A Water-Desert Girl

The potent sun, the rocky crevasses, the stark, treeless landscape--the pure, raw power of an expansive land that holds a multitude of secrets: its call must be answered.  Yes, this may sound dramatic, but the Israeli desert deserves such an entrance.

Hali and I, along with a crew of new Israeli friends (many of who spoke little English--hence our extensive knowledge of Hebrew words such as "frog," "my good monkey," and a short children's song--yes, there were 2 young girls present!) journeyed for 3 days by jeep from the center of Israel all the way down to the tiny tip of Eilat, eating extensive amounts of Israeli salad, shakshuka, and kebabs. We had nothing less than a feast every day!

With the wind whipping my short strands of hair and the concentrated sun toasting my exposed back, I soaked up the lonely wilderness from the back of our friend Omri's truck.  Kneeling on a sleeping pad, looking out over the cab, I couldn't help but sing "Peaceful, Easy Feeling" by the Eagles. Meditative, refreshing, and freeing: it brought me back to my Arizona desert roots--a true desert girl at heart.

To be sure we wouldn't shrivel up in the dry heat, we ended our journey at the Red Sea.  With Egypt to our right, Jordan in front of us, and Israel at our backs, we snorkeled with cartoon colored fish of violet, aqua, and lime green.  We didn't want the other seas to feel jealous, so we were sure to sail on the Mediterranean, getting drenched by the spray, and floated in the Dead Sea--pure magic. Israel is the perfect combination of salty sea and desert sun.  It may have to be a home someday for this water-desert girl.

-Cerri

Lunch in Amman

Even before we left on this trip, I had the idea that "Lunch in Amman" would be a fitting title for the hypothetical book detailing our adventures as it represents the spontaneity of our plans. Yet by May first I had almost completely given up on the actual manifestation of this fathomed title. It seemed too expensive, too much of a hassle, too dangerous, and too jeopardizing to our entry into Israel to get the visa. Thus when we landed in the small international airport we were prepared to hunker down for the entirety of our eleven hour layover between Bangkok and Tel Aviv.
As we lazily strolled off the plane scouting out a cozy nook to spend the day we were intercepted by an airport official that reminded me of the rabbit from "Alice in Wonderland" repeating that we were "late for an important date" as he herded us to a counter. Thinking that maybe we were being put on an earlier plane we handed over our tickets and made sure to ask if our bags would make the plane. Amused, he assured us that our bags would arrive safely in Tel Aviv before directing us to the immigration line. It was then that we realized we were not heading to another plane, but were being sent into Jordan itself. In response to our confused questions we only received mumbles if hotels and buses. Before we knew it we were standing on the sidewalk outside in the heat of desert.
At this point our instincts from India took over and we resigned ourselves to another adventure. Yet, the thought did of kidnapping did cross our minds as we were rushed onto a bus bound for an unknown destination.
Minutes later, after being reassured by our first Israeli friend, Natalie, we arrived at a rather nice hotel in the middle of nowhere where we were given a room for the day and two all you can eat buffet meals free of charge. Surprised, we did not question the hospitality and it was not until yesterday that we figured we were most likely the beneficiaries of an International law requiring airlines to put up any travelers with a layover over eight hours.
While, admittedly we did not truly experience Jordan, we did have a delightful "Lunch in Amman".
-Hali