Floating in the Dead Sea

Marta and I took advantage of our free day yesterday to go on an adventure and signed up for a tour to the Dead Sea, independently of anything organized by the competition.  Early that morning, the bus came around to pick up people from various hotels in Tel Aviv, our tour guide introduced herself with a heartfelt rendition of Oh What a Beautiful Morning! Oh What a Beautiful Day!, and as we headed on to pick up more people in Jerusalem, she chatted happily with us about the architecture we were seeing along the way.

I thought I would include a map of Israel here to illustrate the route we took on this trip.  It was never consciously our intention to venture into Palestinian territory, but since it is obviously the most direct way to get to the Dead Sea, our bus did end up driving straight through the West Bank.  We both felt slightly uncomfortable to be taking such a risk, but we did make it back in one piece, and just seeing it through the window was an incredibly eye-opening experience.  From what we have seen of Israel so far, the land seems relatively inhospitable and the city does not strike us as particularly modern or clean, especially compared to what we are used to in France or the American midwest.  But we were not at all ready for the stark contrast we experienced as soon as we emerged from the other side of Jerusalem into the West Bank.  Suddenly we were driving across completely barren, hills of gravel, the sun beating harshly down from the cloudless sky, no longer any sign of plant life.  The few patches of buildings we saw from a distance were plain, box-like structures the same color as the land around them.  As we descended into the canyon around the Dead Sea, there were no longer even Palestinian buildings but occasionally little gatherings of make-shift shacks set up by the nomadic Bedouin people to provide shelter for themselves and their herds of goats.  It was disturbing to see people living in such conditions, to say the least.  As if to ward off the feeling, our guide cheerily tried to distract us by explained that every time we see a gathering of buildings where there are trees, we can know that it is a Jewish community, because the Jews have been commanded by God to plant trees wherever they go.

Palestinian territory

Bedouin huts in the desert

Those who learned something about the Dead Sea in eighth-grade science class may know that it is the lowest point in the world on dry land, over 400 meters (close to a mile) below sea level.  Water from the scarce rains of this region run down to this salty inland lake.  Eventually the H2O evaporates back into the atmosphere, leaving behind the minerals that were in the water.  As a result, the Dead Sea is a dense wealth of rare minerals.  The concentration of minerals in the Dead Sea is 35%, as compared to the oceans, 3%, and our bodies, 1%.  Because the water is actually more dense than the human body, we float like corks when swimming in it.  Bathing in the water is supposed to have magical health benefits, as essential minerals are absorbed through the skin.  The location we were taken to in order to experience this was the Ein Gedi spa.

That's about as much as we knew when we arrived, but we soon found that there's so much more to the experience that they don't normally tell you.  First of all, the beach is not at all sandy, but rather a ripply sheet of crystalized minerals.  We wore our shoes at all times, even into the water.

Abandoned bikes, caked in minerals

Marta in her Superman position

After we had spent a few moments bobbing around in awe and delighted laughter, we realized that the water had an oily texture.  We also soon found that it's not as comfortable as it looks; it stings! If you've ever put iodine on a cut to sterilize it, you'll know what I'm talking about.  Iodine is just one of the sterilizing minerals in the water, and we regretted having shaved our legs: every pore burned!  Though it's almost impossible to drown in the Dead Sea, a lifeguard is on constant watch over the beach, and if it looks like someone has accidentally splashed some water in his/her eye, the lifeguard will call instructions over a loud-speaker for how to stay calm and find a fresh-water faucet.  Drinking the water would be deadly; there is no life in the Dead Sea, save a few resilient bacteria.

There's so much haze hanging over the Dead Sea that it's nearly impossible to make out the mountains of Jordan, just across the water.  In fact, not even the horizon is very clear; the sea blends right into the sky, and we felt like we were floating at the end of the world.  (The only thing occasionally breaking the infinite expanse of blue were the fighter planes and military transport jets patrolling Israel's border overhead.)  Maybe the haze filters the rays of the sun too, because even though we were out there all afternoon, without a lick of sunscreen on, we didn't burn.  Plus, even though we were in the water for quite a while, our fingers didn't prune!  Nothing had the physical properties we were used to expecting, and combined with the barren landscape, we could have just as well been on the moon.

a mud bath, just to make sure we'd absorbed the most minerals we could get

rinsing off in the sulfur showers

We rode back that night, exhausted, lulled by our tour guide singing Hebrew lullabies about Ein Gedi and Jerusalem, amazed by how smooth our skin had become.