It’s 3 degrees, foggy, and when we step out of the car, we find ourselves in snow up to our ankles. “Where are we? No idea, but according to Google Maps, we’ve arrived.”
Having exited the Desert Highway 150 kilometers north of Wadi Rum, which we left this morning under the sun, we’re met with the first signs of snow. We’re driving toward Dana Reserve, the largest and highest nature reserve in Jordan. And we’re surprised by how much snow there is! It’s winter in Jordan too.
Room 110 in the Dana guesthouse. Air conditioning set to 30 degrees, with an extra space heater. The kids don’t feel the cold at all. Ed Sheeran plays on Spotify, and they dance in the room in their underwear, laughing at their silly moves. “How long are we going to stay here?” is a question that comes up every day. “And what are we going to do here?”
The guesthouse, with its 15 rooms, is perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking Wadi Dana, a chasm in the earth that flows into the Dead Sea 50 kilometers away. There’s a breathtaking view from the shower. Naked, facing the dizzying drop while showering! Even the shyest among us appreciates the experience. And we’re the only guests.
We’ve been on the road for three weeks now. Marie-Laure is practically recovered from her back issue. A week ago, we rushed to Aqaba to see a doctor. She was hunched over like an old lady; the pain was nearly unbearable. The hotel we had booked called a local doctor. An older man, close to retirement, still panting from the walk between the elevator and our room, asked Marie-Laure to lie on her stomach. He palpated her vertebrae and then pressed down firmly twice on her lower back (“Ouch, ouch!”). Immediately, he pulled out an ampoule and a large syringe from his bag. We exchanged quick glances, thinking the same thing. As if he could read our minds, he quickly said, “Don’t worry, this is just to help you relax. It’s fine.” No time to think; he had already emptied the syringe. “I’m going to the mosque now, and I’ll be back in an hour and a half with the medication.” Of course, today is Friday, and it’s the weekend here. Less than five minutes after he arrived, he was gone.
The medication does its job, and Marie-Laure can get out of bed the next day. Luckily, we had planned to stay a few days in Aqaba. It’s nice to rest a bit after the first few weeks and do nothing. The kids don’t complain. They lounge around, take an hour and a half for breakfast, read the entire Floor series on their e-reader in every possible position (or listen to the Geronimo Stilton audiobooks), do countless somersaults in the playground next to the hotel, play Uno with the server at the local fish restaurant, and between meals, they eat lots of hazim bread (“Mom, I think I can’t go to the bathroom anymore”) and gaze longingly at the sea.
The conversations are the most entertaining. “Why do they honk so much here? Why do those people live in tents? Are they camping?” “Why is that man singing from that tower?” “That’s the call to prayer.” “Do people have to climb to the top?” Now Anna has realized that her blonde hair stands out. “Why do these people always want to take pictures with me?” “Because it brings good luck.” “But is that really true?” Arthur asks. “I mean really, really like that?” The wonder and curiosity of our two little world travelers is the most beautiful thing there is.
On our last day in Aqaba, we have a wonderful outing planned because we’re going snorkeling among the coral reefs of the Red Sea, and then we decide to return to the desert at Wadi Rum. We will finally take the jeep tour, which was actually scheduled for a week earlier. The Wadi Rum desert is indescribably beautiful. The sandstone rocks jutting out from the desert sand, the wind playing with the sharp crests of the sand dunes, and the breathtaking views where the surrounding colors (black-gray, yellow, and ochre) slowly fade into the distance. Despite overcast weather, it’s an unforgettable experience. Our driver, Fahed, is a pro at driving in the sand. He starts cautiously, but when he realizes the kids are having fun, he slams the accelerator in the 4×4. As we roll through the dunes, Anna and Arthur scream with delight, “Youhhhouuu!!!!” bursting into laughter.
In the evening, around the campfire, we meet José and Alessia, two thirty-somethings from Mexico. They have been living in England for a year, where José is pursuing a master’s degree in anthropology. Back in Mexico, he is a social entrepreneur responsible for a humanitarian organization that helps entrepreneurs set up social enterprises, while Alessia is a recent graduate in migration studies. We hit it off immediately.
It’s only when the campfire begins to die down and Anna and Arthur are nearly asleep on the mat beside the fire that we head back to our tent for the night. But not before exchanging our email addresses and phone numbers and promising to stay in touch during our travels. That’s the lovely thing about traveling—there’s no rush, and this casualness leads to delightful conversations and new friendships.
Back in Dana, the guesthouse is part of the RSCN, the national organization for nature conservation and biodiversity in Jordan. The people who work here, including the site manager and guide, Abed, the cook, Hicham, and the rest of the staff, are all very committed to protecting the park. The only other person present is a woman our age, a researcher and professor of philosophy and comparative literature at the International University of Madaba. Wafa is an extraordinary woman. A year earlier, she and the residents of Dana successfully prevented a government project for resource extraction in a part of the park. She says she loves coming to the guesthouse to write in peace.
She and the staff eat in the large dining room at the adjacent table. When they hear about our travels, the chairs are pulled back, and we share the rest of the meal together—a traditional Palestinian dish called Maqlouba. For three days, as the snow slowly melts, we become part of the family. Anna and Arthur are pampered. They stroll with Romani, the village dog adopted by Wafa, feed the donkeys, and receive all sorts of treats. We feel at home, more so than we have anywhere else in Jordan. It’s certain; we will return to Dana.
We have five days left in Jordan. Tomorrow, we’ll be in Madaba and at Mount Nebo. Then we’ll return to Amman, where our adventure in Jordan will come to an end. Before we fly out, we’ve been invited to Wafa’s home in Amman for dinner with her family. It’s yet another example of the incredible hospitality in this fantastic country.
As we leave Jordan, we are grateful for all the beautiful encounters and new friendships, promising Abed that we will return to Dana one day. It’s a promise!
We embark on the second part of our journey in the Middle East: Oman!
Globetrotterdammers 