Last Days in Jordan (From Simon the Wanderer)

Hey there,

Sorry to hear the weather's so poor over there, I would weep for you but the sun keeps evaporating my tears. (Pig lol)

After Petra I mosied on down to Aqaba via the Desert Highway. I thought the Dead Sea Highway was bleak: nothing lives in the Eastern Desert but death. An occasional dust devil stirred the nothingness that stretched to the curvature of the Earth. Still, I listened to Gypsy Woman by Tim Buckley and was deeply, deeply happy.

Aqaba is aplace I love to leave, for some reason, it's really not that bad. However, I was headed out to Wadi Rum. This is one of the most beatiful places on the planet. Watch Lawrence of Arabia if you don't believe me.

Muppets pay 100 pounds a day to be driven in herds of 4 wheel drives from Bedouin tent to Bedouin hut, stopping for tea and a glimpse of some prehistoric rock art before being shepharded on. I walked and scrambled over the crags and through the sands and felt deep peace in my soul. Most religions have come from the desert or the mountains, and out here you experience a oneness with nature and contentment in solitude that is humbling.

The sands are a deep red and the massifs are myriad colours shimmering in the sun. At night they tower blacker than the night whilst the sky is a forest of stars, the milky way a clear highway across the heavens. It's a wonderful, wonderful place.

Still, I came back dusty and have enjoyed a Turkish bath. The massage wasn't full on but at least there wasn't any Bad Touch this time! (err what?) It does make you feel a new man, truly clean for the first time since I began this trip, especially in my freshly laundered clothes.

Aqaba's not doing too badly this time round, mainly because of my balcony. I sit, higher than all around as the sun sets. The street below me sells pots, pans and songbirds on my side, and nuts on the other.

Above that, cat stalked roofs lead to a giant tamarind tree which guards the fruit suq leading down to the corniche and the sea. A short distance across the boat filled bay sits Eilat, which I could walk to in half an hour were it not in Israel. Behind that the sun dips behind the mountains of Egypt.

It's a great place to read my books and do nothing. The streets not too busy bar the occasional chirping and the pimped up car horns. For some reason throughout Jordan the Lambada is massively popular and it plays every time a pickup reverses. I've also heard it as a ringtone and a burglar alarm.

This is probably my last night in Jordan, and I may spend it with some Peace Corps people I've met. I first met them in Karak, then again in Dana, and when I met some girls tonight it turned out they were friends of those two guys and were meeting them in my hotel tonight. I've started to suspect that terribly well intentioned and softly spoken Bryan (possibly gay/serial killer) is stalking me. He likes things to be clean and neat, apparently. Still, Conrad and the girls seem fun and it'll be nice to have a night out for a change.

I did meet a girl in Wadi Rum who almost went to my school, but got kicked out of her previous school and mine got cold feet. And I have enjoyed hanging out with the Jordanians, who, appart from when they want money from you, are lovely, lovely people, whom I will miss.

I should head now, but keep me up to date with how you're coping with the cold. All my love and thoughts amd magical happiness are with you all,

Simon