After lounging on the couch at Motel Sunset for a few hours, I finally decided (as I always do) that we hadn't come all this way for nothing, and we should at least check out how Israelis vacation. Pulling myself together and lifting myself off the couch with an incredible effort of will, I shook Rybakov awake, we dressed up a bit, and crawled out into the light of day. The light, however, turned out to be darkness — it's very weird to step out into the hotel courtyard from a nearly windowless room only to discover it had gotten dark ages ago. We headed for the beach, figuring the center was nearby, and we weren't wrong.
It must be said that Eilat is a small city, with a population of about fifty thousand, and it's located on the very edge of Israel, which looks like a pointy tip — rumor has it, it was seized so the country could have access to the Red Sea to transport oil and petroleum products by water. The width of Israel in this part is a laughable 15 km — essentially, just a little slice by the sea. In the summer, it often hits 44 degrees Celsius here — I have no idea why anyone would poke their nose in here in such heat, but the thrill-seekers never dry up.
In the last part, I somehow skipped an important detail. Because of Shabbat, when we arrived in Eilat, it looked rather gloomy: there were almost no people on the streets, and there was even trash lying around (obviously, the street sweepers had a day off too). The stores were all closed, except for the tiniest ones, and the currency exchanges too. Luckily, we were saved by a miracle machine that joyfully swallowed our Jordanian bills and spat out shekels. It's a universal machine, it was ready to gobble up euros as well. Rybakov went for a dip in the Red Sea, where they charge 4 euros for a beach lounger, and there aren't many takers willing to pay, most likely because it's a bit chilly, and there aren't that many people in general, although you couldn't say there are too few either. The bar, at least, was open, and irrigated the surroundings with some relaxing lounge music.
When we stepped out onto the street in the evening, a striking transformation awaited us: sparkling neon everywhere, even thicker than in Aqaba, and definitely more stylish. Nightlife is boiling, streams of tourists are rushing to blow their cash as fast as possible. Even though ice cream costs 7 euros, and a sandwich a whopping ten. We strolled along the promenade, where every palm tree is numbered, and admired the glittering hotels, boutiques, and restaurants. The prices there are simply exorbitant; everything looks like pure glitz and glamour, though. Aqaba definitely has room to grow, one hundred percent. Places like this, however, always bum me out: the glamour seems ridiculous to me while half the people on earth are starving, and overall, it's all a vanity fair of a format that doesn't appeal to my soul. I'd rather they competed over who climbed Everest faster, than over their ability to buy expensive threads and rides. Luxury purely for luxury's sake is completely devoid of meaning: it's another story when a beautiful new culture is created in the process, which, to be fair, does happen quite often even in this kitschy burlesque world.
True, even in this house of abundance and happiness there are poor (or cunning) people: a beggar, looking like a Soviet intellectual, was sitting on the bridge and asking us for some dough in Russian.Illuminated attractions are visible from everywhere in the center: a giant slingshot and a spinning wheel way up high. The thought of visiting them, unfortunately, only triggered a wave of nausea in me. It was warm outside, around 23 degrees, but I was already freezing. It started shortly before the trip to Jordan, and continues to this day. We sat on the promenade, where I couldn't resist and ate an ice cream, while Sasha – drank a beer. This world of entertainment is alluring, sometimes so much so that you can't hold back, even if you feel it won't do you any good.
When we were heading back, we caught a show with colored fountains. It turned out the performance was free, so we stared at it for a bit. The whole thing is called the New Musical fountain, it has 350 jets, some blasting up to 30 meters, lit up by 400 differently colored LEDs, and all set to music. It's better to see it once, though, so click below. Nearby, by the way, there's an advanced skatepark, for some reason properly fenced off on all sides — protecting the kids, probably.
Not far from the motel, we dropped into a diner, where we smashed a kebab each. It's good to live in a developed country: there's always a vegetarian option with falafel.
The portions, although they started at 7 euros, were massive: plus, you could take as many vegetables as you want. The peppers were simply nuclear, I bit off a tiny piece so as not to overdo it. The hummus, by the way, was very tasty, just like in the restaurant in Aqaba (even though this is just a fast-food joint) and much better than out in the Jordanian boonies.
Overall, Eilat is just like other resort towns: pretty boring unless you're planning to throw your cash to the wind or laze around on the beach all day. Of course, it's much more civilized even than Aqaba, let alone the Jordanian villages. Everything is neat, beautiful, and looks expensive. Israeli women, however, smoke a lot — not the most pleasant discovery. People around are riding e-bikes, nobody, fortunately, wears a burqa, quite the opposite, in fact — everyone is flaunting whatever they can, while not forgetting to show as much bare skin as possible.
It's a good thing we arrived in Eilat with time to spare, and a day to unwind and relax is a useful thing, but the city itself is not too interesting for a bicycle traveler.
The next day, all that awaited us was a bus ride to the airport and our departure. Taught by previous experience flying out of Israel, however, I didn't think it would be that easy and prudently suggested taping our bike boxes with special postal tape that is easy to rip off. It was also worth arriving with plenty of time — but here we weren't free to choose, as you might remember, the bus was a special one, and it's a good thing it even existed.