Second leg of my Holy Land tour took me to Jordan, where I
played around in Petra and Wadi Rum. I
signed up for a three-day, two-night tour that really took me all over Jordan.
I mean, I feel like I crossed every nook and cranny of the country.
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| How-to in the porta potties at Petra |
Petra was the obvious highlight. An abandoned city in stone,
what you saw in “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade” was only the tip of the
iceberg. And also untrue. The façade where you see them leaving from was only
the front door. There was no interior (at least that was open to the public)
and certainly no chalice-guarding knight.
But, around the corner from the façade, there was a much
larger city, consisting of a monastery, cave homes and tombs, churches, an amphitheater,
etc. All carved into the limestone.
A lost city for hundreds of years – except for the Bedouins,
who lived there and still inhabit the surrounding caves – Petra was stumbled
upon not too long ago (relatively speaking) by an explorer masquerading as a Bedouin.
Probably some Indy blood in there, too.
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| How I felt after a day in the sun at Petra |
Our tour guide (catch phrases: “my friend” and “by the way”)
did a short introductory lesson in Petra, then my group was turned loose. We
had about 15 people in the group, and I and a small handful took off to the monastery,
which is the farthest point. It’s not only at the end of the road, but it’s at
the end of the road up 950 stairs, but I refused to rent a donkey and cheat. I
figured if I could climb Tiger’s Nest in Bhutan, I could do Petra. And I did!
It was very cool and I took lots and lots of pictures. (Over 700 total from the
week.)
Besides the donkeys, camels abounded in the city, and you
could also ride a horse out. I opted for the horse ride, but was a little
disappointed when I was led instead of being allowed to trot on my own. The guy
led at a trot, but still. However, it was still fun. I had to do that for
Wendy.
The next day, we went further south, to a desert called Wadi
Rum. The tour package said it had spectacular views, with mountains coming up
out of the dunes and barren land. What I didn’t know at the time was that it
was also used as the setting in “The Martian.”
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| Camels at Wadi Rum - mission to Mars |
It wasn’t my first trip into the desert – I’d done the
Sahara trip in Morocco – but boy, it was cool. We didn’t go that far in (we only
toured it for two hours), but it was still pretty phenomenal. And on the flight
back, I watched “The Martian” again, reliving the moment.
Crossing the border was a nightmare. For whatever reason,
Israelites are really picky about who comes in. I’d gone with a tour, and
several of us – including me – were completely grilled before being allowed to
enter. I’ve never thought that being turned away at the border would ever be a
possibility, but boy, I was nervous.
I’d traveled without my diplomatic passport to Jordan, and
coming back into Israel, the border guard had a hard time understanding that. I
kept explaining (or trying to) that I was not a diplomat in Israel, therefore
no need for it, but that went nowhere. She questioned several of my visas,
insisting on the full stories of why I’d been to Indonesia, Kazakhstan and
Azerbaijan. The stories of those trip are a little bizarre, but I flat-out told
her the truth. I’m not going to lie to a border agent, so when she said why
here, I just said, “because I didn’t want to work our national day party.” She
gave me a really hard time about not having my boarding pass available, but
again, I wasn’t flying out for three more days, so I’d left all that info at my
friend’s house.
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| In the Old City |
Honestly, I was just so relieved that I got through. Three other
people were held longer than me. One had to hand over her phone, where the
border agent questioned her on her photos. Another, who was in the country for
a wedding, was grilled on how she knew the bride. They’d gone to primary school
together, so the agent kept saying the girl was Jewish. She was Uzbek, and when
asked, then, why the bride insisted on being married in Israel, really had no
answer, as she wasn’t the bride and therefore not her decision. Her boyfriend
was threatened that if he lied to the agent, she “would send him back to
Jordan.” He wasn’t lying; he just didn’t have a plan.
So that whole land-border-entry-thing was a nightmare, and a
sweaty one at that. I couldn’t imagine being there in July or something. We
were all toasty.
After safely getting back to Jerusalem, I toured the old
city in Jerusalem. Saw the Mount of Olives, where the Garden of Gethsemane was,
the Jaffa (Joppa) gate and all four quarters: Armenian, Muslim, Jewish and
Christian. Most impressive to me was the Church of the Sepulcher, which is
built on the site where Golgotha stood.
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| The window where Golgotha is |
Golgotha itself has been more or less leveled, but parts of
the rock still stand and have been built around. There is one alter-like thing
(run by the Greek Orthodox church) where you can stick your hand and touch the
rock that Jesus’ cross was planted on. Next to it are other stations of the
cross: where His body was taken off, where it was anointed, etc.
There are several churches in the complex, and, so no strain
of Christianity can claim to having the “best” part of Christ’s death and resurrection,
a Muslim family has held the keys that lock the church’s doors. The family has
kept the key for something like seven generations. It’s the only way to keep it
fair.
Not being Catholic, I have some issues with the whole “tradition”
thing. I’m pretty skeptical if it’s not in the Bible. The worst ones to me were
two places where Jesus allegedly stumbled on His way carrying the cross. There
are “handprints” in the stone. The guide explained that these weren’t Biblical,
but were “tradition.” It was like, um … but you just finished explaining that Jerusalem
has been built and rebuilt, and 2000 years ago the road was two meters lower
than the road we were walking on. It’s just not possible that Christ’s hand hit
that wall. That’s not to say He didn’t, but there’s just no way that’s Christ’s
handprint.
But that doesn’t take away from the experience of the church
and the whole Old City. Praying at the Wailing Wall was a moving experience in
itself, and that was just one of dozens of things that cropped up along the
walk.
My tour that day ended with a Dead Sea jaunt. I’d heard it
was disgusting and indeed it was, but you have to do it. You can’t sink to save
your life, but there’s some slippery mud to amuse and smooth you. I lathered up
in it (so much as you can lather in mud) and hung out as it dried. I
accidentally got some on my lips and oh, my, what a horrid taste. It smelled weird
and was the saltiest stuff ever. Even after rinsing off, I still had a layer of
salt on my shades.
It was quite nice to be off an entire week without having to
take a single hour of leave. I pretty much dread going back to work tomorrow.
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