On the "Party Bus" to Aqaba

For this week's tour of Jordan, a few of us went down to Aqaba, and spent the day on a yacht in the Red Sea. A couple of CIEEers went with the same "tour group" two weeks ago, and it was highly recommended, so we decided to do the same trip this week. Joining the tour meant meeting this Iraqi hippie in front of McDonalds and paying him each 100 JD ($140), while he wrote down our first names. It felt like a drug deal.

Thursday afternoon we were instructed to meet in Safeway's parking lot, where the "party bus" would pick us up. This is the term my friend Zach used to try to convince me to go on the trip. "Dude, you have to go," he said. "You literally take a party bus down there." I wasn't sure what he meant at the time, but I found out soon enough . . . when someone started passing a joint around. Just kidding. We're in Jordan. Not California. Even so, I guess it was more of a "party bus" than I expected. Us Americans got there first, and crowded into the back of the bus, where we watched as our fellow passengers arrived. This wasn't a real tour group. More like the guy we paid and a bunch of his friends, who do this every weekend and want to make a little extra cash by bringing some tourists along. Which was sweet, because I didn't have to deal with a babysitter, but nor did I have to plan anything myself. Win-win.

The five of us did that anti-social thing, where we only talk to ourselves on the way down. We joked that the Iraqis on the trip looked like a bunch of "bros" with their popped collars, manpris, and aviators. Our "tour guide" was wearing a shirt that said "What happens on tour, stays on tour." Oh funny. (Men's "fashion" takes a little getting used to here.) On the five hour drive to Aqaba from Amman they blasted some choice American pop music that spanned everything from Akon to Sting, and they were periodically standing up and dancing to it. By that time I had figured out what Zach meant by "party bus." He's definitely the type to get up and dance with them. Me not so much. But it was entertaining, especially when it got dark, and they turned on the dimmed, red and green, lights. I felt like I was in this dream where I was at a club, with really bad music, but the catch was that it was on a bus and I couldn't dance . . .

Before we got to Aqaba, we were stopped at a checkpoint for about 20 minutes. Some soldier boarded our bus and took our IDs. Everyone got off the bus except us. We thought we were the hold up because we didn't have our passports, but we found out the next day, it was actually the Iraqis. Apparently there is a problem with illegal Iraqi immigrants in this country, and they were checking out everyone's stories. At one point the lone Jordanian on the bus (and by Jordanian, I mean Palestinian - I'm beginning to doubt anyone is this country is actually Jordanian), came to tell us that if someone came to question us, to tell him that we were headed down to Aqaba as part of a school trip. Oh thanks. Just what I want to do. Lie to a man with a gun in a foreign country.

We spent our entire Friday on the boat pictured left. Just kidding. Our yacht was significantly nicer than the Glass Boat. There, I had my first lesson in scuba diving, where I learned that scuba diving is, unfortunately, not for me. When you dive, the pressure on your ears gets really bad, so you're supposed to plug your nose and blow, to readjust or whatever. I'm sure my terminology is all wrong. Anyway, I could not get my ears to repressurize (enter correct term here). I was super embarrassed - twice we had to come up and I couldn't ever go very deep. I couldn't get comfortable because they hurt so bad, so it was me mostly just floating underwater trying to get my head to stop feeling like it was going to blow up. I didn't expect to have a problem because I'm usually so chill in the water; I felt like an utter failure. Of course, I couldn't just give up and get back on the boat though, and now, I'm paying for it. I think I'm developing ear infections in both ears. Awesome. Exactly what I want to deal with here.

After diving, we chilled on the yacht, eat lunch, drank some beer, made some new friends, got really burnt, etc, etc. As usual, it was great to get away from the traffic and conservativeness of Amman. I truly appreciate the moments here where I can say and wear whatever I want. I've never been so grateful of opportunities to bear my shoulders or drink a beer or make a sexual reference without fear of harassment or disapproval. Understand - I love Arab culture, but it is REALLY hard to be Western and female and as loud and obnoxious as I am prone to be sometimes. My personality does not mesh well with this culture. Yet oddly enough, I am more intrigued with it than any other. What. A. Mystery.

So for those of you interested in experiencing a Muslim country, while simultaneously getting drunk, go to Aqaba. That pesky tax on alcohol in Jordan doesn't exist there, so you can continue to nurse your beer while exploring a culture that frowns on drinking. That's why there are so many Aussies in Aqaba. They love to travel, but shoot me in the face if I've met more than one Aussie that was sober for 24 hours straight. Oh, stereotypes. I think this one is true though. Mumkin.

One other note: we went out for a late night feelawful (thanks E) and passed the best store ever. "Mister Baby". Apparently it had "all things for baby." Epic. Mumkin, I will open this store in America if all else in my life fails . . .