Masada

I got up at 5:30 this morning to watch the sun rise over the Dead Sea. If I had known better I would have waited until 6:30 because the mountains on the East side of the sea block the view of the sun until then, but all it meant is that I sat on the shore watching the sky grow lighter for an extra hour. The views of the sunrise were nice, but I've been spoiled in Africa already. Now it takes a sunrise that's pretty incredible to get me even a little bit excited. I took a few photos of the sky and the reflection of the sun on the water, but I also noticed that the rocks along the shoreline were covered with salt formations. One rock in particular had giant beads of salt that undoubtedly formed from the lake water leaving deposits behind. Later in the day, as I rode a bus South to Eilat, Israel, I saw that on some parts of the shoreline the entire coast is covered with gleaming white salt for miles.I like visiting ruins. I don't know what it is about ruins that does it for me, but ever since visiting Angkor Wat in Cambodia in 2006, I try to visit all the world-class ruins I can that are within a reasonable distance of where I am traveling. The rocky ruins at the ancient Jewish fortress of Masada are not in the greatest condition, but the history behind them makes them pretty incredible.A cable car runs from the base of Masada to the top of it's plateau, but I decided to walk the up instead via the “Snake Path”; the trail that was used by the ancient inhabitants of the place. The weather was hot today. I probably sweat a full two liters of water by the time I finally got to the top, but at least I know what it would have been like to have to climb the thing two-thousand years ago.

I learned a few interesting things about Masada today. First of all, Masada wasn't built by the Jews. Masada was originally a Roman fortress and palace that many people and civilizations contributed to; most notably the great builder King Herod. During the Roman occupation of Israel at about 50 BC the last group of Jews overtook Masada and used it as their hideaway. When the Romans finally surrounded the place, built a giant ramp, and busted inside, they found that the inhabitants of Masada had all killed themselves the previous night. That's another thing about Masada; the deaths weren't individual suicides. About 100 residents lived in Masada at the time of the Roman attack and from them ten people were randomly chosen to carry out the deaths of the rest. Finally the remaining ten drew lots and chose one among them to kill the rest before killing himself. When the Romans crushed through the Western wall of the complex the next morning they found only seven women and children who had hidden themselves. Besides that there was nobody to sell into slavery and no victims of war to gloat over. Today Masada is a symbol of Israel's determination to keep their homeland at all costs, even at the cost of death. Modern Israelis are all too familiar with the slogan, “Masada will never fall again.”, which reflects the local attitude towards protecting the current State of Israel.I spent a few hours wandering through the ruins of Masada. A lot of the ancient structures looked the same to me, but a few were more interesting. King Herod built a lavish palace and bathhouse at Masada, among other sumptuous structures, so today tourists can enjoy what is left of his extravagant architecture. The bathhouse is a pretty sophisticated building considering the technology that the ancient Romans had available to them. Visitors to Masada enter the bathhouse at the dressing room, which featured a floor covered with black and white triangular tiles, then they move on to the “Warm Room”. The bathhouse consisted of a “Cold Room”, a “Warm Room”, and a “Hot Room”, each, or course, which maintained a different temperature. Cold water cooled the coldest of the rooms and two rooms over, in the Hot Room, a furnace blew air through a network of pipes and openings constructed beneath the tile floor. Herod's palace occupied the most prime piece of real-estate at Masada and is perched at the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff at the Northern edge of the plateau. Herod spared no expense and made sure his winter home at Masada was complete with columns typical of Roman architecture at the time and a swimming pool that was filled out of the fortress's water supply. After wandering through the rest of the complex my final visit of the day was at a fifth century Byzantine church that was, of course, built long after the Jews and Romans were through fighting over Masada.I don't remember ever seeing cultures between two bordering countries change so quickly as those at the border of Israel and Jordan. After crossing late this afternoon and taking a cab into the Jordanian border town of Aqaba, I suddenly felt like I could be in the middle of Iraq somewhere. Arabic signs were everywhere and many of the local men were sporting the traditional outfit of a red Arabic turban and a long, gleaming white robe. I saw the same stuff when I was in Dubai, but not like today. Dubai is so modern and cosmopolitan that many parts of it feel just like a European or American city. Jordan is different. Jordan is more raw.

I love riding on busses where I'm the only white man and the only English-speaker aboard. I rode such a bus from Aqaba to a highway junction near Wadi Rum this afternoon. I few of the Arab men on board knew a handful of English words, and between that and some charades we could communicate well enough. The bus was full when I approached it in Aqaba, but in developing countries there is always room for one more. I sat on a tiny platform next to the driver's seat at the front of the bus and was facing backwards so I could see the other thirty passengers staring and grinning at me for the duration of the ride.

As the white man I was quite the novelty. I stared back at my thirty new friends and thought to myself that this could be a scene out of a random Middle-Eastern-themed movie. A few women were on board, dressed in the obligatory black burkas, and several of the men wore Arabic turbans and long white robes. The younger kids were dressed in semi-Western apparel. I was informed by the others that one particular young man, who sported a rip-off New York Yankees hat, wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box. The man offered me his cigarettes and made unwanted advances towards me until I finally reached my stop. When I finally got off the bus at the highway junction the same guy got off with me and I had to physically push him away to keep him from planting one right on my lips.

I had another “this-is-absolutely-crazy” moment as I threw my backpack around my shoulders and walked down the sun-covered highway today. The red Jordanian desert surrounded me on all sides and giant orange rock formations towered above in the distance. I had just jumped off a bus filled with people that I've only seen before on CNN, and I was wandering alone through a country sandwiched between Israel and Iraq. Another thing about Iraq - any one of the people I met on the bus could easily jump on another bus and be in the war-ravaged nation in less than four hours. For that matter, if I had no brains I could also be in the war-ravaged nation in less than four hours. I have no intention of going to Iraq this trip or on any other trip until the place is perfectly safe for visitors. With that said though, it feels a little mind-blowing that Saddam Hussein's terrible mess of a country is right next door.

An Arab man named Mohammad Hussein offered to take me to his camp in the desert once I reached Wadi Rum this evening. Even though another man I talked to at the desk of the Wadi Rum National Park office told me that an overnight stay in such a camp should cost only 25 Jordanian Dinars, Mohommad convinced me that because he was including a jeep ride to the camp with the price, 35 JD was a fair price. I suspected that Mr. Hussein was overcharging me, but it was late at night and I just wanted to get to the camp - I was in no mood and no position to haggle.

As we were riding in the Jeep, Mohammed spoke up. “You don't need to talk to anyone else at the camp about the price because I give you discount.”

... I was right. Mohammad ripped me off.

At the camp this evening I wandered past the traditional nomadic Bedouin tents and sat down to listen to a local man sing and play along with a crude stringed instrument. Dinner was a giant feast of pita bread with grilled chicken, diced cucumber and tomato salad, a spicy dish with beef and onions, potatoes in a thin cheese sauce, and a large heap of brown rice. Afterwards I dragged a foam pad and thick blanket away from the camp and threw them on the sand to bed down for the night.Wadi Rum is beautiful, and even though I had only a few minutes to see it today before the sun went down, that much was obvious. Every place I've visited on the epic trip is a place I want to go back to, and Jordan is no different. My summer full of travels is winding down, and although I'm very excited to get home, I've become used to having mind-blowing experiences every day that I'll remember for the rest of my life. I'll miss that the second I get on my flight to the United States.