We had been living in Teheran, Iran, since January of
1974 and I made some extra money working as a basketball announcer for the
Asian Games held in Teheran in early September.
Ramadan, our first experience with this month of daytime fasting,
started September 17. On a rather
spur-of-the-moment idea, we decided that a trip to see some of the highlights
of the Middle East would be fun. We
hastily made airline reservations and left Rachel and Gretchen with next door
neighbors Kathy and Farhad (Fred) Razi.
Fred was an American and England trained architect, Kathy was a nurse,
and they had twin boys who were born the same day as Gretchen.
We left about September 28 or 29 and flew Alia
Airlines from Teheran to Amman, Jordan.
I say about because I don’t have much memorabilia from the trip. I didn’t start keeping a daily diary until
1977 so this trip is based on our memories which are fading over time. Also, this was before the Internet and
emails. We made reservations through
American Express for a hotel at our first stop.
In Amman we took the recommendation of the Philadelphia Hotel in the
downtown area. It was adjacent to the
old Roman Amphitheater which we explored later.
The main reason to go to Jordan was to see the rose
red city of Petra. We had read up on it
way before Indiana Jones and “The Last Crusade”. Rita is certain we just checked into the
hotel, inquired about a trip to Petra, left our suitcases with the hotel and
caught a long-distance taxi right away.
It could be true – we were that flighty.
We crowded into the nice Mercedes Benz taxi with a driver and three
other Arabs all in Arab dress and silent the whole trip. Since it was Ramadan we refrained from eating
or drinking on the three-hour trip. Arab
music was playing on the radio and when the woman singer started what sounded
like continuous guttural yodeling, Rita broke into the giggles. We finally reached our destination and the
driver, who spoke for the first time (and in perfect English), told us what
time we can catch a taxi back to Amman the next day.
In 1974 there were no hotels at the entrance to Petra
as I understand there are now. There was
no tourist office. We were dropped off
at the Siq or entrance with no idea where to go next. It didn’t take long and a grizzled old man
came running up asking if we wanted to go into Petra. We were told there was a camp in the middle
of Petra where we could spend the night.
Then he and a friend brought out two horses for us to ride as they held
the reins. The old man kept patting Rita
on her butt saying “Sit up Madam. Sit
up.” He also tried to play history guide
even though he could speak almost no English.
He pointed to a groove in the rocks as we rode through the narrow
entrance and told us it was a “dukweack”.
So for the rest of our lives whenever we come across a Roman aqueduct we
look at each other and in unison say “dukweack”!
Like everyone else, as soon as we arrived at the
Treasury we stopped, stared in awe, and took photos of the amazing rock
carving. A little further we dismounted
at Nazzal’s Camp, built in 1943 with eleven rooms. Luckily they had a room as there were very
few guests mid-week during Ramadan. At
dinner that night there was only a party of three French tourists besides
us. I’m fairly certain the cost was
under $10 and almost worth every dollar.
We had two single beds that bowed almost down to the floor. Oh well, it was only for one night.
We arrived at Nazzal’s Camp midafternoon with plenty
of daylight remaining. Armed with a map
we explored on foot. We saw our first
Roman ruins and graffiti carved into rocks.
We went in and out of ancient Nabatean ruins – rooms carved out of the
pink rock like the Treasury but smaller.
The sky was clear and with no breezes in the enclosed valley, it was
quite hot and dusty. Our meal at the
camp was unmemorable and our room was not air conditioned. A noisy generator provided light but it went
out about 9 pm. We were exhausted after
a long day and quickly fell asleep in those terrible beds.
We felt refreshed in the morning and had a nice
breakfast of toast and fresh eggs. I say
fresh because there were chickens and goats around the camp. We had until the afternoon when the taxi
returned and our “guides” with the horses returned for us. We did an exhausting climb over rocks on a
trail to a site called the “High Place”.
In the last half mile or so we noticed a Bedouin with a cooler following
us. As we reached the top he came out of
nowhere on a different approach and surprised us. He just wanted to sell us a “Bebsi” so we had
a Pepsi Cola from his cooler. We noticed
what looked like a small pool with channels running into it. He noticed our confusion and directed Rita to
lie down on the rocks by one of the channels.
Then he took his can opener and made a motion of slicing it along Rita’s
neck showing us it was a place for sacrifice and a pool to collect the
blood. But I think they used goats or
sheep and not human sacrifice. It was a
bit eerie at first but he turned out friendly.
Soon it was time to saddle up and head out of the Siq
where the taxi showed up on time and took us back to the Philadelphia Hotel in
Amman. Our suitcases were right where we
left them and we were given a comfortable room.
All I can say is that we were very trusting or naïve but all turned out
well. We had a multi-course dinner in
the hotel dining room and a sort of hash or stew was put down for the first
course. It tasted different but not bad
as it had a nice sauce. I asked the
waiter what it was and was informed it was kidneys. A first for us and again, too trusting.
The next morning we were awakened out of a sound sleep
by a loud cannon shot on the hilltop across from the hotel. We wondered if another Middle East war had
broken out but were told it was a warning shot that sunrise was in one hour so
eat your breakfast now – we forgot it was Ramadan.
We took another long-distance taxi to the ancient
Greco-Roman city of Jerash just north of Amman.
Again we were about the only tourists at the ruins which were in very
good condition. We paid a modest entry
fee and set out on foot over a large, complex archeological site. The Greeks and Romans called the city Gerasa
and we explored the forum, amphitheater, Temple of Artemis, Arch of Hadrian and
much more. Jerash was our first large
Greco-Roman city to explore and we had it mostly to ourselves. We took a taxi back to Amman and walked
around the old part of the city for a short while.
The next day we checked out and caught a flight on Egypt
Air to Cairo arriving late in the evening with no hotel reservations. We found out that Cairo was a big party town
during Ramadan and there would be very few hotel rooms available. At the tourist desk a man from Indonesia who
we met on the plane suggested we go to the Carlton Hotel where he was
staying. We could even share a
taxi. What could go wrong?
First of all one of our suitcases, a Samsonite, was
mostly empty because we had plans to shop in Lebanon. The taxi driver piled all our suitcases on top
but didn’t tie them down. Then he drives
at very high speeds towards the hotel.
Soon the nearly empty suitcase lifts off and crashes onto the highway
sliding alongside the taxi with sparks lighting up the dark. We stop, the taxi driver retrieves the
suitcase, and I examine it for damage.
Amazingly it didn’t open up, I could still unlock it with a key and the
damage was deep scratches on the side against the road. The driver tied it down this time and we made
our way to the Carlton Hotel. It would have
made a good Samsonite commercial.
Don’t confuse the Carlton Hotel with
Ritz-Carlton. There is no connection
whatsoever. This Carlton Hotel was built
in the 1930s by an English company and probably was quite grand in its
prime. It was about midnight, we were
exhausted, and they had a room. We took
it and immediately fell into bed. The
next morning we realized what a mistake we had made. It was quite run down and with one look we
both refused to shower in that bathroom.
At breakfast, which wasn’t all that bad, we saw that most of the other
customers were young Europeans traveling on a tight budget. Our room was about the equivalent of $10 and
we checked out right after breakfast.
What to do? We
took a taxi to a high-rise Sheraton Hotel that had just opened up a few months
prior. We looked, and probably smelled,
rather disgusting. We asked for a room
and were told they were filled up. So we
sat down in nice lobby chairs and made ourselves conspicuous. Several times when we saw some party checking
out I would go up to the counter and ask if they had a room now. I think hotel security was checking us out
but I informed them that I did have an American Express card and could afford a
room. Eventually, to get us out of the
lobby, they said, yes, we have a room on the 21st floor and quoted a
fairly expensive rate. We took it for
two nights.
After a good night’s sleep and a couple of long
showers we booked an all day tour through a tour company in the Sheraton
Hotel. We started off visiting the Alabaster
Mosque also known as the Muhammad Ali Mosque.
Then to the City of the Dead, a huge necropolis that was much quieter
than the city. Next we toured the oldest
pyramid in Egypt in the town of Saqqara sometimes spelled Sakkara. At lunchtime the small van we were traveling
in took the half-day tourists back to their hotels. We had lunch and waited on the front lawn of
the beautiful Mena House Hotel until we were shooed away. The afternoon was spent at the great pyramids
of Giza along with the Sphinx. We rode
camels for the first time and behaved like real tourists.
The next day we said goodbye to our nice Sheraton
Hotel room and caught an Egyptian Air flight to Beirut, Lebanon, which in 1974
was called the Paris of the Middle East.
Before our trip we had been recommended to a hotel which we stayed at
called either Pension Vienna or Pension Austria. We remember well that it was on Rue
Mexique. It was small, clean and very
affordable. It was run by an Austrian
couple and had good schnitzel at dinner time.
Beirut was a beautiful city on the Mediterranean Sea
with Parisian nightclubs, casinos, exclusive hotels along the water and a
French flavor. I think we walked around
Beirut that first afternoon and got the lay of the city. We probably did a little shopping as well.
The next day we rented a VW Beetle through Europecar
that totaled up to $300 for the day.
With a very limited tourist map and no GPS, we headed south along the
beautiful seawall drive called the Corniche towards Sidon and Tyre. A short distance from Beirut we encountered a
military roadblock and was told we could not continue to Sidon. This was a year before the Lebanese Civil war
that destroyed the country and lasted 15 years.
There were disturbances further south along the Israeli border and we
could go no further.
So we turned inland east to the Beqaa Valley and the
fabulous ruins of Baalbek. The Beqaa
Valley is the main farming region of Lebanon and had several great vineyards
with excellent wines. The town of
Baalbek was originally a Phoenician city and later a large Roman town where a
huge temple to Jupiter was erected over two thousand years ago. But it is estimated that the area was
inhabited as early as 9000 BC. The Roman
temple was built on the foundation of an earlier temple with blocks estimated
at 3000 tons. It is amazing and Rita and
I spent a couple of hours there. We
weren’t the only tourists and several young men on motorcycles approached us
wanting to sell us hashish. No we
didn’t.
We continued north along the Beqaa Valley following
signs to the Cedars of Lebanon. We
headed west climbing out of the valley on a switch back road over the mountains
to a small grove of very tall cedar trees.
It was called the Cedars of God Forest but the forest was pretty
small. In 1998 this small forest was put
on the UNESCO list of World Heritage Sites.
It seems that much of the area used to be covered with the huge trees
but they were cut down by the Phoenicians and others (Alexander the Great) to
build temples and mostly ships.
Unfortunately very few remain today.
Close by our road took us to the pretty little village of Bsharri in the
mountains at an altitude of about 5,000 to 10,000 feet. It is the village where Khalil Gibran, poet,
painter and sculptor, was born. The
roadsides in this area are filled with statues of Mary and Jesus as this is the
Christian sector of the country. The
surrounding villages along the road made one think they were in southern Italy
or Spain. We followed the winding
mountain road to the village of Amioun where we could see the Mediterranean in
the distance at sunset. It was time to
get back and we took the coastal road through Byblos as nightfall covered
Beirut. It was a long day.
The next day was spent shopping in Beirut’s great
department stores. We filled that empty
suitcase with lots of clothes and shoes for the girls. We also put in some food supplies we couldn’t
get in Teheran like dark Karo syrup and peanut butter. We also went to a nice theater to see the
movie “Sugarland Express”, an early Steven Spielberg movie starring Goldie
Hawn. Since the story takes place in
Texas we had a vested interest and the little Arab lady sitting next to us
hushed at us because we commented on the scenes. The movie was in English with Arabic and
French subtitles which were a little distracting.
The next day we flew back to Teheran on MEA (Middle
East Airlines) but at the Beirut Airport we had one more unexpected shopping surprise. I came across a nice heavy wool suit at a
kiosk that I really liked – gray with thin blue window panes. It was made in Spain. The salesman was pushing it hard and we only
had a few minutes before boarding but I didn’t know if it would fit. So he shoved me behind a counter where I took
off my jeans in front of everyone and tried the suit on. It was a perfect fit, affordable, and a quick
sale. I haven’t disrobed in an airport
since then. That suit lasted many years
too and was one of my favorites.
Looking back we consider ourselves fortunate to have
seen some of the Middle East that is dangerous to return to today. Also, in our old age, we look back and wonder
what the hell we were doing. We were
naïve, trusting and very, very lucky.
