Monday, September 15, 2008

Postcard from Aqaba

Last weekend, I jumped in a coupla cars with six other KA colleagues, and we headed to Aqaba, the seaport on the southern tip of Jordan.

Think “The Hamptons” on the Red Sea and you’ll be close…

But how we decided on this adventure is almost more interesting than the lazy, relaxed weekend by the balmy Red Sea…

You have to know the story of “Fatcat” to see why this weekend junket happened at all.

Fatcat has been around KA’s campus for quite awhile—longer than any of the current faculty actually. Fatcat, aside from its corpulent moniker, is a singularly annoying member of the feline race. (I know cats aren’t a race—I am purposely engaging in a bit of racial profiling…it’s a “bit,” okay?) For any of my cat-loving friends, you probably know that I am not one to fall under the spell of the charming tabbies or calicos or siamese—indeed, we had dogs in my childhood, so I am particularly fond of the needy, touchy-feely canines. Back to Fatcat.

Fatcat is loud. Fatcat has a pulsating mew that may be similar to Chinese water torture. Fatcat wanders around wherever he/she so desires. I think it’s a he. But, no matter. Fatcat got adopted by Alena, an intriguing hotbox of crazy that worked at KA for two years, and left in June for a summer in China prior to assuming a new job in Aqaba. Alena left Fatcat in the charge of some colleagues who did not spend the summer in Jordan. So Fatcat made the entire campus his abode. As new people moved onto campus, and into his former home, Fatcat tried to insinuate his darling self onto the newbies. Fatcat got into some trouble with other cats, presumably cats with more charming names! Anyway, I saw Alena on campus a few times in the last month, and everytime I spied her, I asked someone—“is Fatcat leaving?? Could it be happening??” Alas, Fatcat remained on campus, not going with her mommy down to Aqaba.

One night Tessa grabbed my arm, and said in her Judi-Dench-ish tone, “John-O—something must be done with Fatcat.” There was an interesting gleam in her eye! For a woman with a seemingly endless supply of grace and calm, I knew she couldn’t mean anything approaching harm to our adorable campus mascot. “John-O, if Alena does not come back quickly, I am afraid we are going to have to take that Fatcat down to Aqaba. It really must happen.” Whenever Tessa says “really” it has the authority and command of a naval officer. There must be a roadtrip to liberate the KA campus from Fatcat.

It seems Alena did not have a cat carrying case—that’s okay, we would purchase one if necessary. Fatcat must be returned to her mother! Must happen soon. Must.

Tessa decided that we would make a weekend beach trip out of the return of Fatcat to her mother. We secured rooms in a hotel with the name “Ocean View,” and made 4:00 p.m. on Thursday our goal to get Fatcat into the car. As a funny aside, late last week Fatcat decided to make one last enemy before departing. Fatcat got into a tussle with Toto, one of the headmaster’s cats.

It was a funny scene as we left the parking lot—a fair number of people had come to bid adieu to Fatcat—not with tears, mind you, but such elation at a Fatcat-less campus! However, however, I must also say that my dear friend Renee came to have a semi-tearful moment with Fatcat, and she also made me promise I would not release Fatcat at any point during the four hour long journey.

Four hours with Fatcat in the car. I haven’t had my patience tried like this, since, shoot, I can’t come up with a funny parallel. There must be a moment when I have been forced to be in a long distance car ride with a seeming innocent—most of the school trips I have chaperoned probably.

There were two cars headed south on the Desert Highway. Very interesting that the other car made it clear that they would not be hosting Fatcat. So the four in my car grab some CDs hoping that music, like the Buena Vista Social Club, might drown out the constant mewling of the precious one.

We get a little bored on the drive down, and while I text the other car, I start to have a little fun with Rehema’s car. I pretend that Fatcat has stolen my phone, has ditched the adults, and is in charge of the car on the drive down to Aqaba. It’s Renegade Fatcat. I suppose I was inspired by the Saturday Night Live sketches of “Toonces” the cat of the 1980s, and the text messages became more and more bizarre as I sketched out what I, Fatcat, had done with those humans—especially the handsome man who kept talking the whole time. Rehema texted back at one point: “Fatcat, what have you done with my friends??!” I don’t know if any of that is funny now, but after a few hours on a desert highway with the droning meows of Fatcat, it was a riot then.

So we arrive in Aqaba (I had only been there before once for a quick lunch, so I didn’t count that as a visit) and meet up with Alena. We promptly hand over Fatcat to Mommy. Reunions are beautiful things! We head over to our hotel. By the way—Ocean View is such a deceptive name. One might have thought one could have a view of the sea from the hotel. Picky, picky. There are views of the sea to be had—just not from our hotel. Okay, I lie. The following morning I went up to the rooftop pool area and from there one could spy the Red Sea.

We spend most of our time at the fancy-schmancy Swiss hotel Movenpick in Aqaba. We three guys share the “Ocean View” hotel room and it costs us $53 a person total for our two nights in Aqaba. So we save money on the hotel room, and then spend 99% of our time strolling through the Movenpick as if we had booked suites.

We have a late dinner at the Red Sea Grill, overlooking the water, and aside from the intense heat, it is a gorgeous evening. We walk on the beach, and it is a marvel—just about 5 miles away is the border with Israel and the Eilat resort area. Not far to the west is the border and beach area of Saudi Arabia, and just across the sea a bit, is the Red Sea beach area of Egypt. Staring back at the venerable mountains that rise up from the Wadi Rum desert, it was an impressive sight.

The following morning we return to spend the day relaxing in the Movenpick. The sunseekers go outside, but since it is about 110 degrees, I opted for the opulent lobby of the M-pick. Several of us get massages, and in the evening we take a sunset cruise on the Red Sea. As the burning sun dipped below the mountains by Egypt, we sighed at the beauty of the Red Sea. Oh, have I mentioned that we went to the Red Sea? The Red Sea where I believe Moses and Cecil B. DeMille once spent time???

There is an exciting buzz in the air in Aqaba—maybe because of Alena’s recent move, and the return of Fatcat—and it is interesting that with the proximity to Saudi Arabia it didn’t feel more socially conservative. The contradictions between deep tradition, big business, and mass tourism should give Aqaba an interesting spin in the next few years. Oh, and His Majesty maintains a winter residence there—wouldn’t it be cool if I got invited again to go sometime and warm the chill of Amman from my bones some January weekend!

I didn’t get to indulge on this weekend trip (I was trying to steal time away from the meals and massage to grade my first of tests from my AP class too) but I want to go back since Aqaba is known for its fabulous coral reefs that hug the coast.

But even at the beach I maintain my status as a historian, and I discovered that one of the earliest references to Aqaba comes in the Old Testament. King Solomon built a large port on the site of the future Aqaba both for trade and his new navy. During the time of the Nabateans two thousand years ago, Aqaba was a key stop on the caravan route for merchants arriving in Arabia, with roads leading to Petra and Syria. Recent excavations beneath the beach have revealed the remains of a church dating back to 300. The fabled Lawrence of Arabia surprised the small Ottoman garrison in Aqaba in 1917 and it quickly fell into Lawrence and Faysal’s hands. A funny story I learned—when film director David Lean arrived in Aqaba to stage that sequence for the film Lawrence of Arabia he thought Aqaba looked wrong, and so departed and filmed the sequence in Spain.

Saturday we had the breakfast buffet—where else—at the Movenpick, and then headed back up the Desert Highway for a return to the work week. We hugged Alena goodbye, wished her well in her new job, and put Joan Baez on the CD player. It was so quiet in the car I nodded off for a bit until Tessa awoke me to see the dust storm all around us.

Nice weekend, and I guess I have Fatcat to thank for the decision to relax by the sea for the weekend. Fatcat is intrepid, and if he escapes and returns to KA, we will have another weekend by the Red Sea.

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