourist route.
Top marks Best Tour Group Ever!
How nice to meet such lovely Americans & Europeans and have them all get along like a big family. Our leader Musa was so gifted at his job. I really enjoyed spending time with all for Musa!
The steep road to the Dead Sea is all hairpin turns at warp speed as we descend to -400 ft below sea level. I pass out candies to anyone looking a bit green. Shockingly there are signs posted at the resort to show how quickly the water is receding. By evaporation. They estimate by 2050, the Dead Sea will no longer exist. After receiving towels and instructions to march down the hill to a shoreline that is at least 1km away, we plunge ourselves in a thick soup of brown brine.
The best way to describe floating in the Dead Sea, is somewhat like being in space.
I think. Haven't done that either.
I waded in up to my waist and found myself fighting to not let my legs come up from under me. The lifeguard with his whistle was on hand just in case you couldn't get yourself righted, or got water in your eyes. Those of us with a little more padding found it almost impossible to stay upright. I lost balance and went over backwards with one of my flip flops flying in the air.
I struggled like a duck in
She Sells Sea Salt at the Salty Sea Shore
Salt forms on the banks of the sea, the salinity is 34% which is amazing when the ocean is 3%. an Enron oil spill before I just gave up and bobbed on top of the water, flat out. Once I got used to the sensation, I steered myself around with my hands and enjoyed my weightlessness in the dense seawater.
It was super cool! I didn’t know this, but the air is more concentrated down here making breathing feel luxurious and rich, if that's possible. Unfortunately my pasty white skin turned bright red under the scorching hot sun, and even though I was painted with a thick coat of black mud, shelter was my only friend.
Fact: the Dead Sea is 34 percent salt compared to the world's oceans which are about 3.5 percent. All the moisture in your body feels like it's being leeched out and replaced instantaneously with the sensation of exhaustion and exhilaration. And headache. A quick dip in the resort's chlorinated pool puts you right as rain. None of us want to leave this place.
Musa is frantically watch watching. We need to hit the road to ascend on mount Nebo to catch a spectacular Middle Eastern sunset. I didn't understand the significance of this place, so Musa goes into full-on historian for
Habibi and her hashbrown
I have never seen a Gen Z eat a Maccas with such precision. us non-believers. Apparently this is where Moses died, and although they haven't found his gravesite, they are sure he's buried here. Even the Pope planted an olive tree for him in memoriam.
Meanwhile, war is raging next door in Gaza.
Musa is trying to keep his shit together but he's been listening to the King's speeches every dawn and translating them for us. The Palestinians in Jordan are fearing the worse for their families stuck in Gaza. He tries to give us uplifting updates but breaks down into tears every so often. His family were amongst some of the Palestinians that were forced to flee to Jordan when this exact thing happened 50 years ago. I know intergenerational trauma and PTSD when I see it. He is trying keep a brave, professional face. But that stuff never heals. Everyone in the group instinctually understands this and we distract him with our silliness. He snaps out of it and goes back into hyper-guide mode and blasts us with his tour commentary as we race down the hill into the cool little city called Madaba.
After we dropped off our backpacks at the 1 star hotel, we enjoyed the
Umbrella Alley
They had decorated many of the stairways with colourful collages. multitude of call to prayer while we walked to the Carob House, its owner came by and gave us a farm to table speech on sustainable food practices.
Almost too ritzy for this backpacker. My delicious beet salad was drenched in a drinkable tahini dressing. No room in my belly but I indulged in their fig carob pudding for desert. Cats milled underfoot so we took turns playing with them. After, we made a stop at the Hangover store for a few adult beverages to enjoy hotel pool side until midnight.
Trying to get through the great sprawling city of Amman during morning rush hour.
Impossible. I stare out the window and notice how the landscape changes to pine trees that are permanently blown sideways like gigantic bonsai. Men sit outside their shops to gossip in the morning shade after sweeping their stoop. Sheep graze on plastic garbage tumbling in dry fields. We crawled north towards the Syrian border to a city called Jerash, another gleaming white city with a sea of minarets and cell towers that dot the horizon.
I really didn't know much about this place. The city itself wraps around the ruins of an ancient
Some of the lovely people
One of our crew didn't understand personal space and was usually in mine. I obtained proof when I snapped this selfie. Low n behold he was standing right behind me, and another one mocking him by standing close behind him. Greco-Roman city perched high on a hilltop. Compared to the ruins in Rome which are buried deep under their modern day city, Jerash was almost perfectly preserved, minus some earthquake damage and pillaging of course. I recognized the red granite columns from Aswan in Egypt, they stand stoic against a stark blue sky. Musa points out how they sway ever so slightly in the breeze. We follow the same steps as those who lived here in 63 BCE, 2084 years ago. Picturing how daily Roman life unfolded, a causeway of worn stones separates the ancient shops, amphitheaters sit high on the hill, and weekly chariot racing in the hippodrome would be the nowadays equivalent of a Cineplex.
Our last night in Jordan, the group had dinner together at a restaurant owned by a friend of Musa's. It was a tapas-like menu so we could enjoy all the Jordanian dishes we hadn't tried yet. The mezze consisted of an assortment of roasted zarb accompanied by kubbeh, fattoush, tabouleh, makdous, mujadara, pickled vegetables, breads, and various dips, with copious amounts of mint lemonade.
The food kept coming even after we begged for it to stop. I bid a fond goodbye to
Poor little donkey
I don't know what he did in a previous life, but it must have been pretty bad. these really fun-loving, adventurous bunch of people and prepared for some solo travel onward.
In a perfect world, I would be making my way by taxi to the King Hussein border and crossing over into Israel to enjoy a month of sightseeing and exploring. In a perfect world there would be no war, or killing of innocent people, or retributions of hate from past conflicts.
In a perfect world, I would be traveling with my cousin Shell.
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John and Sylvia
John Wallace & Sylvia Bowman Wallace
Jordan
Sylvia and I have been to Jordan twice. We were at Petra a couple of days after 9/11 and it was totally deserted.. Glad you enjoyed it. We were going to go on to Israel but the borders were closed so we took a ferry from Aqaba to Egypt instead.