The Young Jeremiah Chronicles - Istanbul to Cairo Part 4

On Eoin and I head through the Middle East of 9 years ago.  This blog entry includes the last of our Syrian stories and the entirety of the correspondence detailing our travails in Jordan.  As with the rest of these middle Eastern posts, this contains the emails sent out to my large list of increasingly weary contacts.  Thankfully, at this stage, my writing style has improved somewhat.

Date: Fri, 20 Aug 2004 16:28:58 +0000
Subject: Not so much a pillar of wisdom

Hey all
Was feeling pretty sick yesterday so the events will be clouded by the runs.  (ugh) Anyway, we're in Petra now, in Jordan, another new country.  When I last left ye I was having a fantastic time in Damascus I'll try to catch ye up with the present.

We learned the evening before setting of for the Jordanian border that Bosra, a small Syrian backwater with the best preserved amphitheatre in the middle east, which, according to the lonely planet guide it also boasts the only hostel in Syria, which is housed in a tower of the citadel in which the amphitheatre is housed; apparently one was able to wander around the citadel all night , which obviously excited me, anyway, we were told (for that was where this ridiculously long sentence was going) that this service no longer existed, it was probably wrecking the archaeology of the place. 

Bosra

Bosra's stunning Amphitheatre

Anyhow, we went to black black Bosra anyway, with its black brick houses, and black amphitheatre  and black citadel, and we were very impressed, but not as impressed as we woulda been first, as the amount of archaeology we've seen on this trip is starting to make it all look the same.

 Went to Deraa, kid tried desperately to sell us sweets, we refused, then got a shared taxi to the border where we got our very blue Visas (passports really looking cool now, cept for the photo, where I look about 14) then, after changing at a couple of stations, including Ramtha, etc etc, bah, tired and sickish, Eoin probably remembers, wait, yes yes he does... Okay, got into Amman, after passing through various landscapes of different sandy colours, dunes, and mountains that looked like dunes stretching out in all directions.

 Anyway, didn't notice we entered Amman, as its ridiculously hilly and there's no real ' YOU HAVE ENTERED AMMAN' moments, you know, the ones where the whole city stretches out before you like some half remembered memory of greatness. Not Amman, all you see is the streets to the left, and to the right, and some of the ones on the valley way behind. Sometimes one sees skyscrapers, like the one that looked like a loada overflowing pots on top of each other, or the big bright yellow one, like some radioactive marshmallow.

  Anyway, despite such hallucinations of architects  its pretty samey. Stayed in the Farah hotel, nice, had English movies.  Spent the night trying to settle our stomachs by seeking out the ubiquitous western fast food joint, our shame conversely compelled us onwards, but to no avail, we wandered for hours and finally tore apart some chickens (fried not just some chickens we found on the sidewalk) local chickens though, not western, scrumdiddly. Little did I know however, at that moment my bowels were planning a war against me.

Next morning I wasn't doing so well, after an egg, decided to not eat any more as my, umm, derrière  had rebelled. The rebellion continued throughout the day, and it was not something I enjoyed. Were heading for Wadi Musa, and Petra, stopped off in Jerash, more colonnades  and theatres, and everything else I've seen a dozen times already on this trip. 

Dramatic posing in Jerash

Antique fatigue is hitting me hard, my bowls weren't improving my patience much either. We tramped around for a few hours, its all very nice, every  now and then I'd sprint off, leaping from pillar to post, over ruined wall and theatre  searching for relief. Enough said. 

Took some photos of Eoin really far away, waving his arms on top of some steps, and then off back to Amman to get our bags, then off to Petra.

The minibus ride was long through the deserts of the Hejaz, the railway intersected our sandy course on numerous occasions, and we kept going. Met some policemen, off for the weekend heading home from Amman. good Craic, but wasn't up to it that day. Arrived into Wadi Musa, and slept.

Restless night, Eoin tells me that during which I reached over to his bed, trying to take his pillow from under his head, waking him,  I apologised, apparently, no memory of it whatsoever though. Curious.
Anyway, today felt better, though not my fully proactive self, due to the fact I hadn't eaten yesterday.

The Treasury

 Got a lift  to Petra, and started down the siq, that precarious rift in the plates about 15 feet wide and a 100 ft high, its in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, at the end. The siq went on for ages and ages, passing by hordes of tourists on foot camels and ponies, we finally reached its end, and there, peering through gaps in the winding siq in front of us was the Treasury, where the Holy Grail was found in the movie. It was impressive, and more then a little bit weird to be standing there, inside was a small room, but large enough considering it was carved from the living rock.

Me in Petra

  For this was Petra, city of the Nabateans, a people who advanced quickly in technology and civilisation due to their stranglehold on trade from the far east. About 2500 years ago they founded this city, for a city it is, the Treasury is merely the tip of the iceberg. Beyond it, through a rift in the rocks to the north the landscape opens up. Tombs, small and royal abound, carved hundreds of feet above the ground.  Sheer rocks thrust themselves from the Wadi (watercourse) that entwines them, a theatre, carved from the rock, temples, colonnades  it goes on and on and on, until one finds oneself breathless from the sheer immensity and eccentricity of the whole thing. A secret city.  We drank tea with our first Bedouin, and wandered for hours. We return tomorrow.

Aerial view of the tombs from the high place of sacrifice

On a side note, I was too embarrassed to wear my hat today, in this prime Indiana Jones country, and from the moment I get home they'll be no more Indiana Jones impersonations outta me, I've grown tired of that particular image I cultivated for some reason unknown to me.  (Hmmmm)
Anyway, enough reservations.

Prime Indiana Jones (or Johnes) country indeed

Ye may get one more email outta me before communications blackout, we hit Wadi Rumm in a couple of days, and since that's just a couple of big rocks in the middle of the desert, I don't think they'll have internet access. But I should send another before that.
Oh, and congrats to Ciara and Orla on their leaving certs, I hear the weathers gone crazy over there and I'm sorry I'm missing it, tornado in Bandon? Flooded Bishopstown? The island just can't get along without us.
Anyway, Assalam my many effendis
Your friend in Arabia 
Jerry

Date: Sun, 22 Aug 2004 14:48:59 +0000
Subject: Petra

Hey all again, 
The only reason I'm writing this particular email is, as I've mentioned before somewhere in the volumes I've been webbing, that Eoin and myself are heading into the desert tomorrow for most of the week, to Wadi Rumm, can't wait. Anyway enough of the future, to the past.

I haven't written my diary since I got to Petra, and while I in no way ever reference my diary when it comes to writing these emails, the entries still helped sort images out in my mind. So this'll be brief (plus its only been 2 days) I can hear the immense sighs of relief from here. Careful now, ye don't want to unbalance the careful act that is the ecosystem with all that exhalation.

Anyhow, now that I've done my bit for the environment.  Yesterday, I felt pretty sick in the morning, and realising I still hadn't managed to shake that darned rebellion, I decided to take the whole day off, while Eoin went to Petra. I did, kinda, and I made a miraculous recovery 'ahem' (This Ahem hides a multitude of sins by the way)

Eoin got back about 5 looking absolutely destroyed, kinda how I look today, except his t-shirt and sasquatch arms were attracting about 7 pounds of rose red dust between them.

Today I got up early. Feeling much better,  and got to the treasury in Petra by nine o' clock, my aim was to do exactly what Eoin did yesterday, but in half the time. 

Petra early in the morning

First off I headed for the high place of sacrifice, which is atop a huge bulwark of layered stone, sticking like the prow of a ship between the necropolis and the amphitheatre,  albeit, I went the wrong way. Convinced that the gorge I was following was the standard way up, I was quite worried to find myself scurrying through cracks in the rock, balancing along edges, and generally risking life and limb, thank god I've got rock climbing experience,

Scurrying along a crack in the rock

 Anyway, after about 20 minutes I saw people walking along on a ledge across the gorge from me about 30 feet up, yes indeed it was the standard path. I eventually scurried up, pulling myself up arm over arm right in the middle of an Italian tour group. The rest of the way up was grand, endless rock carved steps to a view that stuns the senses and dizzies the mind. 

Eoin had told me he went down the other side of the mountain, so I attempted to do the same, although what Eoin hadn't mentioned was that there was a path, I spent the next hour, scrambling over bottomless cazims (my god how do spell casim??) edging along slivers of rocks, and clambering down trees locked into the vertical rock face. I think through, it I banished my fear of heights, as by the end bold leaps were standard, as was sprinting along rock edges. Well, at least until I again realised how dangerous it all was, then I again became ridiculously over cautious. Ye all know how cautious I am after all.

Eventually got down off the mountain, finding myself in a wide deserted valley, with rock tombs on the opposite cliffs. I ambled along in the yellow, and at times rose red sand, heading for my next mountain. I started up the steps, many many rock carved steps. Half way up met Annie (who we had met in Istanbul) and her room mate who were also headed to the top, eventually we saw the monastery,  huge, and cut from a single rock at the top of a mountain, its bigger then the treasury  and almost seems free standing, and backed into the mountain. 

The Monastery

Headed for a viewing point were we could see Israel amazing views, the rock like volcanic clouds, hardened, turning red to black as the vista suddenly became plain many miles off.

Looking towards the Golan Heights

 It was about half twelve, and I had another mountain to climb before I met Eoin at one, so I left Annie, and ran, ran faster then I've ran in a long while, I climbed one medium sized peak in about 5 minutes, it was the wrong one, ran down for the other, headed the wrong way, and again had to shimmy along a gorge, ran up the next mountain, until I realized that Eoin couldn't have gone that way, the rock broke away in my hand,  it was crafted in patterns like splashed water. I gingerly made my way back down. It was 5 to one, I ran down all 850 of those steps, stopping briefly to have tea with some Bedouin (gotta be polite) and continued running. 

 15 minutes late. Still, did pretty good, ate, and now I'm wrecked.
Tomorrow to Wadi Rumm, when next you hear from me we'll probably be in Egypt. In maybe a week. so don't worry if I don't write soon Mom.
Miss ye all (cept Eoin)
Jerry

Date: Sun, 29 Aug 2004 03:33:04 +0800
Subject: Wadi Rumm

Hello everybody once again.

Its been a while since my last Email, as I promised, but its been a damned relaxing while. We are now in Egypt, Dahab to be exact, the setting is like a Caribbean Island, albeit without the sandy beaches, the sea stretches out from beneath palm trees, Saudi Arabia twinkles faintly in the distance, and the moon illuminates a cone of ripples towards the shore. Its pretty picture perfect, and it would be if we hadn't just entered tourist country again.

But First, the last week, and what a week.

When I left you last time I was in the multi shaded petra, or as the locals called it 'beetra'. The morning after completing that exhausting Email we were up at 5 to catch the minibus to Aqaba. We drifted past fantastic scenery, a plain so ravaged as to appear contrived, Arabic poetry blasted from the airwaves, but we were too tired to take any of that in, and I for one drifted into a listful sleep.

 I was jostled awake at some time when the sky was bright but for the dull mountains that hid it. We were approaching Aqaba, through free trade zone and dammed valley the road twisted, and thus our bus, until eventually the valleys fell away and a vast plain was revealed stretching to our right,the north, this plain and wide valley was the Wadi Araba.  Stretching beyond Damascus, it culminated straight ahead of our course, at Aqaba,  a curved bay and city nestled within, something our eyes lapped up with fervour for its depth, water, deep blue and enveloping, we hadn't seen such a body for over two weeks, since Iskenderun on the Turkish coast, now we were a hundred miles away at Aqaba, crossroads of four countries. Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Egypt and Israel.

Israel and the Palestinian crisis has become all too apparent  what was but a background noise has risen to include us in its din. Over the last week a few people have expressed to us their sentiments, the majority of them very vehemently, against Israel  I understand their plight, but like so many problems in human history, for a solution to be found, compromise must be found first.  Both sides refuse to listen to the other sides claims, and both sides have irrefutable claims in blood, history, and religion. Both sides refuse to budge an inch, and both sides demonise the other. It is a very real, very tangible tension that is present in this land, if one looks for it, it can overwhelm  and even when one does not, one still listens in awkward silence, knowing one can do little to answer the many questions and fears brought to call.
Enough.

Aqaba, its kinda like Miami, that old Will Smith video came immediately to mind the moment I saw the neat rows of palm trees, the smooth modern roads, and the glassy buildings and fountains. 

Welcome to Aquaba

We were there to get our Egyptian Visas, and after a taxi ride to the embassy  in a very grid like neighbourhood  we waited with the comical machine gun waving guard (yep thats amazingly not a contradiction) for opening time. A Palestinian came to talk to us, and Eoin accidentally ignited his fervour by asking if the city we could see in the distance was still the city of Aqaba, it was not, it was Eliat, in Israel  We were not sure how to react. While our sympathies are with Palestine, things you hear on the news can so easily transform into academic arguments, ways of proving you knowledge, not challenges to be solved. 

Eventually the Consulate opened, we gave in our Visas, and wandered Aquaba, buying books and water, and returning two hours later, after which we overindulged in something we hadn't eaten in a long time, western food, yup, that's right, Macdonalds. The big M beckoned to us like a shiny plastic Siren, luring us onto the rocks of Mcnuggets.  We ate between us enough for four, beckoned on by the low prices. Our stomachs chastised us for hours.

McDonalds!

On to Wadi Rumm, via servees Taxi. We left Aqaba, Visas in breast pocket, and once again entered the twisted grey confines surrounding Aqaba, that is until we took a left and emerged into desert. I think I was talking at the time, I know I shut up. I sat slack jawed, trying to take in every vast grain of it. Distant mountains like oil paintings, half smudged by the sun, whirling sand cast into the air by plentious updrafts, and sand, red, grey, yellow, stubbed with plants here and there, flat red and granulated here. 

We passed the seven pillars of wisdom, a mountain T.E. Lawrence apparently named.  Complicated guy, cartographer, archaeologist, spy, and rebel leader all. 

Wadi Rumm

We entered Wadi Rumm, whose walls stretch in some godly colonnade  to the left and the right one is overwhelmed by hugeness, mountains indescribably beautiful lead one to Rumm Village, an odd place, half built, eccentric with its Bedouin tents, oversized enclosures and Victorian street lights leading an empty path into the desert.

Desert Street

We got a tent for that first night, and collapsed into the heat which descended unbearably upon us. We meant not to do much that first day, but fate and the Bedouin decided against that. In the evening we were climbing a small pile of rocks, to get a view down one of the many smaller valleys and niches that spoked radially from the rumm village area, when, at the top of this rocky pile, we heard a grunt, a shout, and a laugh. It was a small crazy Bedouin kid, in a black and white stripy jumper, 'Hea' he'd shout, as he climbed up to us,  followed by his giggling, embarrassed sister, I gave him gum, he took Eoin's camera, taking many a photo, he put on his sisters shoes and pranced around, his name was Abdullah, and he was crazy.

Abdullah's photo

Abdullah!

He invited us, this lad of about nine, back to his families tent, a small black structure, wall deprived but homely, surrounded by goats, it squatted near the town, quite oblivious it seemed, to the march of time. 

We spent the evening there, Eoin and I, they invited us to stay the night, but we declined out of politeness. Many cups of tea they gave us, and we helped Abdullah's older sisters with their English, a good time was had, an unexpectedly good one. Afterwards we met some guys from Holland, and talked into the night.

Tea with the Bedouin

I love Wadi Rumm, we stayed their for five days. After we found the tent unbearable we moved to the guest house roof. 

Our tent is obvious, the flag was Eoins. No, I still don't know why he brought it

The heat of the day is exaggerated in that yellow tent, as is the unbearably cold night.  The roof was much better. Our time in Wadi Rumm was marked by peace and beauty, on the third day we hired guides and camels to take us into the desert. My camel was grumpy, had bad teeth, and was prone to moaning and trying to bite ones hand off. He didn't follow directions, ran in circles and certainly hated the burden I was to him.

Me an my camel

 Eoin's camel in contrast was affable, had relatively good teeth and seemed to enjoy following orders, (except for that one time he got up too early, sending Eoin and his guide flying off his back and into the sand) We bounced uncomfortably into the desert at a slow pace, hypnotised by the movement and the sun, we trudged into the vast emptiness between mountains, across sands, across the desert.

On the move

 We headed for Jebal Khazili, a bread loaf like mountain we''d seen on the horizon from the camp. Once there we followed our guides through a siq into the mountains heart.  I left Eoin and a guide behind as the younger guide challenged me to keep up with his sprightly leaping; jumping into the air in that thin gorge, he sprung off walls, kicking himself higher, springing up the side of cliffs, and down through holes in space.  I somehow kept up with his lightening pace, even as we climbed the smooth remains of a waterfall. I'll admit getting down was more difficult, but not difficult enough to deter me.  We continued trudging throughout the day, growing friendly with our guides, joking and laughing in the sand.

Camel Race

 

Out in the desert

Trekking as the sun went down

Eventually they left us to await another in a jeep as they and their camels headed around the mountain and home. The jeep came, we boarded and headed for a high mushroom like outcropping of rock, tourists perched atop like crows.  Sunset was almost upon us, and we ran to the top, just in time to watch magnificence blossom red over mighty Rumm. 

That night we spent in the desert with two Japanese and Talal, a Bedouin Casanova who beguiled is with so many many ways to chat up French women 'pour toi J'irai cocher les Etoiles' 

After a meal of salty energy packed food we relaxed, until one by one we wandered beyond the light of the camp, into the desert. The moon was almost full, I lay in the sand, we all did. We watched, all of us in our own little worlds, as before us stretched a valley so huge, so vast, so incredibly amazing, all in shades of blue, with mist swirling around their bases almost undefinable in the weak light. We could see forever, I have never seen anything as beautiful, mysterious, or awe inspiring as what I saw that night.

On the way back the following morning

The true beauty of Wadi Rumm, why I love it so, is not in the mountains so vast, the desert so wide, but in its people. What can I say? Auda, who arranged our trip for us, became a good friend.  Ibrahim, the man at the guesthouse, who continually spoke of apples, was always a source of amusement. The Sudanese shopkeeper, always with a smile. Abdullah , as crazy as ever.  The kids up the mountain pass, at Lawrence's spring, who brought tea, bread, potatoes, and tomatoes with them to play, and to share with two passing Irish.

The view back from Lawrence's Spring

Swinging at the spring

We stayed in Wadi Rumm for so long, that we felt we were a part of Wadi Rumm, we truly relaxed in almost the same way one can relax at home. 

Wandering through the village, Abdullah would run up shouting, 'ABDULLAH' I'd call,  he'd laugh, and call me over, that day he stuffed match heads into a metal cylinder, completed the concoction with a nail, and slammed into the pavement with a song. BANG, head dizzy, ears, shocked, Abdullah laughing 'mumtaaz' 

Keep on going through the village, Talal comes over to say hello, keep going, the Howeitat guy, the shopkeepers, the kids from the well. Later I helped push start a truck with three other Bedouin lads. We were only there a week, yet we belonged.

Yesterday, with Auda, leaning at a table outside the guest house  chatting the day away (Auda had invited us to wedding, but circumstances conspired to deny us the opportunity)  tourists pass by, Auda spots a sale, "welcome" he says, "ahlan wa sahlam" Says I, (welcome in Arabic) , this conversation with these Spanish tourists starts with Auda speaking in English, and me in Arabic, and it continued so, I told them I was teaching Auda art, and he was teaching me Arabic.

Never before have I been in a place where I have joked about tourists with the locals, where I have become a local, where people would see us outside the guesthouse, in this tiny little town, usually the only tourists there, and walk over, to sit down, to have a chat with the Irish lads. Police men, undercover agents, tour operators, restaurateurs,  or just kids, our table was always a popular table, we had connections. It was great.

Sheltering behind a rock, overburdened with sun

Our last day in Wadi Rumm, we walked miles out into the desert, heat and mountains unbearable, we wandered back in in the evening to the usual jovial bedouin welcome. If we had stayed there but a day, like many others, we would have missed all this, instead we felt like family, like part of the community, and someday I'm definitely going back.

Atop the mountain we climbed on our last day (the dots in the back are 4x4s)

I Love Wadi Rumm

Wadi Rumm

But we had to leave, this morning we got to Aqaba, taking a super sleek ferry (the princess) to Nuweibia in Egypt. We almost missed the ferry, but for the fact that Eoin was critiquing an English dissertation for a dock workers wife, I went to look for the guy as Eoin neared completion, I stood, looking, couldn't find him. Suddenly, a guard approached me, asked what I was doing, asked for my passport, I gave it to him, he asked for my ticket, and ran off in a flurry, with my passport, I rushed for my ticket. Upon seeing it, he exploded into frantic activity 'FAST FAST" NO TIME NO TIME" he bellowed, and so we only just made the boat, lucky eh?

Boat was like a big fat jumbo jet, plush, modern, and fantastic, horrible food though. We arrived in Nuweibia where they kept us penned into the port for a long time, without any explanation. We were contemplating rushing the armed guards when we were freed, and left in a minibus with some New Zealanders and a Brit.

Now we are in Dahab, tourist tastic, I instantly mistrusted 'Prince', the insanely overly enthusiastic hotel owner where we are staying, his favourite saying appears to be 'thats just great isn't it?' while shifting accents from Australian to British while screwing up his face. Eoin false talked him up into a marketing explosion where he talked for hours about camel excursions, Sinai tours and snorkelling. I smiled and nodded, secretly wishing there'd be some terrible explosion somewhere nearby and we'd all have an excuse for running away. While staring at the floor for so long was quite great and all, eventually he let us go with a slap on the hand and an over the top 'wishing ya well'. And Eoin, the Brit, Jason, and I headed for the gravel strip that is a beach. The lack of sand is made up for by the tiki, wooden, japanesesy restaurants that abut directly onto the sea, which bizarrely has horses wading ankle deep in it (even though theres no beach) we found a nice gravelly spot between restaurants and some sort of industrial pipe, and started comically inching through shallow waters over reefs towards the bluer part of the gulf. Coral reef hurts the feet, but I borrowed Eoins goggles and got a glimpse of the many colourful fish flitting about, trying to stay out of the big galoomping humans way.

Dahab, coral reef in the back

We tanned a bit, in the waning sun, before eating pizza with a load of cats on the waterfront, before coming here to wax lyrical.
Anyway, hope every bodies doing well
contact me with any queries
Asallam
Jerry

And so we were in Egypt.  Apologies for the over zealousness of youth! Reading back that Wadi Rumm entry I certainly come across as somewhat more naive.  Almost as naive as I was.

Anyway, not so many to go.  Two more parts maybe?