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alchemy-travels · 7 years

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Jordan: 22nd December 2016 w Steven

Jordan December 22nd 2016. I'd arrive late at night. My first country of the Middle East. Emotions flaring and implemented worries that were given to me by Fox News and American input. My goal was to shatter this stigma of negativity, hate and overall death filled sensations that Americans are programmed to retweet and regurgitate. It was funny looking back at this now. Looking to when I would stumble through security and passport/visa control by forgetting the address of where I was staying and not having all of the correct information written down because my ears were too hot with worry to even stop and get myself straightened out. I'd collect my bags in a bit of fear and enter off into Jordan with no cell phone reception hoping to catch my ride in the correct spot. Luckily John, my flight guru intercepted me to help me out with a cell phone and a friend of his that speaks Arabic to get the exact location. My ride brought me around the city night lights talking to me about business and potentially creating something with him, I'd sigh and assume he did this with anyone that might have a brain but he'd continue to call me bright and intelligent. I'd receive the compliments with a grain of salt per usual. Mutaz would drive me through the city and into his part of town where I would find solace in an apartment where the font door stays open all evening. That was a stretch from what I had heard about in Jordan.that it's unsafe, that there are murderers of white people in every direction. It's not that I believed these ill-mannered formulated assumptions, it's just that I needed to see for myself. And so I did, and I slept cautious on evening one on my own prior to Stevens arrival. I woke, I scouted the city, I drank the water accidentally when I'd make my coffee. Surprisingly, there was no price to pay for doing so. I would leave the house and find Mutaz only to have him fan girl over his guest once again. He dropped everything and took me to get breakfast from a street vendor, one that he told me was his favorite to visit. Thyme was of the essence in this bakery. It was paired with fresh olive oil and covered a disk of fresh bread. For my memory, Mutaz would tell me before taking a gigantic bite of his pastry. I followed suit and went hard on that disk. I guess the magic memory seed worked as I'm able to still recall the ever so salty texture on my tongue. It was combination of mashed sands soaked in oil. The dispersing flavor reminded me of an oil spill on my tongue, and it was one that I wouldn't work to clean off in hopes to save a few organisms. I would instead let it marinate. Anyways, the day would include a walk through the city shops, and drinking Arabic coffee. Warning, don't drink the whole cup. They keep the coffee grounds in the bottom to allow it to brew as you drink. I would make my way through old ruins of the city, and found that their gutter system was pretty impressive way back when to collect the rainwater for drinking. I had no murderers approach me. My mind would flood with Stevens arrival in a few hours. Over 9 months apart. I would wonder if we were still friends, and we're still able to twirl together. If he was still a bitch and if we would still fight. I'd return before nightfall and eat all of the falafel I could find for such uber cheap prices before heading to the airport to pick him up. Around 11pm, Mutaz made his way to pick me up to then pick Steven up to then come back and head to sleep. I was expecting a more emotional moment of reunion. But instead we had to keep driving as soon as Stevens newly shaved head from dreads bopped into the back seat. I could feel his energy radiating behind me, slowly, then all at once. It was weird to hear his voice and remember his mannerisms. It was weird that he was even there. I never thought that I'd be seeing majority of the people that mean the world to me while I would travel said world. People always ask me if I find myself getting lonely wherever I am. The answer is typically yes, but it wavers a bit now. The more I travel the more I find the importance of letting yourself open up to social situations as opposed to feeling like talking is of the utmost energy. This is one of the moments where I felt most alone and then most loved on my journeys. Whenever I have family or friends visit, it's bittersweet because I know it'll end but I'm ecstatic that it's happening. And so, with all the love and revitalized friendship after being separated for a year, we would set off from Amman and onto Petra, one of the most beautiful of places that we'd experience in our quarter of a century lives. It would take 5 hours to get to Petra and one stop in the duration of it where Steven attempted to buy a 300 shekel box for a measly 3 shekel. What a bargainer, he really was taking to the local business ethics. Eventually we would arrive with no, Arabic box of 3 shekels but instead pay for the cab to our Airbnb with this cash amount. I chose this Airbnb and thought staying in the Bedouin village would be best for our agenda. And it was. The place was covered in Jordanian decor and rugs. We had the private room with the shower and were welcomed with tea every time we would blink it seemed. Mustaf was our host of hosts, the king of the palace with a heart of gold. Anything we wanted was granted, dinner, tour guides, rides anything. He made the journey into Petra unique from the norm. We hiked through the back end where the Bedouin used to commune in the rock homes of the mountains. This is our first sight of Petra, the aliens tic terrain of swirling colored stones from years of moving sand and the occasional rains. They were carved by nature for the simple fact that nature loves being beautiful. Nature has the worst vanity issues I've ever encountered, but I've definitely encouraged it. We encountered goats galore just running the free world in company with the holes in the mountains that would slowly but surely turn into stone chapels and carved mansions. I was in absolute awe that this was created by hand, blood, sweat and most likely tears. We would walk this terrains for the next few days some guided by mustaf’s partner in crime, Mohammad. Mohammed had actually lead us up and down a mountain. I found it ironic but I would definitely consider him our prophet as he lead us through about 15 kilometers of terrain, desert, hill, mountain, valley. We are like kings, smoked like kings, and discovered like kings. It would be the first time that Steven and I would see one of the 7 wonders together. Wonderful it was indeed. We would be invited by locals to have tea and food that were prepared right in front of us. One of the woman we encountered was a comedian in the way she spoke. She was always looking for a laugh and smile. I can't recall her name but she was working with universities that have been set up near Petra. And yet, she would still spend time at her mountain souk. It makes me wonder if she was actually paid properly or if she just loves where her roots and grounding come from a lot more than letting a little cash skew her life. So we would continue on through the mountains and the pathways. A bit of Metric would dance through my head in times of silence. the Shade is a very good song to give space in your mind. I wanted it all. I wanted the world. After a while one will get tired of consumption. It's important to find the balance that allows us to give what we are to the world that give us the breath in our lungs. Sometimes this means becoming numb to what you've achieved. I've got to be humbled by what I've accomplished or I'll love the excitement I need to survive in this world. And so I stay soft about the evils of traveling the world. Nobody gives you the chance to be sad when you've got such privilege anyway. We would spend our evenings with our hosts smoking cigarettes as the Bedouin Jordanians do. The conversation floated mostly around the lifestyle of a Bedouin and how they've managed to get from point A to point B. They showed us a video of the first teacher to ever step foot in Petra. The man was English and with him he installed western idealism. Steve had asked if this was the case but the question was misunderstood and we were given the reply “yeah he brought us the education we needed.” Wanted and needed were two different words I was looking for. When he said needed I was hurt a bit that people think they always need to be changing to fit something. What was wrong with where they were other than the need for medicine and a bit of tech to help get them the living conditions of comfort, even today a few bedouins choose to live primal in the rock houses they had created oh so long ago. Petra would soon turn into another city and the gorgeous sunsets of the wonder would again soon become a wonder, we would snorkel the Red Sea after having a ride from a complete stranger down the country of Jordan. He said he takes the trip almost daily and as long as his guests don't speak Arabic, he usually has no issue. We had no issue other than the fact that we trusted this complete stranger. I'd sit and watch the clouds zoom by and think about my uncle bob and how he usually flys around this crazy fucked us world, I'd wonder if he ever really tried to get to know the cities he would find himself residing in by morning, how many times he'd be able to strike up a real conversation with the guest next to him at the hotel bar or local pub. It makes me wonder if I'm traveling properly or if I'm doing everything wrong, Aqaba is where Steven and I would spend Christmas Eve. It was slow and we were feeling worn out as every morning has had a 7am wake up call to make it to the next destination. Attempting to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas, I just wasn't very much so connect to it. And to be honest I fell asleep. And it made me realize that the holiday really does depend on whom you are with and where you spend it. In a country that doesn't hVe too much presence of the jolly holiday isn't the place to be if you're hoping to feel full on with Christmas cheer and jugs of eggnog. The morning would come early as could be. The creatures had woken and Santa had not come. So instead of waiting on his ass to show, we left the country. We fled to Israel, the promise land, the religious center of the universe and our new home for the next short while. The cross over was extensive and they made me empty my bags, foreshadowing? we were then drilled with a million and 2 questions. The silliest one was whether or not I have done volunteer work in my previously life. How silly, of course I volunteered as tribute. The stamp transaction would occur. We would exchange our JD for shekels and we would smoke a cig to calm our nerves before heading out into the new world.

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