Jordan - Amman

Driving into Amman at night was almost like driving into any mid-sized American city with modern roads, bridges, and tall office office buildings with smoked glass exteriors.  Wide boulevards lined with street lamps giving off an orange glow were filled with motorists frustrated by slow moving traffic as evidenced by the cacophony of blaring horns.  We left our apartment in Cairo at noon after spending all morning packing our bags, cleaning the apartment, and staring at the pyramids outside our French doors, trying to etch a permanent impression of their ancient angles in our minds.  They looked golden and dusty and supreme against a brilliant blue sky, and it was difficult to turn away from them, lock the door, and leave a place where we had made some intense memories in a short time.

We walked down our dusty alley along the building barrier wall past the decomposing rat under the jasmine vines and began looking for a taxi to take us to the airport.  A friendly fellow approached us right away and offered a ride in his battered taxi, and after some brief negotiations, we settled on a price, and he stowed our luggage in the trunk while we crammed into the small car.  The ride to the airport took one hour, and in that time our driver told us about Cairo and its twenty-million residents trying to survive in a tough city.  He was a Muslim, and he had a copy of the Koran on his dashboard to prove it, and he said that it wasn’t Muslims blowing up everything, just people interested in money.  He said, “I am Muslim, I want peace.  You Christian, I sit and eat with you, no problem.”  After some hairy traffic, we finally got to the airport where our driver managed to talk his way past security with a license that was obviously expired.  He delivered us to our terminal and tried valiantly to hit me up for a lot more money than we agreed on even after I gave him a generous tip—he did not prevail.

We had about two hours before our flight, and the security and passport process took up half that time as we scanned our bags, removed our shoes, and got a good frisking multiple times before we reached our departure gate.  We left Egypt on time and enjoyed a pleasant, short journey back to Jordan, our our first uncrowded flight, and the crew served us a sandwich and a piece of cake to boot.  Back at the Amman airport, passport control was uncrowded as well, and after buying another round of visas, we walked to the exit where a driver was waiting for us holding a sign with our names written boldly in black marker.  In all of our many years of traveling, we’ve never had the luxury of a driver waiting at the airport to whisk us away, and it was a nice little splurge after a tiring day.

After a thirty minute trip, the driver delivered us to our apartment building where we were greeted by our host’s father, Abdul, who spent a long time showing us around our apartment to make sure we were comfortable.  It was cold inside, and Abdul showed us how to operate the antiquated propane heater which works much like a gas grill at home.  The high temperature isn’t supposed to reach over fifty degrees during our stay here, so I guess we’ll get used to inhaling some propane fumes.  Abdul left us to get settled and said that his son would come to check on us when he came home from work, so we got busy setting up camp for the next few days.  Our host, Ahmed, knocked on the door a while later, and for the next hour, we got to know The Friendliest Man in Jordan as he gave us advice, tips, and a tour of the neighborhood in his car.  He showed us all around our section of Amman, took us shopping at the grocery store, showed us some good restaurants for authentic local fare, and paid for our fresh bread at the bakery as a welcome gift.  He drove us through the new downtown area and showed us places to go shopping and enjoy his hometown of which he was obviously proud—maybe he's also The Most Helpful Man in Jordan.

We’re laying low in Amman for the next few days; so we probably won’t visit the shopping districts which Ahmed showed us. But once again, we were blown away by his hospitality, and we appreciated his advice very much.  Ahmad and his brother live in the apartment on the ground floor, and his parents live on the top floor of the building, and they own the apartment in the basement to rent to travelers for extra income—we’ve seen this arrangement many times in our travels so far.  After a long day of travel, we turned the propane heater off, stacked our beds with extra blankets, and turned in for the first night in the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan.

Jordan is one of the more peaceful and prosperous of the Arab nations, and its capital, Amman, is a vibrant city that many tourists use as a base for exploring the natural and archeological attractions located here.  The country lies on the east bank of the Jordan river and was the home of several nations in antiquity such as Moab and Edom. In the 1948 Israeli-Arab War, the country then known as Transjordan, took control of the West Bank and became officially known as the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, which is a constitutional monarchy now ruled by King Abdullah II. The majority of residents in Jordan practice Sunni Islam, but there is a small Christian community that lives in peace here.  Jordan has been welcoming to political refugees from neighboring countries over the years, but the surge in population from refugees in recent years has become a strain on the economy and infrastructure.  

We first became aware of the refugee situation as Ahmed drove us around on our first night in Amman.  As we turned a corner about a mile from the apartment, he pointed to a block of buildings barely visible at 10:00 at night and said, “There the refugees live, maybe you not walk this way.”  I asked if it wasn't safe, and he said it was safe enough, but added, “I don’t go this way.”  After a little more prodding, we learned that the refugees in this area are Palestinian who fled Israel during the war of 1948 almost seventy years ago, enough time for two generations to come and go until present day.  I wondered why the Palestinians still live in a rundown area. I didn’t push the issue, and Ahmed added, “The refugees perform much of the heavy labor in Amman.”  

The apartment was cold as our first full day in Amman began. We awoke to the sound of a large vehicle circling the block blaring music that sounded like the theme from the X Files.  We’re getting used to hearing the Islamic call to prayer which comes from loudspeakers on minarets. The call is louder and more distinct depending on the concentration of mosques in the area.  During the day, we can also hear another large vehicle driving around the block many times delivering a monotone Arabic message over a loudspeaker. We’re not sure if it’s the Jordanian version of the ice cream man or a reminder about the men’s fellowship spaghetti dinner at the mosque down the street.  Thanks to Ahmad’s courtesy the night before, we had food for breakfast, but we needed to stock the larders with more provisions and try some local cuisine; so after a morning of school assignments, we bundled up and took to the streets.  

The walk to the stores and restaurant was mostly uphill and over two kilometers, so it took a while, but we took our time and talked to the children about the refugee situation as we passed their tenements which looked even worse during the day.  Most of the women here are covered except for their faces, and my girls with their hair blowing in the breeze received a lot of blatant stares from locals as we walked by shops and groups of men on the corners.  We made our way to the restaurant Ahmed recommended for local food, and the proprietor and wait staff received us warmly and helped us with the menu.  Mansaf is the national dish of Jordan, and it’s prepared from grilled lamb simmered in fermented yogurt and served with rice, almonds, and pine nuts with rich, buttery jameed sauce poured over the whole glorious pile.  

The cooking crew at our restaurant did an exceptional job of mansaf preparation, and we relished our meal along with an order of roast chicken and potatoes.  Like the other meals we’ve enjoyed in Middle Eastern restaurants, our repast included a bottomless pita bread basket and platters of vegetables and bowls of sauces.  Even the always-hungry Joseph leaned back and sighed after this hearty, satisfying fare, and we still had enough food left over for lunch the next day.  We finished our traditional Jordanian meal with steaming cups of strong tea before bundling up for the long walk home.  We stopped at the grocery store on the way back for supplies to last the next couple of days and walked home in the dark to the sound of calls from the minarets and the mysterious X Files truck.

Our main destination in Jordan is the ancient city of Petra located in the southern desert region, but we had hoped to include a few other attractions closer to Amman such as an excursion to the Dead Sea and the Roman ruins at Jerash.  After a lot of research, Deena and I determined that the costs of those excursions would place too much strain on our budget, and more Roman ruins would place too much strain on the tolerance level of our children, so we’re laying low for the remainder of our time in Amman and taking advantage of the time by pushing forward with school assignments before the heavy travel ramps up again.

After two days close to home, we walked up to Al-Jaleel Boulevard, quickly hailed a taxi, and went on an excursion to Rainbow Street just off the new downtown area.  The main section of Rainbow Street is about one kilometer long, and it’s the hip place to go in Amman these days for cafes, ice cream, and people watching.  We like all three of those things, so we looked forward to getting out for a while and trying some more local cuisine, and feteer was the specialty this time.  The proprietor of the cafe noticed us outside his establishment with our faces pressed to the glass trying to get a glimpse of the food, and he came out and motioned us inside for a look at the menu and a tour of the kitchen where a pastry chef tossed dough over and over until it was as thin as paper.  From that point, the chef filled the pastry with many combinations of meat, cheese, and vegetables and placed it in a brick oven for a few minutes until it emerged as a giant Jordanian quesadilla.

We were intrigued and hungry, so we grabbed a table and ordered cheeseburger and turkey feteers, and they were fabulous.  We planned to take some of our meal home for later, but we couldn’t restrain ourselves from eating it all, and of course we needed ice cream to make the afternoon complete, so we found a shop right up the street and had cups of frozen goodness while we relaxed and talked about our states of mind thus far into the journey.

We took pictures of the street signs near our apartment to assist a cab driver in getting us home, but the guy that picked us up had no clue where our neighborhood was and stopped many times to ask policemen and pedestrians how to get there.  He was a friendly guy, and he worked very hard to find our corner. When we arrived, he raised his hands and offered praise to Allah, and he grabbed my hand and shook it warmly after I gave him a nice tip.  About that time, we heard the X Files music, and a big truck full of propane gas rolled slowly by trolling for customers—mystery solved.  

We’ve enjoyed our brief stay in Amman, and we’ve met friendly people and enjoyed delicious food while catching up on school and fine tuning our itinerary. Tomorrow we’re headed to the desert to camp with the Bedouins and visit Petra before spending a couple of days on the shore of the Red Sea in Aqaba.  After that, we head east, and the world is going to start looking a lot different.