Hanukkah - Part 3: In the Footsteps of Lawrence of Arabia

Crossing into Jordan was a song and dance of bureaucratic stamps, inspections, screening and judgmental glares. We had, by this time been joined by other Westerners who had signed up for our same tour to Petra; with us there were two backpackers, three senior members of a flight crew, two Mormon girls on the tail end of a mission trip and the three of us! We were helped on the Israeli side by an older, sarcastic Israeli man in a Bill Cosby sweater, who collected our $65 border crossing fee from us and ushered us through Israeli passport control and customs. This took place in a series of low buildings stretched along an expanse of empty, flat land. We went from one building to another to complete each phase of the process. 

When it finally came time to cross from one country to another, we walked out onto a single lane road that spanned maybe 100 yards; it looked like a scene from a spy movie where we were part of a prisoner exchange. The group of us walked with our bags from the edge of one country to another.

Welcome to Jordan!

On the Jordan side, we were greeted by much the same process, but this time the atmosphere had changed. Shark-eyed guards looked us up and down warily, like they were daring us to do something wrong for the chance to shoot their weapons. 

I've adjusted to constantly walking by young, bright-eyed IDF soldiers with M-16s slung over their shoulders; riding the bus with 20 or so guns leaned across their associated soldiers' laps, plus any time I want to go to the movie theatre or mall I consent to metal detectors and bag searches. But all the time, you're aware that these soldiers are young, they're only 18-21 and they're someone's daughter or son. They don't want to be there any more than you do, but their whole life they've known that this service was coming for them and they had to pay their dues. So they approach it reverently, alertly and typically as a span of years which must be passed. 

Conversely, the Jordanian soldiers were all men, older and eyed us ferociously, just waiting for the chance to flex their muscles and show the full might of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan!

Just like on the Israeli side, we were met by a guide from the tour company we had arranged the visit with and we were ushered through the process of receiving many passport stamps, before walking out onto a dry flat plane that was our first look at Jordan.  We were divided into vans and then those vans shut their doors and we headed off from the border, through the suburbs of Aqaba and onto the highway heading north towards Petra.

So first things that I did not take into account is that Petra is far. It is around a two hour drive from Aqaba. It was still around 10:00 in the morning and I hadn't eaten more than a yogurt for breakfast. In the van, it seemed that our driver doubled as our tour guide as we raced over the road - top speeds on the highway include around 55-65mph; every few miles or so, there are speed humps to keep everyone from maxing out at crazy speeds. We were also stopped two or three times by police check points on the road. The driver said that since he had Americans [and Canadians] in his van, we'd have no problem. But every time, we were eyed over suspectedly.

As he drove, our driver told us about Jordan - "very nice and clean country!", which to his credit it was - at least where I was taken.  He told us about the royalty of Jordan, a dynasty which began with King Hussein, who looks like a kindly Sean Connery and governed through a huge span of years and events encompassing 1952-1999. When he passed, his son Abdullah II succeed him as king and still sits on the throne today. King Abdullah's son Hussein is the Crown Prince of Jordan and currently next in line to inherit the throne, however, at the moment, he apparently attends Georgetown. 

We stopped at a lonely outpost to break up the drive and use a bathroom. Inside the outpost we were greeted by a plethora of sales people ready to help us find the Jordanian scarf, trinket or souvenir of your dreams. Haggling was expected and encouraged, but you sort of knew that the merchant had the upper hand; we were trying to negate three different currencies - the American dollar, Israeli sheckel and Jordanian dinar. Trying to do conversions across all these different currencies to avoid being swindled, undoubtedly gets you swindled. And the merchants at this shop - and really every other person we encountered selling things - had nothing else to do rather than hone their craft on how to get the most money out of tourists. 

We all loaded back up into the vans and continued our trek. Now we were the only vehicles on a road that wound over hill tops that were mentioned in the bible. We passed a range of scraggly mountains of which the tallest was said to be the tomb of Moses' brother Aaron. 

Small building with the mountains that house Petra in the background

The vans descended through a small, but pleasant looking town called Wadi Musa, the town centered upon a rich, green stretch of stream, which was said to the the spot that Moses struck his staff and caused water to flow from the earth. 

Moses himself never entered Petra, nor the land of Israel for that matter. He was fated to never set foot inside the land of Canaan (Israel), he died at a biblically ripe old age and the location of his tomb is unknown.

We pulled up to the entrance to the expanse of Petra and left the vans. The tour group walked into a recently built circular courtyard with bathrooms, a small UNESCO Heritage Site plaque, restaurant with a loud yellow sign declaring it had WIFI and falafel, and three shops all selling the same scarves and trinkets as each other; each had shop keepers standing in front of them eagerly eyeing our pockets and bags. 

The tour group gathered around our Jordanian guide Adnan. He was younger, maybe 30ish years old, donned a checkered headscarf and had noteworthy burgeoning huge biceps. Two other travelers - an American, and an Argentinian joined our group and we headed along the dirt road out of the courtyard and into Petra. 

"One word of caution before you enter" said Adnan, whose English, as well as his French was flawless, "do not buy anything from the children who are trying to sell you things. They are supposed to be in school. Jordan is working on this." 

So with that, we began the tour and our walk into the ancient red walled city of Petra. 

The formal entrance of Petra is called the Siq, but even before you reach it you walk by the homes of past Nabateans, which intermix with the tombs of even more passed Nabateans. The more than 2,000 year old society had a very complex relationship with how they honored their dead. The intricate structures that the ancient city is famed for were built with the purpose of honoring their dead ancestors. Those who lived and walked the streets, were constantly reminded of those who had come before them. 

Walking down the pathway towards the first buildings of Petra

The Obelisk Tomb

Also on display in Petra, our tour guide's gigantic arms

The group approached the Siq, the naturally formed narrow entrance of the expansive ancient city of Petra. The path lined with original cobblestones slops down and bring the merchant with his caravan of camels, guard or tourist along a path chiseled through indomitable red canyon walls. The Nabataeans cut niches into the stone to honor their gods, as well as show their dominance and control over the resources of the area. The walls at times pressed so closely together so that you must stride through in single file. 

All the while, there are young Jordanian men with horses tied to colorful carts and donkeys racing - no careening past you. This is their sales pitch to try to tempt you into taking a wild ride with them to the more distant parts of Petra - the site is so big that it's not a bad way to see it all if you're short on time. 

Strolling down the paths, whilst dodging horse drawn carts driven by maniacs

The thing that doesn't come across in National Geographic, Indiana Jones, or guide books is that Petra was a living and breathing city. It's much more than the famously carved face of the Treasury, it's like walking through the frozen in time remains of New York City.

Hello from Petra

But oh, the Treasury, it's one of the wonders of the world for good reason. The pathway narrows before it opens up to reveal its breathtaking beauty. Tears came to my eyes when I saw it. It's just so overwhelmingly beautiful, impossible and represents what skilled human hands can create. It's bigger than I expected, more mammoth and resolute. But so, so, so impossibly beautiful. 

Camel for scale

Bedouin guards stand in front of the entrance.

Details of the columns and facade on the front of the Treasury 

Making friends with the locals

Against this backdrop of the possibility of ancient architecture, are the possibilities of modern capitalism. To the left of the entrance to the Treasury is a Jordanian restaurant with snacks, drinks and free WIFI if you buy something. Three camels are staged at artistic angles in front of the site for tourists to take pictures with, or pay a couple dinar for a ride. It just goes to show that you can travel to the ends of the earth, but you can never go completely off the edges any more. 

Past the Treasury, the real expanse of the full, vibrant city opens up. There's levels of buildings in a range of different styles stacked on top of each other - if you lived here, you'd have been in good shape from walking up flights and flights of stairs to reach upper levels of building. The ever present Nabatean tombs become more ornate and house more families.  There's even a Greek style amplitheatre present.  

It's a hard knock life for a Petra donkey.  

Row upon row of Nabatean houses

With the rest of our time at Petra, we had free time to explore and wander. I fell into conversation with Adnan, the tour guide and we had a really interesting conversation about the Nabateans use of Corinthian Greek architecture that led to talking about job prospects for young Jordanians and the market there. So just remember kids, you never know where your Classics degree might take you!

Black and white of Bedouin guards on top of Petra overlook.

By the time we had all returned back to Petra'a Welcome Center where we had started, the day was creeping towards 3:45. We still had not eaten. Our appetites had been distracted by the views, but now that we could think about it, we were really hungry. The vans picked us up and brought us to a Jordanian buffet. For me, this was the most real and solid thing I had eaten in almost three days. The food was flavorful and amazing and I ate like I might never see food again. 

But I actually would not have to wait that long. From the restaurant, we loaded back into our vans and one took people back to the Jordanian border where they returned to Israel, while the other took six of us around 2 hours south to a Bedouin camp for the night. 

When Jess, Joe and I had booked the tour, we read that we had the choice between spending the night in a Bedouin camp, or a hotel in Aqaba. Both sounded pretty cool to us, so we figured that we'd ask our tour guide which he'd suggest once we were there. But this moment never came. So we were just swept along to the Bedouin camp - which still sounded pretty cool to us. But then the sun set. And it got cold. So cold. I know it's the desert and it's Jordan, but it gets cold. Like you can see your breath and can't stop your body from shaking profusely cold. 

When we arrived it was pitch dark and we entered a stylish encampment of lines of modern looking canvas tents amid palm trees. It was jovial looking enough, but it's charming look hide its true sinister nature. Canvas walls don't do much to hold in heat, if you have any of it to begin with. We were given two gigantic blankets and that was to served for our heating unit. In the tent I shared with Jess, we both quickly changed into all the layers of clothes we had packed with us. We decided to go to dinner to see if there was any heat in the cafeteria building. There wasn't. A large fire was at the center, but it didn't do much good; the heat didn't radiate out. None of us were hungry, but we ate to keep up with the body's demand as it shivered. 

This is what brushing your teeth in the Jordanian desert looks like

What the camp lacked in actual walls and thermodynamic capabilities, it made up for in beautiful 360 degree views of stars and the Milky Way. I saw my first shooting star while wrapped up in a 1in thick Beduin blanket standing out underneath the night sky with Joe, Jessica and our two new friends Amber and Juan (the two who joined our tour later).

The night passed painstakenly slowly and bone-chillingly cold. The low point was around 3am when I had to leave my bed to sprint to the bathroom building located around 75 yards away. It was freezing! As I figure it, at around that time of night, it was probably roughly 30 degrees. 

Looking all jaunty and cute in the sunlight and hiding its true nature.

When the day dawned, I woke up almost amazed to still exist. I staggered out of the tent, my body stiff, clothing stuck to myself and hair matted. 

I joined my friends at the cafeteria building and ate a Jordanian breakfast. Today we were going on a jeep tour of Wadi Rum!

Wadi Rum enters Western cinema from the adventures of T.E. Lawrence, who's life gave inspiration to the film Lawrence of Arabia. Wadi Rum was also the backdrop of the recent Matt Damon film The Martian lending it's red sands for the surface of Mars. So, I can now say that I more or less have walked on Mars. 

Our Bedouin tour guide arrived to pick up the six of us in an amped-up pick-up truck with bench seats in the back.  The fun thing about the Middle East is that they don't have to adhere to the same safety regulations as the west. So when you're sitting the back of a pick up and the Bedouin driving it decides to take a roller coaster-esque drop over a sand dune, you enjoy the ride! 

For the next few hours our guide drove us to a few different sites around Wadi Rum to take pictures and enjoy the natural beauty. 

Desert expanse of Wadi Rum

More views of Wadi Rum

Since they're out there all day, Bedouin guides take some great pics.

Don't try this at home

Mushroom rock

Attempting to climb the Mushroom Rock

After our jeep tour, we returned to the camp, grabbed our bags, threw them back into the van and got the heck out of dodge to Jordan's southern city of Aqaba.  We had signed up for a tour of the city, but I'm not sure if it's the fact that there's nothing much to see in Aqaba, or the Mormon girls really needed to get back to their connecting flight in Israel, but we were not there for more than two hours.  In that time we had one last Jordanian meal that culminated in one last awkward monetary exchange of US dollars, Israeli sheckles and not enough Jordanian dinar when the restaurant did not accept credit cards.  

After that, we high tailed it back to the Jordanian/Israeli border, which was the same thing we did the day before, but in reverse.  There was relatively few incidents: a border agent forgot to give me a stamp with the right year, so I had to go back through a couple steps at one point, but we all made it!

Back safe inside Israel, we said goodbye to our new friends from our travels. Jessica, Joe and I went back to our rental car that we had decided to hang onto for the whole span of the trip since just driving back to Beit She'an seemed the easiest and most cost effective way to do the trek. By then, the sun had set over Eilat, settling behind the Jordanian mountains - mountains which we had only a day ago been traversing.

Driving through the Negev desert and the West Bank at night is a lot less interesting.  The five hours of the drive went by without a hitch and much of note happening.  Before we knew it, we had returned to our familiar haunts of Beit She'an, which of course, had not changed one bit.  It seemed relatively unperturbed by the fact that we had just crossed into a different country, visited a World Wonder, dipped our toes in the Dead Sea and the Red Sea and passed a night in the Jordanian desert.  But that's Beit She'an for ya!

All in all, it was a magnificent trip!  I found myself in places that I never believed my life would take me. Getting to visit Petra was just much cooler than I thought my life would be.  I love looking back at the pictures and seeing the evidence that it happened, since some parts were very dreamlike to behold. It's well worth getting up from the desk chair for the chance to get to see it in person!

L'Shana Tova

It's the Jewish New Year, so it's a time to reflect on the past year and the ambitions you hold for the future....orrrrrr completely over indulge yourself in excessive feasting and use the seemingly endless time off from work to play! 

I spend Shabbat and the Jewish holidays with my host family the Levis: Davide, Gilah, Na-Or, Maya, Hila and their little dog Tail-le.  They are charged with giving me an authentic Israeli experience for the holidays and they more than delivered on it. They took me with them to both their maternal and paternal family's Rosh Hashanah celebrations.

As someone who grew up around mainly Ashkenazi influenced Jews - if I was around any Jews at all - the Sephardic Moroccan exposure has been completely new. Their food and attitude is colorful, vibrant and full-flavored. You can think of Ashkenazi food as a study in shades of grey: gafillta fish, kugel, latkas - relatively delicious, although gafillta fish takes a certain level of sociopath to enjoy - but really all are on the same palate of color. 

Moroccan food is made up of tasty salads; tanzia - a honeyed mixture of dried apricots, currants and raisins over rice; couscous smothered in chickpeas, sweet potatoes and onions; stuffed peppers, onions and cabbage; shakshuka - sautéed onions, garlic and tomatoes with eggs fried into it; fresh homemade bread; variances in eggplant-- and that's only the vegetarian options! It's rounded out by Moroccan shortbread cookies with anise, almond cake, crepe-like mouffleta with chocolate spread, maple syrup, butter or honey and of course, sugared mint tea.

Trust me, it's as delicious as it sounds and I know because I've tried my best to cram as much as physically possible into my body.  This has had mixed results - as a person who is not exactly used to the pursuit of rich, decadent, full-bodied meals and more focused on living a very balanced lifestyle with healthy foods and ample exercise, this turned out to cause some difficulties. Most of the Israeli foods are healthy, but they do not skimp on rich, indulgent ingredients. And likely eating them at the volume and frequency that I did this past weekend was probably not the greatest idea ever. 

So it's been a challenge that I was not expecting. I definitely did not intend to use the Israeli holidays as a study in the extent of my own sloth and gluttony and I'm sure the ancient rabbis did not intend for a time of contemplation to be used to delve deep into my own food driven-hedonistic vices, but that's what I did.  It was an exploration of just how far I could go in attempting to experience new foods inspired by "food FOMO" (Fear Of Missing Out) for everything that was described as "a Moroccan specialty" or "she spent all day cooking this". 

An empty plate and the declaration that "I am full" is not a part of the Moroccan mindset.  I tried to wave the white flag and admit defeat after I realized that trying to eat this way wasn't sustainable and my stomach couldn't expand enough to keep up with it, but my empty plate symbolized that I apparently had not enjoyed my meal, so it was at times filled for me. I had barely digested from the meal the night before that we were eating a full-fledged lunch the following day! It actually began to feel overwhelming and that I just couldn't not gain a foot hold among the constant deluge of tasty foods and kind, smiling grandmothers. When I finally reached that point that my body no longer felt like my own and the heartburn was real, I had to thrown in the towel and request and night off. 

Spending a night in with only water to sip as I waited for my bloating to go down, turned out to be a great choice since there was a lot more of the weekend to come.  

Intermittently with the family meals, the Levi's would pack up their van with a "simple" Moroccan picnic (a lot of times Israelis use one word, while they mean the exact opposite. Like "water slide" when they mean drainage pipe - still my favorite example!) and head out into the the valley of springs to soak up the best of what's around. 

The Sachne in all its glory

On the first day of Rosh Hashanah, we went to the Sachne, a natural springs that look so perfect that you call its existence into question. As you walk towards the pools, purple-winged butterflies flit by you and a lazy dragonfly dips down to skim the azure waters. It looks like a 1950s movie set of an oasis in which the set coordinator did no research and just idealized what an oasis must look like--but that's the Sachne, for real. 

Enjoying the waterfalls

The whole group

We spent a relaxing day by the aquamarine waters, where we floated and splashed on an air mattress, let little fish nibble our feet, went for a walk to see the waterfalls and picked fresh figs from close growing trees. 

Since my life is now in the suspended reality that is Israeli, the weekend didn't stop there. Once I had recovered from my octogenarian food babies, the Levi's picked me up for a "hike in the fields" and once again, that meant the exact opposite. You just have to expect the unexpected with Israelis and cross your fingers that you're wearing the right shoes. 

This time, it meant that we drove to a moshevez, a sort of gated community-living situation that stops short of going all the way to bring a kibbutz, where I was introduced to Yaqui, his wife Kineret and their son Or and daughter Adom. 

In his little corner of the Sea of Galilee, Yaqui has perfected the art of man-cave. He loves all things with engines, so he created the ultimate garage devoted to his passion, with everything from shelves to house his collection of toy trucks to motorcycle, dirt bikes and amped up trucks. Yaqui also happened to have in his possession almost a whole fleet of 4x4s at his disposal. Apparently, "hike in the fields" meant we're going off-roading!!

Rugged and customized truck

Motorcycle and dirt bike

Yaqui's rows of collectible toys

We loaded up a truck with everything necessary for a Moroccan picnic, then everyone climbed into a dune buggy, or truck if they wanted a gentler ride to start. A neighboring family and their kids joined us. Their young son had his own 4x4, which like a good teenage boy he drove with reckless abandon while blasting Israeli music and wearing ski goggles to keep the dust out of his eyes. 

Taking a turn in the driver's seat

Our convoy headed out to traverse the rocky paths of the Kineret under the sun for the next couple of hours! It was honestly dreamlike to be bumping and bouncing in the backseat of a 4x4 between the Sea of Galilee and the Jordanian border. Just two weeks, I was scared to leave my known world behind and a month ago, I was sitting in a desk chair trying to get signatures on an endless pile of inane paperwork.  So to suddenly find myself involved in a world of action and experiences does not seem real! I did not know that my life could be this interesting! I tried to soak up the moment and simply be as present as possible to enjoy it. 

Evidence of the dust

The ATVs kicked up A TON of dust as they sped over the trails, in almost no time, I was completely covered with streaks of red-brown dirt all over my skin, clothes and hair. I pretty much looked like I had changed colors and Gilah joked that I looked Moroccan! 

Once we had spent a few hours doing some badass maneuvers on the back roads, as well as crossing back and forth through the Jordan River, we started to look for somewhere to picnic. Most places we drove by were swarming with tourists and their kids. They gawked at us, took pictures of the 4x4s and asked where we had gotten them. It felt very cool to be privilege to all this.

We finally found a removed spot for lunch and began to unpack the truck. Moroccans and Yaqui's family and friends naturally do not half-ass a picnic. They brought tables, blankets, frying pans and propane into the forest with us. So before long, we had a table packed with food, omelet station manned by Davide, himself and the makings of shakshuka, which I was helping to sous chef! 

Lunch spread

Omelet station

Another splendid meal followed, coupled with pleasant conversation, before we packed all the materials up into the truck and hit the roads for part deux of off-roading.

                                  

Helping to make some shaksuka the woods

The rest of the afternoon passed with rocky, winding road, some close calls with mud and hydration breaks with cookies before returning to the man-cave and unpacking and relaxing. 

I can now check 4x4-ing off my bucket list! There's a couple more items on there that I think are in contention to finally be achieved, so stay tuned since the Israeli holidays aren't over yet and the Levis seem to be very adept at making the best of living in Beit She'an and taking me along for the ride!

Shot of the whole group