By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
The sweet smell of diesel smoke flooded the crisp desert air. A tyre iron presses hard into my side, jabbing sharply over and over. My flesh blackening like a bruised apple. I have no idea where I am going and there’s no turning back now. With every agonizing second, I inhale deeply and smile. This is what real journeys are made of. Clawing the side of a beat-up old ute, my blistered hands are throbbing. I struggle to cover my shoulders with a shawl in attempt to stop the scorching sun burning my fair skin. Ibrihim, self-anointed ‘best guide in Jordan’, sits opposite me. Casually reclining on the rusted wheel arch, he outstretches his hand making an offering of warm chai. “Some tea?” Politely, I decline with a soft smile and a wave. Throwing his head back, he laughed at my refusal of his kind gesture – “it’s because you are clumsy!” Clutching his side, he laughed in hysterics despite his admirable reputation. Still childishly giggling, he smugly took effortless mouthfuls of tea as we bounced around recklessly in the tray of a ute that was older than I. Hours passed. We chased the rapidly setting sun before it kissed the Middle Eastern deserts goodnight. I pondered if we would ever make it to wherever it was that we were going. “We get there soon, I promise” Ibrihim reassures every so often, though his smile is reassurance enough. His face was weathered from the harsh climate bearing permanent scars of happiness etched deep in the creases of his cheeks and brow where his smile forms. The sky turned crimson red welcoming the night. Our driver cemented his foot firm on the accelerator. We were running out of time as the sun sank deep into the sandy dunes of Wadi Rum. “Arrive soon, I hope” Ibrihim nervously chuckled. I contemplated asking where exactly we were going or how long does it usually take to get there, but was there any point? We’d already come so far. We had to rely on our driver to know these ‘so called’ roads. The everchanging roads of the Bedouin. Every fibre of my being ached from being thrown around the tray like muddled ingredients in a cocktail shaker. Sand lashed my bare skin as the driver forced these poor old tyres through the seemingly endless desert. Creaking and squeaking we hightailed it to destination ‘unknown’. This loyal car needed a rest, and so do I. I’m exhausted. But still, I wear a smile bigger than the bruises I’m sure to discover all over my battered body. This is what I came for. This is what I had been searching for. A journey to well, somewhere. Somewhere in the Middle East. Screeching to a sudden halt, I near fell out of the tray. “Ahhh traffic” Ibrihim concludes. Traffic!? In the darkness of the literal middle of nowhere? “See? Traffic. Middle Eastern style!” he added, pointing to a herd of camels blocking our path. “We’re close now” he confirmed smiling and rubbing his belly. Stars guiding the way, our driver plodded toward our destination with purpose. Smells of a wood fire burning begins to fill our nostrils, consuming the diesel fumes. Soft flickers of lanterns in the distance brings a Bedouin desert camp into focus. Sounds of laughter, flutes and bleating camels beckon our arrival. Peeling my tender body off the hard steel I clamber to my feet to stretch. Surely my rib is bulging out of my side by now? I can’t feel my foot anymore, is that still attached? As I sluggishly search my body for extruding bones or missing limbs, Ibrihim watches amused and unscathed. “C’mon Crystal, we have arrived!” He excitedly bellowed. Ibrihim helped me, not so graciously, climb out of the back of the ute and stagger towards the intoxicating aromas of our destination. “Tonight, we have Zarb.” Ibrihim declared proudly resting his hands gently on his hips. “Traditional Bedouin style BBQ” he explained as he motioned to a fire pit nearby. “This is reason we travel all day. Destination dinner!” proud as he was, he still giggled. We arrived, finally. Still, to this day to an unknown location other than to ‘dinner’.