Thailand: The Land of Smiles, Part 2

...closing my eyes tight, and holding on for dear life, I started to pray: "Lord, if you allow me to arrive at my hotel safe and sound, I promise that I will NEVER get on another one of these damn bikes again! Please Lord!! PLEEESE!!!" It seemed at though God was preoccupied with other, more serious concerns because no matter how much I begged and pleaded, my prayers seemed to fall upon deaf ears...I was too deeply engrossed in seeing my life flash in front of my eyes to realize that my prayers had been answered: the little motorbike had delivered me safe and sound to my hotel...THANK YOU LORD! Hands trembling like a drunk deprived of his cheap bottle of ripple and going through violent withdrawals, I slowly climbed off the little bike, thanked the driver, and staggered up to my room, fell into bed, and was instantly enveloped in a deep dark haze of blackness.

Earlier that day...

Rising at 5:30 a.m. that morning, and quickly gobbling down breakfast, I met the tour guide at 6:30 a.m. in the hotel lobby. Since Bangkok traffic is among the worst in the world, we had to leave early enough to beat the rush hour traffic.

Bangkok

Ayuthaya, the capital of Bangkok, is known for its beautiful pagodas, buddhist temples, and statutes. Meandering around the beautiful gardens and marveling at the temples, I felt a profound level of calmness and serenity. After a long and wonderfully tiring day spent exploring the pagodas of Ayuthaya, I decided to spend the evening hunting for Thai souvenirs at the Siam Night Market in Bangkok. After Mr. Toad's Wild ride back to the hotel that evening, I woke up refreshed and ready to experience as much as I could over the next 15 days.

Over years I'd been told by friends and strangers alike that I should visit Thailand when the opportunity presented itself. Perceiving the Land of Smiles as a place that catered mainly to Western men, I'd made up my mind that Thailand definitely would NOT be a place in which a single, middle-aged black woman would fit in.....boy, was I wrong!

I had a blast!! The people were friendly, the food was delicious, and there were tons of interesting and exciting places to see, as well as fun activities to partake in. Possessing an outgoing and bubbly personality, I would chat up the hotel staff regarding places to see and things to do. Afterwards, I would set out on my own - exploring unknown side streets, alleyways, and street markets in the Sukhumvit area. It was on one of my impromptu walking excursions through the local neighborhood, that I stumbled upon a restaurant that was off the beaten path, but was well known due to its interesting and unusual name! The odd name referring to the founder's belief that condoms should be as cheap as veggies; and no prizes for guessing what you'll get after dinner instead of an after-dinner mint. After checking the menu and finding the prices too rich for my taste, I opted to take these photos instead.

Each day held the promise of a brand new adventure: visiting the world famous Thai floating market early in the morning, and watching snake charmers capture leaping snakes with their bare hands and teeth in the late afternoon.









Pattaya: Coral Beach Island

After spending five days in Bangkok, enduring traffic jams and exhaust fumes, I decided to take and all day excursion down to Pattaya to enjoy the sea and do a bit of swimming. As the boat sailed from Pattaya over to the small island of Ko Lan (Coral Beach), I was asked by my tour guide if I was interested in parasailing. Terrified of high places, I initially declined. However, curiosity and a willingness to try something new, overrode my fears and I gave it a go. Once the boat took off and I became airborne, my initial fears dissipated and I had the most A-W-E-S-O-M-E experience!!!

Chang Mai

Finding the Thais to be very warm and approachable, I was able to make friends with both the hotel staff and strangers I encountered fairly easily. With my new found tour guides, I has a great time getting to know them and and visiting various places of interest (both in Bangkok and Chang Mai) from a locals point of view - not to mention saving money on the local transportation due to receiving the local fare rather than the overpriced rates charged to foreigners. Venturing into a local Chang Mai pub to shoot a game of pool, we encountered a family that was enjoying a very healthy, and definitely creepy looking appetizer as they enjoyed a game of pool. Now, I've always admired the petite frames of the majority of Thais; however, if having a small frame means eating high protein, low fat insects, I think that I'll pass!!!

A long time lover of mainstream Thai cuisine, I signed up for an all day cooking class in Chang Mai. Prior to beginning the lesson, we were taken to a local market to purchase fresh vegetables and spices. Amazed at myriad of different ingredients that were used to prepare even the simplest of meals, giving each delicacy a delicious - and extremely spicy flavor, I was quite proud of the results.

The Golden Triangle

Nearing the end of my days in Chang Mai, and not one to pass up a unique opportunity, I made a last minute decision to visit the Golden Triangle: The Thailand, Burma (Myanmar), and Laos boarders.


On the way to the triangle, we stopped at the Long Neck Hill Tribe village. The young girls in the photo were singing happily as I strolled up and snapped their photo.


In Laos I gave in to the persistent coaxing of a very persuasive Laotian shopkeeper to sample his snake whiskey - free of charge. I reluctantly took a sip and decided that - even though it tasted like regular whiskey, the idea of dead cobras, scorpions, and other varieties of snakes fermenting inside didn't sit very well with my stomach. Therefore, if I never have the opportunity to taste the stuff again, that would be mighty fine with me.

Hua Hin

As my final days in Thailand drew nearer, I looked forward to spending some time with the boss - yes, you read correctly - who is originally from New Zealand, but owns lovely vacation home in a little village located in the southern part of Thailand called, Hua Hin.

You may recall at the beginning of my post, in which I swore I'd never get on another motorbike again.....well....I lied. Not only did I ride on one in Chang Mai (and enjoyed it!) I rode with my boss on her bike and enjoyed it even more! You see, the darn things were growing on me!! I enjoyed my time in Thailand and look forward to returning, once again, to the Land of Smiles.

Thailand: The Land of Smiles, Part 1

It was almost midnight, and I was tired, cranky, and lost!!! Exiting the subway after leaving the night market, I had no idea which direction I was or should have been heading. Turning left instead of turning right, my sense of direction blurred and cloudy due to sheer exhaustion, I walked into what looked like the Red Light District almost bumping into and tripping on the high stilletto heels of sexily dressed Thai prostitutes. A sweet smelling young Thai girl passed by laughing demurely, walking arm-in-arm with her much older, Caucasian escort. WHERE THE @*&% IS THE DAMN HOTEL!!!! My body, which was practically ready to collapse at this point, screamed in both agony and frustration. Images of my soft warm bed, the covers turned back, beckoning me like a sensuous lover calling out to his mistress, filled my sleep deprived brain.

Nearing a complete meltdown, I was desperate and prepared to hail the next taxi or Tuk-Tuk driver that I saw, when I stumbled upon a 24 hour service station. In a lame attempt to try and describe the location of the hotel (I'd foolishly left the hotel address and phone number on my dresser), the attendant, not knowing or understanding where I wanted to go, asked a customer with a motorbike, who was pumping gas next to us, if he would take me. Unsure of where I wanted to go as well... neither one of us speaking the other's language very well... I jumped on back of the motorbike throwing years of the warning: NEVER ACCEPT RIDES FROM STRANGERS, and caution to the wind.

Squeezing the Thai driver's waist tightly (Thais are very small boned). I cringed as he squealed out in pain. It seems as though my souvenir bags, which I'd purchased earlier that evening, were pressing uncomfortably against his family jewels. Embarrassed and apologizing profusely, I lifted the small packages high enough so as not to cause any more discomfort. It was imperative that this guy devote his full concentration on driving; any unnecessary distractions could prove to be fatal for the both of us.

Before I could catch my breath, the little motorbike shot off, like an amusement park roller coaster ride, into a cacophony of headlights and exhaust fumes. Weaving in and out of traffic, like a hungry mouse charging relentlessly through a maze in search of a moldy piece of cheese, we raced in and around moving cars that appeared to have no sense of direction, and absolutely NO desire to slow down - until the minute before you were sure your legs were going to be crushed. The wind blowing in my hair (I had no helmet to protect my skull) and blinded by painfully bright red and yellow headlights, I was amazed at my new found ability to pray in languages that I'd never even heard of, and ones that I had heard of, but never possessed the ability to speak - until now....

To be continued...

A Night At the Burj

Although I had passed by and taken numerous photos of the famous Burj Al Arab hotel, I had never had the opportunity to set foot inside - until now. My boss, Marian, was having a birthday celebration and invited a few of her colleagues to join her for drinks at the Burj.

The first 7 star hotel that I'd ever set foot in, wasn't as over the top as I'd heard. Arriving a few minutes early, we were escorted to the lounge, which was beautifully decorated with a lovely , and gigantic Christmas tree with all of the trimmings. Pretending as though we were amongst the noveau rich, we took turns posing and hamming it up for the camera.

After what seemed like and eternity, finally, it was our turn to embark upon the much anticipated elevator ride to the infamous 14th floor, were we would enjoy delicious, albeit expensive, adult beverages. A couple of my drinking buddies - unable to decide what they wanted to order from the menu - decided to have the bartender - a prim, proper and meticulous German from Munich - create his own concoction of drinks, which they were asked to create names for. Helanie, who hails from South Africa, chose to call her drink, "Helanie Berry." Marie, who hails from Canada, named her drink, 'Allie's Surprise," after her 18 year-old daughter Allie.

Laughing and giggling like teenage school girls, we gorged ourselves both on the free snacks, and savored the stunning panoramic evening view of the Dubai skyline that stretched out all around us from our seats as sparking city lights twinkled and glimmered like dancing ballerinas in the distance below.

Around 9 p.m., high on alcohol and good company, we stumbled out of the bar, back down the 14 flight elevator ride, and out into the pleasantly warm Dubai night air. Some of us, including myself, paired off in groups and went out to a local restaurant for a late night meal, while the rest headed off for home and a nice warm bed.

Champagne wishes and caviar dreams......

Weekend Getaway: Muscat, Oman

The Jewel of the Gulf is the best description that I can think of to describe Oman. From its warm and hospitable people, to its lovely warm turquoise beaches, and varied landscape, Oman lives up to its name.


Upon entering the city of Muscat, I was impressed by the gorgeous landscaping, and overall cleanliness of the city. The abundance of flowers, green grass, and palm trees (remember, this is the desert) contrasted with the white Arabic styled buildings, reminded me a little bit of Santorini, Greece.

Wanting to make contact and get to know the locals, I used every opportunity to chat up strangers. In doing so, I was able to obtain a little bit of insight into the day-to-day life of the Omani people. During a city tour, my tour guide took Mary and I down to the local fish market where we had the opportunity to meet his dad, who was a fisherman.


We spent about an hour chatting, drinking tea, and listening to wild and hair raising fishing tales that my tour guide's father experienced during his many fishing excursions over the years.

I was especially pleased to see that many of the Omani people looked very much like African Americans. Warm, and friendly, their warm smiles made me welcome as I approched them and asked questions about life in Oman. Although it was only a short weekend getaway, it was enough to temporarily satisfy my insatiable appetite for travel until my next travel fix.

Next adventure: Thailand - the land of smiles...

Belly Dancing and Henna Classes

Not much of a dancer, and seriously lacking in the rhythm department, I was initially reluctant to sign up for belly dancing classes at the Sharjah Ladies' Club. Hearing how much fun it was, however, gave me the push that I needed to go ahead and give it a shot. Although I find many of the moves difficult to execute, I am having fun (and amusing my fellow classmates) trying. The music has a fantastic beat, is great to dance to, and the instructor - who moves so gracefully, and effortlessly - is fun to try and emulate. "What's the matter with you?" she jokingly chides me. "You're black! You're supposed to be born with natural rhythm." I jokingly reply, "I went to the restroom when God was handing out rhythm, and missed the beat."

With that said, what is a belly dancer without beautiful henna designs to adorn her graceful body as she swirls and sways to the pulsating Arabic beat?? Henna design is a tradition in both Arabic and Indian cultures. Both Indian and Arabic women have their bodies painted with elaborate and exotic designs prior to their wedding nights. I love the way that my young female students have their fingers, hands, arms, toes, feet, and legs covered in various henna decorations. They look soooo adorable! Although I am not the best at drawing henna designs, I have been improving bit by bit, and feel relatively comfortable applying simple henna decorations to females who are brave enough to let me experiment on them.


The picture of this flower is my very first attempt a creating a henna design on an actual person. The picture below is my second attempt. This time, the instructor had us draw our designs on our hands. My hand is the one on the left with the palm facing upwards.



Who knows, perhaps with practice, I'll become good enough to set up a small booth, and bring in a little extra income applying henna tattoos along the Venice Beach strip back home in sunny Southern California!

Ladies' Night Out

I first met Camille several months ago at the Sharjah Ladies' Club - the local women's only health and fitness spa and club. We were enrolled in a Pilates class together. Camille is an African American Muslim who is married to an Algerian man and has three adorable and rambunctious children. She has been living in the Emirates for about three years now. Stunningly beautiful with a million dollar smile, her bubbly and vivacious personality make her hilarious and great fun to be around.


She invited me to her belated birthday party (originally born in September, which is the Muslim holy month of Ramadan, she postponed the celebration until November), where I was introduced to several other American ladies who were married to local men and had been living in the Emirates for the past couple of decades.


Initially intimidated by the black abayas that the women were wearing, I was immediately put at ease as they revealed their wild, wacky, and stereotypically loud and funloving, American personalities. The evening turned out to be a blast, ending with Camille standing up and singing the song, "Dare to Love" from the opera, "Carmen Jones." She sang it so beautifully, everyone sat in awed silence, savoring every lyric. When she finished, the whole restaurant gave her a thunderous applause. My birthday's coming up soon, and I told Camille that I am looking forward to having her sing at my party as well.

Jordan: A Journey Back In Time...Part 3

Walking along the dusty, and bustling main road through Petra's centuries old ruins, I marveled at how such a magnificent city could be carved out of stone and rock without the assistance of modern day tools, machines, or technology! At first glance, it looked like an elaborate set from a Hollywood action adventure movie. Could Petra have been the inspiration for the Indiana Jones Temple of Doom attraction at Universal Studios, Hollywood? Perhaps! Concluding our two hour walking tour at the Petra museum, our guide thanked us, wished us an enjoyable holiday, waved goodbye, and disappeared into the crowd. Feeling both happy and exhausted, we unanimously concluded that we did not have the energy to travel another two hours to the monastery. Engaging in friendly banter, and rehashing the highlights of the tour, we embarked upon the hour long walk back to the main entrance.


Next and final stop: The Dead Sea. As we drove along the winding and newly paved mountain roads on our way to the Dead Sea, I experienced a mild sensation of deja vu. This was due to the fact that the rocky and mountainous desert terrain on my right, and the azure blue waters of the Dead Sea on my left, bared a slight resemblance to parts of the drive north along Pacific Coast Highway in California. Stopping to take a photo shoot of the Dead Sea from the bluffs on which we were standing, our driver pointed out the cities of Jericho, and Jerusalem, which appeared so far away, they were barely distinguishable without the aid of binoculars.

The Movenpick Resort, Aqaba, which is situated along the beach of the Dead Sea, was both elegant and spacious. After checking into the hotel at about 2:30 p.m., I made a last minute decision to take a tour of Jesus' baptismal site. One of my traveling companions had become ill with bronchitis after our tour of Petra, and feeling guilty about leaving her alone, I was hesitant to go. Assuring me that she would be alright, and that she was planning on spending our last day in Jordan sleeping and letting the medicine that she'd taken do it's job, I decided to try and make the last tour of the day, which was at 4:00 p.m.


It was already 3:15 p.m., as Mohamed, my driver, raced along the near empty highway to the tour's meeting spot, where about 20 other people waited anxiously for the hour long tour to begin. A large white open seated bus pulled up to the waiting area, and we all piled on like excited school children going on their first field trip. Upon exiting the bus, we were briskly greeted by our guide and lead along a narrow and dusty road past the Modern Orthodox Church dedicated to St. John the Baptist. We took a few quick photos of the church, and scurried along like squirrels behind our Muslim guide, whose accent was so thick, I could barely understand him. Our next stop was at Jesus' baptism site near the Jordan River . The water where Jesus was baptized from the river had dried up and receeded years ago. All that was left was a hole in the ground that resembled an open grave.

Our guide allowed us another brief photo shoot and urged us onward toward the Jordan River. Not only did it seem as though he was tired and anxious for the last tour of the day to end so that he could go home and relax, I got the impression that being Muslim, he wasn't the least bit interested in conducting a tour related to Christianity. Oh, how I longed to have a Christian guide conducting the tour! Venturing down to the Jordan River, we were permitted to briefly dip our hands and feet in the murky and muddy water, and then quickly rushed along the dusty narrow road back to the tour bus that was anxiously awaiting our arrival. Although I am happy to have had the opportunity to visit such a holy and spiritual place, I am disappointed that I was not allowed more time to reflect, meditate, and pray with my fellow Christians at this amazing site.

Still wallowing in frustration and dissatisfaction with my tour, I looked forward to finding solace and comfort floating in the salty waters of the Dead Sea. After Mohamed dropped me off at my hotel room, I quickly undressed and threw on my bathing suit, and followed Marian, my other travel companion, down to the seashore. Like a child playing in the mud, I slathered delicious, black mud (known for its medicinal qualities) from the Dead Sea all over my skin and raced down to the water. "Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" I cried out as the rocky sea floor hurt my feet as I stumbled over them even though I was wearing shower shoes!. Undeterred, I plopped onto my back like a turtle that has been flipped over on its shell and floated. Ahhh!!!! Totally relaxed and marveling at the sun setting behind the hills of Israel/Palestine in the distance, I thought to myself, "What a fantastic ending to an exhausting day!"

BEEP! BEEP!! BEEP!! I was jolted from my state of bliss by the sound of the lifeguard's shrill whistle as he called for everyone to get out of the water. What the...?? It was 7 p.m. and the beach was closing!! Damn! I hadn't even been in the water for fifteen minutes! Not going to be rushed out the the water the way that I was rushed through the baptism site, I ignored him (he eventually left) and continued to lie there floating blissfully as the sun continued to set in the distance. Ahhh!! What a wonderful way to end both the day and my trip to Jordan...

Don't Believe The Hype

"Are you dodging bullets?"

"How do you manage to escape from the bombs?"

"You'd better be careful! Aren't they kidnapping Americans?"

"Why would you want to live there? It's not very safe."

These are some of the questions that I have been asked before and after moving to the United Arab Emirates, which is located in the gulf region of the middle east, to teach 2nd grade at an international school. In all honesty, I have to admit that I had been approached about teaching in the middle east on several occasions in the past and refused to even entertain the idea due to fear. Fortunately, I talked to people who had either visited this part of the world, or knew someone who lived here and changed my mind. Fact: there are countries in the middle east that are safer to live and work in (for Americans) than many U.S. cities!


Using fear to control the hearts and minds of the American people, the U.S. media perpetuates this stereotype by only showing news coverage that focuses on the war torn countries in the middle east; thereby painting a negative image of the whole region. The U.S. has several cities which have very high crime rates and are dangerous; however, to say that the whole country is violent and unsafe in extremely erroneous! The same is true of the middle east. I have lived in the Emirates for almost one year and can say that is a lot safer here than, Los Angeles, my hometown.




Unfortunately, since September 11th, when the words Arabs and middle east are mentioned, it conjures up images of Muslim extremists declaring Jihad or a Holy War and blowing up both themselves and the "infidels" in order to find favor with Allah and obtain their 70 virgins in the afterlife. Living in Los Angeles, I, too, lived in a constant state of fear after the 9/11 attacks. Each day I was told to be vigilant and remain on guard for possible terrorist attacks. My anxiety was heightened by the various stages of alerts that the U.S. government informed us we should be aware of on a daily basis: yellow, red, orange...


Are there religious Muslim extremists hell bent on waging war and destroying America, and its citizens???? Absolutely!! However, contrary to popular belief, the average everyday Muslims that I've encountered have informed me that, although they do not care for the current political administration, they like Americans, in general, and wish us no harm. They have also informed me that they hate the way the media portrays all Muslims as terrorists. Extremists come in many varieties and religions: remember the Oklahoma City bombings?? Waco, Texas?? Americans were responsible for those acts of terrorism.





Understanding their point, I shared my feelings about the negative way that many African Americans are portrayed in the media as well. Although there are many blacks in the U.S. who do, in fact, commit violent and heinous crimes, that is not representative of every single one. However, when watching the news, the majority of the coverage about African Americans is negative. Likewise, although most Americans are law abiding and decent citizens, the images that are shown all over the world are of us going ballistic, rampaging across college campuses on mass killing sprees, then blowing our brains out afterwards. How many times have we either used or heard the expression: "Don't make me snap and go postal on your ass."


While it is important to keep informed about world events, and to be concerned and aware of the possible threat of terrorism - both at home an abroad - we need to be vigilant in discerning fact from fiction, and not allowing ourselves to be biased towards a whole group of individuals based upon the actions of a few insane extremists.

Jordan: A Journey Back In Time...Part 2

My apprehension quickly turned from relief to curiosity when I realized that I was about to be given a private tour of various rooms within the castle that I would not have found on my own. This unofficial Bedouin docent, proud of the castle and its history, turned out to be both sweet and harmless. "Look in here! " he exclaimed. "This is the wine cellar." On and on we ventured from room to room. "Careful. Watch your step." He cautioned as we arrived at a hole in the ground that had been covered with protective metal bars. He informed me that it had once been used as a well. Swatting down over it, he motioned for me to join him. "Here. Throw this down inside of the well." He instructed as he handed me a stone. I took the stone and threw it in. Noticing how it bounced lightly off one side of the stone wall. "Did you see the snake?" He asked. "Noooooooo! What snake?!?!"" I yelled, jumping up and away from the well as quickly as I could. "No! No! No!" he replied. "It's not a real snake, it's a fossil. Look! There it is. See???" Peering down into the well, sure enough, along the side where my stone had originally bounced off, I saw what appeared to be a fossilized shape of a snake. "Oh my! Yes, I see it now!!" I squealed excitedly. I was enjoying myself so much that I had become oblivious to the fact that my friends - who had left a while ago - were probably wondering what on earth had happened to me. I slowly realized that I was holding up my companions; so I reluctantly thanked my wonderful guide, and told him that I had to get going. He led me back to the entrance, and bid me farewell.




Next stop: Petra. What a sight to behold!!! My visit to this magnificent place was one of the highlights of my trip! Wanting to get an early start, as there was quite a bit of walking to do through this marvelously ancient city (ever see the first Indiana Jones movie?? It was filmed in Petra!), we excitedly arose bright and early at 6 A.M., ate a not so delicious breakfast in the hotel restaurant, and anxiously sat in the lobby waiting for our guide - who was supposed to show up at 7 A.M., but was fifteen minutes late. He was very apologetic as he walked us down the hill to the entrance, purchased our tickets, and handed us over to our tour guide, Hamad, for the morning. The tour included a horseback ride from the main entrance to the actual entrance of Petra. My companions chose to walk, but a diva should be carried like a queen on a throne. (besides, my lower back had a dull ache from the uncomfortable hotel mattress the night before, and I decided it would be best to sit as much as possible since I'd be doing quite a bit of walking for the duration of the tour). My poor horse was so bone thin I was fearful that he wouldn't be able to hold the weight of my body...yes...I've put on a few pounds since I've been in living in the gulf.. but he proved to be up to the task and managed to carry me without collapsing.


Riding along, like a bonafide cowgirl, I had the pleasure of being stopped by a rather good looking Jordanian cowboy. "Good morning madam!" he happily greeted me as he rode up next to me on his horse. "How are you? Where are you from?" He asked. "Good, thanks. I'm from the U.S." I replied. Secretly admiring his gorgeous chestnut brown eyes with hazel highlights. "Welcome to Jordan, and to Petra!!" was his enthusiastic reply. Observing that his horse was in much better condition than mine, he then offered to switch with me. Little did he know that it wasn't his horse that I was interested in... my mind began to drift off fantasizing...

But I digress.....I let him keep his horse, bid him a fond goodbye, and continued on my way. As it turns out, Hamad, our tour guide; in addition to being very knowledgeable, turned out to be an excellent photographer as well. As we meandered along the dusty pathways of this centuries old city carved from stone and rock, he had us stop and pose at various points of interest for a variety of photo shots which captured some of the stunning beauty and awesomeness of this incredible place.


A few of the caves were still inhabited by the Bedouin people. Some of which accosted tourists in the hopes of selling various trinkets and souvenirs; as well as camel and donkey rides for those of us who were too tired and exhausted to continue on by foot. "Like to rent a Ferrari today ladies!?" one cleverly creative young entrepreneur called out to us. "Do you have a Mercedes?" Sue asked. "No, madam. I only have Ferraris for rent today." he answered "Too bad. You're outta luck. I wanted a Mercedes." she replied. "Sorry. Madam." he called after us as we continued along on our journey.

To be continued....

Jordan: A Journey Back In Time... Part 1

Contrary to popular belief, not all middle eastern countries are oil rich nations. Jordan, which produces no oil, is in fact, very poor and many Jordanians live either barely above, or just below the poverty line. However, what Jordanians lack in material wealth is more than made up for in the kindness that they extend to foreigners who visit their country. I was extremely impressed with their warmth and hospitality.

My traveling companions and I spent the first two days in the capital city of Amman where we explored the downtown markets in search of exotic and authentic Jordanian souvenirs. Unlike the humid UAE climate, the weather in Jordan reminded me of the mild and temperate Mediterranean climate of Southern California. Thus making our walking tours quite pleasant and enjoyable.

Our guide, Mohammed, who was born in Palestine, but has both a Jordanian (he is a Palestinian refugee who fled to Jordan with his family when Israel became a nation in 1948) and American passport (he lived in the U.S for 25 years prior to retiring from a Civil Engineering job and moving back to Jordan to remarry and start a new family), drove us around the city to various historical spots.

Our first memorable stop was at the Roman ruins of Jerash. Walking through this ancient city gave us the feeling of taking a journey back in time: my companion, Sue, envisioned herself charging along the ancient streets at full speed in a chariot, pulled by magnificent white horses, which raced around the historic plaza as a crowd of cheering onlookers watched from the stadium seats above; my other companion, Marian, envisioned herself strolling along the bustling and busy streets of the marketplace in search of delicious red wine; I, the sensuous diva that I am, envisioned myself being pampered and catered to by tall, dark, and handsome muscled bound Roman servants who attended to my every need....after all, my name does mean Queen... should I settle for anything less?

Traveling along the Kings Highway to our next memorable stop: Mt. Nebo , which is situated high on a cliff with sweeping views of the Jordan Valley, Dead Sea, and far in the distance, the Holy land of Israel/Palestine. This is the place from which Moses first viewed the promised land, and where he is reported to have died and been buried. A uniquely designed cross made of steel and intertwined like the branches of a bird's nest appeared to mark the place where Moses may have stood as he gazed down at the holy land.

We continued on to the Kerak castle were we ate a scrumptious lunch and then ventured off to explore the old castle ruins. Feeling adventurous, I wandered off on my own to explore the hidden nooks, crannies, and dark empty rooms of what remained of this vastly enormous place. To my surprise, and before I knew what had happened, I became lost! Struggling to find my way back and rejoin my companions, I was startled to hear a deep voice directly above me ask, "Hello, are you alone?" Looking up, I was surprised to see a middle aged Bedouin man, dressed in traditional clothing standing on a rock above me. I hesitantly replied, " Well...sort of. I lost my friends and I am trying to find my way back to rejoin them." Smiling, he replied, "Follow me. I will show you the way." He reached out his hand, took mine, and helped me climb up to the small ledge where he was standing. Moments after we began walking, I realized that he was NOT taking me back the way that I had come. In fact, he was leading me deeper inside the ruins of the castle....I hesitated. "Please follow me." he beseeched. "I want to show you something." With a twinkle in his eyes he gently commanded. "Come. This way." And like a sheep being lead by a Shepard, "I obediently followed behind him."....