Part 25
Another thing we planned to do was going into the desert. Jordan and Israël are separated by the valley of the Negev Desert through which the river Jordan once seems to have continued its course via the Dead Sea to the Red Sea. We followed this valley, initially to the north and went west into the mountains once we were certain that we had left Eilath behind us. Here also were heaps of rubble, but the higher we went the less damaged the rocks were.
We got to a single peak that seemed scaleable with some skill. It was quite a climb but we were rewarded with an Old Testament view. The setting sun coloured the Jordanian mountains in hues that ran from blood red to the depth of purple. We enjoyed this until near darkness and because a descent in the dark was way too dangerous we spent the night on Peak Purple. We had prepared ourselves well for a night in the desert and slept like heroes.
I spent little money in Eilath. The food in East Village was rather a matter of work than of money and the only supplement I permitted myself was as delicious as it was dirt cheap, the Falafel, a purse-shaped roll filled with deep-fried chickpeas, mixed salads and optional sauce. Plus a few pounds for renting the snorkel, mask and flippers and every now and then a packet of cheap cigarettes upon which a jet-plane was depicted. The cigarettes were oval in diameter, so one could smile without drawing false air.
Nevertheless my purse started to squeeze, particularly for justice as I still had not received my payment from Timna. Then the rumour spread that the subcontractor was about to leave for Cyprus for an indefinite period. We held council of war with about thirty partners in distress and in the evening when it was dark we lit torches and advanced to the Man’s house. We got our pay easy-peasy and celebrated this with a big bonfire.
The sudden increase in possession did not profoundly change my existence; at most the unpleasant feeling of losing it again confused me. Regularly I inquired at the Post office if there was any restante for me. My surprise was big, but my happiness even bigger when I read the letter that Karen had written to me.
Jan Ploeg
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