I Love Rum and Milk




Hop Scotch

The last two Jordanian mornings were quite different. Twenty-four hours ago, the entrance to Petra had a spattering of people. Today, throngs of tourists crowded the entrance to this Nabataean archaeological site.

Yesterday, the roads in front were carless with plenty of free parking spaces. Now busses were stacked on each other creating a continuous line extending up the hill. It was going to be a busy day at Petra. As luck would have it, today was a rum day, the wide open expansive open spaces of Wadi Rum.

Sandy Rum

Wadi Rum is unique. Sand covers every inch of this nature reserve in southern Jordan, yet mountains explode out of the horizon in bursts of action.

Sand is not simply sand. There are subtle differences in form, colors, and consistencies as our 4X4 Jeep followed Bedouin caravan routes that have changed with the sands of time. This semi-nomadic tribe has lived in this desert for hundreds of years.

The Wadi Rum sands are iconic. It served as the backdrop for Hollywood films like Indian Jones, Star Wars, and Martian.

Dotted around Wadi Rum are visitor camps. These cabins nestle together within the confines of protected coves. Red mountains back up the coves. Candles Camp hosted our family for two nights. Their tents dot the landscape. Wadi Rumi is the land of the Bedouin, and Mehdi’s family has lived here a long time. The modern world has encroached on this semi-nomadic lifestyle the last forty years. As the sole proprietaries of the land, some still live nomadically. Others adapted to modern society with the influx of curious visitors from around the globe.

These camps are marketed online as unobstructed views to the stars and this aspect of Wadi Rum piqued my interest. Back in 2001 at the end of language studies in Cochabamba, Bolivia, I traveled to Buenos Aires, Argentina with fellow volunteer Rene via bus for three days. During the middle of one of those nights, our pee stop was high in the Bolivian Andes altiplano. Men shuffled to one side of the bus while women on the other. I never expected a pee to be so memorable. Thousands of stars shone from the Milky Way. And like Rihanna said, it shone bright like a diamond. Hopefully Wadi Rum would repeat that scene.

Authentic Henna

Arriving to Wadi Rum was more authentic than most for our family. This occurred in Mehdi’s house. He and his family, who own and run Candles Camp, welcomed us into his home. As a side note when I mentioned we usually travel with a Lonely Planet guidebook, he revealed how Lonely Planet asked him for a fee so his camp could be featured in the Jordan guidebook. He demurred.

As our family sat in Mehdi’s house, his front door opened up into a large seating room with several red and yellow majilis cushions lining the wall. As we ate a packed lunch from Wadi Mardi, his son sat in a side room playing FIFA on a PS4 by himself. In even the tiny village of Rum Wadi, boys sit alone playing video games.

I couldn’t tell because of their abayas, but either his wife or mom in the dark purple abaya, cooked lunch in the kitchen. His younger sister, not appearing any older than 11, asked my Annie if she wanted henna on her hands and arms. Never one to pass on a life experience, she quickly shot a glance at Nadine and asked, “Can !?”.

Soon Momo, followed by Sophie, sat around this young girl as she painted their hands and arms in henna. Not long after, Nadine sat on the ground with the mother trying to communicate in her basic Arabic/English utterances as her hands and arms were soon covered with henna. For some reason, Mehdi didn’t offer to paint my hands.

Mother Nature on the Big Screen

Wadi Rum didn’t disappoint. It literally blew us away. The wind howled. During brief respites between strong winds, our family climbed through wadis (where water runs during rainy seasons and dries up in the dry season), watched a sunset perched on rocks, ran with an American ultra runner (he ran 18 miles, in sand, me 3), and rode camels. Yet what I had most hoped to see had disappointed and remained unimpressive after dinner the two first nights. Maybe light from the campfires or light pollution from the nearest village blocked the stars.

May desert nights are still cold in Jordan. The previous day, Mehdi showed videos of snow falling in this exact spot two years ago. Yet at four in the morning, I received a call from mother nature. Her message echoed the past. But when a middle aged man has to go, he has to go. I slipped on some shoes, threw on my sleeveless blue Patagonia fleece vest, which Nadine likes to call my Walmart vest, and walked outside with the modern lamp, an iPhone.

My thoughts immediately returned to Abdulrahman’s comments, our guide the first day. He had mentioned that this desert is infested with poisonous snakes, but fortunately they are not as active in the summer. Then something stole my attention. It wasn’t a snake. Shining above was a wide screen of stars and galaxies. Threats of ankle biting snakes morphed into outright attention of the stars above. I was clearly present to the present surroundings.

Soon my bladder alerted me to why I got out of a warm bed.

World’s Best Muftah and Mutabal

Aqaba, the beach town smack dab at the northern coast of the Red Sea was all that remained for us in Jordan. It is this point where four countries (Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Israel, and Egypt) converge within miles of each other. As one can imagine, it can be kindle for regional flareups. Fortunately for us, the only fighting was who would get enjoy the last delicious bite muftah and mutabal.