The Dead Sea: floating and thinking about change

Sitting in my hotel room, still feeling the strange sensation of Dead Sea minerals on my skin despite a thorough shower. Today was exactly what I needed after the intensity of turning fifty yesterday.

I woke up at 5:30 this morning, packed a small bag with water, sunscreen, and a book, then headed downstairs for a quick coffee before catching the 7:00 bus to the Dead Sea. The hotel was quiet, just a few early risers like myself nursing coffees in the corner of the breakfast area. The woman at reception pointed me toward the nearest bus stop, and I arrived there at 6:50, standing in the cool morning air as Jerusalem slowly woke up around me.

The bus ride took about an hour, winding down from Jerusalem through the Judean Desert. The landscape changed dramatically - from the dense urban environment to bare, undulating hills in shades of tan and brown. As we descended below sea level, I could feel my ears popping slightly.

When we arrived, the first thing that struck me was the color of the water - a deep, unnatural turquoise blue against the pale desert landscape. The second thing was the smell - slightly sulfurous, mineral-rich. The third was how few people were there this early in the morning. I'd read that January isn't peak tourist season here, and the slightly cooler weather (around 15°C when I arrived) probably kept some visitors away.

I paid the entrance fee to one of the beach areas and found a spot to leave my things. The shoreline looked almost otherworldly - white salt crystals crusting the edges where water meets land, and that unusual blue stretching out toward Jordan on the opposite shore.

The water was cooler than I expected but not uncomfortable. I waded in carefully, mindful of the warnings about not splashing (getting this water in your eyes is apparently quite painful). And then came the strange part - as I leaned back, my body just... rose to the surface. I've read about the buoyancy of the Dead Sea for years, but experiencing it firsthand was remarkable. My legs and arms floated up, and I found myself bobbing like a cork with almost no effort.

I spent about twenty minutes floating, staring up at the clear blue sky, thinking about yesterday's birthday and the conversations with Carlos and María. Their observation about my restlessness has stuck with me. Am I running from something, or toward something? And does the distinction even matter?

After floating, I found a spot on the shore and covered parts of my arms and legs with the famous Dead Sea mud. It dried quickly in the sun, cracking and tightening on my skin. An older British couple nearby laughed as they covered each other in mud, looking like creatures from some primordial swamp. We exchanged a few words about the experience - they were on their second visit in ten years and insisted the mud had kept them looking young.

I spent a few hours there, alternating between floating, reading my book on the shore, and people-watching as more visitors arrived. By noon, the temperature had risen to a comfortable 18°C, and I was getting hungry. I washed off at the shower facilities and caught the bus back to Jerusalem, arriving around 14:00.

Now, sitting on my hotel bed at 16:00, I'm reflecting on the day. There's something profoundly symbolic about floating in the Dead Sea the day after turning fifty. The inability to sink, the mineral-rich waters known for their healing properties, the ancient landscape that has witnessed civilizations rise and fall - it all feels like an appropriate transition into this new decade of life.

I've decided to leave Jerusalem tomorrow. After a week here, I feel I've experienced what I came for - the profound history, the complex present, the sacred sites that have drawn pilgrims for millennia. The restlessness is returning, that familiar urge to move on and see what's next.

I haven't decided where yet. Tel Aviv is the obvious choice, just an hour away by bus. But part of me wants something completely different after the intensity of Jerusalem. Perhaps I'll head to the Mediterranean coast, or south to Eilat. I'll make up my mind by morning.

For now, I'm going to find dinner somewhere in the city and enjoy my last evening in Jerusalem. 363 days left in this journey. I wonder where I'll be for my 51st birthday.