Walden Cabin: Observations typed on an old Underwood

Pillar of Salt

And when the morning arose, then the angels hastened Lot, saying, "Arise, take thy wife, and thy two daughters, which are here; lest thou be consumed in the iniquity of the city."

Genesis 19:23

I'm reclining on a padded chaise lounge in the shade of a thirsty-looking palm. The stone terrace leads in three directions: behind me to the well-stocked bar, at my left to a spa, and directly ahead to the edge of a crystal pool. There are no swimmers. The surface of the water stretches out before me and joins the Dead Sea in a shimmering optical illusion, leading the eye further on to the mountains of Israel.

As I sip a $12 g&t to kill time before my 2:30 full-body aromatherapy mud treatment, I'm uneasy. I just can't stop thinking about the people who are just across the Dead Sea, a few km away. The Israeli army has sealed off the West Bank again, including the little town that I can see just over the artificial horizon of my 5-star pool. The bartender told me a while ago to take a walk along the shore -- that I would be able to hear explosions from Arafat's compound in Ramallah (about 15 km away).

It's one thing to endure the inevitable sense of powerless evoked by daily TV news images of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but right now that feeling is compounded. Sitting here wrapped in thick terry-cloth, with a slight buzz and an hour of sensual delights ahead, I feel like a collaborator in human misery – or at least indifferent to it. Am I pursuing the wrong career? Should I write about injustice? Would that make me feel better? Is THAT what this is all about?

But for now I must concentrate on my job. I have to make at least one travel article sale from this trip, and I don't want to be stressed out during my mud bath.

I make some notes: "Sensual. Decadent. A full complement of health and fitness facilities. An oasis in the desert." My guidebook doesn't link the over-the-top lavishness of this place with Soddom and Gomorrah, the Biblical cities that preceded this resort not far from here. This connection occurred to me last night as I turned up the a-c in my room to compensate for the feather duvet. No, I'm here to write about how wonderful this resort is. And it is. But I wonder if I would be more comfortable with myself if I were on the other side of this sea.

Then again, perhaps the subtle edge of tension I feel is merely the lingering vibe of Lot's apocalypse as the last city of decadence on this shore met its violent end.

I hope they had mud baths.



	Pillar of Salt And when the morning arose, then the angels hastened Lot, saying, "Arise, take thy wife, and thy two daughters, which are here; lest thou be consumed in the iniquity of the city." Genesis 19:23 I'm reclining on a padded chaise lounge in the shade of a thirsty-looking palm. The stone terrace leads in three directions: behind me to the well-stocked bar, at my left to a spa, and directly ahead to the edge of a crystal pool. There are no swimmers. The surface of the water stretches out before me and joins the Dead Sea in a shimmering optical illusion, leading the eye further on to the mountains of Israel. As I sip a $12 g&t to kill time before my 2:30 full-body aromatherapy mud treatment, I'm uneasy. I just can't stop thinking about the people who are just across the Dead Sea, a few km away. The Israeli army has sealed off the West Bank again, including the little town that I can see just over the artificial horizon of my 5-star pool. The bartender told me a while ago to take a walk along the shore -- that I would be able to hear explosions from Arafat's compound in Ramallah (about 15 km away). It's one thing to endure the inevitable sense of powerless evoked by daily TV news images of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but right now that feeling is compounded. Sitting here wrapped in thick terry-cloth, with a slight buzz and an hour of sensual delights ahead, I feel like a collaborator in human misery – or at least indifferent to it. Am I pursuing the wrong career? Should I write about injustice? Would that make me feel better? Is THAT what this is all about? But for now I must concentrate on my job. I have to make at least one travel article sale from this trip, and I don't want to be stressed out during my mud bath. I make some notes: "Sensual. Decadent. A full complement of health and fitness facilities. An oasis in the desert." My guidebook doesn't link the over-the-top lavishness of this place with Soddom and Gomorrah, the Biblical cities that preceded this resort not far from here. This connection occurred to me last night as I turned up the a-c in my room to compensate for the feather duvet. No, I'm here to write about how wonderful this resort is. And it is. But I wonder if I would be more comfortable with myself if I were on the other side of this sea. Then again, perhaps the subtle edge of tension I feel is merely the lingering vibe of Lot's apocalypse as the last city of decadence on this shore met its violent end. I hope they had mud baths.				Jump to other Jordan posts: > A Little Closer to God and Bombs > Balloon Animal Diplomacy > Streets of Amman > He Shoots, He Scores > Pillar of Salt > Ahmed the Spud > Rana and Honour Killings Head for the Hills of Prince Edward Island Walden Cabin >> "I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, to front the essential facts of life and to see if I could learn what they had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) Walden; Or Life in the Woods (08.21) Walden Cabin is a publishing creation of Accolade Intermedia, an Ottawa-based communications company that specializes in content-rich Web products. www.accolade.ca >>
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