Bathrobe Memories

This blog was originally going to start with the wonderful title of "As I write this, I'm wearing a bathrobe," but I am not wearing a bathrobe, and like George Washington, who never famously cut down a cherry tree, never said, "I cannot tell a lie." I would be wearing a bathrobe, but I had to take it off before going to dinner.

Let me narrate the events that led toward me wearing a bathrobe. It all started this morning when my family left our hotel in Eilat, Israel to go to the country of Jordan and tour the ancient city of Petra. After eating a breakfast provided by the hotel, we went to the border, got our passports checked, and walked into the no-mans-land between the two countries. For three minutes, I was walking on dry land, but I wasn't inside a country. It was a strange feeling.

We walked through the gate and came out in Jordan, thus necessitating the change of my blog's title from "Trip To Israel" to "Trip To Israel Then Jordan But Not For As Long Then Back To Israel Just For A Night And Then Home." On the Jordanian side of the border, we used some not-very-nice restrooms (Jordanian Tourism Board, get on the job), and met our tour guide, Aladdin.

Sorry, wrong one.

On left. Kinda looks like Dustin Hoffman, right?

Dustin Aladdin led us through Petra, an ancient city once ruled by the Greeks and then the Romans, with influences from both clear. The cool thing about Petra is that all the buildings of the city are built into mountains. All they had to do was take out some stone in the right places, and Voila! A building would appear right before your eyes.

Examples.

The people who lived in Petra were much more concerned with the afterlife than their own day-to-day lives, so tombs and religious sites stand out a lot more than living spaces. This is the Treasury, a temple. It's big.

Along the trail, there were many Bedouins (a native people) trying to sell us rides through Petra on donkey, horse, and camel. As Aladdin (the guide, not the fictional character) said, "They will say to you, 'my horse is named Shakira, my horse is named Michael Jackson.' Don't pay them anything." At first, the salespeople were annoying, but by the time we were going back to the hotel on the 2.5 mile walk in the ninety-degree heat, they were looking pretty good. Too bad we didn't have any Jordanian money.

Back at the hotel, sweating like buckets, we jumped into the pool, turned into icicles and climbed out. A couple hours later, I showered. I've discovered over these past couple of days of living in hotels that I have a love/hate relationship with handheld shower heads. They're annoying to use, but the water is so comfortable. Sometimes they even annoy other people, like yesterday when I sprayed water all over the bathroom floor before my sisters could shower.

So far, I have been meandering betwixt and between, but now I come to the meat of my story. After showering, I wore the bathrobe the hotel provided. It was comfortable.

Huh. That wasn't that exciting.