The Dead Sea is wondrous and exciting. Its color alone is perfection. It appears as if the most beautiful shades of blue and green were swirled together with a big spoon and painted gently across the sand. I get into the water and the sensation is not what I’m used to. It feels thick and oily unlike the clear, light feeling of the lakes and pools I’m accustomed to. A small part of my calf begins to sting and I remember that I cut myself shaving yesterday. I feel this sensation all over in small areas and I realize that I’m all scratched up. Friends warned me about entering the sea with cuts but it’s not the painful sort of burning I feared. It’s almost--dare I say-- pleasurable. The sting subsides quickly and I know the sea is healing me.
I tread out a little farther and I get some water near my mouth. “That’s okay,” I think, “just don’t speak to anyone.” Thirty seconds later I lick my lips out of habit and immediately regret it. I’m overwhelmed by the harsh, salty taste in my mouth. It won’t subside and I crave a piece of cinnamon gum.
The Dead Sea’s salt concentration is incredibly high and consequently, it’s denser than other bodies of water. This allows people to float and I get on my back to do so. I yell to my friend to bring me my book and to my surprise she sea-walks over with my copy of “Water for Elephants.” I start to think about what would happen to an elephant in the Dead Sea and then laugh to myself. I’m getting giddy. I open to my page and delight in the fact that I can read and float at the same time. I feel supported by the water beneath me and the sun beating down takes care of the parts of my body that are not immersed in the water. One thing that continues to amaze me is how perfect the temperature of the Dead Sea is. I tend to find water uncomfortably hot or unbearably cold but this salty sea has achieved the perfect balance for my liking. I can’t believe it’s November.
I bring my book back to shore because, really, I was just being silly. I go back in the sea and continue to float, feeling childish all the while. I remember learning somewhere that Cleopatra used to bathe here. I become overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude and love for life on this glorious earth. The opportunity to be here at this moment is something for which I am eternally grateful.
I decide to go back to shore so I can rub mud on myself I like I saw all the other kids do. The mud looks like a bar of soap. I take it out of the plastic and rub it all over my body. The first time around it’s not thick enough so I get some more and make a mud paste. I put it everywhere- my face, my arms, my chest, my belly- I am covered from head to toe. I step back into the sea and rub the water all over my muddy body. I’m careful when I put the water near my face; I know the burning won’t be pleasurable if it’s in my eyes. When I clean off the mud on my body with the saltwater my skin is unbelievably soft. I want to touch it forever.
I know that you’re not meant to linger in the sea for too long so I go to shore and walk along the beach. The weather is perfect and I’m not cold at all. I notice that there are so many different groups enjoying this land. Grown men and young children alike are buying mud, rubbing it on their bodies, and enjoying their soft skin.
A place so unique and interesting makes me forget that I’m in a land surrounded by hate and terror. The Dead Sea made me feel more soft, warm, and peaceful than anyplace else in the world.
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