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bostonsteamer @ : Welcome to Jordan (Honeymoon, part 3)
Hairdryers in Eilat are weird
At the end of my last post, we were about to leave for Jordan. We got an earlier start than we wanted, as we were woken up by thumping bass music at 5am. We took advantage of the time of day, and stayed up to watch the sun rise and book a place to stay in Aqaba (leeching someone's wi-fi). We chose a Dive Village on the South Beach area of town.
Crossing the border into Jordan was fairly easy, considering the history of the two nations. We tried to walk from Eilat to the border, but it turned out to be really far, really dusty, and totally lacking shade. We got a taxi for the last leg and walked across the border, paying our 95NIS crossing fee (used to discourage people from leaving Israel). We walked across this eerie no-mans-land between the two nations, as you can see above. It felt like a prisoner transfer or something from 24.
On the Jordanian side of the border, things weren't as organized. We were passed from window to window, getting the necessary stamps and visas into our passports. We were the only two people not part of a tour group, which we should have taken as a sign.
Finally, we had the documents necessary to get past the guard post and into the dusty parking lot on the Jordanian side of the boarder. Beyond the dirt lot was desert, with a single road stretching eastward as far as the eye could see. We were immediately accosted by taxi drivers, asking where we were going. We took a cab to downtown Aqaba, since we read that cabbing directly to the South Beach is more expensive than splitting it into two voyages.
We were dropped off in downtown Aqaba, and figured we could walk south until we got to South Beach. It wasn't until later we learned that South Beach is actually about 10km south of the city, past a huge industrial area, cargo port, cliffs, and generally a bunch of things that don't make for a relaxing walk. We walked past a large P-Patch that bordered the Red Sea. A promenade along the water took us past idle blue-collar types, people wanting to sell us food or boat excursions, women bathing in full black hijab dress.
Not where we stayed
There's something I'm having trouble putting into words in a respectful way, and I was tempted to leave it out as to not sound stereotypical or prejudiced. But it impacted our time in Jordan more than any other thing, so as imperfect as it may be, it must be said: every man in Jordan stared at Venessa as if they were just ejected from a spaceship or tossed overboard and could only breathe through their eyeballs if the oxygen would somehow flow out of Venessa's hair, breasts, hips, and legs through their gaze. EVERY man. It was disgraceful and disgusting. The unceasing, unrepentant stare of a man who's been told his entire life that he has no control over his body, his masculinity, his urges, and the only recourse to prevent society from degrading into a grinding mass of rape, orgy, and incest is to have the female form hidden from his view, so he never needs to exercise his own God-given power of restraint. I'm fully aware that this is my own culture speaking, and these men probably thought we were "disgraceful and disgusting," walking around in shorts and showing a modicum of affection towards each other in public. I'm curious what my friends with mid-Eastern backgrounds have to say about this, or those who've also traveled to Arab countries. It was one of those things where you knew what was coming, but reading or hearing about it just couldn't prepare one for actually experiencing it.
A nice photo to cleanse the palate from the above rant
We took a cab the rest of the way to South Beach, and found the Diver's Village. The Village itself was just across the main highway from the beach, and only about 5 minutes walk up a rather steep hill (which afforded an amazing view of the Red Sea and Egypt, but was unshaded and thus rather uncomfortable to traverse). The hotel area was appointed like a sultan's palace, with low, cushioned seating, lots of tile, and small cabins with a rooftop deck. The A/C was engaged in a fierce battle against the sun, and only upon sundown did the A/C unit win its nightly pyrrhic victory. The cabins themselves are under-priced as loss-leaders for more expensive scuba excursions, so we just enjoyed the views, did a lot of reading, and partook in the amazing breakfasts each morning.
The cabins were set in a slight valley, so on 3 sides was the sight you see above: a small dirt hill with a pack of wild dogs playing, scavenging, and yapping. The area seemed to be in an eternal state of unfinished construction projects. The hotel had a restaurant, where a meal for two can be had for 5JD ($7).
We spent the day snorkeling and swimming. I struck up a conversation with a group of boys, but the language barrier and the ambient noise made it rather futile. They wanted to know if Venessa and I were married, where we're from. Anyone who's spoken to teenagers in a foreign country knows the standard questions. I played the part of the gracious guest and told them that Jordan is the highlight of my trip, and mostly downplayed the Jewish/Israel portion of our voyage.
While Venessa was out snorkeling and I was on the beach, I met a young Israeli couple from Tel Aviv, the only Israelis we encountered in Jordan. I told them we were heading back into Israel in a couple days and we'd be in Tel Aviv the following week. They recommended Gordon Beach and after I thanked them for the recommendation, the woman said "See you there" without a hint of irony.
As the sun set it became bearable to sit outside in an unshaded location. I spent the final minutes of daylight on the rooftop deck, watching the sun set behind the Egyptian hills, and reading a novel in the fading twilight as the dogs' muted howls competed with the constant whoooosh of the wind kicking up sand from one hill to the next.
Tomorrow will be the long trip up to Petra.
Hairdryers in Eilat are weird
At the end of my last post, we were about to leave for Jordan. We got an earlier start than we wanted, as we were woken up by thumping bass music at 5am. We took advantage of the time of day, and stayed up to watch the sun rise and book a place to stay in Aqaba (leeching someone's wi-fi). We chose a Dive Village on the South Beach area of town.
Crossing the border into Jordan was fairly easy, considering the history of the two nations. We tried to walk from Eilat to the border, but it turned out to be really far, really dusty, and totally lacking shade. We got a taxi for the last leg and walked across the border, paying our 95NIS crossing fee (used to discourage people from leaving Israel). We walked across this eerie no-mans-land between the two nations, as you can see above. It felt like a prisoner transfer or something from 24.
On the Jordanian side of the border, things weren't as organized. We were passed from window to window, getting the necessary stamps and visas into our passports. We were the only two people not part of a tour group, which we should have taken as a sign.
Finally, we had the documents necessary to get past the guard post and into the dusty parking lot on the Jordanian side of the boarder. Beyond the dirt lot was desert, with a single road stretching eastward as far as the eye could see. We were immediately accosted by taxi drivers, asking where we were going. We took a cab to downtown Aqaba, since we read that cabbing directly to the South Beach is more expensive than splitting it into two voyages.
We were dropped off in downtown Aqaba, and figured we could walk south until we got to South Beach. It wasn't until later we learned that South Beach is actually about 10km south of the city, past a huge industrial area, cargo port, cliffs, and generally a bunch of things that don't make for a relaxing walk. We walked past a large P-Patch that bordered the Red Sea. A promenade along the water took us past idle blue-collar types, people wanting to sell us food or boat excursions, women bathing in full black hijab dress.
Not where we stayed
There's something I'm having trouble putting into words in a respectful way, and I was tempted to leave it out as to not sound stereotypical or prejudiced. But it impacted our time in Jordan more than any other thing, so as imperfect as it may be, it must be said: every man in Jordan stared at Venessa as if they were just ejected from a spaceship or tossed overboard and could only breathe through their eyeballs if the oxygen would somehow flow out of Venessa's hair, breasts, hips, and legs through their gaze. EVERY man. It was disgraceful and disgusting. The unceasing, unrepentant stare of a man who's been told his entire life that he has no control over his body, his masculinity, his urges, and the only recourse to prevent society from degrading into a grinding mass of rape, orgy, and incest is to have the female form hidden from his view, so he never needs to exercise his own God-given power of restraint. I'm fully aware that this is my own culture speaking, and these men probably thought we were "disgraceful and disgusting," walking around in shorts and showing a modicum of affection towards each other in public. I'm curious what my friends with mid-Eastern backgrounds have to say about this, or those who've also traveled to Arab countries. It was one of those things where you knew what was coming, but reading or hearing about it just couldn't prepare one for actually experiencing it.
A nice photo to cleanse the palate from the above rant
We took a cab the rest of the way to South Beach, and found the Diver's Village. The Village itself was just across the main highway from the beach, and only about 5 minutes walk up a rather steep hill (which afforded an amazing view of the Red Sea and Egypt, but was unshaded and thus rather uncomfortable to traverse). The hotel area was appointed like a sultan's palace, with low, cushioned seating, lots of tile, and small cabins with a rooftop deck. The A/C was engaged in a fierce battle against the sun, and only upon sundown did the A/C unit win its nightly pyrrhic victory. The cabins themselves are under-priced as loss-leaders for more expensive scuba excursions, so we just enjoyed the views, did a lot of reading, and partook in the amazing breakfasts each morning.
The cabins were set in a slight valley, so on 3 sides was the sight you see above: a small dirt hill with a pack of wild dogs playing, scavenging, and yapping. The area seemed to be in an eternal state of unfinished construction projects. The hotel had a restaurant, where a meal for two can be had for 5JD ($7).
We spent the day snorkeling and swimming. I struck up a conversation with a group of boys, but the language barrier and the ambient noise made it rather futile. They wanted to know if Venessa and I were married, where we're from. Anyone who's spoken to teenagers in a foreign country knows the standard questions. I played the part of the gracious guest and told them that Jordan is the highlight of my trip, and mostly downplayed the Jewish/Israel portion of our voyage.
While Venessa was out snorkeling and I was on the beach, I met a young Israeli couple from Tel Aviv, the only Israelis we encountered in Jordan. I told them we were heading back into Israel in a couple days and we'd be in Tel Aviv the following week. They recommended Gordon Beach and after I thanked them for the recommendation, the woman said "See you there" without a hint of irony.
As the sun set it became bearable to sit outside in an unshaded location. I spent the final minutes of daylight on the rooftop deck, watching the sun set behind the Egyptian hills, and reading a novel in the fading twilight as the dogs' muted howls competed with the constant whoooosh of the wind kicking up sand from one hill to the next.
Tomorrow will be the long trip up to Petra.
