Amman

You couldn't drown yourself if you wanted to...

One AM. It's one o'clock in the morning and we've touched down in Amman. By this time I have napped for a few hours since we were in the lounge in Cairo for going on four. Was it four hours? Who's counting? Who is COUNTing at this ungodly hour...

Our bags arrived in due time, our passports stamped, and we have been officially accepted into our next country. Obviously the decision to get our visas prior to entering proved a superb decision as we didn't need to deal with it now... with 1,200 tourists coming in at the same time. Huzzah! The world makes sense again.

Dutifully and promptly (as we would see over the course of the week), Mustafa, who we would eventually and affectionately call Abu Rashad ("Father of Rashad"), was awaiting our arrival. During our brief trip to the hotel, we solidified him as our driver to the Dead Sea and surrounding areas for the following morning. He would become a friend and protector throughout our times in Jordan and was definitely a blessing knowing the simplicity of a father's love and quiet spirit.

Following a solid night's sleep and quick breakfast, we were on our way with bags packed, ready to float in the deadest (most dead? Are either correct?!) place on earth. Before our beach day, however, Abu drove us to Mt. Nebo, where Moses spied the Promised Land after years of wandering and dropped us off at the spot, according to tradition, John the B baptized Jesus. This place was only uncovered in 1994 when the Israeli peace treaty was signed and was authenticated in 2000 by the Pope as the "official" site. Thoroughly cool hoq it's a relatively new find!

It was here two things happened: 1) for the first time in these five weeks my chosen outfit was absolutely wrong (it was so warm and I had picked a beret and leggings! Bah!) and 2) I received my second marriage proposal. Though I knew this suitor approximately 45 minutes longer than the first, I had to decline due to the fact I could never see myself LIVing in a cave-tent. Is this guy kidding me?! Bedouin. No thank you. Not because he was a Bedouin but because he possibly lived in a cave-tent... and because he had supremely awful hair. God bless him. After a time of prodding and requesting and water-gift buying, Sheryl and I took off without even a backwards glance. It just was never going to last with him...

But in the meantime! The Jordan River, though muddy and shrunken from its original size in times of yore, was a sight to behold. To imagine Jesus coming to this place to solidify His faith, as He asks us to do, with his disciples at his side and JtB being the vessel with which the Holy Spirit would rain down, was peace-instilling and grace-justifying. Jesus was MY AGE when this happened!

Walking from the baptismal site to the river itself was peaceful, serene, and quiet; the perfect place to reflect and remember love. All in all, visiting the Jordan, and this area specifically, was a perfect start to the morning as we entered into God's country (no, not Texas). By this time, the morning cool was burning off and it was the perfect temperature for an early afternoon dip.

Spa day! A few miles up the road we came to the spot where locals and tourists combine for daytime revelry. Revelry! As we walked through the sliding glass doors, we saw the magnificent Dead Sea in all it's multi-blue-hued glory, beckoning us nigh. Why, thank you. Don't mind if I do.

We quickly swapped sweaters for bathing suits and descended the two levels of pools to get to the beach. Splendor! The day had turned out to be lovely enough for us to hand off our camera and commit to a photoshoot of us hovering on the water. Abu Rashad knew all of the right poses for us and, after we were done with the pictures IN the water, out we went for our mud baths and pictures OUT of the water.

Ha! Filled with minerals of all varietals, the mud at the Dead Sea is good for moisturizing, healing, and age defying (I added that last one... but let's hope so). We slathered it on from head to toe, top of the foot to forehead and stood around until it dried. By this point we had been left to our own devices as Abu Rashad went to converse with friends up above and we simply stood around waiting for the wet stuff to dry on our bodies.

We had energy for one more soak, as we needed to get the mud thoroughly rinsed, because I'm not sure they tell you this, but it is a core workOUT! to get those simple pictures where you look like you just happened upon the sports section of the daily while you were lying on your back in a large body of water. Hello! Intense. IN-tense. We had ourselves rolling all over the place, on top of one another, floating in every direction, but of course never going under. As they say, you couldn't drown if you wanted to (but snapping a relaxing photo will also require equal or greater determination).

We were otherwise through and decided it was time for some lunch! Up we wandered for a quick rinse and a sit down meal at the buffet. For a mere 12 Dinars, we were set up with some fine, fresh, Jordanian cuisine and never ending company. Let me be the first to say: those boys love to stare at some American girls. It was here I was asked countless times more if I was Arab or spoke Arabic. Nope, the answer, I do believe, is still no. Flattered as I may be at your assumption...

Our next stop, after a few trips to the table, was to Evason Ma'in Hot Springs for a continuation of our spa day. Mud bath? Check. Sauna? On our way. This natural area attracts many who suffer from rheumatoid problems as the minerals in the water offer a respite from the ailments affecting their bones. Though they don't have healing powers, the degree of heat of the water also calms many aches.

Due to the time of the year, the co-ed springs weren't too busy and we were able to jump right in to the first pool before being pummeled by the fiery waterfall a tier up and slipping into the natural sauna hideaway behind and above. Amazement! As the sun was setting behind the orange, brown, and red rocks, we were sinking into the overheated water of these natural hot springs, rinsing all off the excess dirt, sand, and sea of the day. We met some friends we could understand and some we couldn't but we had a wonderful time all together nonetheless.

By 7 o'clock Abu Rashad was ready to go and so we said our goodbyes to our newfound friends, changed, and were off to our little Jordanian hotel away from home. We paused to grab some souvis for friends and family (because here is as good a place as any, right?!), grabbed some local fare at one of Abu's favorite restaurants, and settled in for the night. We ate at our little table and then I headed for bed and Sheryl popped by a friend's mom's house who lived just a few minutes away. I wanted to join but I was just too tired. I also wanted to update the blog, but...

Anyway, we had a wonderful first day in Jordan and are excited about coming back at the end of the week to enjoy more hospitality from these gracious people. Tomorrow it's time for my most anticipated part of the trip: we cross the border into Israel. Gotta get some rest, Abu Rashad picks us up at eight...

...and then there was a knock on the door

Freak out.

So I'm in the shower and Sheryl is out having tea and cookies across town when I hear our doorbell ring. I have a feeling I know what and who it is but I have no time (no time!) to be gracious or entertain performances of grandeur at this point.

Let me fill you in. The 20-year-old pretend chef in our hotel, you know the ones, they handle the omelets? Yeah, that guy. He decided to have a little crush on me due to my eyeballs and, I can only assume, the fact I looked like one of him and was of marrying age (little did he know...).

Our first morning at breakfast he requested for Sheryl to take a picture of us (good heavens are these boys quick over here) because I have reason to believe he thought it would be our wedding announcement. We narrowly escaped but by the evening, when he knew we were back, HE was back (at it).

Bah! I can handle so much and then there is a line. Surely you don't want to cross the line but never while I'm hungry or I'm tired, this is fair warning. Hell hath no fury... Well up he pops with a glass of orange juice (orange juice?! This is the best he can do?) while Sheryl and I are eating our local din din. One orange juice. Get in the game, Pal, always bring one for the friend, too. Children.

Anyway, he must have noted when Sheryl left because he waited for me to be done with my shower (which he was listening for (?!)) to ring by bell (door, Silly) twice more to get the glass the orange juice was in to bring it back to the kitchen. I should mention here this seems to be coming out so much creepier than when it happened. It's just so weird! So creepy! But mostly annoying!

Somehow I was able to escort him on his way with a little ignoring (usual) and offering only a slightly halfhearted interest in the three dishes he prepared for us. Tough love. Thanks for the tulips, Guy... And thanks for getting all Taylor Swift meets Hitchcock on me. That was cool... and no, I will not marry you either. For obvious reasons.