The cliffhanger from the previous part resolves like this.
Sasha said that when he was held back, they started interrogating him even more thoroughly: where did the scar on his arm come from, what if a bomb was implanted there? (even though it's from childhood). Then they searched him most meticulously, practically feeling up his balls, noticeably more thoroughly than the usual superficial pat-down after the metal detector frame goes off. Then they even took his boots away somewhere, obviously to scan their structure on an atomic level.
When Rybakov was finally released and escorted to the check-in counter, he was asked to put his backpack with warm clothes on the conveyor belt. Without a second thought, he did as requested, thinking they just wanted to weigh the backpack, only to watch it sail away into the distance. He tried to grab his property, but the shift supervisor sharply cut off his attempts. The thing is, taking things out of or putting them into screened luggage is strictly prohibited. Perhaps if Sasha had the time and desire to stand his ground, he would have managed to prove that his jacket and fleece posed no threat to the security of the State of Israel and the aircraft of the Ryanair corporation, but the moment was lost. The backpack rode off, and Sasha, being a tough northern Polish dude, waved off the prospect of freezing a bit.
Having finally passed all the circles of hell, we found ourselves in the inner part of the airport, with cute greetings, wooden signs and souvenirs from kibbutzim. And, of course, the traditional 12-euro sandwiches. I didn't even have enough local dough for a bottle of water, but luckily, someone had thoughtfully left an empty one on a table so that I, following my tradition, could fill it up at a drinking fountain. Fortunately, in Israel there are such things, and the water there is of high quality, plus you can even pour warm water. Now that's a country for the people! Bring on the satisfaction of basic needs first!
In the line for the gate, they checked us one more time, this time the boarding pass and passport, just like at the gate itself.
About all these maneuvers, I can say only one thing: we hold no grudges against Israel. It sucks when your freedoms are restricted, but since 1954, if my memory serves me right, after the invention of all these ingenious procedures and requirements for passenger screening, not a single plane to or from Israel has been blown up, and no one has died from terrorists on board, unless you count the TU-154, which was most likely accidentally shot down by the Ukrainians over their own territory anyway.
A balance of freedom and responsibility is important everywhere, and for the Israelis, it's shifted towards stricter control due to the country's position in the world.
The flight went without incident. Alexander proudly stepped onto native soil in a t-shirt and sweatpants, despite the sub-zero temperatures and nasty snow slush around. He doesn't give a damn, though: the man is tough!
It's funny that Sasha's misadventures didn't quite end there. Apparently, he's an exceptionally suspicious-looking dude, because, while we were waiting for our luggage, Lithuanian border guards pulled him aside again and ran a check, this time a short one. The bikes, by the way, arrived without any issues, and even showed up pretty quickly, unlike the bags, which we waited almost twenty minutes for, and had already decided they'd actually been lost.
My dad met us, and we dropped by Tigras's awesome cepelinai place a kilometer from the airport towards Kaunas, highly recommend it to everyone. I got home pretty late, and the next day I had to return to regular reality, meaning going to the office and sitting at the computer, but for a few more days after arriving, I was still raving about Jordan; it occupied my thoughts and even frequently appeared in my dreams.
I confess, I'm often overcome by thoughts of whether the blog is worth running, publishing reports, whether my prose is colorful enough, whether the adventures are interesting, and whether this is all just a vanity fair on my part. You can always do something "useful" instead, after all. However, here's what even the Dalai Lama says on Facebook:
I often ask myself what is the purpose of our lives and I conclude that life's purpose is to be happy. We have no guarantee what will happen in the future, but we live in hope. That's what keeps us going.
As long as my travels and stories about them bring joy to me and those around me, the direction is right. I'm glad that this time the story sparked such a big response and nearly a hundred people read it from time to time. Thanks for the comments and feedback; even if I don't always reply, they inspire me to write more.
The traditional reader question is: what did you like most about Jordan?
The mountains and gorges we encountered along the way are very impressive: Al Mujib, the road from Dana to Petra. I was delighted by the sunset and mountains at the end of the trip from Wadi Musa to Wadi Rum. I remember the secret passage in Shobak Castle, I've never been in a place like that before. I'm glad I broke my speed record on a bicycle, now it's 74 km/h. The contrast between poor villages and Aqaba is striking, the Bedouin hospitality is heartwarming.
Of course, by no means last on the list are the people, friendly, and quite chill for southerners. In Jordan, I felt peaceful and safe almost the whole time; even in Israel at one point I was more nervous: when I arrived in the evening at the central bus station in Tel Aviv, which is dirty, noisy, and full of suspicious characters. It's a pity that the tourist flow to Jordan has dried up because of ISIS: the country's residents don't deserve this. It's silly that the Jordanian state can't establish direct low-cost flights from Europe: flying through Israel, as it turned out, is quite a hassle and pricey.
What did I take away from this trip?
Basically what I already knew, and confirmed once again.
Muslims in general aren't that scary; after all, you have to understand there are a billion of them, and specific scumbags among them number maybe a dozen or two million. Of course, it would be better if all religions died out like an atavism, but while they exist, we shouldn't inflate the idea that all Muslims are evil and aggressive. As you can tell from my story, that's not true at all. It's just that the evil ones need to be caught better, and laws applied to them more strictly.
A person is capable of a lot, even if it doesn't seem like it to them, planning rules, doing things in a group is more fun and reliable, but you should rely primarily on yourself and your own skills. Most people in any country are friendly, especially to cyclists. Travels broaden your horizons and tolerance, your understanding that people remain people, with all their flaws and virtues. People are imperfect, therein lies their torment and beauty. Truth and happiness occur in life only in moments, but it's good that they occur, and even better to create them yourself.
In any case, it's best to get something going rather than sitting on your ass: unexpected discoveries and pleasant little things like trucks delivering gas to unearthly melodies await you.
P.S. Ask questions in the comments or on Facebook; I will try to answer if possible.
P.P.S. Despite all these positive and inspiring reflections, I'm not ready to go anywhere yet and am not planning any trips or hanging out at festivals in the coming months: I need to figure out what kind of leapfrog game has happened with my health. Sleep and temperature are a disaster, and as long as they are what they are, long-distance trips will have to be limited, and the daily routine tightened up.
If you liked my report, don't forget that I have a lot of them! I recommend Iceland, Vietnam, and the USA.