Aqaba...

As promised, my account of Aqaba and my little adventure – all organised with the aid of the Lonely Planet Guide J

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We left on Wednesday, early. Al-hamdoulillah we left early because we practically had to walk to the next suburb in order to find a taxi. That done we (one flatmate and another sister from the Hay who decided to join us at the last minute) had a 30min wait at the bus station. Unfortunately the bus was fully booked so they couldn’t change our seats so that we were together, so preggie (that’s what we call the sister who came with us, primarily because she is seven months pregnant) was sitting alone on the top level of the bus, while my flatmate and I were on the bottom. Lucky for preggie the person who booked the seat next to her didn’t turn up so she had two. The bus ride was pretty disgusting. None of the windows opened and all the men insisted on smoking pretty much constantly so most of the trip was spent trying not to be physically sick. There was a family of six sitting on the opposite side of the bus to us, and the older girl stared at me through most of the trip. About an hour before Aqaba, I happen to be looking out her window and he says “What’s your name?” So we had a nice little conversation. For a twelve year old who’s ESL she spoke very good English – she didn’t want me to speak Arabic to her so she could practice.

So we arrived in Aqaba and got off the bus only to be greeted by 34⁰ heat! Bah! It was so humid. Unlike Aussie men, Jordanian men find it amusing to watch women struggle with large suitcases which are obviously to heavy for them to lift from a bus holding area that is above their heads – have I mentioned at I can’t wait to come home (and yes Fint it’s the Arabs, they’re getting to me).

So we arrived at the hotel, lobby was nice, elevators were working, employee carried our bags – beautiful. Entered the room, not to bad – the colour scheme looked like it was something out of a Dr Seuss book – the bathroom was so tiny that if I stood against one wall and reached out my arm I could touch the other side lol. But, it was the only hotel that offered a triple, and it had air conditioning – perfect!

We lazed around for a bit, the bus ride was incredibly tiring. Then wandered off to see the water/beach, ate lunch, went shopping at Dream Mall, discovered Gloria Jean's (which had e all excited... the coffee on the shelf had a little sticker: "Made in Australia". I woul have taken a photo but the employees already though I was odd enough after I stole the chocolate sauce squirter and used 3/4 of it on my drink) and went home for a nap before dinner. We ate dinner at the Syrian Palace and it was fantastic. The seafood was delicious and the waiters were so friendly. To top it all, it was reasonably priced (for Aqaba). We staggered home ridiculously full, stopped by the souk for a peek, but resolved it was time to sleep.

GLORIA'S!

We had planned on the first day in Aqaba to go snorkeling, unfortunately that didn’t happen because all the cruises were cancelled, so we decided that we’d go to Wadi Rum. We asked at the hotel in the morning and they offered to organise something for us for 150JD (that’s A$300)! Politely we declined and decided to get the bus. So we arrived at the bus station at 8.30am and found the bus and asked the driver what time he’d be leaving. He said one hour. So we decided to get lunch to take with us and return. So we returned and sat and waited…and waited…and waited… 1 ½ hours had passed and the driver looked in no mood to move, so we asked him again. This time he said, 12:30 (it was 10am)! So we wandered to the shade and sat down to discuss what we wanted to do (a taxi to Rum costs 25JD one way – for tourists anyway). SO we were sitting and debating when the driver comes over, deciding that the wants conversation. He asks us what we want to see, and then tells us what we should see (he apparently grew up in Wadi Rum). After about 30mins he decides that he could put something together for us for about 40JD each… We bargain him down to 30JD and decide that we’ll go. The deal was this: he would transport us to Wadi Rum and back to Aqaba, we would get a guide for 4 hours and we could see whatever we wanted in that time. So he goes about organising. He tells us that we were to get on a different bus (since he still wasn’t going to leave until 12.30). We were to get off at the Rum highway junction where the guide would meet us. My companions were doubtful, so in true Aussie style I cajoled them into adventure! We got on the bus and off we went. After a solid 45mins bumping along the highway (desert all around), one check point and a hell of a lot of second-hand smoke, we tumbled off the bus at the highway junction and into the care of Abdullah the Bedu. Abdullah called the original bus driver who organised things so he could reassure us we were with the right Bedu, since about 6 others got off at the junction too, then led us to his ute. The three of us clambered into the tray and off we went through the desert on our way to Rum. About 25mins into the drive he pulls over and (pointing at Preggie) says we should get in the front because it was going to get really bumpy. I told the others to get in the front and I’d stay in the tray because otherwise one of us would have been in Abdullah’s lap – he wasn’t kidding, it was terribly bumpy! So we continued along the road for about two minutes, passed a check point with incredibly bored looking officers who didn’t even lift their heads as we passed, then he swerved into the sand – the purpose of this cross-country drive into the Rum protected area, we found out later, was to avoid the entrance fees charged to tourists.

The Bus

In Abdullah's Ute...Leaving the Highway Behind...

Lone Tree

Camel

Our fist stop was the Nabatean inscriptions.

Second stop was the sand dunes. Abdullah decided to point us in the general direction and then promptly sat down under a rock and slept. So we went down to the dunes. Took some pictures, climbed a little way, took more pictures. My flatmate and I decided that we would try and run to the top – I go ¾ of the way up and decided I’d sit instead (my flatmate stopped just behind me). We made Preggie take a pic from the bottom, and then we decided that we would move on. I decided to roll down the sand dune (since Abdullah couldn’t see us), which while fun resulted in my eating a lot of sand and collecting even more under my hijab and in my trousers. Abdullah woke as we returned, looked strangely at my sand encrusted hijab, said nothing, and we moved on.

Sand Dunes

General Rum Photos

Third stop was the canyon, which was absolutely amazing. Once again Abdullah pointed us in the general direction and then went to have tea in the tent with his Bedu friends which was nearby. We ambled over to the canyon, where it was about 10 degrees cooler in the shade, climbed as far through it as we could go with Preggie, took some snaps and returned to the Bedu tent where we drank tea and were slyly photographed by European tourists who obviously thought that we were from Rum – personally I would have thought that the speaking of English, western clothing and Nike trainers would have given it away… Apparently not. (Waiting on Photos from Preggie, I'd already filled the memory card by this point)

From there we were off to the small rock bridge – not enough time to get to the big one (I was a little sad at that). We had to climb awfully high which was a little hard for Preggie, but Abdullah was like a little mountain goat, he kept having to stop and wait for us which he found amusing. So we walked across the bridge, took many photos and then clambered back down. It was rather cute, insead of springing off quickly, Abdullah went about two metres then would turn around and watch with concern as we assisted Preggie to the bottom. After that we bumped back through the desert and were sneakily taken into the Beduin village in Rum (apparently foreigners were not supposed to be there) where the driver from Aqaba (the one who organised everything, his name is Zaid) reappeared. We desperately needed to pray because there was only 45mins left till Asr (not so problematic for Preggie and I as we were combining since we were travelers, but my flatmate happens to be hanifi and they are unable to combine), only to be told that the mosque in Rum does not cater for women. So Zaid said he’d take us back to the highway to get us on a bus back to Aqaba. So we are driving along and we turn into this little village and stop outside a little house. There is a beautiful little boy at the gate looking slightly bewildered at our arrival. Zaid tells us that this is his home and that we can pray here because (again) the mosque in his village doesn’t cater for women. So we tumble out of the car and are greeted by his wife and EIGHT children! Masha’allah such beautiful children. Zaid, after introducing us to his wife and children disappears off into another room with his older sons, leaving us with his wife, his girls, and the little boy. We quickly made wudu (which I felt really bad about since like everywhere else in Jordan they get very little water) and prayed. His wife was so cute, she made us tea and bought out a cinnamon cake that she had made, and then demanded that we eat it. Zaid’s eldest daughter Fatima engaged us in great conversation in English – she too apparently learns at school and has a really good command of the language masha’allah. Zaid’s wife was so insistent on plying us with tea and cake that we only just made the bus back to Aqaba! Two of the boys, one about ten and the other maybe about 14/15 drove us to the bus stop in the village – quite a sight for his friends that we encountered on the way, judging from their stunned faces – only to find that the bus was about twenty metres up the road having already left. Knowing that we have to be on that bus, they kindly sped up, overtaking it and stopped in front of it, forcing it to stop. We said goodbye and hopped on for the bumpy ride back to Aqaba.

We got back about 5:30pm. Showered, rested for half an hour then wandered back out for dinner. We went down to the “rich” tourist area of Aqaba, where all the 5-star hotels are looking for somewhere to eat. We happened on a wood-fire pizza joint and decided to stop. We ate, it was not in anyway delicious, and as usual was massively overpriced. Back to the souk – spent up a little storm – back to bed. A really long, draining day. Al-hamdoulillah.

View from the hotel... Those hills on the otherside are Occupied Palestine.

On our second day we organised to go on a glass bottom boat cruise and a snorkeling trip. The girls bought burqinis from “Dream Mall” (which incidently is not so “dreamy”). After much struggle, we finally found the boat and hopped aboard just as it was about to leave the marina. We sailed down the Jordanian side of the Red Sea, past Occupied Palestine and past the Egyptian boarder. We sat in the shade at the back of the boat as most of the European tourists had shed most of their clothing and were sunning themselves on the deck and smoking constantly. There wan’t much to see through the bottom of the boat because the water had gone cloudy, but the swimming was great! The water was so nice, and terribly salty. I got the other two girls to leave the safety of the boat so we could swim out a little. Preggie hang on to the lifebuoy though so our distance was limited. As people started to get out of the water we just kept on swimming – we decided lunch could wait, where else in Jordan were we going to be swimming anytime soon? Eventually we got out, changed (which was a feat all in itself) and went up to the deck for lunch… Boy was lunch fabulous! There was fish, chicken, beef, three different salads, dips and more. It was great food, and we were all quite impressed! The way back was nice, with the afternoon sun on us. Once again we sat on the lower deck, although this time it was to avoid the smoking only. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people smoke quite so much as I have seen in Jordan. It really makes you say Al-hamdoulillah for Australia and the fabulous legislation preventing smoking in so many places.

When we got back to the hotel we prayed and then ran off to dinner. We ate at the Syrian Palace again because the food was just too good. Then headed to the all-night souk for some shopping. I got a couple of lighter abayas for summer which were not terribly cheap, but cheap for Jordan, aswell as a couple of hijabs (although not as many as I would have like because I bought everything he had in the particular style, which was not much!). Then back to the hotel to sleep, and sleep we did.

On the last day we got up late, mopped around packing, trotted off to rustle up some breakfast from the bakery, returned already sweaty and feeling yuk (it was already 28⁰ outside). Ate. Checked out. Got the bus home, on which, thankfully, no one smoked. Al-hamdoulillahi rabbi-alamin!

So back “home” in Amman. Went to Abdoun for dinner, couldn’t be bothered to cook. Can’t wait to sleep.

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So, my observations on Aqaba:

- The men are sleezy and have minimal respect (except for the Bedus)

- It is uncomfortably hot at all hours except between 2-4am.

- Everything is really pricy, even if you bargain.

- Your inability to escape the stench of cigarettes will drive you mental.

- After three months in Amman it is truly a blessing to see some green grass, some trees with leaves and… the sea.

Ma’a salama