Aqaba! Aqaba!
Aqaba, Jordan
November 7, 2008
Aqaba, Jordan
November 7, 2008
My only knowledge of Aqaba is via David Lean’s epic Lawrence of Arabia and is limited to the scene where the Arab revolutionaries charge out of the desert sabers and guns rattling overhead warbling “Aqaba! Aqaba!”.
My own arrival was less dramatic. Squeezed between a chain-smoking Jordanian student and an enormous Egyptian businessman in the back of a battered “serveece” taxi, I was forced to whisper “Aqaba!” under my breath and the only thing waving over my head was my backpack as I made my escape. I didn’t have high hopes for the port city despite it’s promising location on the Red Sea. My first wander around town didn’t do much to raise expectations. In an attempt to stimulate development to rival the nearby Israeli and Egyptian coastal resorts, the Jordanian government has declared Aqaba a Free Economic Zone. The immediately visible result of this in the town center is a bizarre transitory population of Middle Eastern tourist hunting out bargains on imported cosmetics and toasters and Eastern European tourists hunting down the “real Middle East” outside the pristine grounds of their luxury 5-star resorts.
After seeing the Red Sea and enjoying a dinner of respectable Chinese food (my first meal not involving a chickpea in over a month) I was ready to pack the bag and strike Aqaba off the list. However the guide book spoke tantalizingly of cheap beach side accomodation with easy access to the legendary coral reefs of the Red Sea. A few hours later I was checked in to a $8 a night (including breakfast) hut and deciding which of my EMS quick-dry sports bras and knickers combos could pass most convincingly for a swimming costume. With mask, snorkely and flippers in hand I walked a few meters across the road and down the beach and staggered into the warm, crystal clear waters of the Red Sea.
I haven’t attempted snorkeling since I was about 7 years-old on annual family camping holiday to the beach on the French mediteranean coast. My brother was a natural but I floundered around sucking in great gasps of salt water and gave up after 10 minutes. I was mildly apprehensive of repeating the experience but convinced myself that somewhere along the way 30 years later I would have acquired the ability to breath through my mouth consistently without panicking. It turns out I was right and was what a treat I’d given myself! I didn’t quite know what to expect but I never imagined that 5 meters offshore I’d be staring through a misty face mask at a scene straight from the pages of National Geographic. I was surrounded by incredible beauty – hundreds of brightly coloured little fish of all varieties floated in front of my face. I flippered around in awe for over an hour completely oblivious to breathing through a plastic tube. I could have stayed there all afternoon if I hadn’t succumbed to the chill of the early November water temperature. The next day I was back in again and was rewarded with a close encounter with a stunning Manta Ray (or some variety of ray) as well as a charmingly fantastic-looking Tiger Fish. Again, the chill drove me out well before I’d had my fill but I’d seen enough to mark Aqaba in my mind as one of the most memorable travel experiences to date.
