One week in the deserts of Jordan with no Net access and limited shower facilities has made me one smelly and anxious lady. Now in Aqaba - Jordan's seriously filthy seaport that borders Eilat, Israel, Boyfriend and I are counting the minutes (and our dinars) until we board our ferry to Egypt.Not that we're under any delusion that Egypt will be less sandy or dirty, but our first destination is Dahab and our guide, Chloe, assures us that we'll be pleasantly surprised. We're taking that to mean that for the first time in a while our hotel bathroom won't smell like a urinal and that our bedsheets might just have been washed in between guests.
But I digress...
Not knowing much about Jordan other than it shares the Dead Sea with Israel and that it's the home of the wonderfully elegant Queen Rania, I had no preconceived ideas about what to expect. The capital city of Amman was much like Syria's Damascus only with better roads and infrastructure and it was there we met four new members of our group (two Irish sisters seeking some Jordanian sunshine, and an Aussie girl and English guy who will be with us right through to Cairo).
Our day trip to the Dead Sea was ludicrously expensive, and although the weather was great - just shy of 26 degrees - I failed to see the luxuriousness of bathing in a salty, oil slicked-bath. I stayed in long enough to pose for a photo then headed to the resort's chlorinated pools to take a dip in water nearing freezing point. We left two hours later all a little redder and dirtier than before.
Next stop was Petra. We bought a two-day pass, although I don't know why as neither Boyfriend or I are that into exploring old rocks and ruins... But we did the first day justice, covering a whopping 14 kilometres worth of the ancient Nebatean "rose-red city" (c.100 BC). We snapped the famous Treasury and hiked 45 minutes up to the ancient Monestary. And along with a thousand or so Thomson Cruise ship tourists - who'd been bussed-in for the day - we battled the blazing sun and the oppressive stench of donkey and camel urine. While the sheer size of the site can't help but be impressive, the litter everywhere and the pushy Bedouin salesmen (some as young as two years old) made the experience more of a challenge. Similarly, we found little beauty in watching donkeys being whipped across the mouth as they lugged lard-arsed tourists up the rocky cliffs. Petra certainly shows tourism at its worst.
From there we ventured further into the desert to stay a night in a 'traditional' Bedouin camp. A short safari jeep ride (to see some old rock inscriptions) and a mighty sandstorm later, we woke this morning ready to brace more sunshine. We've sand all through our bags (Australian customs is going to grill me for sure) and all our clothes are filthy...
What I wouldn't give right now for a flushing toilet and a real shower!
Note: Pic thanks to Sacred-Destinations.com
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