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Published: June 12th 2017
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Geo: 31.4287, 35.7056
From Ajloun, we followed the spiraling road slowly down the ridgeline, through pine forests and then olive tree groves, into the Jordan Valley. We descended several thousand feet, as the valley sits nearly 1,500 below sea level. The area is truly the bread basket of both Jordan and Israel, which sits on the other side of the Jordan River. There are huge farms, with thousands of green houses which fill the valley from mountain side to mountain side. It is quite startling to go from groves of trees, through a no-man's land of barren grey rock, and finally into a startling green -- and full -- valley. As we made the final turns down the ridgeline, and approached the main north-south highway through the valley, we saw our first of dozens of small refugee camps for Syrians fleeing the fighting to the north. The large UNHCR-emblazed refugee tents became an all-too-familiar sight as we drove the length of the valley southward, to the Dead Sea. Rather than set up huge camps, they've elected to erect small clusters of three or four tents at a time, at alarmingly frequent intervals along the valley highway.
Aside from seas of greenhouses and a
couple of congested little villages that line the highway, there is not much to see. The Jordan River itself is not visible from the highway, and in reality it is so heavily drained for irrigation, you can literally jump across it at many points.
At one point while driving, Anna's phone beeped. I asked her what it was, and she nonchalantly replied, "I just got a text from grandma." I incredulously confirmed the information. We have Sprint, and our phones -- CDMA -- do not work overseas. I had forgotten, however, that Israel is one of the few countries outside of Asia and the United States which uses CDMA technology, so we figured out that Anna was roaming on an Israeli network across the river. She proudly announced that she had four bars and reported back to her grandma that we were okay, but that she had just sold her mother for five camels. I don't think Jane was amused.
The greenhouses and farms ended quite abruptly, as we passed the only crossroads to the east, which leads to the Allenby (King Hussein) linking Jordan and Israel. Despite the peace treaty, you cannot drive across this bridge, and any tourists have
to cross at a bridge much farther north or all the way south, along the Red Sea in Eilat.
I was surprised to begin seeing some billboards along the highway, advertising a slew of resorts which have been -- and continue to be built -- along the Dead Sea, catering to tourists and rich Jordanians (of which there are a few). I was also surprised when we approached a permanent military barricade, at which they were performing vehicle and document checks -- albeit it, cursorily.
Our hotel was immediately beyond the checkpoint, at the northern-most tip of the Dead Sea. It was pure opulence from that moment forward, as we were pampered and spoiled. Our room had sprawling views over a series of terraced pools and restaurants which cascaded down to the "beach" on the Dead Sea far below. As the water levels keep dropping precariously, the distance to the beach continues to growth exponentially each year, and there was construction going on at the time to add another terrace down to the new water level.
We enjoyed a sunset drink outdoors, at the base of the pools and overlooking the sea and it was a sublime moment. It was truly an
oasis in the middle of desolation. For dinner we ate outside, at a "bedouin-themed" restaurant called Shrak, in which hummus was prominently featured. The meal was wonderful, and the chef came out twice to ask if we were happy. It was hard to imagine that they day had begun in Madaba and all the frustration with the rental car, and we were ending it seaside on memory-foam mattresses with a pillow menu.
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