Under the vast, star-studded sky of Jordan’s Wadi Rum desert, a surreal experience awaits those daring enough to embrace it. The Martian-like landscape of Wadi Rum, with its rust-colored dunes and towering sandstone cliffs, has long been a stand-in for the Red Planet in films like The Martian. But for travelers seeking more than just a glimpse of this otherworldly terrain, spending a night at the Wadi Rum "Mars Camp" offers an unforgettable opportunity to live like an astronaut—if only for a day.

The journey begins long before arrival. As you leave behind the bustling streets of Amman or the ancient ruins of Petra, the scenery shifts dramatically. The arid plains give way to an expanse of red sand and jagged rock formations, a topography so alien it feels like stepping onto another planet. By the time you reach the camp, the sun is often low in the sky, casting long shadows that stretch across the desert like fingers grasping at the horizon.

The Mars Camp itself is a cluster of futuristic dome-shaped tents, their sleek, white exteriors contrasting starkly against the ruddy earth. Designed to mimic the habitats scientists envision for future Mars colonies, these domes are surprisingly comfortable inside. Equipped with beds, heating, and even private bathrooms, they strike a delicate balance between rugged adventure and modern convenience. But the real magic begins when night falls.

As darkness envelops the desert, the camp transforms. The domes, illuminated from within, glow like tiny outposts of humanity in an otherwise barren world. Outside, the silence is profound—no cars, no chatter, just the occasional whisper of wind over the dunes. Then, you look up. The night sky in Wadi Rum is unlike anything most people have ever seen. With virtually no light pollution, the Milky Way stretches overhead in a dazzling arc, so vivid it feels almost tangible. Constellations you’ve only seen in textbooks blaze with newfound clarity, and shooting stars streak across the heavens with startling frequency.

Dinner is an experience in itself. Served in a communal tent or under the stars, traditional Jordanian dishes like zarb—a Bedouin barbecue cooked underground—are shared among guests. The meal is a chance to swap stories with fellow travelers, many of whom are still marveling at the surreal surroundings. Some talk of the day’s adventures: climbing rocky outcrops, riding camels through the desert, or exploring ancient petroglyphs. Others simply sit in quiet awe, soaking in the atmosphere.

Sleeping in the dome is the culmination of the astronaut fantasy. Lying in bed, staring up through the transparent ceiling at the cosmos, it’s easy to imagine you’re on a distant planet, far from Earth. The isolation, the silence, the unearthly beauty—it all conspires to create a sense of detachment from reality. For a few fleeting hours, you’re not just a visitor to Wadi Rum; you’re a pioneer on the frontier of space.

Morning brings a different kind of wonder. As the first light of dawn creeps over the horizon, the desert is bathed in hues of pink and gold. The cool night air gives way to warmth, and the stillness is broken only by the occasional birdcall. Breakfast is a simple affair—fresh bread, olives, cheese—but eaten against this backdrop, it feels like a feast. There’s time for one last hike or photo before packing up, but the reluctance to leave is palpable. The camp, the desert, the sky—they’ve all left an indelible mark.

For those who’ve dreamed of space travel, a night at the Wadi Rum Mars Camp is the closest thing to being an astronaut without leaving Earth. It’s a reminder of our planet’s incredible diversity and a tantalizing glimpse of what might await us among the stars. And as you drive away, the desert shrinking in the rearview mirror, one thought lingers: Mars can wait. For now, Wadi Rum is more than enough.