After a short conversation in half Arabic, half English with the ticket officer, in which I never asked for a discount explicitly, I heard "50 jd per each of your family and 1 jd for you, please. You are one of us."
I am just at the end of my life in Wadi Rum desert. I was living with a big Bedouin family in Rum village, then after a 3 week break I came to live alone in a Bedouin camp. I didn't visit Petra, Jerash, Madaba, Dead Sea, Jordanian river, Mount Nebo or any other sightseeing place in Jordan. Quitting smoking and drinking helped my extremely low budget a lot but I still didn't have enough to travel around nor to pay the expensive entrance tickets of the sites. Fair enough. My intention of travelling was never connected with the unsatiable desire of pining flags labelled "I was here". I wanted to settle down and try living as a local. So what I did.
I don't know what I took, what I gave, how I changed. I still cannot take myself out of it, writing this note leaning back on the rock of the camp's yard. What I know is that Wadi Rum desert is a stunning, soul-moving place, which entered into all my senses and spirit. What I know is that Wadi Rum desert itself couldn't be the place I loved and the place I felt like home without Abdul, Khaled, Salem and Ali, whose generosity, friendship, trust in me and respect provided me all the freedom and tranquility I needed.
11 days to go.
Cinderella's slipper will not fit me any more. I am far away from any Eastern beauty standard and get farther and farther. My face, hands and feet are dark, dry and chapped. My body is comperatively pale, but my skin is evidently suffering from cold tank water, sun and lack of humidity no matter of the great amount of body lotion I use. I look like dry soil surface in several parts. Even my nails got hard and rugged. My hair is constantly tangled and messy, whiter and drier. My teeth get darker (never understood from the over-sugared black tea or by sympahty). Cinderella turned to Maugli and lived by herself happily ever after. Cause your magnificence fits only you. The end.
Thanks to Khaled, I overcame my fear of climbing and for the first time I did Khazali Canyon since I am in Wadi Rum. Actually, this kind of ascending rocks is called scrambling, when you don't use ropes, but you climb on all fours. Well, there are dangerous and steep parts, where usually local guides use ropes with the tourist. My rope was the trust in Khaled, who helped me a lot to get up there and more importantly, to get down from there :)
A world is a book, which I am writing travelling and discovering that anything goes in a path full of miracles. Beast or an angel - it is up to you. My greatest life affair is just to keep on walking with respect.