Aqaba...That Time I Got Assaulted in a Wetsuit

Bedouin Garden Village is a funny place to stay.  It’s your typical backpacker hostel full of hippie couples with dreds, a lot of Germans, and the occasional pop in from English grandparents who quickly turn away because “this lodging is just unacceptable sir!”  It has a pool and a ton of outdoor seating and seems to be sunny every single day.  Right across the street is the Red Sea and promises of some of the best snorkeling and diving in the world. 

We decide to treat Aqaba like a vacation.  We eat hummus and oranges for breakfast (I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to this) and I head out to acquire some snorkeling gear.  Because it’s early March, the water is cold so we’ve decided to grab some shortie wetsuits as well.  This day is gorgeous, and literally walk out from the beach in front of us to snorkel with a myriad of fish in a brand new ocean my toes have not yet touched.  Things are looking up! 

Happily, I step into my wetsuit and zip it right up to the top of my neck and then help zip Alex into his.  As our guide, Shark (he's about 85 and feeble...which makes his nickname pretty hilarious) gets himself together to come out with us, I feel sort of uncomfortable in my wetsuit.  It seems to fit right, but something is digging into my upper thigh.  It’s probably just a seam I think, as we get ready to head out.  But then the seam moves.  And I am electric, moving as fast as I can and yelling for Alex to unzip my wetsuit.  Everyone is staring at me like I’m the most insane woman they have ever seen as my blue and white polka dot swimsuit and boobs (boobs in the middle east do not exist…) are on full display.  As the wetsuit comes down, out pops a very large cockroach.

I struggle to keep my breakfast hummus down as the Jordanians gawk at me with a “what’s the big deal – it’s just a roach” expression on their faces.  I look back at Alex and he is wearing a look of full and complete disgust, because he too has just seen the world’s largest cockroach crawling down my leg and across the floor.  Apparently things are not looking up in Jordan.

I hesitantly put on another wetsuit after I insist that it be checked over and over for bugs.  What. The. Hell. 

Our snorkeling party consists of Shark, three Swedish girls who look to be about 18, and Alex and me.  

For the next four hours of snorkeling, I cannot shake the creepy crawlies.  Everything that brushes me makes me think there are bugs crawling on me, and sort of takes the fun out of snorkeling as a whole.  Alex, a first timer, seems to love life under the water, so I take a breath and just enjoy it.  The fish here are beautiful, and it’s amazing to just be able to swim out a few feet to enjoy full blown coral reefs with sea turtles, sea snakes, eels, and schools of colorful ocean fish. Shark leads us around the reef for an hour, and then heads in to hose off the Swedish girls with his handheld shower nozzle...I decide to pass on the hose down and opt for some sunshine and another go around the reef.

The next day, Alexander and I go for a walk.  We’re on the south beach side of Aqaba and again, in the middle of nowhere.  The earth is so dry that it is cracked in large sheets across the horizon, something I’ve never seen in real life before.  We’re in search of a grocery store (candy), and have been assured that we’ll eventually find one if we keep walking.  So we keep walking…and walking…into the empty desert in front of us.  Then, there’s a Radisson.  And a gate.  A very large gate with armed guards.  I walk up to a guard and ask if he knows of a supermarket near here.  He ushers us through the gate and points down the road. 

I’m not really sure how to describe this abrupt change in place.  On one side you’ve got the endless desert and here, in this place called Tala Bay, things are downright palatial.  The streets are paved, it’s lush and green, there are restaurants, ice cream shops, super yachts, and the water looks more beautiful than it did a mile away.  The people are good looking, all the signs are in English, and things just seems so – expensive.   There’s a liquor store above the way (there’s been no alcohol in our lives since we left) and a grocery store with American products next door.  I have two snickers, two popsicles, one root beer, and spaghetti noodles and sauce…and Alex has three very large cans of beer.  We have found our own Mecca.  We go outside to eat our popsicles and just sort of stare at this place.  It’s a luxury community where you can move in or park your yacht.  “It offers ever refinement of the sophisticated good life” (the signs have informed us) and has it’s own beaches, pool boys, yacht attendants, etc.  It’s a manmade oasis for wealthy vacationers (or as the Brits would call them, holiday makers) and such a change in scenery that I literally cannot believe my eyes. 

We walk back out into the desert and I start to wonder if that’s what Africa might be like.  Enormous hotel compounds at $2,000 per night where might giraffes wander around outside your room as you eat breakfast.  One hundred feet away, razor wire separates you from the slums surrounding you and the people who haven’t had a fresh drink of water in days.  To me, this is what Tala Bay feels like, and it leaves me uneasy. 

Finally, it’s time for us to figure out a way to leave Jordan.  A few online searches show last minute tickets to London and Paris at around $600-800 per person.  Not possible.  After an hour of searching, rerouting, and brainstorming we find it:  Amman to Gatwick - $235 pp on Easyjet.  Two seats available the night before it departs.  PURCHASE.  Thank you Easyjet.

As the sun sets on our final days in Jordan, I am glad that we have come.  I’ve seen Petra, and experienced a new way of life that was wholly unknown before.  I’ve become even more protective of my rights as a woman, and 1,000% more grateful for the country I was born in.  While I don’t always agree with what happens in the United States, I see now that we are getting a few things right. 

So now it’s on to the next adventure…London!