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Saturday 5 July 2008

The greatest oddity of all

On the way to the Kempinski Hotel Ishtar Dead Sea I inquired of our driver, Mohammed, ‘Will I need to cover my head, or wear long clothes when swimming in the sea?’

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On the way to the Kempinski Hotel Ishtar Dead Sea I inquired of our driver, Mohammed, ‘Will I need to cover my head, or wear long clothes when swimming in the sea?’ He was puzzled, asking, ‘But what for?’ ‘Well, you know — to be respectful…’ Thumping the steering wheel and roaring with laughter Mohammed replied, ‘Hahaha, no, no, at the Dead Sea you will see beautiful women in thongs, relaxing by the salty water…’ My (previously sleeping) husband opened his eyes. ‘Really,’ he murmured. ‘In thongs…’

For anyone like me, with limited experience of luxury hotels, the Kempinski Ishtar is an extraordinary place. Huge, splendid, indulgent; it doesn’t seem possible that lux-ury should exist in such a bald, uncompromising landscape. I could have believed I had been transported to another planet — or, at the very least, to the set of a film about the future. After a few hours it became hard to remember what country, or even what year, existed outside the hotel complex. My anxieties drifted away, shortly followed by my ability to think, take decisions, or remain aware of the world outside. After more than a couple of days I would certainly have become a drone, programmed only to eat from a buffet and be driven about in a golf cart. (Not that such a future doesn’t hold a certain appeal.)

About 40 minutes south-west of Amman, and two hours north of Petra, the Kempinski Ishtar is perched above the north-eastern corner of the Dead Sea. The hotel’s position is the key to its bizarre charm: since the shoreline of the Dead Sea is 400 metres below sea level, it is almost at the lowest point on earth. It stands proudly amid a cluster of 5-star hotels on a steep slope which leads from the road behind it to the water’s edge in front.

Outside the hotel’s boundaries the ground is dishevelled, camel-coloured and stony, but in front of the main hotel — a vast, yellow block — the ground gives way in polite terraces. Each is furnished with pools and villas, and planted with verdurous lawns and fully grown palm and olive trees (all imported). On the custard-coloured beach (also imported) stand umbrellas and loungers, and beyond them lies the greatest oddity of all, the Dead Sea itself, which I think I never really believed wasn’t a fiction.

More articles from: Olivia Glazebrook | this section

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