Dive-bombed in Eilat, Israel

 

 

After two wonderful days exploring Petra, it was time to head our separate ways. Jordi decided to stay in Jordan and head to the desert of Wadi Rum. Pedro moved on as well. Alf and Gerrit were heading to Israel. The other two German friends we met and hiked with left for Israel the day before. My mind was churning out all the possibilities. Head back to Dahab and chill on the beach for a few days before I make my way to Cairo? Or go with Alf and Gerrit to Israel and check out Jerusalem for three or four days?  I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to go to Israel. I was just worried about the border crossing and worried about making it back to Cairo in time. It won’t be a problem, they assured me.  It didn’t take much to talk me into it.  I’m going.  Let’s do it.

We headed to the bus station in Wadi Musa and nabbed a bus headed for Eilat, the border between Jordan and Israel.

We had absolutely no problems crossing the border. My fears were washed away. That wasn’t bad at all. We walked out of the Israel passport control building, hailed a taxi to Eilat, and were on our way. We reached the bus station in Eilat and grabbed a ticket for departure to Jerusalem. Having a few hours to burn, we dropped off our bags in storage and headed off in the direction of the beach for a bite to eat.

Over my time in Egypt and Jordan I have been living in a conservative environment, which means almost all the women are covered, either so just their face is showing or just the slits of their eyes are showing. Over time I really began to appreciate and grow a fondness for how some of the more colorful outfits worn matched. For instance, the scarves the women wore matched the rest of the outfit. Each girl was dressed differently, unless she wore all black which was used to draw less attention to oneself. I began to understand the beauty that can emanate from someone by the way the colors match, the way the scarf is wound around the head to quietly accentuate parts of the face.  It was a surprising revelation when I discovered this.  It had slowly grown on me and then one day in Egypt the revelation went off like a light bulb. It was during our stay in Aswan while our group was being given a tour of a perfume shop by a lovely young lady in her twenties. That was the first time it dawned on me.  The second time it dawned on me came while traveling through Jordan.  There I saw many women that I felt were particularly lovely, especially with or perhaps in spite of the amount of covering they wore to hide all areas except the face.  I grew to develop a certain fondness and respect for that type of attire.  I really did.

Now having said that, we crossed the border into the beach town of Eilat and into a wholly different world. It seemed like there were stunningly gorgeous women everywhere!  There were women wearing skirts.  Mini-skirts!  Tank tops sprouted left and right.  And tank tops meant cleavage.  And the legs.  Oh my the long legs!  Our eyes were popping out of our head in sensory overload.  It wasn’t just me.  Both the German boys were staring with half-open jaws as well.  We turned to each other and grinned in understanding.  It was like we had turned 13 again.

“Do you think they are mostly average looking girls with beautiful ones sprinkled in and we just think they are all gorgeous since we haven’t seen skin in a long time?”, one of the German boys asks.  I think so, I reply.  That’s got to be it.

We entered the shopping mall which was situated right on the beach.  It was a standard Western shopping mall with all the trappings.  And that meant girls looking at jewelry, girls looking at skimpy beach clothes, and girls looking at lingerie.  Oh boy.

Luckily for us, the sensory overload began to dissipate as time went on.  We grabbed something to eat and headed back towards the bus station.

Let me say that the shopping mall is on a beach about 50 yards from the water, and directly across the street from the shopping mall in the opposite direction is an airport. When we were walking towards the shopping mall and saw the airport we said to each other “Surely this can’t be a functioning airport? Or if it is only tiny planes must land here.”  Well, on our way out of the shopping mall while heading back towards the train station we got absolutely dive-bombed by a Boeing 737.  We couldn’t believe it.  Stunned would be a great way to describe our reaction.

 

 

In fact, stunned would be a great way to describe our reaction all that day.  Stunned by the ease with which we were able to enter Israel.  Stunned at getting dive-bombed by an airplane.  And stunned at getting dive-bombed by beautiful girls all around us.