After wandering the rose-red halls of Petra, we hit the road toward the Dead Sea. At the time, I was working an EMEA-focused role, which, if you’ve ever done the corporate travel grind, means I’d hoarded a rather lovely nest egg of hotel points. We cashed them in for a spot on the Jordanian side, perfectly situated within an easy stroll of the dead sea's water’s edge.

The Dead Sea is one of those rare places that actually lives up to the "unique" label. I’ve visited the high-altitude salt lagoons in Chile's Atacama Desert, but nothing quite prepares you for the sensation of bobbing in these waters. "Swimming" is a generous term; the buoyancy is so aggressive that traditional strokes are basically impossible. You don’t swim so much as hover on the surface like a human cork. It is, quite frankly, one of the weirdest sensations on Earth.

Naturally, we did the obligatory mud mask. It’s famous for its mineral-rich skin benefits, though looking back at our archives, I can’t find a single photo of us caked in the stuff. I suspect we were a bit precious about our cameras, the combination of abrasive salt and thick mud isn't exactly "tech-friendly."

The evening provided a moment of unintended drama. We looked across the water to the Israeli side and saw lights streaking across the sky. For a brief, tense moment, the regional context had us wondering if we were watching rockets being fired. Once we realized it was simply a fireworks display, the tension evaporated, and we settled in to enjoy the show reflecting off the still, salty expanse.

Conclusion

Our time at the Dead Sea was a surreal mix of natural wonder and quiet reflection (with a small side of adrenaline). It’s a place that humbles you, mostly by refusing to let you sink. Refreshed and thoroughly exfoliated, we packed up and headed toward an Eco Lodge just outside Amman, but that’s a story for next week.