Wadi Araba to Amman

The plan was hatched sipping tea and taking in the panoramic view of Petra and the surrounding landscape of Wadi Araba. Having walked up to view the ruin of the Monastery with Keksey and A.J., I wandered into a small tea shop that stirred strong nostalgic memories of Nepal. Benches covered in brightly colored pillows, a 360 degree view of nature in all her glory, and a warm cup of tea. Abed, a local Bedouin (he even has a picture in the Jordan Lonely Planet playing the ut), immediately drew me in with his bright eyes and charismatic conversation. Also enjoying some tea was a Spanish man by the (apt) name of Jerusalem. 

View from Abed's tea shop.

The conversation started benign enough, commenting on the plethora of clearly homemade tattoos covering Abed's hands and arms. Proudly, he told me he had done them all, and inquired as to whether I wanted to come by his village the next day to have him ink my arm. When I demurred by explaining my plan to head south to the touristy Wadi Rum, he just shook his head. Why was I going there? To hike? Because I was better off staying in Wadi Araba and going hiking with him. Things progressed pretty quickly from there, and it wasn't five minutes later that both Jerusalem and I planned on meeting Abed in his village the next morning to set out into the desert for three days. 

Looking out over Wadi Araba.

Excitedly, I told Kelsey and A.J. of my plan, as they were leaving for Israel the next day. Kelsey wisely advised me to play it safe on my crazy desert trek with two complete strangers, and make "good decisions."

The next morning, after hasty and heavy hearted goodbyes with Kelsey, I carefully packed my mochila for my desert stroll, leaving some heavy unnecessary items behind. Catching a taxi to Abed's Bedouin village just outside Wadi Mousa, I met him and Jerusalem outside a small market. It all felt very surreal, making conversation while packing water bottles and fresh veggies into our packs. I clearly had the largest and heaviest pack, but I was not deterred, hoping that my time trekking in Spain and Nepal would have prepared me for the strain. 

The next two and a half days and two nights were a wonder. 

Wadi Araba 2014

The Good:

1. The indescribable beauty of the desert. On par with the Himalayas for most awe inspiring place I have ever been.

2. A magnificent connection with my surroundings. We saw zero other tourists or backpackers, and only a handful of Bedouin goat herders.

3. Sleeping under the open night sky, an endless twilight courtesy of a full moon (speaking of moon, receiving my Arabic name of "moon" from Abed)

4. The thrill of finding springs of water and drinking directly from the trickling source. Oh oasis!

5. Discovering early on that Jerusalem is a 20 year veteran of the Spanish civil police and he has a wife and two daughters. Also, being able to communicate with Jerusalem in Spanish when the need arose.

6. Abed's skill at creating delicious, healthy meals composed mostly of fresh tomatoes, cucumber, spices and pita.

7. Learning how to make cardamom chai over an open fire, and drinking it at least four times a day.

8. Watching a simultaneous full moon rise and sunset on an open ridge.

9. Being pooped on by a bird (I hear this is good luck).

10. Making it back in one piece.

Abed and Jerusalem.

The Not So Good:

1. By far the most dangerous trekking I have ever done. Think scrambling hands and feet over scree and boulders with fairly sheer drop offs into the valley. Then magnify this with an ungainly 30 pound-ish pack. Scary.

2. Abed's determination to get me to fall in love with him. 

3. Spiders, scorpions and snakes.

4. Struggling to keep up with two fit dudes. A few times I completely lost sight of them for endless minutes, and had to follow my instincts to find them. 

5. A fairly nagging preoccupation with thirst and wanting to chug my precious, rationed water. 

The Ugly:

1. Abed's henna job. Good thing I didn't go for a tattoo.

2. Slipping and falling on a scree hill, and in my desperation, breaking my fall with my bum knee and ripping off all the new skin into a bloody mess.

3. Immediately consuming a Fanta and two KitKat upon my return to civilization.

Henna on my birthday!

Exhausted, filthy and utterly at peace with myself (as only nature and walking can make me) we returned to Wadi Mousa on the afternoon of the third day. Jerusalem and I parted with Abed to the lovely Rocky Mountain Hotel, where we feasted on a delicious Arabic dinner and drank prodigious amounts of water.

The next morning, I woke early to begin a journey to Amman on King's Highway via Shobak Castle, the Jordanian side of the Dead Sea and the Jordan River site of Jesus' baptism.

As close as I could get to the Dead Sea with my gnarly leg. Also it was over 100 degrees, but Middle East modesty compelled me to cover up my slightly see through (only clean shirt left) shirt.

Jordan River.

A group of Christians on the Israeli side preparing to be baptized. On both sides, soldiers stood at the ready for any riffraff.

I arrived in Amman, and promptly found food before passing out until the next morning. I slept in and was awakened by a new hostel roommate. Manuela, a Portuguese-German physician traveling around Israel and Jordan came bursting into the sunlight room with energy pouring off her. She immediately invited me to share a taxi to the northern town of Irbid and the ancient Greco-Roman ruins of Jerash. Meandering through the stone pillars and worn paths, we laughed about love, life, and the possibility of moving to Jordan and finding Bedouin husbands to roam the desert with. It was so wonderful to chill with another girl in the days since Kelsey left. Back in Amman, we sought out a famous hummus and falafel landmark and lingered for a few hours over tea and pita.

Manuela with the classic Jordanian dessert of knafeh from Habibah.

This morning, I said goodbye to my new friend, and headed to the Israeli border at King Hussein/Allenby bridge for my last few days in the Holy Land. To beautiful, splendid Jordan, I shall be back...