The pink side writing today. Leaving Jordan by land at the very southern tip of the country was a welcome day because we were anxious to go scuba diving in the Red Sea. We had heard that Ros Mohammad in the southern end of Sinai was meant to be the most spectacular spot with amazing corals and shipwrecks. We crossed over the Aqaba, Jordan border into Eilat, Israel for a short and expensive taxi ride over to the Taba, Egypt border. If you are confused, don't be surprised. These three countries share access to a very important port and bay which gives all three countries shipping lines to the rest of civilization. You can be in the three countries within 15 minutes if you were driving through the border crossings like Starsky and Hutch. Unfortunately, we had to do it the legal way and let the Jordanian, Israeli, and Egyptian border guards ask us all the unnecessary questions, stamp all the silly multi-colored imprints, and charge us all the exhorbinant fees. About a $150 later, we were sitting in the bus stop at the Taba border, gazing at the Red Sea in the warm sun waiting for transport southward. Oh, the warm sun. Short-sleeve weather after 2 months of chilly winter in Turkey and Jordan.

A sign of true travelers and weathered-souls, when the bus station attendant (not much of a bus station, just a dirt path with a one-man hut) told us that the bus wouldn't be leaving for 5 hours, we sat back and just relaxed with not a care in the world. We have finally gotten to the Nirvana state of patience when it comes to long transportation waits. Many other travelers started arriving and got very exasperated at hearing about the long wait and looked at us with amazement at how laid back we were. They were easy targets for the taxis and minibus drivers who were aggressively hassling them about taking their station wagons to the destination of choice for triple what the cost of the bus would be. We were un-flappable. Finally, a group of no less than 10 guys from various corners of the world talked a minibus driver into giving them a good deal. So they asked us to hop in and we just decided to go to their destination, Dahab. We had heard from another traveler that Dahab is a great little town halfway down the Sinai desert where the diving is good and the beach scene fun. We figured we could check it out for a few days before heading to Ros Mohammad.

Before I plunge into the waters of the Red Sea and tell you about Dahab, a few notes about the 4-hour minibus ride. Right before we left the dirt-path bus hut, the loaded minivan had to have a tire changed (of course, all 12 of us passengers inside). Then we headed off at breakneck speed, classic Mario Andretti style of all Third world drivers as you all know well from Chris' famous chicken bus descriptions so I cannot add any other colorful or humoruos descriptions). About an hour into the trip, we then of course had to stop for gas. No joke, we stopped at the only gas station in the middle of the desert with sand as far as the eye could see, wild camels drifiting around in the distance and a few bedoin tents at the base of the majestic desert mountains. The funny part was that the gas pump had no outside shell. You could see the gears as the numbers were clicking by. The driver then rocked the minivan to get the last drop in. Then, about an hour after that, we pulled into a bedoin camp and wondered what next? The driver then shook hands with his friend in the camp and proceeded to disappear for the next 15 minutes. Those of us with small bladders were thankful for the unexpected delay. When the driver returned with all of us just sitting in the minivan, his eyes were suspiciously red and bloodshot and he had become even more sedate and smelled much like Otto's jacket... (Note: Obscure Simpsons reference...) I will let you all come to your own conclusion. Not one of us in the minibus had a doubt.

We zipped along and made it safely to Dahab, thanking our lucky Arabian stars. Dahab is a magical little bubble of a town that is 100% geared for Western travelers looking for a relaxing, kick-back beach scene and spectacular diving. Every hotel, restaurant, shop and dive center is there to cater to budget travelers wanting to do nothing but relax. A little cove with beautiful green-blue water is surrounded by bedoin camps and restaurants. Each restaurant has it's own open-air area covered by carpets and pillows with thatched roofs propped up by rickety poles. There are no less than 40 or 50 such sunken-in carpet-covered 20 foot by 20 foot areas with little tiny tables and pillows for chairs. We loved it instantly and stayed in this town all week. We blew off Ros Mohammad because we enjoyed Dabab so much and we heard that the RM was very expensive with invaded by tour groups from Europe in luxurious resorts.

All weeklong, we stayed at a very cheap backpacker bedoin camp in a very simple, cement room and sparse facilities. But the diving made up for any lack of charm in the camp. Unfortunately, Chris had forgotten to bring his contact lenses with us on the trip so he wasn't able to enjoy the diving. He did try (with glasses on!) but water kept flooding his mask. So I spent the rest of the week taking dives with various other travelers at a dive shop. Chris loved hanging out solo, reading paperbacks and drinking beers, all the while horizontal on some lounge chairs at a nicer hotel on the beach just next to our camp.

The variety of tropical fish and incredible array of colorful corals mesmerized me on every dive. I won't rub salt into Chris' wounds that he couldn't dive, so that's all I will write about diving. Although he lived vicariously through my descriptions afterwards.

We did have an interesting New Year's Eve with an assortment of travelers from Britain, Germany, Canada and other corners of the western world. I wish we could say that we met and got to know some Egyptians while there, but this place was filled with tourists only. After a nice dinner at a local restaurant, we were kicking back under the stars, drinking cold beers and got into a conversation with two British couples. The gentleman on my left made a comment that stopped me in my tracks. He said, "American beers are the worst in the world." I knew that every fiber and hair on Chris' body was ready for an attack. Especially when the guy started backpeddling and said, "...You know...Budweiser is so bad." We had to laugh at that one, because when we were in England, Budweiser was seemingly all anyone drank! I had to say to the guy, "you probably just picked the worst possible thing to criticize about our country since my husband is a brewer." At that point, I wanted to shrink into the cushions to get out of the way of the verbal barrage that I expected from my passionate beer-loving hubby. Fortunately, Chris was the perfect diplomat and was able to effectively change this guy's opinion when we talked about Anchor Steam and other great local brews.

One day when we were taking a break from lazing on the beach or cushions, we decided we couldn't leave the desert without riding a camel. So after fierce haggling, we got ourselves two fine beasts and lurched up into the sky, avoiding camel spit and bedoin dung. For a few bucks, they led us into the Sinai desert and we walked out into the sandy nothingness. Nothing earth-shattering, but very worthwhile.

We ended that day by trying out another new experience which was perfectly legal and quite relaxing. Lit by candlelight and blaring Pink Floyd, we smoked an apple-flavored water pipe, locally called "sheesha". They are beautifully decorated water pipes that sit on the ground and a small amount of tobacco (not hash or any other drug, I swear, Mom!) scented with the flavor of your choice. Can't say that it would be a daily habit but it was the perfect cap to our Middle Eastern adventure.

Chris here now (the sallow one)...
We were sad to leave Sinai with the rugged, barren, jagged mountains behind us and the Saudi Arabian coastline shimmering across the Red Sea (Gulf of Aqaba) from us, but we desperately wanted to experience Israel. Our border crossing from Egypt to Israel was security hell - it took over an hour to go through because they demand to go through EVERYthing you own...including Paige's individual tampons. I'm fascinated to find out what people can really hide in those things. A friend we were with explained that we got off easy - he had been strip-searched a couple years ago for no apparant reason. As we emerged out into the Israeli sunlight to catch a ride to the bus station, we could see the waiting bus surrounded by a group of taxis. We decided to give the taxis a chance to meet or beat the bus price for the four of us (we were with a couple we had met in Dahab). When the taxi driver initially quoted a price that was double what the waiting bus was, I laughed wholeheartedly, knowing that he had just given us complete control in the delicate negociation process. Paige responded with a price that was ridicuolously low, intending to show him that we weren't stupid tourists, but instead he became really offended. Apparantly Israeli taxi drivers for some reason just don't understand the act of negociation. I guess he'd just been getting his way for too long, and he got right in Paige's face, screaming at the top of his voice, "NO WAY FOR YOU!! THIS IS NOT EGYPT, THIS IS ISRAEL!!" with little globuoles of spittle peppering her alabaster complexion. I became livid that this guy could treat my wife like this, and, grabbing Paige's arm, got right in HIS face and screamed, 'WELCOME TO ISRAEL!" ...tactfully leaving out the spit globuoles. By the way, how do you spell "globuole?" Anyway, we were instantly vindicated by the waiting bus who immediately left once we boarded. We wondered what we were in for in Israel - we had heard the people were mean and short tempered, but thankfully after this incident we were only met with warmth and kindness.

We grabbed a bus to Masada, and settled in to enjoy the bleak desert landscape of southern Israel. In Masada, we were dumped off at the sole place to sleep: a dorm hostel where men and women are separated. We didn't care because it was only one night and we were really tired, but we thought it was funny that this place cost more than any place on the whole trip so far since Ireland - $40! Israel is not cheap. In fact, it's as modern and first world as the U.S., and therefore inherently over-priced.

We woke pre-crack (of dawn) to set off climbing the mountain before sunrise. This was not easy. It's a nearly shear cliff climb in desolate, barren, rocky, rugged landscape...in the dark. We were sweating hard by the time we made it (under an hour), and perched ourselves on the east side of the top to watch the sun peak out behind the morning fog on the Dead Sea. Masada is a truly holy place - the site where over 1000 Jewish faithful committed suicide almost 2000 years ago in the face of a Roman strike, it is a huge flat mountain top with dramatic views in all directions, and the site of one of the oldest known synogogues in history. We enjoyed it, but checkout time was a ridiculous 8am, so we had to scurry back down.

We bused to Jerusalem and tried to decide our plan of attack in experiencing this overwhelming city. In my ignorant perception of Israel, I had always pictured constant warring turmoil, bloody skirmishes and general unrest. Oh yeah, and death. My perception was based on the limited and completely biased press that Western countries receive about the Middle East. There are problems in every country. True, Israel's are more military-based than the U.S., but in reality it is probably 100 times safer that New York, Los Angeles, Dallas, or even Modesto. Israelis laugh at Westerners' distorted perception of their country, especially while watching CNN's coverage of the U.S.'s grade-school shoot-outs, gang wars and House of Representatives hearings. Still, getting off that bus into a bustling station literally filled with hundreds of young military men and women all carrying AK-47's slung over their shoulders can be an uneasy reality. After a couple days however, you just get used to these people everywhere - window shopping with AK-47's, ordering Big Macs with AK-47's, buying felafel with AK-47's and the ever-popular talking on cell phones with AK-47's.

We caught a city bus to the Old City of Jerusalem (the walled city), then entered the massive gates in complete human chaos and attempted to battle upstream though the narrow alleyways towards our hostel. The Old City is hands down my favorite city that I've ever visited. Truly fascinating, colorful and one-of-a-kind. It's divided into four quarters: Arab (Muslim), Christian, Jewish and Armenian, and the environment changes significantly as you walk around. During the daytime, the alleys (no cars can go in the Old City) are jam packed with people buying,selling, yelling, smelling...and many more adjectives that don't rhyme. It's pure entertainment.

One morning we got up before the sunrise to hike out to the Mount of Olives (where Jesus was arrested and ascended into heaven) to watch the sun rise over the city. The experience was magical. Totally isolated, we sat at the top of this massive ancient Jewish graveyard overlooking the chasm leading to the eastern walls of the city, then watched the shadow of the sun in front of us slowly climb over the beautiful buildings, churches, mosques and temples of the Old City.

Afterwards, we walked to Bethlehem - a good three hour hike. However, one thing we hadn't counted on was the fact that is was a Friday during Ramadan, and every Friday the Muslim Palestinians travel to Jerusalem from all over to pray. This leads to huge Israeli and Palestinian military factions watching, checking and rechecking your every move. As we left the Old City, we had to pass through thousands of Israeli military personnel preparing for the Mulsim onslaught, and as we entered the outskirts of Bethlehem, we had to pass through the thousand of Palestinian military personnel making sure that an Israeli onslaught didn't try to hinder their travelling progress. Paige and I were caught in the middle, going against the neverending stream of Mulsims - but thoroughly enjoying the unique situation.

Bethlehem is a dive. The cave where Jesus was supposedly born is pretty interesting, but other than that is's ugly, dirty, unwelcoming, and generally of little interest. We were thankful that we hadn't fulfilled our initial plan to get and stay there over Christmas - it would have been too depressing. We did, however, enjoy eating great shwarma within sight of Jesus' birth place, and I for one think he would have appreciated that.

We basically did the "Jesus Tour '99" during our Jerusalem stay - and completely enjoyed it all. Later that same afternoon, back in the Old City, we joined up with a huge group of Franciscan Monks who lead a procession through the 14 stations of the cross down the Via Dolorosa: where Jesus was condemned to die and carried his cross to his place of crucifixion. This in itself was really interesting (especially when at the end we realized that we had experienced Jesus' birth place and death place all in the same day), but the best part of the whole thing was seeing this huge group of Christians (Monks and followers) attempt to navigate the tiny crowded alleyways of the Old City while battling hordes of Mulsims attempting to get to the Mosque for prayer and scores of Jews trying to get to the Western Wall (Wailing Wall) for a Friday evening prayer of their own. Add the huge reality of the Israeli military, and you've got yourself one big party!

One night we really got an itch for a beer, and walked around the alleys for a good hour finding nothing and getting really frustrated. Suddenly we realized that we had limited ourselves to the Arab and Jewish quarters; we immediately changed direction to the Christian quarter where we were warmly met with scores of neon-lit liquor stores. A quirk of society and religion, and we basked in the warm glowing warming glow. (Note: Yet another obscure Simpsons reference...in fact, if you ever are confused by something we write - assume Simpsons...we miss Homer).

Our next destination was on the coast of the Sea of Galilee: Tiberias. This is a beautiful resort area surrounded by green rolling mountains and a gorgeous blue lake. If you didn't know you were deep in Northern Israel (which is difficult to forget when everyone is speaking Hebrew), you'd swear you were plopped down in Cape Cod or maybe San Diego. We rented bikes one morning and spent the day circling the lake (58 km - 33 miles), stopping at the places where Jesus was supposed to have done the loaves and fishes miracle and walked on water, but generally enjoying soaking in the undeveloped landscape and perfect shoreline. This was a relaxing highlight of our trip, and a great way to end our Middle East experience and prepare for India.

Our flight here (to India) was from Amman, so we had to head across the northern border crossing and get to the airport by late afternoon. Previously in Amman, we had visited the main police station and the tourist department to ask about free transit visas if we are just in the country for less than 24 hours and fly out - "Yes of course, no problem at any border," was the answer we received. We were upset to find the truth: that they were either blatantly lying to us, they were out of the loop, or we just don't get Jordanian sarcasm. We found out the hard way that Jordan does NOT issue transit visas (even though we had our tickets AND a note written in Arabic from the airlines - we were prepared for a hassle), and were forced to pay U.S. $50 apiece for the second time in a month to be in Jordan for a scant 6 hours. Some of you with jobs and/or money may skim over this petty amount, but believe me - two people can live very comfortably in India for a whole week - hotels/food/transportation/beer included. 'Nuff said.

As we left the Jordanian border, we were pleasantly surprised to find a bus waiting that was going directly to Amman. JOY! But our initial joy was squashed by a fact of bus travel in Jordan that we had conveniently forgotten: buses don't leave until they're full, and we were the first people on board. The driver turned the motor on as soon as we boarded at 9:30 am (I guess to tease us or something), and it remained in that state for over five straight hours. What are you going to do? We were just happy to make our flight, and arrived at the downtown shuttle office in late afternoon. I wanted to bring this part up because there was something nearby that office that warranted description: an ungodly huge Safeway grocery store. Yes, you read it right. This baby is bigger than ANY grocery store that I've ever seen; spotless, beautiful, two-story with a moving walkway slowly descending to the lower level, and with every kind of department that you can find in a comprehensive American mall. And it's a Safeway. Boy am I glad we have stock in that company. Culture shock in a grocery store.

So here we are in India now - a little worn from our hell-flight that had to make an emergency stop in Pakistan because Delhi was completely fogged in and they had nowhere to go and wouldn't allow us off the plane because India and Pakistan are bitter Cricket rivals - but loving it completely. India WINS. ...and we can't wait to write this next update...

Love,

Gaunt & Sallow