See this entry probably would have been a lot more interesting if I had written it earlier this week, but now it's become a bit of a muddled memory in my head. But it needs to be recorded, so I'll do my best to piece it together.Wadi means valley in Arabic, so basically Rum Valley. No, you silly alcoholics, not that rum. Anyway, on first glance, Wadi Rum is pretty similar to the desert in southwest America, but the soft sand is what sets it apart. I love the feeling of walking through sand; digging your feet in, letting it trickle through your toes. Poetic. I know.
So our day started with a bouncy truck ride through the desert, in which they took us to a remote location and made us climb up some rocks in the blazing heat. I really am pleased with their nonchalant attitude towards semi-dangerous situations here. I was facing dehydration, sharp rocks, and edges of cliffs with no one breathing down my neck. I would have thought we would have more people looking over our shoulders being on such a regulated program, but I guess not. Thank God. I hate being babysat. Not to say that we don't have a babysitter, but he's relatively harmless most of the time.
This picture doesn't really convey how awesome this hill was, but basically, we climbed up some rocks and then to get down, we jumped about six feet onto the sand and then sprinted down the hill. Some of the girls ate shit. Some of the guys did too, but more so on purpose. I kept my cool and walked down, because that's what real women do.
After blazing our very American trail, where we all ran screaming down the hill like the crazy tourists we are, they took us to our jamaal (camels). Oh side note. Today, I had to speak as part of my exam, and I accidentally told the class there are a lot of camels (jamaal) in Bulgaria, not mountains (jabaal). Lolz. Anyway, we're ushered to our camels, where immediately one of the Bedouin takes an interest in me. He keeps intensely gesturing me to ride his camel. I was about to go for it, but then our babysitter insisted on a group photo, so I left him. Then as soon as we disperse, some other guy gestures for me to ride his camel - I start to follow, but the first Bedouin interjects - beckoning me furiously. The second guy seemed less creepy, and he promised me first in line in the caravan so I went and jumped on his camel. The two men then have a brief argument over me, until the first guy shoots me a dirty look and storms back to his camel. Drama!!! I guess I'm a rare sight on account of my freakish height, flaming hair, and pregnant belly.
The camel ride itself was actually really awesome. Going up and down is a bit uncomfortable, but being able to ride this exotic creature through the desert with cliffs looming on either side of you was rather majestic. I kept sitting up really straight and sticking my chin out so I would look more regal. Plus I got to lead the pack so it solidified my position. Note: they do sort of smell and make scary noises. I was a little afraid one was gonna go all crazy and bite my hand off. But they only seemed interested in eating the shrubbery so it was all good.
We rode about 2-3 km to our camp site, which consisted of several Bedouin tents nestled against some cliffs. Somehow, I do not have a picture of this campsite. I love how I forget to take pictures of the most basic things . . . Fortunately/unfortunately they had a toilet that flushed. Fortunately, because toilets that don't flush are gross. Unfortunately, because I would like to see some of the people on this trip really have to rough it. Like "dig in a hole and poop in it" rough it. One person's discomfort is almost always another person's enjoyment. Maybe.
Being in the desert was really great. It seems almost pointless to write about it though, because I know I could never convey how nice the open silence was, especially after a month in Amman. After the sun went down, the weather was perfect, and the sky was so clear you could see a million stars. I didn't want to go to sleep, because then it meant that my time there would be over (as corny as that sounds). I felt really peaceful for the first time since coming to Jordan - things have been pretty hectic so far.
So on my way to bed (as in on a mat outside) I tripped on a rock, and I thought my toe was bleeding so I hobbled all the way to the bathroom, just to find that it wasn't. Which was annoying because I don't do well trudging through sand in the pitch black night. It got more annoying when I tripped over a new rock on my way back. This time though I just said "screw it" and went to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night though, with my toe throbbing in pain and again at dawn, where in the half light I saw the top of my foot was covered in dried blood. Whoops. Not sure how I didn't feel my foot profusely bleeding, but whatever. At first, I thought it was broken, but thankfully it looked and felt way less scary once I had cleaned it up. Our babysitter conveniently forgot to bring a first aid kit, but thankfully I'm not a marine and realize that neosporin is actually a good thing to bring on moderately dangerous adventures. Especially when one is prone to tripping over things.
So, we also went to this place called Petra on our trip. I don't know if you've ever heard of it. I actually wasn't sure what it was even when we got there. I kept having to ask people. Turns out Petra is a bunch of Americans dressed inappropriately, some dudes dressed in really cheap Roman soldier costumes, and way too many donkeys. Oh and there might be some other pretty cool stuff, but I was too disappointed that there wasn't an amusement ride that reenacted "Indiana Jones in Petra" that I just didn't care. The definite highlight of my day though was when some tout told me I looked like Shakira, and then went on to say his donkey looked like Shakira too. Thanks dude!
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