Jordan and Palestine (Day 3)

With the Jordiebears, in March 2025.
Of Wadi Rum, remnants of the Hijaz Railway, and Ashabul Kahfi.

Day 3 began before dawn as we shuffled about in the cold and darkness, getting ready for the sunrise tour. Bundled in our winter jackets, we clambered aboard the two open back jeeps waiting and headed out into the desert. We sat silent –mostly– just allowing ourselves to be one with the surroundings.

I think we must have stood on that mount for at least 30 minutes, as the sun climbed from beyond the horizon. It made sense to me, in that moment, why so many in history find the desert a place for contemplation and thought; there is something about its vastness and deep silence that stirs the soul.

The sunrise tour was basically just typical tourist things. The guides brought us to some picturesque spots, some historical spots, and a shopping spot (the prices were a little mad). Was the tour worth the price we paid? Not for the historical value, but just for the views and experience? Yes, mashaAllah. Oh and for that one thrilling moment when a pack of angry guard dogs gave chase and got so close it felt like they could jump onto us. Wild times for city dwellers ha!

If my memory does not fail me, I think the entire tour took around 3 hours. Lots of riding, climbing up dunes, sitting and enjoying the views, and little explorations into nooks in rock formations. I would say it’s an activity that would be suitable for all ages. The guides then took us back to camp, where we did our last packing before heading back into the city.

On our way back to Amman, we passed by some old train tracks and asked to stop for a while. Someone mentioned that it was part of the disrupted Hijaz Railway Project spearheaded by the Ottoman empire, meant to connect Turkiye to Mekah. Having binged on the Ertuğrul and Osman series, AO was both excited by the find and disheartened by the story behind its destruction. Little did we know that a few months later, the Saudis and Turks would sign an MOU to try and revive the Hijaz Railway.

We made a scheduled stop at the site of the Ashabul Kahfi (The Cave of the Sleepers), only to find the cave locked as the Imam in charge had gone home for the day. It was Ramadhan, and things tend to work at different timings in Ramadhan. Ustazah Zahra and our Malaysian Ustaz cum guide took over and shared with us the historicity of the location vis-a-vis the story narrated in the Qur’an in Surah al-Kahf.

After hanging out for a bit, we trekked back down to our bus, and on the way, passed by the security guard of the location. “Ammu,” one of us tried our luck, “Is there no way you can unlock the door? We’ve come from so far.” The ammu gestured to some carpet, “Have a seat. I have called the imam and he’s already on his way here.”

And so we ended up being able to enter the cave, alhamdulillah. We listened to the kind imam retell the story, this time while being able to refer to the different spots in the cave that seemed to point at its authenticity. It was a surreal experience being able to stand at the same spot as the youth whose story I must have read countless times on Fridays.

Time was not on our side as we were unable to reach our apartment in time for iftar. It turned out to be a blessing, however, because we were able to witness first hand the generosity of the Jordanians. Families walked along traffic, giving away drinks, dates and cakes to drivers through open windows. Smiles and syukrans filled the air as our bus made its way through the evening commute. At one point, a man even boarded our bus with a box of dates, passing small ready-made packets to everyone before heading back to the street. It was an environment that I truly miss living in secular Singapore.

We spent the last hours of the day strolling on pavements, getting our fill of desert, coffee and conversation, before calling it a night. Tomorrow would be the day we would enter Palestine, biidhnillah.