A glimpse of the shared past

As part of our honeymoon trip in 1986 we visited the resort town of Aqabah, Jordan. Getting there involved boarding a bus in Cairo, Egypt, crossing the Sinai Peninsula by night, and finally taking a ferry across the Gulf of Aqabah to the resort town on the Jordanian coast. The ferry sailed from a small coastal town, we think it was called Nuweiba, Egypt, pictured above. (Searching for pictures, Ken found these never-before-published slides from our trip.) The crossing of the gulf was invigorating, in contrast to the rather crowded bus through the Sinai. On arriving at the port in Aqabah we walked the short distance into town and found a hotel near the beach.
View from the ferry looking back on the Sinai.

Venturing out in the evening we found a delightful outdoor restaurant with a friendly host, the food was simple and delicious, and we became regulars. We had one bit of unpleasant business to finish; our plane tickets disappeared somewhere along the way, probably not in Jordan, but we had to file a police report in order to get replacements from KLM.

Wandering through town we asked a young man, perhaps age 15, for help finding the station. With our rudimentary Arabic and his limited English it wasn't clear if he understood our request. But we walked along with him, hopeful of reaching our goal, Ken trying to make conversation. Things got strange when the boy put his arm around Rebecca's shoulders. Questions like "Why isn't Ken stepping in? Does he think this is okay?" raced through her mind. Removing the boy's arm herself and sending furious thoughts and blistering looks to the passive new husband, Rebecca considered 1) the message that American movies send the Arab world regarding interaction with western women 2) a lifetime with Ken.

Nothing more eventful happened and we found the police station. We explained our plight to several uniformed men behind desks and eventually got a typed document. More on procuring tickets and getting out of Aqabah in a later post.