By Brendan Seery
Amman, Jordan - Like many things in life which are not as easy as they look, floating in the Dead Sea can be a tricky thing to master.
My feet and knees are well above the salty water (so bad you are warned not to get it in your eyes), as are my head and shoulders. This, for those of you who are not regular gym bunnies (I am the president of that society) is the position your personal trainer would call a stomach crunch.
And if your abs are like mine – let’s say somewhat relaxed now after a lifetime of athletic competition – it hurts like hell.
Turning over on to your stomach doesn’t help. The body bows the other way – and if one side is weak, chances are the other also hurts.
Trying to move from back to front is 10 times more difficult than it is in a dam or swimming pool, neither of which has the stratospheric levels of salts and unnatural buoyancy of the Dead Sea. I look at the rocky slope of the Jordan shore of the sea and contemplate ending this silliness. Then I get it.
The way to deal with the absurd situation is to sit-squat upright as if you are in a chair, using your hands as flippers to propel and steer yourself. Easy on the back and stomach and you have a better view.
That view is, like all deserts, the image of a beauty that is terrifying – because you know it will kill you if you don’t have your wits about you. And that is just the natural extremes: temperatures can hit the upper 40ºCs here, the lowest place on Earth.
The Dead Sea is about 400m below sea level, something that requires repeated mental recalibrating to visualise. It’s strange to think you are below the oceans.
I plaster myself with Dead Sea mud – which is said to make your skin softer. It’s dark and oily, like car grease, and it is also salty enough to make my face sting. Tip No 1 for Dead Sea male visitors: don’t shave before you go into the water.
When I wash the mud off, though, my skin is noticeably softer.
The deserts of the Middle East are no place for softies, though.
But these days the Jordan Tourist Board is going out of its way to convince visitors that the country’s natural beauty is not at all threatened by things like Islamic State or internal dissent.
We are here as guests of Ford, to drive its range of all-wheel-drive and 4x4 SUVs through the desert from the Dead Sea to Aqaba in the south of the country, at the head of the Red Sea.
The drive will accomplish in one day what the famous TE Lawrence – Lawrence of Arabia – took weeks to do 100 years ago. The centenary of his taking of Aqaba is next week, making the drive perfectly timed.
It is also an opportunity to reflect, as we sit on the terrace of the Kempinsky Hotel in Aqaba, looking across the gulf at Israel in the distance, what might have been had history taken a different turn a century ago.
Historian William Dalrymple, an acknowledged expert on Lawrence, tells us the British Army officer was so fed up with his government’s reneging on promises to his Arab friends and soldiers in his guerrilla army that he resigned his commission and turned down the knighthood he was offered.
Dalrymple also sketches the background to what was a “sideshow” in World War I – showing how perfidious the British Empire was in those days.
Although the Turks of the Otto-man Empire – which controlled much of the Middle East for centuries – were reluctant to enter the war on the side of Germany, the First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill, gave them the reason they needed to side with the Germans.
He ordered the seizure of two almost-completed Dreadnought battleships being built for Turkey in England, even though these had been fully paid for.
When the Turks entered the war on the side of Germany, London considered it important that the Turks be given a hard time in Arabia.
Lawrence, a great admirer of the Arabs and their culture, was able to recruit the Arabs to the cause of the Allies – fighting against their Muslim brothers – by promising them post-war freedom and independence.
The British government not only reneged on that promise, but later issued the Balfour Declaration, which in effect paved the way for the establishment of the state of Israel after World War II and the endless violence in the area since.
Dalrymple says simply: “What was done then still has ramifications today. The state of Israel would not exist. But nor would Isis.”
Islamic State in Iraq and Syria is involved in Syria, north of Jordan, and in Iraq, to the east, but it is not fear of IS that leads to our convoy’s visit to the ancient city of Petra being cancelled.
We are told police have closed the area after people burned tyres and puts rocks in the road. It’s a protest, apparently, about forced removals that occurred when Petra became a World Heritage Site.
Plan B is derailed when a visit to a Crusader fortification in another area is called off after advice from our police escort, who say there is also unrest there.
This, however, does not to appear to be the norm in the Hasemite Kingdom of Jordan, one of the most stable countries in the Middle East.
Tourism is an important component of the economy and Dr Abdel Razzaq Arabiyat, managing director of the Jordan Tourism Board, tells us his country is one that “promises an authentic experience, it is rich with history and natural wonders”.
Most important, he says, “we pride ourselves with our genuine Bedouin hospitality”.
That hospitality is in evidence in Wadi Rum, one of the top three tourism sites in Jordan, after the Dead Sea and Petra.
After a drive through the rock and sands of the desert to Wadi Rum, we are glad the Fords are 4x4s, because there is thick sand to negotiate.
At the “Captain’s Camp” just outside the town of Wadi Rum, we are welcomed into a touristy recreation of a Bedouin camp – flowing tents anchored with thick ropes against the sometimes fierce desert winds. For lunch, we are treated to a traditional meal of chicken and lamb that has been cooking in an underground oven, covered with sand, for more than a day. The food is perfectly cooked and tasty. As we sit on the low wooden couches and tables, we are serenaded by two men playing a ukulele-like guitar and a bongo drum.
I am fascinated by the music, which is not at all what I would have associated with Arabic rhythms. It sound more like Spanish guitar music.
Highlight of the day’s trip is a re-enactment of the capture of a Turkish train by Arab camel- and horse-mounted guerrillas in World War I.
Granted, the authenticity is slightly lost when the train is pulled by a diesel, rather than a period steam, locomotive, but the uniformed “troops” on the train and the ambushers are equipped with enough pyrotechnics to make the bangs and flashes seem real enough.
As I watch the “engagement” unfolding (I have elected to jump in a South African-made Ford Ranger to watch, rather than on the train, as others do), I wonder what on earth people would want to fight over. There is nothing here.
That evening, though, as we head back to the luxurious Kempinsky Hotel on the Dead Sea, where we had started our journey two days earlier, the air glows gold as the sun sinks.
There is something about this place…
l www.visitjordan.com
Saturday Star