Day 132: Jordan Israel border crossing

Arriving at the Jordan Israel border crossing early in the afternoon was not a part of our plan at all. We had planned to go to Wadi Rum, a desert made famous by Lawrence of Arabia. I also learned that more recently, Transformers (Revenge of the Fallen) and Prometheus were filmed there as well. So, we woke up and were down in the lobby by six in the morning to catch our bus. It picked us up and then parked in the bus lot and told us that if we wanted to go, instead of paying 7 JD each, we’d have to pay 30 JD total because we were the only ones on the bus.

“Why did you wait to tell us this?” I asked, perplexed that they picked us up, drove us across town (the town isn’t so big) and then parked until randomly breaking the news to us fifteen minutes or so later.

“We told your guesthouse.” I narrowed my eyes. The same dude that told us there would be heat (when there wasn’t) didn’t deliver this bus news to us. I relayed this to the bus driver. He apologized and I assured him it wasn’t his fault. Andrew and I mulled it over, and decided we may as well save Wadi Rum (along with Jerash) for the next time we’re in Jordan. Instead, we crossed the border.

Which, is probably the most expensive crossing we’ve encountered yet. Not only did we have to pay a Jordanian exit fee, but we had to pay a luggage fee on the bus over to the Israeli side! We thought we had it bad, and then we met an Australian who was denied entry into Jordan because at this particular crossing, you needed to already have a ‘multiple entry’ visa. He didn’t. Not only was he “detained” on the Jordanian side, once he got back to the Israeli side, he was accused of looking nervous and his bags were confiscated to be searched. We left him at the second (of three) security checks before Passport Control.

Once at Passport Control, I went first and was asked twenty questions regarding our visit to Israel and why I didn’t want the Israeli stamp in my passport. I played the naive tourist (ok, so maybe I didn’t have to try too hard on the naive part) and walked out ten minutes later with a stamp on a piece of paper and my passport clean. (If I decide to go to Lebanon in the future, having an Israeli stamp in my passport would guarantee problems and most likely getting denied entry. Given that my current passport is only three years old and that I would love to go to Beirut in the future, I didn’t want an Israeli stamp inside.)

We walked around The Old City in Jerusalem for a bit, before I nearly fell asleep in my hummus and Andrew had to drag me back to our very fancy (not. at. all.) hostel outside of Damascus Gate.

Day 131: Petra

There are few things that are as breathtaking as walking through the Siq, and rounding the bend seeing The Treasury within the ancient Nabataean capital of Petra. And then you keep walking, because Petra is so much bigger than you ever knew offhand, and you pass ancient tombs and a Roman theater. You walk through an old colonnade, saying “No thanks” when offered a donkey or a camel to take you the rest of the way, thinking 100 stairs is nothing (only later, to find out you misheard and it’s actually 900 stairs). When you think you’ve seen it all, you round another bend and you’re facing The Monastery and hardly anyone is there. Bigger, and more impressive than The Treasury (if it’s even possible) it stands in front of you, and you smile, get some tea, and then you sit in awe. And then, you get to walk back through all of Petra, The Treasury, and Siq included, on your way out.

We woke up late. We didn’t know we were late until we stood in our guesthouse lobby confused by the revelation that Jordan was not on the same time that our phones told us it was. Not only our phones, but the internet as well. The guesthouse owner gave no explanation and having grown so used to India, I was slightly convinced he was messing with us. (He did after all promise heat, and there was none the night before) Later, as we caught a ride with some fellow Americans, one living in Amman, he explained that at the last minute during Daylight Savings Time, Jordan decided not to let their time “fall back.” He didn’t know the reason why, but he explained it has yet to be recognized by other countries and it makes for planning flights incredibly hard.

Petra is so much bigger than I ever knew it to be. You watch Indiana Jones, and you kinda assume (if you’re naive like me) that Petra revolves around The Treasury. Not so. We walked down a winding open air dirt path for awhile before we arrived to The Siq. The Siq, translated from Arabic means “shaft” and is basically the word for the gorge that is the entrance to Petra. It’s one of the cooler parts of Petra, no doubt.

Excluding our Indiana Jones notions (I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to humming the theme song once or twice) it’s magical walking through the high walled gorge and seeing the first glimpse of The Treasury at the end. It’s almost more special only seeing a sliver of it from a distance with the curves of the narrow gorge walls in the way, perhaps, mostly because the walls hide the mass of tourists taking posing in front of The Treasury when you come out of the Siq.

I thought The Treasury was the ancient bank of the Nabataeans. I was wrong. It’s actually unknown what the Al Khazneh (The Treasury) was built and used for. It’s name comes from legends that bandits hid their treasure within The Treasury in the (known now to be carved from solid sandstone) stone urn on the second level. Another legend is that it held the treasure of an Egyptian Pharaoh. Bedouins have tried to break the urn to retrieve the treasure, but obviously they weren’t successful.

I was amazed at the abundance of souvenir shops and stalls within Petra. I know I shouldn’t be by now, but I always am. One stall was held together by a few 2x4s and some ripped canvas. I peeked inside and could see necklaces hung up and laid out. I was impressed that the stall was left almost abandoned, but it seemed as if nothing was taken or in any threat of being taken in the future!

We walked through Petra, past other tombs and the cathedral, tried to get a hot cup of coffee at the overpriced cafe at the start of the climb up to the Monastery, but were told we would only have ten minutes to drink it. Not wanting to be rushed, we instead started the climb up to the Monastery. Why this isn’t more famous than the Treasury, I have no idea! Maybe it’s the 900 stair climb to get there, but it’s so much bigger and in the same condition as the Treasury. An open air cafe sat several meters (maybe the length of a football field?) away from the facade of the Monastery. I got us tea and we sat and enjoyed the view- that is- until a huge tour group of Americans showed up. We waited them out and took a few pictures before descending the stairs and making our way out of Petra before the sun went down and it got too cold for us to be outside.

I tried to wait out other tourists to get photos of an empty Treasury on our way out, but failed. Andrew called me out on being a “salty photographer” because of what words were coming out of my mouth when a tourist would take a picture and then pull out a guide book directly in front of the Treasury and stand there. forever. in my shot. Take a picture and move aside people! Tired, and hungry (we forgot to get a packed lunch from our guesthouse or any snacks before we went into Petra) we made our way back out through the Siq- pausing for more photos of course, and out of Petra.

We had planned on trying one of the restaurant’s buffets instead of returning to our guesthouse’s buffet, but knowing my blood sugar was too low, I grabbed a bag of chips for the walk. As we were walking, I heard a “F*ck You” from a teenager on the side of the road. Now, before I go any further, Jordan has been THE NICEST country we’ve visited on the trip so far. I’ve felt safe, and so many Jordanians have stopped to talk to us, I haven’t felt threatened at all stopping to chat with anyone. So, I stopped. The 14 year old boy looked harmless and after I asked him what he said (maybe I misheard) he confirmed I had heard correctly. I asked “Why?” as he pointed his extended middle finger down and repeated the expletive. Andrew doubled back and decided, “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.” Andrew turned and started walking away. The kid motioned for some chips. I shook my head no. “You just said F*ck you, I’m not gonna share my chips with you!” and turned away to follow Andrew. And then the kid punched me (hard) in the back of the shoulder.

Andrew turned at my sharp intake of breath. “He just punched me in the back!” I exclaimed!

“What?” Andrew looked dumbfounded. Shock consumed me.

“HEY! Get back here!” Andrew shouted out as the kid backed up the street. Andrew started jogging after him. I stood there, still completely in shock. An older man stood out from his driveway to see what happened. We explained (and motioned) what happened as the kid stood in the distance watching. A truck pulled up with two Jordanians my age in it. They asked what happened and started driving after the kid, who was now running away.

“He is Syrian. Not Jordanian.” The older man told us, as his wife looked on with a mixture of sympathy and something else, not shame, but as if she could tell it’s not something she would have wanted to happen.

“They (the men in the truck) will follow him home. I will tell his father. I’m sorry. Not Jordanian. Syrian.” He repeated.

“It’s ok, it’s not your fault…” I trailed off as we turned to walk back.

Andrew felt terrible for walking ahead. (He does this often. As maybe most 6’7” men do.) I felt terrible for assuming it was ok to question a sullen teenager for yelling expletives at a tourist. We both felt stupid for having taken for granted how safe life was in Korea. And then I made an executive decision. “We’re not going to think about this when we think of Petra. We had an amazing day. We’re going to remember Petra.”

And just like that, I have. That kid sucks, but who knows what he’s had to deal with if he thinks he can get away with punching a foreign tourist (female nonetheless) in the back. It was a lesson learned. I probably won’t be approaching any sullen teenagers again, and Andrew is at least trying to slow his roll and walk with me instead of ahead.

Day 129: Stranded in Amman

It’s official. We’re stranded in Amman. We woke up somewhat early, packed our bags up, had breakfast, and asked about reserving a room when we got back from Petra. “You cannot go to Petra today. The roads are closed!” The front deskman declared.

“What about Jerash?” I asked.

“Also closed.” He declared. And then the other front deskman sliced off some cake for us as they handed the same key back over for us to go back to our room. But not before we re-enacted the conversation because… with everything closed… what else were we going to do for the “Day in a Minute?”

It was a rather uneventful, and cold day. We trekked up one of the hills to find an open cafe on Rainbow Street. Got caught in a snowball fight, and rather than eating at Hashim (one of the very few restaurants open in town, Hashim has the most amazing hummus and falafel- for cheap too!) for the fourth time in a row, we broke down and went across the street for Happy Hour at Wings and Rings. One of the managers lived in Northern Kentucky/Cincinnati for ten years. He knew my hometown, and I knew where abouts he lived near my hometown. Behind the old Kroger’s near NKU. The world is small.

Day 128: Jafra Cafe

We had planned to go to Jerash, an ancient Roman city full of columns, arches, and temples. Jerash is a little more than 40 kilometers north of Amman. We found out that snow and ice had shut the roads down, so we decided to stay in Amman. We needed to catch up on work, and because of how unprepared we realized we are for colder weather in the Mediterranean and Southern Europe in the winter… we started thinking about changing up our entire route of the trip. I know, we’re crazy. But honestly, being able to change it up and adjust infuses a whole lot of excitement into an already amazing adventure. While we spread out our calendars and notes, the Egyptian and Jordanian waitstaff taught us how to make Turkish coffee at the very atmospheric Jafra Cafe.

Day 127: Amman, Jordan

We woke up to worse weather. Of course this region experiences the worst weather in 20 years just as soon as we arrive. We bundled up and headed out, trying to make the best of our time in the capital city. We trekked over to the Roman Theater, and then started to make our way up to the Citadel.

En route, we ran into a Palestinian completely overjoyed to see us. Walking down the street carrying a tank of gas and two ceramic mugs, he immediately put down the gas and walked right up to us excitedly trying to talk to us in Arabic. He forced the two mugs into our hands and continued to talk to us, as if we knew exactly what he was saying. We didn’t, but by this time, a crowd had gathered in what we assumed was where he worked. From the glass front, it looked to be a paper mill or a printing press. The men in the storefront looked as amused – and confused as we were. One of them came out and tried to translate. The only thing we understood was that he was from Palestine and was really excited to see us in Jordan, and that the mugs were for us. He tried to fish out other presents from his pockets (a lighter) but I refused and told him to keep it. He tried to take a picture of me (with my camera) but I told him I preferred a picture of him, instead! Then his colleagues encouraged me to put my arm around him, which made everyone happy.

Not two buildings later, some men waved us into their garage to warm up near a fire that they had going in a metal bin. As I was only wearing my barefoot water shoes and my feet were freezing, I jumped at the opportunity. We made small talk – what we could in – and were given steaming cups of tea. I re-gifted the mugs from the Palestinian (don’t tell!) and one of them jumped up when we went to leave to give us a ride up the rest of the hill to the Citadel.

We walked in the gates right around three, and were able to get into the indoor museum just before we were told it closed. After walking around the citadel for a half hour, we arrived back at the front gate to find we were locked in. The whole city had shut down, and we were on the highest point in the city behind locked gates! Luckily, a taxi driver spied us and pointed to another exit.

I really love how all of the buildings are the same color and just stacked right on top of each other. Because the weather was so dreary, I couldn’t decide if I liked the images in color or black and white, so I decided to do both.

Day 126: Flash floods in Amman

We arrived in Jordan to flash floods in Amman. We were told it has not rained in over a year. While everyone else was rejoicing, we were having trouble adjusting to the temperature after being in the balmy Emirates! Stairways climbing up hillsides between buildings turned into urban waterfalls. Traffic was horrendous. And our hotel lacked heat – that is, until it was cranked on and up around seven in the evening. (Oh, thank heaven!)