From Aqaba to the Dead Sea and the Jordan River

After breakfast in Wadi Rum, we drove north through Aqaba. Across the blue gulf we could see Eilat. The landscape brought the Exodus story to mind, although the precise route of that ancient journey remains debated. At Aqaba’s old fort, the walls were almost empty of visitors; from them we looked back toward the water and the desert routes that once carried traders and pilgrims.

By afternoon we reached the Dead Sea and checked into a large Marriott resort with several pools, family facilities and shuttles down to the beach. An upgrade to a spacious suite made us wish we had booked more than one night. In the water, floating required almost no effort. Swimming was another matter: every time I tried a breaststroke, my legs popped back toward the surface. The salt stung my skin, so I kept the dip short. We also tried the dark mineral mud offered on the beach.

The hotel’s cats were a surprise pleasure. Staff cared for a small colony, and several cats appeared near the terrace at breakfast, watching our plates and wandering around our chairs. Against the open water and morning light, their quiet company made the resort feel unexpectedly homelike.

After breakfast we visited Bethany Beyond the Jordan, a site associated in Christian tradition with the baptism of Jesus. People gathered on both banks of a narrow stretch of the Jordan River. The area’s history as a heavily controlled border made the calm scene especially moving. As a Christian, I found myself thinking about the Gospel account of baptism and about the respect Jesus also receives in Islam. We stood quietly by the water rather than trying to settle all the histories of this contested region.

At Mount Nebo, I thought of Moses looking toward the promised land he would not enter, as told in Deuteronomy. The broad view invited both reflection on that ancient story and sorrow for the conflicts that still shape the region.

Our final stop was Madaba. The mosaic map in St. George’s Church connected places we had just visited to a much older image of the Holy Land. We also had an unplanned errand: a dental crown came loose, and a patient local dentist made a temporary replacement so I could continue to Türkiye comfortably.

That evening we flew from Amman to Istanbul. In only a couple of days, we had moved from desert and seacoast to a salt lake, a river, a mountain and a mosaic. The route held both recreation and faith, and an unexpected act of help in a town we had barely known.