Jordan

Jordan

Lucy and I sat on our balcony looking out over the rooftops of Aqaba. We could see the Eastern most tip of Egypt and the resort town of Eilat in Israel - from here just a bank of fairy lights. At this stage we believed the bike would be arriving in a matter of days so we wasted no time in booking a trip to Wadi Rum.

Unfortunately, a quick check of the e-mails dropped a fairly sizable spanner in the works. Our desert-headed freighting agent in Nairobi had 'misquoted' us and was now after a further US$900! Needless to say he was suitably advised otherwise - the e-mails ping-ponged until sanity was re-established. As it turned out, the delay this caused was quite welcome as it gave us more time to nose around Jordan.

Wadi Rum

We eventually set off into Wadi Rum with Alf - who we'd met in Egypt, David and Jenny - a British couple on holiday, Abdula - our guide and a Nissan patrol that clunked and banged rather ominously. As we drove into the desert, the several hundred square miles of parched sand, interspersed with massive sandstone and granite rock formations left us feeling that Obi-One, Luke Skywalker and a cluster of pod racers would soon loom into view over the heat-hazed skyline! A mild sandstorm added an air of mystery to the dramatic setting but unfortunately wasn't so good for photographs.

During the afternoon we approached a 'Mad Max' style outpost. A roughly built wall with parapets and a huge castle-style gate encircled a cluster of small, run-down buildings. Abdula, with true sincerity, assured us that this was a genuine Bedouin village! This struck us a being a bit odd, as the Bedouin are by nature, nomadic. A little investigating revealed several shipping containers built into the back of the structure. A truck with 'Televisioné Frances' plastered down the side left little to the imagination - it was a film set! The only Bedouin nearby were an elderly couple charged with the film set's security. They very kindly supplied us with tea - and showed us their goats!

That night, our home was a small marquee, with rugs and killims strewn wall to wall - it really was Lawrence of Arabia stuff. A big pile of duvets gave us an idea of the likely temperature of the desert at night - and it didn't disappoint! Lucy wore every layer she had packed including thermals and puffa jacket - and had two duvets!

We had a supper of baked chicken and cinnamon rice, sitting around an open fire, before wandering off into the darkness to watch the stars and photograph the eerie, full-moon-lit landscape around us. The moon was so bright that once away from the fire, it could almost be daylight.

The following morning, we were introduced to a bloke named Gunter. He was a photographer from Austria and had been sent out to document the Bedouin way of life. We had breakfast and watched him building his set - logs, old teapot, dry cattle bones and a local in full desert attire. Even Ismail, his guide, was required to cover up his jeans and Prince T-shirt with local dress and join in the posing!

We spent the day driving around the desert. The wind had died down and we had a rich blue sky and crisp views - just what we needed for some excellent photographs. We finally watched the sun go down from a rocky vantage-point before setting off back to Aqaba.

On the way back, our 4x4 spluttered to a halt at the roadside - as we feared it might! Abdula seemed fairly unfazed by this. After scrambling around under the vehicle for a short while he dived under the bonnet with a plastic bottle full of fuel and, by means unknown, cleared the blocked fuel line that was causing the hold up. Meanwhile, Gunter had started snapping away. His camera flash quickly attracted two police officers who, due to us being outside the entrance of the city's electricity generating station, wanted to confiscate everybody's film. Fortunately our guides quickly, if somewhat vocally, diffused the situation and we continued back into town.

Petra

Petra was next on the agenda. We travelled on a local bus via the winding mountain roads through Wadi Musa. Petra itself - most recently famous for its appearance in 'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade' - was built by the Nabateans in the third century BC. A rather industrious bunch, they mastered hydraulic engineering and lived and traded in the city until around 555 AD when the largest of a succession of earthquakes forced them to relocate. It truly is a fascinating place; the technology employed by the builders alone is awe-inspiring.

Having spent two days clambering amongst the vast ruins we set off, feeling somewhat fitter (read knackered) for the Capital, Amman. First things first and we went straight off to the Dead Sea for a 'float'. Now I have to say this was a most amusing experience, imagine trying to float vertically with buoyancy aids around your ankles and you'll have an idea. Apparently, the water contains so many different minerals and in such vast quantities that it's actually 30% solid - bizarre! Even though it looked like ordinary water, it felt more like an oil. When we got out of the sea, we had a thin layer of salty slim on our skins. The Dead Sea is also the lowest point you can go to on earth - a lot easier to get to than the highest point, although you don't get the same sense of achievement!

The next day we visited a town called Madaba, which has a most extensive and exceptionally well-excavated display of Roman mosaics. However, this was all somewhat overshadowed by the excitement of being able to collect the bike the following day - I was like a kid on Christmas Eve.

Getting the bike back

The time had come to collect the bike. We arrived bright and early at the Royal Jordanian Cargo Office to find, not surprisingly, a fair level of chaos. Thirty or so people, all clutching handfuls of official-looking printed matter, each noisily attempting to attract the attention of the five, seemingly oblivious, desk-bound officials. "Papers" barked an offical-ish looking man who'd approached us. Not having the foggiest idea where to start I obligingly gave him the scrap I had with the freighting reference. "Passport" he said before scampering off to ferret his way to the front of the scrum. He returned within minutes with a new document. "See how much time I save you" he gleefully informed me. "Come".

Another overburdened official was dealt with with similar expediency. "I save you hours" he reminded me "come". Despite the fact that this was patently going to cost us, we decided it was preferable to the headache that doing it ourselves would cause. So, like good little sheep we followed, dishing out the dinars as instructed. Within half an hour we were standing in a busy warehouse with the bike in front of us. Over the next hour I lost count of the number of different offices and rubber stamps we encountered. But as the still palleted bike was fork lifted into the customs truck - a mere one and a half hours after our arrival - I couldn't help but feel that it had been JD50 (50 quid) well spent.

The customs office was, rather oddly, 15 kilometres away. Chaos reined supreme as every known truck driver in the land (or so it seemed) vied for the attention of a single customs officer. This proved to be another exercise in 'not what you know, but who', as our next courier, Yousef, darted from pillar to post. We ran out of time at 3pm, but the next day everything was done and dusted by midday, seven hours and JD100 in all - not bad for Middle East bureaucracy I thought as we throttled off down the road.

Back at the hotel the staff bubbled with excitement, despite me riding straight into the foyer. At being told he would need a helmet if he wanted a ride, the manager rapped his forehead "It's ok, its made of stone" he said (and subsequently didn't get a ride!).

That night we had a celebratory beer, I even splashed out on an imported can of Guinness. We sat on the rooftop terrace of a rather trendy bar looking out over downtown Amman. The surrounding hillside suburbs create a natural ampitheatre. At 9pm the innumerable city mosques burst into prayer almost simultaneously. Their discordant chorus provided an upbeat end to a most satisfying day.

Early the next morning, we were packed and on the road to Syria.

Photographs

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