Leaving Petra, we joined a tour bus full of Jordanian women, which traveled 130 miles in the wrong direction. We don’t know why we did this, considering we weren’t exactly sure where they were going or when they would arrive at our intended destination, but we knew it was going to be an adventure. We got on and were immediately offered zaatar and butter sandwiches and cups of tea. Then the music grew louder. “Annie! Mike!” “Come dance,” the ladies said in harmony. The bus was going 50 miles per hour on winding roads, but they didn’t care. These seemingly conservative women, wrapped in hijabs, were ready to let loose and we weren’t about to stop them. Singing our names and going around and around, we laughed until our cheeks hurt.
We didn’t know that the party was just beginning. We arrived in the Wadi Rum desert as the sun was setting over the red mountains and we couldn’t understand why they wanted to see this legendary landscape in the dark. Then we saw the strobe lights bouncing off the dunes. Two dance floors were set up, one for men and one for women. Our new friends ordered three hookahs for our table, further extending the invitation to their worlds. There wasn’t a single Westerner at this party…and we felt so honored to have experienced the light and caring spirit of the Middle East.
