Hey there,
Well, it's been a week since I've last written and it's been an eventful one! I'm currently sitting about half a K from Petra in Jordan, and I'll try to keep things fairly brief though this may spread over a couple of e-mails.
I got out of Dahab and made my way up to Nuweiba, an attempt at a seaside resort near the port that has the ferry to Jordan. Those of you that know my dream of living somewhere shit by the seaside will guess how my heart leapt at this empty town, all infrastructure and no buildings or people. Checking into my hut I gasped at how empty the radiant beach was, till I attempted to enter the impotent sea. It varied between ankle and knee depth for a hundred metres or more, and there were barriers of razor sharp rocks to cross.
My first attempt failed and I had to regroup and formulate a plan of attack based on the colour of the sea. I eventually found a passage of nearly all sand and made a brief foray so I could claim a pyrrhic victory.
My first attempt failed and I had to regroup and formulate a plan of attack based on the colour of the sea. I eventually found a passage of nearly all sand and made a brief foray so I could claim a pyrrhic victory.
Still, I lazed in a hammock and caught up with reading. I wandered round the empty spaces between the impressive roads where hotels and tourists should be. I gaped at the closed casino designed like the mud mosques of Mali. I found a paper which reduced some of my Guardian related pangs (the Al-Ahram Weekly - who knew there was so much going on in the Middle East?). And the next day I set out bright and early to catch the Ferry to Jordan.
I was worried when I finally made it down to the port, as it was almost eleven, the ferry left at twelve, and I'd heard the port was somewhat chaotic. All the roads for miles around are a queue of trucks waiting for their turn to get the ferry. As the daily ferry could only handle about 20 at the most, and as there must ahve been 500 trucks at least - it could be quite a long wait. Once inside the port I wandered around. A lot.
I sat down watching as the ferry pulled in, reasoning that this would mean I wouldn't miss it. An hour passed. Nothing happened. No-one even got off the ferry, even though it was teeming with passengers. Finally an Italian lady spotted me, who happened to speak good arabic. She told me that had to go through immigration in a vast warehouse, and once I'd done that, came and got me and made me sit with an Argentinian couple she was also shepherding.
I sat down watching as the ferry pulled in, reasoning that this would mean I wouldn't miss it. An hour passed. Nothing happened. No-one even got off the ferry, even though it was teeming with passengers. Finally an Italian lady spotted me, who happened to speak good arabic. She told me that had to go through immigration in a vast warehouse, and once I'd done that, came and got me and made me sit with an Argentinian couple she was also shepherding.
It was at this point that we met Hani. Hani was the ferries engineer, and he was very proud of his American accent. Strangely though, the American accent he had chosen to copy was that of a ludicrously camp New York party organiser.
"Get owt af tooooooooooooown! You ahr soooooo crazy! Letmeshowyoumy PIC-tures. This is my girlfriend. I HAVE SEEN EVERYTHING, ifyaknowwaddImean. She makes me wanna EXPLOOODE. Oh, I am so beautiful in this picture, I am not this beautiful now. Wait, DID I SAY BEAUTIFUL? I mean handsome, people will not know whether I am a she or a he! This is my friend! If he was not my friend, I would hit him in his private parts."
He then proceeded to try and convert me to Islam.
The ferry finally set off at sunset, and was full of people lolling about & praying on the decks. Once in Jordan I stayed a night in Aqaba, then decided on a whim to move on quickly, perhaps because I had been munched thoroughly by Mozzies the night before. I was heading to Karak, a hilltop town crowned with a magnificent Crusader castle, and the next bus heading there went down the Dead Sea highway. I nodded off.
I awoke to a different world. The sky had become overcast and a small sandstorm was blowing. Visibility had gone down to 100 metres or so. The palette had reduced to grey & yellow. In scattered places the sand was uncovered and drifted & duned, but mostly it was covered with a grey ash, the Gomorrahn remains endlessly tumbling in the wind. Every footprint or tire track disturbed it leaving bright yellow scores on the ground, a landscape of Richard Longs. A camel stood astonished. A tightly wrapped girl chased goats home on donkey back. If the scenery was biblical, it was the book of Revelations.
The road swept downward, and the sandstorm lifted, but we were still bleakly surrounded. Occasionally mountains hazed into view, grey-purple like solidified clouds. Scrubby shrubs were bleached by the dust. The earth lay cracked & useless where the memory of water remained. Its day of happiness was long gone.
Here & there the hubris of life determined that crops must be grown. The sand was scraped back into great dykes defended by a hydra's mass of green tentacles, unlike any tree I'd seen before. In between there was palms, withered vines, and great seas of verdant lushness. I never saw anyone working there but there were occasional sentinels staring bewildered at the invasion of green. I swear one time I even saw a bird above such artificial oases.
It seemed strange to start at sea level yet keep descending, heading into the Earth's wound. The air grew palpably thicker, the passengers pensive and glum. A small child whimpered softly but could get no succor from her parents. Still we continued our mad rush down to the well of tears.
The road finally erred towards the rose red mountains in which Petra dwells. The earth became beetroot stained, sometimes tending to purple. Goats and hasty shelters against the enemy sun became more frequent. A huge Potash factory loomed into sight, towering above the southern Dead Sea. Here the water has been divided into great salt pans, depriving it of its precious cargo. A truck headed out into the murk along one of the dividing roads, if Limbo exists it is due North of The Arab Potash Co., Jordan.
We veered right amongst the tortured crags & pulled out gasping from the soup of the valley. As we raced lorries up switchbacking roads, our only consolation was the evening redding in the west. Darkness fell, and I was in Karak.
Simon
P.S. Not all of my e-mails will be this overblown, I promise! (yeah, right lol)
The ferry finally set off at sunset, and was full of people lolling about & praying on the decks. Once in Jordan I stayed a night in Aqaba, then decided on a whim to move on quickly, perhaps because I had been munched thoroughly by Mozzies the night before. I was heading to Karak, a hilltop town crowned with a magnificent Crusader castle, and the next bus heading there went down the Dead Sea highway. I nodded off.
I awoke to a different world. The sky had become overcast and a small sandstorm was blowing. Visibility had gone down to 100 metres or so. The palette had reduced to grey & yellow. In scattered places the sand was uncovered and drifted & duned, but mostly it was covered with a grey ash, the Gomorrahn remains endlessly tumbling in the wind. Every footprint or tire track disturbed it leaving bright yellow scores on the ground, a landscape of Richard Longs. A camel stood astonished. A tightly wrapped girl chased goats home on donkey back. If the scenery was biblical, it was the book of Revelations.
The road swept downward, and the sandstorm lifted, but we were still bleakly surrounded. Occasionally mountains hazed into view, grey-purple like solidified clouds. Scrubby shrubs were bleached by the dust. The earth lay cracked & useless where the memory of water remained. Its day of happiness was long gone.
Here & there the hubris of life determined that crops must be grown. The sand was scraped back into great dykes defended by a hydra's mass of green tentacles, unlike any tree I'd seen before. In between there was palms, withered vines, and great seas of verdant lushness. I never saw anyone working there but there were occasional sentinels staring bewildered at the invasion of green. I swear one time I even saw a bird above such artificial oases.
It seemed strange to start at sea level yet keep descending, heading into the Earth's wound. The air grew palpably thicker, the passengers pensive and glum. A small child whimpered softly but could get no succor from her parents. Still we continued our mad rush down to the well of tears.
The road finally erred towards the rose red mountains in which Petra dwells. The earth became beetroot stained, sometimes tending to purple. Goats and hasty shelters against the enemy sun became more frequent. A huge Potash factory loomed into sight, towering above the southern Dead Sea. Here the water has been divided into great salt pans, depriving it of its precious cargo. A truck headed out into the murk along one of the dividing roads, if Limbo exists it is due North of The Arab Potash Co., Jordan.
We veered right amongst the tortured crags & pulled out gasping from the soup of the valley. As we raced lorries up switchbacking roads, our only consolation was the evening redding in the west. Darkness fell, and I was in Karak.
Simon
P.S. Not all of my e-mails will be this overblown, I promise! (yeah, right lol)
1 comment:
That was brilliant. I could just see it all. Glad he managed to get rid of his leech of a "friend".
Post a Comment