Bold tan lines. Loose waistbands. Unkempt braids. Piles of dusty laundry. Bone tiredness.
I got back from the Middle East a week ago but I haven’t quite emerged from the post-trip daze of an active two weeks quasi-backpacking through three countries.
Even though it was only two weeks, as I suspected when we got to Amman, Jordan, our final stop, returning home would result in a bit of reverse culture shock. After climbing and scrambling ancient ruins in 35+ degree heat, sleeping in the desert, striding through vibrant souks, haggling over everything, taking four hour coach journeys every couple of days… falling back into the home-Tube-office-Tube-home cycle has been jarring. My unpacked suitcase is still in the middle of the floor, a subconscious nod to my wish to hold on to the just-returned feeling, before the repetitious routine reclaims me completely.
I previously posted our
planned itinerary, and it did in fact go largely as outlined, except day 7-8, when we got caught out by the Sabbath (carelessness on my part) in Ein Gedi by the Israeli side of the Dead Sea. Since there were no buses that would either take us to Masada or down to Eilat, it was fortunate that we’d made reservations at IYHA hostels in both Ein Gedi and Eilat — a quick call from the front desk allowed us to cancel the Eilat room and stay in Ein Gedi a second night.
We were staying in Ein Gedi because the Masada hostel was full and as usual when things don’t go to plan, it turned out even better, because we got to stay across the street from the Dead Sea — floating in its warm salty water and smearing on the thick black mud found in rocky crags on the beach rivals any expensive spa treatment — and next to the nature reserve, where we watched groups of ibex navigate their way down steep cliffs to drink water from the stream and cooled ourselves in crystal-clear waterfalls.
Obviously I’ve been asked repeatedly what my highlight of the trip was, and Ein Gedi was definitely a high point, but there were high points at every stop — in Israel I loved being in Jerusalem and by day 2 was joking about moving there to learn Hebrew; the ruins at Caesarea were impressive and the source of fun text message hints to friends back home that we ended up in a police car (the police generously gave us a lift to the train station at night when we couldn’t find a cab); the bustling streets of Bethlehem in the West Bank were wonderfully evocative; the panoramic views across Israel from the steep hill at Herodian took my breath away; the deep-blue Sea of Galilee was an unforgettable sight. In Egypt the wonder of following a Bedouin guide up Mount Sinai in the middle of the night, with only starlight and, when it emerged, the moon, to light the way was equalled by watching the sun rise over the mountains from a prime east-facing perch at the top. In Jordan both Wadi Rum and Petra surpassed my already-high expectations of the magical sun-drenched beauty of the multi-tonal rock.
And as well as having great company — an outgoing friend with similar travel interests, an easy laugh and a wonderful sense of humour — we met some kind, generous and fascinating people along the way, from the 19-year-old girl in the first of her two years of compulsory army service we met taking the train from Caesarea to Tel Aviv; to the Canadian couple we encountered in Wadi Rum who were approaching the end of a 6-month trip driving a jeep from Cape Town back to England; to the students at a camp in Sinai about to embark on a two-month trek studying biodiversity in the desert; to the American woman who approached us on the street in Amman having heard us speaking English and talked about her public health internship as we drank fresh sugar cane juice and haggled with market sellers over scarves.
Those two short weeks will stay with me for a long time, a goldmine of memories, emotions and well over 1,500 photos that are gradually making their way to Flickr.
