Day 5 – I Can’t Swim! No Worries!

We had the flexibility to remix our trip after Petra and decided to remain in Jordan and visit the Dead Sea here instead of on the Israeli side. Our original plan was to head back down to the Eilat / Aqaba crossing, then come back up the border in Israel and stay in Ein Gedi, visit the Dead Sea there, and the next morning during sunrise climb the rock formation called Masada which has great historical significant for the Jewish people (more on that later). Since we had fallen in love with Jordan, and the Movenpick resort on the Dead Sea came highly recommended by Mahmoud and our guide books, we changed up our plans and headed to Movenpick to spend a day and half treating our bodies to the natural spa which is the Dead Sea. The drive out of Petra was a test of stomach strength – the road was incredibly wavy and roller coaster like, and coupled with our knowledgeable but stinky cab driver’s body odor, forced me to lay down and miss many of the sites. As soon as the road straightened out and we came up to the Dead Sea it was well worth the pain to witness the lowest point on Earth with your own eyes.

The entire surrounding area of the Dead Sea is white and crusty with salt deposits. Over the course of thousands of years the Dead Sea has been evaporating and losing water levels, leaving behind salted and crystallized rock. We stopped at a beautiful vista and took pictures of the immediate rock touching the Dead Sea and the white crystals developing, and also looked across the Sea to the Israeli side and Masada which was off in the distance. When the Jewish were fighting the Romans in the 1^st century, they were pushed back towards the rock formation of Masada. Fearing annihilation, hundreds of Jewish soldiers massacred themselves, save 9 people who hid in a water sistern to relay the story to future generations. Now a tourist attraction, the general area has a few ruins but the main attraction is waking at 4AM and climbing the “Snake Path” to the top of Masada to watch sunrise over Jordan and the Dead Sea. If you’re lucky, you can also watch IDF ceremonies which take place at the rock, where newly minted soldiers recite “Masada shall never fail again”.

We reached our hotel in the early afternoon after the 3 hour ride from Petra. Expensive resorts are the closest thing to heaven in this world. Movenpick is a stunning place – a village of sorts where guests are escorted around the pathways in plush golf carts, a dozen different buildings and homes guests can stay in (several with beach front views, others with private pools), and a cadre of restaurants, spas, theatres, music and belly dancing shows, etc. We indulged ourselves with an outrageous beach front room, changed as fast as we could, and made our way to the “beach”. The Dead Sea doesn’t necessarily have a beach, per se, it’s surrounded by calcified rocks. After settling down on our man made beach near the water and having lunch, we made our way to the water.

It was brilliant! Firstly, the temperature of the water was a perfect, tropical warm. Secondly, it was weird! You had to throw out every unconscious motion your body had learned thus far about moving around in water. Due to the 35% salt water content of the Dead Sea (careful not to taste any, get it in your eyes, or worse off, shave before you get in there), the water is very buoyant, making it impossible to “drown” or even swim belly down – your legs end up kicking above the water! There is no marine life whatsoever, as the salt content is too high for organism to survive. You can immediately feel your skin softening up – in addition to the high salt content, the water contains a myriad of minerals which have proven therapeutic effects for skin, respiration, and other health matters. Not only does the water have effects, but the mud from the bottom of the sea has long been used to beautify skin. Our resort placed large vats next to the water where guests could grab a sludge of mud and cover however much of their body they’d like. Over the course of 1.5 days, we must have done this half a dozen times!

It truly was a beautiful spot to be in – the beach, the pools, the food, the sunset over Masada on our balcony – was well worth it. We were up at 7AM the next day and back in the water by 8AM! You give a Guju a noon check out time, you know he’ll be there until noon…

Day 4 – Petra – “The Red Rose City As Old As Time…”

We woke up early and had a Bedouin breakfast of bread with several accompaniments. The first was honey, which is simple enough. The second was olive oil combined with “zaatar”, which is thyme and several other spices and is absolutely delicious. (Incidentally, we found zaatar everywhere we traveled after seeing it for the first time here.) The third, my favorite, was date juice, which is similar to light, more liquid, syrup. With traditional Middle Eastern bread (think pita but flatter) it’s unbeatable.

Nail and Hamed dropped us back off at the Wadi Rum Visitor’s Center and we exchanged our pleasantries and cold hard cash (no plastic in the desert!). Obeid had organized two spots on a bus from Wadi Rum to Petra, and we hopped on it for the scenic two our ride through the desert valley, stopping at ridiculous vistas – one including Wadi Araba, the abysmal rock valley which creates a natural border between Jordan and Israel.

We arrived at Petra around 1PM, and it was blazing. Being the Guju that I am, I declined exchanging cash at our hotel fearing the less than market rate and we made our way up to Wadi Musa which is the nearest “town” about 2 kms from Petra. This walk was uphill, mind you, and many of you know “uphill” is my arch nemesis. Halfway up the hill we stopped in an antiques store hoping that they would want to exchange “black market” US notes for Jordan Dinar, and the proprietor cordially relayed that he wouldn’t be able to, but was driving into town to make a quick stop and wouldn’t mind taking us in his car to the ATM. Me fearing the worst, the “everybody is trying to be your friend and make a little bit of cash”, I asked him how much money he would ask for after the ride, and he insisted that he was doing it out of goodwill. We hesitated but hopped into his truck…

Three hours later the 3 of us were enjoying a sheesha and black tea after one of the most amazing lunches on our trip. In that afternoon, we had learned more about each other’s cultures, lives, families, than I would have ever imagined. Mahmoud owned the building which we stopped in which contained both a gifts store and a brand new restaurant serving traditional Jordanian / Bedouin food, teas, sheeshas, etc. – and was one of the more gracious hosts I’ve ever come across. He taught us about all the various spices in the food, history of his people and where he comes from, cultural anecdotes and idiosyncrasies – and we reverted the same. Fearing the bill when he brought it, thinking that it would be too good to be true, I was astounded to see it was $15USD. Unbelievable. We booked a date for dinner at his restaurant and sauntered down to the entrance to Petra.

Vans and I figured we had a good 5 hours to explore that day, and just in case, bought a two day pass in the event we felt like waking up and hiking a few more sites the next morning. Mahmoud had hooked us up with one of his friends that worked at the Information Desk, and he met us at the entrance and took us through a map with recommendations on how to tackle the next couple of days. We filled our water bottles, laced up our shoes, through our hats and sunglasses on, and started the walk.

The ancient city of Petra was founded, if you will, more than 2,000 years ago by the Nabateans, a commercial people who over the course of hundreds of years built their city into the sandstone cliffs of Petra and controlled ancient trade passages in the spice and silk routes. The “entrance” to Petra, famously known as the “Siq”, is a kilometer long rift in the rock with cliffs climbing to almost 100 meters providing a serpentine path to the greater “city”. There are several ancient carvings and tombs en route, providing the explorer with a brief appetizer of what’s ahead.

After dodging horses and chariots and camels carrying wilting walkers, and associated feces, the Siq opens up to the most famous sight of them all – “The Treasury”. Made famous by Indiana Jones and other Western movies, approaching and seeing the Treasury in person is as breathtaking and surreal as one can imagine. Originally designed as a tomb, it was nicknamed the Treasury as folklore suggests the Egyptians pharaohs hid their wealth in the urns high up inside the building.

From the Treasury, the city opens up providing a vast and dramatic sight for the senses. As you walk through the ancient city, you pass by magnificent tombs, places of worship, theatres, markets, roads, etc. – I was astounded at how humongous and organized the city was. We slowly made our way through the dozens of sites, mostly in ruins, learning about the history of the Nabateans and successive civilizations which inhabited the city and influenced subsequent architecture.

Our last stop was The Monastery, a temple constructed by the Nabateans which later was convereted into a Byzantine church. The Monastery is an arduous hour long climb up countless rock steps carved into a mountain, but is well worth the trip. This is the building which is in the latest Transformers movie, Revenge of the Fallen. Here we took a breather and sat in a café with cushioned diwans and coffee tables adjacent to the incredible monolith of the monastery. Sipping on our tea, we watched a local man walk over to a rock precipice and start climbing. His grace was inherent – not something which was developed by training but more so by the fact that he was probably born and raised in this rock environment. After a few minutes, he had climbed about 75 meters, perfectly parallel to the top of the Monastery! It was incredible – and not for money did he do this, simply for passing time. He disappeared for a few minutes and we reconvened our tea break, only to see him this time on the actual edge of the top of The Monastery! A place I didn’t think any man could ever or dare to ever reach – he had gotten there in an easy 5 minutes. He disappeared again, and I remember whispering “don’t try to jump the gap”, and sure enough, we see the man flying over a gap in the roof of the Monastery! Seconds later, he begins, I don’t know how, climbing the round “steeple” of the building, and within seconds, he is sitting on top of the Monastery. The very tip top – smoking a cigarette! We clapped and hooted for him – later we found out the men who ran the café (Rastafarian types that mostly lazed around and hit sheesha), would time themselves to see who could make it up there the fastest. It was incredible.

We made our way back and backtracked through the city as the sun set and turned the rock blood red. Petra is well deserved as a Wonder of the World. Words and pictures cannot describe the monstrosity which is the city, and how such a long time ago the Nabateans could create these magnificent structures with minimal technology is unprecedented. All in all, we must have walked around a dozen kilometers, and our legs certainly felt it. We met Mahmoud once more and had a brilliant dinner at his restaurant, shopped at his restaurant, and slept like babies.

Bye Bye Bombay

Driving through the rain while sweat's dripping off my face - a movie like sequence is my departure from Mumbai. I can't believe its been 2 months already - time could not have gone faster.

I shout of love to my Mumbai family, especially Julie, for babysitting not only her own kid but me as well. I dread to see the day this trip comes to an end but I know I will be back to India soon.

En route to the airport I can only reflect that though this country has progressed worlds in the past decades, the spirit of India stays true and constant. People will always remain bright eyed no matter what squalor they live in, music will always run loud in the streets, and food will remain as important as an elder family member. Its these antiquities that make this place one of a kind.

And for some reason, I was upgraded to a Business Class seat for my 16 hour flight to the States. Elated, I asked the lady why she was so generous with her mint, and she replied, "This Is India".

I couldn't have written a better ending. See you on the flip!

R

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Day 3 - Walk Across A Border?

We left Tel Aviv the next morning slightly disappointed, although we tried not to show it. I didn't want our weird experience in Tel Aviv to underwrite our trip. Since I had waited too long to book our flights to Eilat from Tel Aviv, we hopped on the 7AM bus for the 5 hour ride down to the southern tip of Israel, a beach town on the Red Sea called Eilat.

Geographically, Israel is roughly the shape of New Jersey. There are three places to cross the border into Jordan – one is in the north (think George Washington Bridge), but is of little use to tourists as one needs their own car (rentals not allowed and I don't believe you can go across on a bus) to get across. The second place is the King Hussein (what they call it in Jordan) / Allenby (what they call it in Israel) crossing, which is directly east of Jerusalem (in the West Bank) and directly west of Amman. You could say this is more or less commensurate to the Jersey Shore area, and the most popular crossing in Israel. The third crossing is the Eilat / Aqaba crossing, which is the New Jersey equivalent to Atlantic City. Eilat is a beach resort town in Israel, and Aqaba is the equivalent beach resort town in Jordan – both on the Red Sea. Most of the touristy sites in Jordan that we wanted to visit were in the south, thus we decided to cross through the Eilat / Aqaba crossing and move within Jordan from there.

The drive from the Poconos area (Tel Aviv), to Atlantic City (Eilat) cuts right through the Negev, which more or less is desert. Ben Gurion famously said the future of Israel lies in the Negev, not sure how that will work, but it's truly a visually stunning sight to drive though. Eilat is a party town. It pops up out of nowhere on the drive down from Tel Aviv and you can see the big beachfront resorts in the distance.

The bus ride for us, unfortunately, was a nuisance! It was full of teenagers on holiday looking to get into trouble in Eilat, yelling across the bus at friends, moving up and down the aisles to make friends, and getting ready for a fun week down in Eilat. My guess is many of these kids were ready to start their time in the IDF and were looking for one last hurrah – the adults on the bus tried to scold them a few times due to their behavior but let the rest of it slide. You can't blame them – we've all been there before as teenagers and who knows what they will experience in the IDF for the next 3 years. Hoping to get a few key hours of sleep on the bus, every attempt was futile, and we ended up throwing our headphones on to Billboard 80's Hits to drown out the absolutely annoying yelling and screaming from these kids.

We hurried off the bus upon reaching Eilat and hopped in to a cab for the border. It was hot and dusty. A good hot, though, dry and desert-like. Within 10 minutes we were at the border crossing. After receiving instructions from an Israeli border guard, we paid our exit tax, had our passports (or paper form in my case) stamped, and literally walked across the border with all of our baggage in tow! How incredible! I don't think either of us have ever walked across a border! There was a 100 yard walk through some kind of neutral zone until we reached the Jordan side of the border. Within 15 minutes, we had passed through security, procured our tourist visas, paid our entry fee, and were in Jordan. This made me think of Johnny Depp's self-defense in court in the movie Blow, when he tells the judge, paraphrasing, "What exactly is a border? It's just an imaginary line." It's the same here – the same land on either side, the same sand, wind, rocks, etc. How funny our world has made it for me to walk from one place to the other I have to get stamps in a book, fill out forms, pay fees, procure visas, put bags through an X-Ray machine, etc. – and furthermore, some people are not even allowed to go! Walking across a border truly puts things in perspective.

And was it dusty - definitely the closest thing to a sandstorm we've ever experienced. With no trees to catch the drift, a slight windstorm made it an arduous task to know where we were going. Visibility was completely cut off. Several times we had to stop because sand had gotten stuck in our eyes, and our imposter sunglasses were still not good enough to block out the storm. Even after a quick 10 minute walk over the border our bodies were caked with sand – we were hoping that our stay in the desert wouldn't be plagued with these sandstorms!

The Bedouin are Jordan's indigenous people. For centuries they have been nomadic travelers and herdsmen within the desert, mastering the art of living in such a hostile environment where scorching heat and bone chilling cold come on the same day and water is as precious as life. Living the Bedouin life has become a tourist attraction, and over decades these people have watched their storied way of life become bastardized into Jordan's favorite conduit of tourism, for better or for worse. To many it has brought more money than they could ever imagine, but has also diluted their simple way of life with the desert.

Wadi Rum (translated to Rum Valley) is a protected area of the government which houses hundreds of square miles of pristine desert and mountains. Humungous "siqs" or rock formations grow out of the red sand desert and sculpt the landscape. The area was made famous by TE Lawrence, or Lawrence of Arabia, who traveled the area, wrote extensively, and fought alongside the Arabs in the early 20th century.

We researched many camps in the Wadi Rum area and decided to stay at a small camp run by a Bedouin named Obeid, one of the smallest and higher ranked camps on TripAdvisor. Obeid's driver friend Mohammed picked us up at the border and took us through the surprisingly large and well constructed desert highway from the border to the turn off towards Wadi Rum. From the turn off it was another 15 minutes or so to the Wadi Rum visitor center where we met Obeid's son, Nail (pronounced "naa-eel"). We transferred our baggage, took a few snaps of the "Seven Pillars of Wisdom" (a landmark siq made famous by TE Lawrence), and hopped in the back of Nail's truck.

It was a bumpy but glorious ride through the desert to Obeid's camp. Looking around us was pure desert and siqs, the sun beating down on us but the breeze from the drive keeping us cool. We reached Obeid's camp and were pleasantly surprised. There were about 5 total tents tucked beside a few small siqs, and surrounding the camp, a humungous siq with undulating walls and valleys stretching 1000's of meters into the sky. It almost looked as if over the centuries the sun had scorched the rock a deep red, and the sand was slowly following the rocks' lead. We threw our bags into our tent, fully equipped with a gas lamp and several cushions, and joined Nail for tea.

It was so very peaceful. It seemed that there were only us 3 people in the entire desert, and for miles, this was probably true. We learned Nail was 20 years old, and was one of 7 of Obeid's children. Obeid was currently with some tourists in Amman but would be coming back later, and Nail was in charge of the camp for now. We were the only guests, and he said they like to keep it small to provide the most attention to the guests and keep it traditional. We liked that – a lot. He was a happy go lucky guy that always had a smile on his face and took great care of us – Obeid has nothing to worry about when he can't run the camp himself.

Nail ran off to go pick up some supplies at the nearest village, where his family stayed, and came back about 45 minutes later with 2 of his younger brothers and a truck full of water, food, and propane tanks for cooking and lighting. One of the sons, Salim (probably around 15 years old), started preparing our dinner while the other young buck Hamed (5 years old and a fun loving kid, I think his full name is Mohammed but they called him Hamed for short) and I played a little soccer and ran around the camp. We ate a quick snack of bread and vegetables and hopped into the back of the truck for a Jeep tour.

The next 2 hours were filled with exhilarating sights and vistas – along with a relaxing but bumpy ride in makeshift seating in the bed of the pickup. We saw the famous rock bridges, perused through the desert, all while the sun slowly made its way from the sky to the horizon and the siqs coming out of the ground. It was certainly one of those "pictures can't do justice" experiences, seeing siqs hundreds of miles away behind layers of sand and dust slowly rising from the ground. We made it back to the camp in time for Hamed to show us the way up to the top of a siq where we sat and watched one of the more gorgeous sunsets I've seen in my life, over the scorched desert and through the siqs in the horizon.

The sky transformed from an orange, to a deep red, to a brilliant purple, and finally to black – but the stars came out in full force. Never before have we seen so many stars in the sky in our entire lives. With no artificial lighting to impede our vision, the faintest glows in any other part of the world stuck out brilliantly.

Obeid made it back in time for dinner and I complimented him on what a great jobs his kids did the run the place in his absence. He took us around back where he brought a lamp light, and looking around, I didn't really see what he wanted us there for. As I started to move forward, he asked me to stop, and Salim came around with a shovel and started working on a mound which was directly in front of us. Slowly but surely, something under the mound of sand start showing up! It seemed like some sort of barrel in the ground. It was dinner! Obeid asked me not to move as sand would drift onto the food, and him and Salim opened the lid and pulled out a 4 foot tall structure with cooked chicken, pots of vegetables, and pans of biryani on it. All cooked in some sort of underground tandoor! It was brilliant. The food left nothing to be desired. I couldn't help going back for more – and couldn't decide what was more delicious, the slow cooked and season chicken, or hearty vegetables with Bedouin spice.

We enjoyed the rest of the evening talking about the rest of our itinerary in Jordan and his business. Obeid left an hour later to head back to the village and kept us under good care with Nail. We imbibed on a sheesha while staring at the desert stars, and after about an hour, retired to our humble tent – thrilled with our choice of places in the world to visit and even more so with our choice of Bedouin camp. Little did we know this was just the beginning of our tales from Jordan…
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Day 1 and 2 - Welcome to Tel Aviv

My flight from Mumbai left at the ungodly hour of 5AM – one of those 'tweeners' where's it's difficult to stay up all night and make the flight or try to get a decent amount of rest. And it doesn't help to come home at 11:30PM after an evening downtown with Shoaib, he seems to not need rest – ever. I passed out a few quick hours and hopped in a rickshaw (which I call "Ricky Ross") at around 2:30AM from Masi's house and headed to the international airport.

Thankfully all was on time and as soon as I settled in my turquoise blue seat on my Turkish Airlines flight I was off to meet Mr. Sandman. (Aside: do turquoise and Turkey have any connection?). Taking off and landing in Istanbul is absolutely gorgeous – tropical blue water and 2 seas surround the city. The Istanbul airport was a dizzy of duty free shopping, club thumping music, and beautiful Middle Eastern women. I was taken aback, I did not realize it was what to expect for the next week.

(Afnan is sitting here and bothering me while I'm writing. He talks so much.)

My first round of questioning came at the Istanbul airport before I was to board my flight – "Why are you going to Israel?", "Do you have any family or friends there?", "Where are you coming from?", etc. When boarding the plane, they had me step aside and wait until everyone else got on, and then approached me. He pointed to my boarding pass, and said, "Not Tel Aviv". I looked down, and realized that I had given him my stub for Mumbai to Istanbul. Duh. We laughed it off and I boarded. Round 1 goes to Raje.

As many know, Israel as a recognized homeland and country for the Jewish people does not sit well with the local Muslim world. Certain neighboring Islamic countries flat out deny entry for those who have visited Israel, including Lebanon, Syria, Iran, and Iraq. There are two ways for these countries to figure out if you've visited Israel – for them to ask you, and for them to check your passport.

Israel understands this travel limitation it invariably builds into a stamped passport, and offers an option to have all of your immigration stamps to be stamped on a separate form. Working the other way around, if your passport is stamped by any of these countries, or any other large Muslim destinations, it will slow your entry into the country. (More on this later – since my passport was stamped with Morocco I was asked a few extra questions when entering back into Israel from Jordan).

I'm impressed with this practice, and not wanting to be limited in my travel, pursued this option. Before even handing my passport to the immigration officer I asked her if it would be possible to give me my stamps on a separate form. Dressed in my best American tourist clothes, and with a clean shave, I walked right into Israel with no problems. Round 2 goes to Raje.

I had a few hours to kill before Vans showed up, so I spent it people watching. It was fun trying to guess from which countries flights came in from just by looking at how tourists were dressing. It was also unbelievable how beautiful the women were! Writing this in Dubai after spending a full 2 weeks in the Middle East and greater Arabia, I will confidently put Middle Eastern women up against South American women, and it would be a battle. Obviously South America will win. Round 3 to South America, and Raje.

Vans showed up right on time and we hopped in a cab for Tel Aviv. Ben Gurion Airport is about a 40 minute drive and $40 away from Tel Aviv, very similar to JFK and NYC. After a couple of "lost in translation" exchanges we made it to our hotel, an abode close to the beach with center city prices.

Tel Aviv is nicknamed the "Big Orange" in its quest to be the New York of the East. We spent a total of 3 days in the city during the week and found it to be rather metropolitan – full of restaurants, cafes, dog walkers, etc. The city buildings seem a bit tired, although I can only imagine the club and bar scenes which carry on until sunrise provide energy to the city. What gives Tel Aviv it's edge is the beach – miles of well maintained beach front on the Mediterranean where families, singles, teenagers, old, young, all come to spend the day under the hot sun and in the warm water during the weekends.

On Friday, after we reached the hotel, we freshened up and hit the boardwalk on the beach. We decided to walk south on the boardwalk towards Jaffa, the older part of Tel Aviv full of historic sites and 'souks' and find a place to eat there. The walk down was incredible – the air was filled with smells of families barbecuing delicious food and the sky for miles down was opaque with smoke. We saw mostly Muslim families, women dressed in the traditional, long, flowing outfit with headscarf, and men dressed in really whatever they feel like (shorts, flip flops, tank top, and a cowboy hat), grilling meats and vegetables on the beach and playing with their kids. There were teenagers and other gangs bumping the latest in Arabic techno and smoking sheesha in the parking lots. If my intuition is correct, it seems that most Jewish families head home in the evenings for their Shabbat (Sabbath) dinner and Muslim families dominate the beach area with their barbecues and music.

We finally found our restaurant after an hour of wandering Old Jaffa's souks and had a pleasant meal catching up. With my jet lag working in, we decided to call it a night instead of experiencing Tel Aviv's glorious nightlife (I'm going to blame it on the jet lag, but let's admit it, we're getting old). Vans was still wide awake, but was a good team player, until…

Reverse jet lag set it! Coming from the East, she had a tough time waking up the next morning, when I was ready to rock at 8AM! I ran downstairs to grab a plate of breakfast and we got ready to head for our relaxing day on the beach. We decided to find a nice beach front café to have a better breakfast, and sat down at our table overlooking the water. That alone was probably the only good thing about the restaurant. For some reason, which I want to blame on reasons other than the obvious, we weren't offered water, waited on, or even looked at by the staff for the first 15 or 20 minutes we were there. I called a waiter over and asked him if we could order, and he simply walked away ignoring us. Fed up with it and not wanting to give the restaurant our money, we got up and left.

We found several instances in Tel Aviv where we were given the cold shoulder and dozens of times we were given hard, lengthy, and uncomfortable stares. Many people gave us unwarranted attitudes when asking for directions, cab drivers the same. I've thought about this over and over and can't seem to come up with a proper reason to why, other than, "This Is Israel", and we're battling with thousands of years of history of people pitted against people. What's surprising to me is that we really only felt, I'll call it "lack of service", towards us in Tel Aviv – which is supposedly a progressive, modern, and international city. During our stay in Jerusalem at the end of the week, there was no semblance of "lack of service", probably because Jerusalem is a true "international" city where millions of travelers around the world visit. I'm ready, willing, and able to give Tel Aviv another chance although I don't believe Vans is. It has everything it needs to be an international city, the Big Orange, if it wants to be, but the biggest obstacle it needs to overcome is accepting international people. It's truly an incredible city with history, beaches, great food, and most probably an incredible nightlife (we were too "tired" (old) to witness), but we simply had an odd feeling that we were being left out for some reason – a feeling I had never had while traveling before.
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Israel and Jordan

All,

I've now made it back to the illustrious Mumbai after a whirlwind 2 weeks in the Middle East. I'm trying to get you my trip to Israel and Jordan but there's so much to write about!

I'm going day by day, hopefully I can plow through it this weekend and get thoughts on Dubai as well. Pictures are going to have to come later as I need a faster connection, but many I've posted last week.

I hope you are all well. Coming back in 3 days!

R

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Fly Emirates

No, seriously - fly Emirates.

Hello, all. I know, I know - I still have TONS to tell you about the Middle East, and worry not, I am keeping the memories fresh in my head. I haven't had much downtime in the past week to really put my head down and focus (and you know how long it takes me to decide to put one word after another). However, I plan on getting to it very soon, after my trip to...DUBAI!

Yes, I've found my way into the city where Arabs have toooooooo much money to spend, and they have spent it to build an incredible place. I decided to fly through Dubai on my way back from Israel and spend a few days - Afnan is showing up in a few hours and we plan on flying back to Mumbai together on Thursday. And a bit of good news this morning, although my Lebanon trip never panned out (more later on how obscure it is that Israel and Lebanon share a border yet traveling between the countries is unspeakable), David "The Killer" Abraham happens to be in Dubai at the very same moment (I was to meet him in Lebanon) so all ends up working out well.

I landed in Dubai at 3AM, and for those of you who have traveled Emirates and have seen Terminal 3, it's something out of a dream. At 3AM, it's something out of a crazy dream. The Emirates terminal is essentially a Vegas casino on cocaine - lights, big, clean, wonderful. (And free Wi-Fi!). The Emirates flight from Istanbul was most probably the nicest plane I have ever been on - plush seats, brand new, big screen TVs with millions of entertainment options, delicious 4 course meals, etc. Although I should have slept I ended up getting through Quantum of Solace and half of The Soloist, listened to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan (Jhoole Jhoole Lal (the original)) on the radio, and flipped through the latest episodes of Conchords. From now on, the first place I look for tickets to India will be Emirates, for sure. I was thinking that it must be so easy to be in PR for Emirates and come up with slogans. I thought of a few:

Fly Emirates - Our Big Ass Planes Are The Most Comfortable And Have Nice Electronics

Fly Emirates - It Will Be The Best Flight You've Ever Had

Fly Emirates - We Spend More Money On Our Planes Then Any Other Airline

Fly Emirates - Don't Be Dumb

Fly Emirates - Don't Fly Degenerates (WINNER!)

I'm still trying to think about how to tell you all about Israel and Jordan. Since we went back and forth between the countries and since I'd like to discuss a lot about the history, people, religions, wars, thoughts, etc., it doesn't make sense to write a post on each country per se, so I'll keep it chronological to our trip.

I should have downtime during the afternoons here because, A. It's Ramadan, and nothing happens, B. It's hot.

That's all for now, it's check out time, so weeeeeee gotta go, weeeeeee gotta goooooo.

R

A FOB named Jyotindra shows up to a new job in the States. His coworkers, having trouble with his name, ask him if he has a nickname they can use. He says, "Not so much, yaar, but how about we just cut off the end of my name and you can call me Joe". The coworkers loved it, and Joe became his name.

The next week, another FOB named Fakhruddin starts up at the office. His colleagues, having difficulty pronouncing his name, ask him if he has a pet name he goes by. He says, "No, I don't have one, do you have any ideas?". Needless to say, they decided to learn how to pronounce his name.

Footnote: CC Khiroya. He told me this joke 15 years ago and I still love it. As soon as I saw this billboard I laughed out loud...