LETTER XXXIV: PILGRIMAGES PART II (The Baptism Site)

BEGUN: 12 JUNE 2010, AMMAN and COMPLETED: 29 JUNE, 2010, MAPLEWOOD

[Please see Pilgrimages Part I]

Au contraire, our approach to Jesus’ baptism site in Jordan three months later, was a simple test of audacity and a smile.

We’d spent the bulk of the day at play. First we visited the mosaic artist Samaher Khameis at her workshop in Madaba. I feature Samaher in my short film on Madaba’s Institute of Mosaic Art and Restoration. It’s fascinating to see how this intricate art form in process and to imagine men and women tooling over tiny pieces of stone millennia ago. What a legacy – what stories! – they’ve left behind. (Once the invoices for that project are honored – and that’s another story -- I will put up the piece for you to see.)

Of course we made the mini-pilgrimage to St. George's Church to show Janna the map and went again to gape at the mosaics in Hippolyta’s Hall (pictured) at the Virgin Mary Church.

Then we drove the long, narrow and winding roads south out of Madaba to Hammamat Ma’in – to the natural hot springs of Jordan that rush from the cliffs of the mountainside above the Dead Sea.

Like the Esalen Institute in Big Sur, CA, Jordan has three waters coming together: salt, fresh creek (as in Wadi Mujib), and hot: Ma’in. At Hammamat Ma’in the main waterfall ranges in temperature from 40° to 60° C (104-140° F).

Imagine the power of that water pounding down on your shoulders: hot, heavy, relentless; healing, soothing, invigorating.

We wore swimsuits with tee shirts and shorts over top. Nearby were women in long dresses with headscarves, smiling and laughing in the spray. There was one man, French, we thought, in a Speedo.

They say King Herod frequented the healing springs at Ma'in (when these waters were known as Baaras) and built a villa at nearby Mukawer. According to tradition, it was at that villa that Salome danced and John the Baptist was beheaded (Matthew 14: 1-12).

Speaking of John the Baptist … to the point of this letter.

We left the Hammamat via the other route: by the Dead Sea. Winding down the muscular mountains with a broad view of both our side of the Dead Sea and theirs. Every time I take in that view I am in wonder: it all looks so peaceful, unified; the land around a lake. Then I remember the contested ownership, the lines, imaginary and real cutting through towns, cultures, salt water, and the trickle called “the Jordan River.”

“Let’s go to the Baptism Site,” suggested Katie, as we turned north with the Dead Sea on our left and the mountains that hide Ma’in on our right.

“Lesh la? Why not!”

The signs are everywhere. Tourism – adventure and spiritual – is business for Jordan and the signage is good. So are the roads.

We drove past our favorite Dead Sea swimming spot, Amman Beach, and all the big hotels. Then we turned left toward the world’s widest partition and drove through the no man’s holy land to a simple entrance arch where three men were enjoying tea and an early evening chat.

“Marhaba (Hello). We’d like to visit the Baptism Site.”

“Yes, but we closed at 5pm,” said Emad, gatekeeper of the moment. It was 5:40.

After discussing the schedule (8am – 5pm) and the entrance fees (seven JOD per person) I smiled and asked, “Can we see it anyway?”

“I’ll ask.”

Within a few minutes we arranged with Emad that we’d pay our entrance with all the dinars we had (16) and that we’d drive him to his home afterward (on the road to Amman) and he escorted us to and through the site, Bethany-beyond-the-Jordan.

According to www.sacred-destinations.com, excavations on the site -- on the east bank of the Jordan River -- only began here in 1996, following Jordan's peace treaty with Israel in 1994. Land mines dotted the infamous and disputed border along the ever-shrinking river.

It took two years to make it safe. Since ‘96 more than 20 churches, caves and baptismal pools dating back to the Roman and Byzantine periods have been uncovered.

You still feel the tension as you approach the Jordan. After guiding us on cool wooded paths to the pools that scholars agree may be where Jesus Christ was baptized by the Prophet John, Emad told us, “I cannot go any farther. The Jordanian soldier will take you from here.”

And a military man stepped forward, gesturing us toward a simple gazebo-like structure with stairs down to the Jordan trickle and the Israeli flag in clear view.

The Jordan side of the river has a wood platform with steps at either end for visitors to descend, just a few at a time, and dip their toes into the 10-foot-wide-water about which so many anthems and spirituals are sung. On the Israeli side, a skipping stone’s throw away, a 20-foot-long concrete slab with steps the length of the slab so many pilgrims may access the water at once. Each country's flag flies high. There is no sign of Palestine.

I was glad we were alone there, that no noise disturbed our reflections but the call of the rula bird -- a brave little lime green bird with turquoise scruff. (Do you know its English name?)

It was strange being so close and so far from “the other side.” No guards but our Bedouin soldier. A peaceful stream between “sides.” A place so heralded, lauded, prayed for and fought for. Just my daughters and me. And the soldier. And Emad waiting for his ride home.

Home is always the destination of the pilgrim.

Letter XXXIII: Full Moons

1 July 2010

“The next time I see a full moon,” I wrote on August 6, 2009, “will be in Jordan."

Peter, the girls, and I were on the beach in Old Orchard Beach, Maine. We’d booked two rooms at the Atlantic Inn for the night en route our summer home, still four hours north and inland. It was a spectacular sight floating over the Atlantic horizon and above the dunes and grasses of the Maine coast. It was quiet except for the rhythm of the waves and my heartbeat. What was ahead? Interesting that the full of August 6 was also a lunar eclipse – but we didn’t know or see it.

Eleven full moons were ahead:

(1) A Ramadan full, September 4, midway through the fasting month; just three days after we’d moved into our apartment. We broke our fast that evening with Dr. Younes Assad who became

friend, physician and grandfather these ten months. He took us to the Oriental Cafe on the road to Sweileh, overlooking a great valley with Amman in the eastern distance. In the valley between is the Baka Palestinian refugee city. We enjoyed a refreshing Mint-Lemonade with our iftar. Remind me to make one for you in Maplewood ...

(2) An Esalen full on 4 October when I was in Big Sur for the board meeting, and Katie and Peter were forging Wadi Mujib ...

(3) A Sisters moon in November at the reception for Directors of Admission for Wellesley, Smith, Mount Holyoke, Bryn Mawr, and Barnard at ACOR (American Center of Oriental Research) in Amman ...

(4) December’s first full was on the second, the day I delivered “Inside Mecca” with Arabic subtitles to Alain at Fulbright to give to Basma at the US Embassy (she has since become one of my best friends) to be ready for the screening of the film at the University of Jordan on the sixth ...

(5) December was a blue moon month. It’s second full was New Year’s Eve. We celebrated with Peter and Janna here and a party for our local friends ...

(6) Under January 30th’s full moon we took my niece Maeve Chandler to the airport after her ten day visit with us. She's on the left enjoying photos taken in the Soldiers Tomb in Wadi Firasa, Petra, with Katie and my first cousin once-removed, Nadia Mehdi, who also visited us in January from London ...

(7) In late February I was in Jericho – I know I didn’t tell you; I was saving that story as I saved the Jerusalem story, which is still an unfinished narrative. In Jericho, staff of the Abraham Path Initiative was meeting with its new Executive Director, Dr. Yunus Sola. I was honored to attend as both a board member and media strategist. In fact I departed Jericho and crossed back that barbed, desolate no-one’s-land late at night under that full moon. I was the only non-Palestinian at the border there so they let me ride the bus with the locals back home to Jordan. Usually we are segregated. You'll hear more in the upcoming "Pilgrimage: Part Two" ...

(8) The March full was at Petra with my dear friend Alyce Faye Cleese ...

(9) On April 28 I gave a talk at Amman’s SAE – a training center for broadcasting and filmmaking ...

(10) Katie played Juliet, Lady Capulet, and Tybalt in the Modern American School’s drama club presentation on May 27. Need I say she was the most skillful actor on the stage and but for another boy who was a complete stage-hog, she stole the show ...

(11) June 26 we saw the full moon in Umm Sayhun, the Bedouin village above Petra where we had dinner, once again, on Ismail’s roof. This time it was Katie, Mark Tremblay and I. Mark was back on business. We went first to Karak Castle and then a farewell pilgrimage to Petra.

The next time I see a full moon I expect to be in Maplewood, New Jersey. Perhaps I’ll pack up from a day at the pool and grill some eggplant and then cook sweet sage tea – Bedouin whiskey -- in our backyard fireplace until the cheap metal pot turns black.

Amman and a Two-Parent Home

September 25, 2009

Amman’s sepia-brown welcome was quickly warmed by Peter’s arrival. I was especially excited for him to be, finally, in an Arabic-speaking country, abundant with geological formations to fill his studied eyes. And Katie and I had plans up our sleeves.

The best thing for a new arrival coming east is to keep awake as long as possible as an investment in a solid night’s sleep. We’d prepared a stir-fry with rice for dinner and then set out for Abdoun Circle, to Gerard’s for pistachio ice cream. Fancy Katie and me showing off our city, our new suspension bridge connecting Fourth Circle to Abdoun, comfortably giving our destination to the taxi driver in Arabic, and pushing our way, like the locals, through to the counter to order our cones. Then sitting outdoors and milking the moment.

We gave Peter the morning off. Katie was at school by the time he woke. And yes, he heard the roosters. During the next few days Peter took himself on a walk into the “bird zoo,” the “ha-DEE-ka at-to-YOOR” and discovered that the offending creatures were none other than Rhode Island Reds. Imagine coming this far across the planet only to be annoyed by foul from your own birth state!

For the view we brought him to Wild Jordan for dinner; for enrichment we brought Dr. Younes to dinner, too. In one swoop we managed to bring a newcomer and an old timer to a place in Amman neither had been before. The frozen limon bi na’na’ was again exquisite. Dr. Younes’ family had lived in the Rainbow Street area when he was little and we were going to walk and find his old homestead after dinner. But as we looked up the hill from the restaurant entrance he said, “There it is!” Small town. A security person at Wild Jordan said he thought the Hariri family from Lebanon had bought up most of that cliffside and its homes. Small region.

Friday. Emad came with his car for us at 10am and off we went to Madaba, the ancient town famed for its mosaic floors (http://www.bibarch.com/ArchaeologicalSites/Madaba.htm). Roman (with columns and colonnades) then Byzantine (with some mosaics rumored to border on pornographic) then Christian (with the extraordinary 6^th century mosaic map of Jerusalem and its surroundings at St. George’s Church). Abandoned for centuries and then rediscovered by Christian pilgrims en route Mount Nebo and the monastery honoring Moses. They reestablished residency in Madaba and archaeological explorations have continued since. There’s much yet to uncover here as in so many parts of Jordan.

We noticed that although signs said, “TOUR GUIDES: Please Do Not Step Inside the Chains Guarding the Mosaic Map” in English, there were none in Arabic. And you can be sure plenty of people (there was a group of Egyptian Christian tourists there) climbed right over the ropes ringing the mosaic and stood right on the Holy Sepulcher and Damascus Gate to get their photos taken. Maybe the tour guides themselves did not transgress.

It was a clearer view from Mount Nebo than the one I saw in 1976. Then it was so foggy I had to wonder what Moses really might have seen from this vantage point; perhaps the Promised Land was only the eastern slope of the mountain, falling off to the Jordan Valley. But this time the view proved longer. Although we couldn’t see them, signs indicated Bethlehem, Jerusalem, and Ramallah lay before us.

Our big surprise for Peter was the Dead Sea this afternoon. I think he’d guessed it already: bring your bathing suit; we’ll pack a picnic. “Dead Sea” signs dotted the road. Amman Beach was as picturesque as we’d remembered. And this time we had saved three JDs each for the mud rub.

It was a dream to bring Peter, my geologist husband, to see these vistas. Driving down, down, down to the Dead Sea … the verticals of limestone, the fall-offs of sandstone. The look of giant muscular protrusions just like Sinai, just like the California coast.

This Friday the Dead Sea. Next Friday the hot tubs at Esalen. Last Friday the swimming pool overlooking Beirut. Who is leading my life? (Ponder the pun.)

And tender, unexpected awareness of self presents in baby steps. These are not the POW BANG transformational experiences of the est Training or the Six Day Course., but the kind that comes with years of practice. Practicing life, as in practicing the flute. You return to Bach’s Sonata in B Minor and find a nuance brand new after 30 years of study. As Peter slept next to me, I wrote in my journal: “What will it be like sharing authority again? Even a two-person committee can be complicated.” I’ve been in charge for nearly a month; now my partner is here and the consultative process is naturally reinstated – especially about Katie’s activities and making dinner. Such a simple process to date in Amman, now will involve spices and sautéing. Also sharing the space. I love the utterly clutter-free place I’ve maintained. But immediately his computer commandeered the dining room table. Well, where else was he to work? I showed him his own closet – in the guest room. We have separate closets at home, but both in our bedroom. “It is logical,” I wrote, “and yet strange. A little cold. But better for me and sensible.” I like my under filled closets. My age and for the first time I can remember having abundant closet space.

How blessed I am that closet space is something to think about. And to have someone to think about sharing it with. And authority.

Amman One: September 2, 2009

It's the end of another long day in a series of long days. But not the end of the series of long days. Those will end, I hope, when Katie and I really feel landed. Experts say that can take about three months. It’s like getting used to a new job, I guess.

We've landed an apartment and we love the location. This neighborhood is called Shmeisani. The Fulbright House is a few blocks away. There's a garden with roosters, hens and ducks across the street. They seem to sing constantly. They call along with the muethen in the two mosques nearby. They call when it's night and when it's morn. The rooster crows all day long; the ducks seem to prefer dinnertime.

Ours is a four-floor walk-up. We chose it for the breeze, for the view of Amman, for the privacy: there’s no one above us and no one next door. It's got a lovely little sunroom off the main space that is dining room and two living rooms. We chose this place over an adorable two-bedroom garden apartment with a fabulous kitchen and cozy living room. This kitchen is not so well appointed. But we have three bedrooms so when the family comes there will be room for all. There’s plenty of storage space. We have a brand new five burner stove that you have to light with a match every time. The gas tank sits right next to it. The refrigerator sings almost as loudly as the rooster but at least it works. The washing machine works; the drier does not. All the light bulbs hanging from the ceiling are bare. On Saturday Mr. Jalil, our landlord, is taking Katie and me shopping to buy covers for those and for the exposed sconce bulbs, for another frying pan and cooking pot, for a slotted spoon and toilet paper holders for the bathrooms (one and a half). He had a double bed built for me -- instead of two singles pushed together. Katie pushed the two singles in her room together so she has a giant place to sleep, too. For the first time in my life I have a vanity, with a mirror and chair and my make up is laid out to use. Not in a carry case. My make up brushes are in an open container, waiting to be useful. I like all that.

Whoever repainted this place left chips and drops everywhere. The paint in the carpet isn't coming out. But when the man came to clean the windows I insisted he scrape the paint, too. Unfortunately where I didn't point out the paint he didn't scrape it. So I'm going to buy a scraper and shweiyah shweiyah, little by little, I'll clear those surfaces. The dining room table can extend to seat 16! And there are chairs for ten. All the chairs are too low for the height of the table so we'll look like the dwarfs without Snow White when we dine together here. There's a fine food market a few blocks away and Katie and I have shopped for dinner there both of our nights here so far. The guys at the counter don't know what to make of us when we show up with our own bags for the groceries.

I haven't had any "real work" since I got here. Alain McNamara, director of the Bi-National Fulbright Commission in Jordan, says my first job is to get settled in so I'm doing that. Got Katie organized at the Modern American School. We taxied over there the first couple of days. Now the school bus picks her up outside our front door at 7:15 am and brings her back about 2:45 pm. She's taking Chemistry, Algebra II, Ancient World History, English, Arabic, Religion (Islam), IT, and PE/Health. So far she's finding it all really easy. It's nice to know that Maplewood’s Columbia High School has prepared her so well for private school abroad. She's making friends. She's got a desk in her bedroom and books that weigh hundreds of pounds. It seems. We look for cats when we walk together. There aren't as many strays as in Cairo. But there are enough to pull our heartstrings. None look sickly that we've seen. But we resist patting them anyway. I wonder if they think the same about the birds as I do. With a different end in mind.

On Monday night Dr. Younes Assad, the brother of my father’s dear friend Dawud Assad of Edison, NJ, took us out for ice cream at Gerard's in Abdoun Circle. He told us that once Ramadan is over, Abdoun Circle is the exclusive terrain of high school students on Thursday nights. I hope Katie and her friends will go there from time to time. The vanilla ice cream with pistacios was wonderful.

I'm beginning to call the people I know and the people others have recommended I call. After our Fulbright Orientation, September 6-10, I'll begin the real working part of this gig. (You mean I'm not here simply to set up house and see my daughter off to school?) We're having dinner tomorrow evening with a colleague of my “Inside Mecca” cameraman Yasir Khan who's now teaching at American University of Cairo. He'll be coming here this fall to run a training program.

I'm getting tired now. Four am, when we rise to eat our pre-dawn breakfast, comes early. But I will say the days, full as they are, go quickly and the fast is not uncomfortable. Katie says lost of the kids at school are fasting too, as is she. But between the time change and the fasting we are tired.

The weather is beautiful.