Yesterday, I visited what my program called "Biblical Jordan": the city of Madaba, Mt. Nebo, sites on the Jordanian River (including the reported location of Jesus' baptism), and the Dead Sea. It was an incredible day as I walked into the history of civilization. There was much to be appreciated. The first Church in Madaba with a mosaic map of the region on the floor and a miracle painting in the basement, or humbled at the height of Mt. Nebo seeing the endless stream of mountains, the same sites Moses and the Israelite allegedly saw thousands of years before me; or the sly Jordan River whose plugged flow and arid surroundings minimize its size to an American creek, or was it the salt and mud of the Dead Sea that had its greatest impact...
I cannot certainly tell. The day was sewn along in seamless fashion and each visit seemed only to invite the next. Our first stop was to the ancient churches of Madaba. Now, I have seen many...many an old church in Europe and America but these had a bit of a different charm. Mosaics. I don't mean just one or two small works hanging on the wall. When ancient Christians in Madaba wanted "to mosaic" a church, they weren't fooling around. The entire floors and segments of walls were covered with them. At the first church, a map of the region stretching from Jerusalem to Cairo to the area of the Jordan River was created in mosaic form on the floor. At the second, the entire floor of the church was tiled in mosaic design.
The stores in the streets of Madaba were lined with knic-knac shops boasting a healthy supply of small mosaic pieces, Bedunion carpets,shoes,traditional dress, sand bottles, scarves, dolls...perhaps everything Madaba had to offer was found in approximately 20 shops. We stopped at one and watched an artist create a 'sand bottle' and there I bought a hand-made doll in the region's traditional dress. Oh, and we had a group picture.
From Madaba we went to Mt. Nebo; the site where Moses reportedly saw the land of milk and honey after searching for 40 years...but couldn't enter it. Rumor has it that Moses is buried somewhere in, on, around Mt. Nebo (and looking for his body wouldn't be an easy task). That blows, Moses.
The view from the top of Mt. Nebo was breathtaking. The mountain slipped into the Rift Valley while bits of green popped against the sandy exterior. If I were an Israelite fresh (well maybe not so fresh) out of Egypt, this site would make me happy too. Groups of bible-belt American Christians were scattered in various circles on the edge of the mountain's cliff and nearly every other person held a Bible, Torah, or Quran. The Vatican held a strong presence on the top of Mt. Nebo; they were funding the construction of religious museum. And we took yet another group picture.
We traveled down from Mt. Nebo to the Jordan River (Creek). To all my friends and family from Hainesport, to give you a frame of reference on the size of the Jordan River; the Rancocas Creek is wider. To my friends from South Orange, the Rahway River boasts a wider and healthy supply. Its size is due to mainly two factors: the arid region dwindles its supply capacity and Israel dammed the River at its source to provide water for its Jewish farmers. What I heard of the supply by where I was (near Palestine's West Bank or Jordan's East Bank)? Some predicate that in two years, the River may be completely dry.
At least that was word on the street.
Along the Jordan River, we stopped at three spots. The first one was non- consequential to me as I cannot remember what it was meant to represent but I remember thinking, "that's it? Wait..what's the definition of a river?" The second stop was the reported spot of the baptism of Jesus Christ by St. John. That was kinda a big deal...
At the third spot was where we could actually touch the river. We took a group picture (to get the tidbit of information out of the way).
By this spot was a Church and baptism spot. But across the River-Creek, BAM was the West Bank, Palestine with a flowing, magnificent Israeli flag. Not more than four feet away. The border between Jordan and Palestine (or what some people call Israel)was immediately in front. If I weren't so afraid of landmines, cluster bombs, or being shot by the Israeli army I would have TOTALLY crossed.
But alas, politics is politics and I remained on the safer side of the River-Creek, gazing over to the perhaps the most contested and intriguing regional and global conflict since the 1940's.
I took a few deep breaths as I walked to the bus on route to the Dead Sea and reflected thoughts that would take me days to relate.
Once at the Dead Sea, I had calmed down and my impassioned political desire turned quickly into excited anticipation of going into the Dead Sea. The DEAD SEA! The lowest point on the PLANET...not to mention Palestine at the other side. It wouldn't have taken too long to swim over probably could float...however at this point of the day, I was too hungry and in dire of need of swimming to fully scheme my political will.
We ate. We got into our bathing suits. We went in. No matter what size you are, you float. Literally, float like rubber ducky in a bath tub. My favorite move was spiraling like a torpedo or a mermaid on top of the water. We also looked like otters.
One of my friends stuck his head under the water which is seriously not recommended. I helped him swim to shore because he temporarily couldn't see. Too much salt in the water. But after he gloated, "For a second, I was the lowest man on earth." I was fine with just being one of the lowest women on earth.
Our amazement of floating in the Dead Sea didn't diminish quickly. Easily for the first 1/2 hour of floating, we just talked about how AWESOME it was. I repeatedly said, "This is by far the most incredible thing I've ever done." AND I didn't get burned. I also didn't want to leave.
After slathering ourselves in Dead Sea mud and floating in the Sea for two hours, it was time to return to Amman. As I changed into my dry clothes and established my seat on the bus, a haunting, apprehensive feeling overtook me: homework. After such an incredible day of basking in the sun, private political brainstorms, gazing over the land of milk and honey, and group pictures (recognizing a trend?)I needed to return to my Jordanian family's house and study for the next three hours easily.
But that studying payed off. Today was by far the best day I've had in class. Thus far, my reestablishment of my belief in learning this language has been a success.
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