It is impossible to meet Mohammed Sea and not be reminded of Oblomov in the Russian film, In Praise of Laziness. He spends most of his day lying in his Bedouin tent, caressing his belly and calling to his servant. Instead of the "Zadar...!" of Oblomov we have the "Ibrahim...!" of Mohammed Sea.
It must be said that Mr. Sea is delightful and he has a big playful belly and runs a good camp. He is one of the few people I met in Jordan with an active sense of ecology, lending snorkelling equipment free one day a week to tourists helping to clean up the beach and corals after the weekend onslaught of families from Akaba and their blatant disregard for one of Allah's finest creations.
This Bedouin camp was so restful and calm and kind; the wind so gentle and the sea so inviting that we stayed there for almost a week, pitching our tent in the shade of reeds. Ah! One week of complete sun and rest, swimming and narguileh smoking and cooking on the open fire. One week of reading and writing and not hearing the news. One week of laziness. Ibrahim!!!

A word about Ibrahim, then. He was the first person I met in Jordan who, while speaking no English, had an instinctive knowledge of the needs of a student of Arabic. Within minutes of meeting me he understood exactly what my level was and which vocabulary and grammar to teach me. In all my years of teaching English, meeting and recruiting other English teachers, I have never met anyone like him. He was simply born to teach.
But what can you do?
He will never be a teacher because he will never realise that such a world exists; a world of night-classes and diplomas and higher education. I told him about his talents, but I cannot take him by the hand through the maze of Jordanian bureaucracy.
Instead he is Mohammed Sea's man Friday, washing and cleaning and cooking; saving up his dinars so he can buy a wife and settle down.

Another important encounter at the camp was a French couple, Eric and Violaine. We wish our parents could meet them and be consoled, for they are even crazier than we are! They're doing the same trip as we are, but on bicycle! It has it's advantages, since they meet people easily and are often recipients of Middle Eastern hospitality.
Also, they can fly over hostile countries whereas we may have to wait forever for visas which will never come have. They can get onto a flight out whereas we have to put up and shut up. But it makes buying and collecting impossible; even a bedside book is too heavy to be considered. The time we spend together there were days of friendship and the easy camaraderie of the road. Eric cooked the fine calamary we bought in Aqaba and I made Bedouin lamb and we washed everything down with the red or whites of the Latrun monastery.
Delicious Chardonnay's and Cabernet Sauvignons!
We told stories around the fire of travel adventures, and I must admit that theirs sounded much more harrowing than ours!
We met up with them again at the Cliff hotel in Amman; an excellent address, by the way if you have to pass through Amman, and spend a few more happy days together and went down to the Dead Sea to swim in the hot springs, sadly polluted by picnickers and made difficult by the prying eyes of Jordanian men who are not used to seeing so much flesh exposed on a female, since Marie-Do and Violaine were wearing (shock, gasp!) bathing suits and not babushka dresses and a chador.
We eventually parted in Amman, and they are certainly in Pakistan now, since they couldn't get visas to cycle through either Iraq or Saudi Arabia.
We look forward to meeting up in India.