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."
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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 :) I am not quite sure what I liked more - Arava desert or Asif's place, where Yotam, my host, works. Nice and artistic place, self-built constructions and furniture from wood and iron. Yotam's house is a fabulous one-room space with almost every musical instrument around you can think of. I will take from Shaharut the touch of the strong wind, the taste of the Yotam's delicious home-made beer, the view from the top of the hill, the sound of Yotam's guitar playing in the evening and the smell of the pasta prepared with potatos and ... sweet potatos, which surprisingly could go together.
Shaharut showed me another desert beauty. More rocky, windy and flat. Almost lack of sand, which makes the orientation more difficult and the feeling of safeness weaker. Still, because of my host's oasis I enjoyed the calm Bob Dylan's mornings and warm, quiet nights in the middle of the desert in a village of not more than 100 people with no shop in it. After three months Bedouin desert life, Israel seems to me like a jump back to Europe - good English everywhere, malls, cinema halls, alcohol, short skirts, sex shops, sushi bars, beach, topless girls. Just on the opposite sea shore black clothes with eyes are washing themselves in the sea along with their fat husbands and countless children. Same sea, same coast, divided by a line. I never understood what kind of unit is the land with borders, called country. But I should confess that sometimes one step away makes a huge difference.
I've never crossed a border so easily till now. Almost an airily walk from Aqaba to Eilat, which will provide me a month more staying in Jordan. Some cities have a shape, like Paris. Some have a colour, like Leuven. Some have smell, like Eilat. Very concrete smell of a certain type of parfume, worn by most of the women in the street. Obviously, it's a modern one. And who can imagine it defines the smell of the whole city :) The airport is just between the mall and one of the beach's gates. The airplanes are landing and flying off meters above your head. You can see the faces of the people trough the plane windows. I stopped, smiled and waved at them for a while. I found myself with a strange taste for earrings and even stranger reflex to answer in Arabic. What's more, I even found myself far away from the city a couple of hours later, in a small village in the desert, called Shaharut, where I am hosted by a young carpenter, in whose home I am writing this post, sitting on an antique Christian wooden chair with a cross on the back. Here, the desert matches with the image of the desert, created by the movies and cartoons. Tomorrow I will unleash my senses around. Good night. Several shots from my home in Wadi Rum.
Two months far away from everything I know. But not far away from God, neither from myself. Speak a little, observe a lot. Missing anything and anyone. What I need is coming to me one way or another. Still, the existential loneliness of mine out-stands as something that should be overcome.
I decided to go back to Wadi Rum and spend the 50-day Easter fast in a Bedouin camp in the desert, where nobody lives. Without electricity, i-net or mobile connection. Living in a close conservative community in Rum, cleaning rooms, cooking in the kitchen, washing the dishes, working in the reception in order to deserve my food and bed in Petra took a little bit of my daily freedom but led me to interact with people who enriched my life in inexplicable way. No words can express the state of freedom of my travelling body and calm mind. An internal security produced by the faith in God and trust in my soul's knowledge who are leading me. Whatever I should encounter, whatever i should pass through, whomever i should meet and however I should go on - let it be. |
AuthorA 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. Archives
December 2013
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