And Yea Verily Sayeth We!Beholdeth The Dead Sea!

Leaving Damascus, we travelled in the truck across the semi-arid landscape of southern Syria to the Jordanian border, where the cult of personality transformed, reflected in huge murals, from the mandate-less, British-educated, goose stepping, pinheaded, chinless, ophthalmologist fascist, Assad, to the similarly mandate-less, Sandhurst-trained, Hashemite royal, King Hussein.  Compared to Syria it was immediately apparent that Jordan was cleaner, more organised and five times more expensive.  There was also an element of confidence, bordering on arrogance, among the populace that was notably absent in Syria.

A bit about the truck: the truck was a big yellow, customised Scania 4x4 with a retractable top and translucent canvass sides.  It was an ex-refrigeration truck and therefore had the benefit of insulation. The driver sleeps in a bunk behind the seats in the cabin, whilst the guide sleeps on a section raised several feet above the floor of the rear of the truck.  The retractable section of the truck's roof is above the guide's sleeping area, hence it is known as The Beach.  Travellers can lie or kneel on it while the truck is moving, watching the world go by or catching some sun.  And it was named Twiga.

On the way to the Dead Sea, we stopped in Amman for lunch at an enormous glitzy shopping mall and stocked up on water, bread and snacks, then proceeded via Dhiban where some of the locals greeted us by making pistols with their hands and firing at us.  I haven't seen such a peaceful welcoming since Tijuana back in '97.  A couple of hours prior to sunset we arrived atop Mt Nebo overlooking the Jordan River Valley, the Dead Sea and across to the West Bank and Israel.  We prepped a campfire, laid out the Wadi mat, cooked dinner and sank beers as the sun set and the lights of Ramallah, Bethlehem, Nazareth, Jerusalem and Tel Aviv came on.  The stars were incredible; but not as good as when viewed from New Zealand.  Apparently.

Oops! Wrong direction!

Andy M., Andy B. and Brad riding The Beach

Zoe atop of Twiga

Brekkie at the Jordanian Border

Jason setting up the fire at Mt Nebo

Twiga at Mt Nebo

The Dead Sea from Mt Nebo

Desalinating after a dip in The Dead Sea

The next morning, after a cold, windy night and occasional disturbance by roaming Bedouin dogs, we headed off down the long windy road to the Dead Sea; stopping occasionally so that Jordanian soldiers could board the bus and perve at the girls.  The mercury broke 40C as we floated effortlessly, buoyed in the black brine, and caked ourselves in the mineral rich and incredibly salty mud (tip: do not get it in your eyes).  We desalinated ourselves by going canyoning in Wadi Mujib, where the local fish helpfully nibbled away, cleaning dead skin anywhere they could get to.  After lunch we drove another two hours to Wadi Musa from where we would explore Petra.