Return to Jordan from Israel Bog #14

Blog #14

Return to Jordan from Israel

We sort through our shackles to see if we have enough cash to pay the bus driver for our trip to the Israel/Jordan border. Additionally there will be another substantial fee (~$80) we must pay in order to leave Israel and then yet another fee (dinars) to enter Jordan again. In these countries one pays to enter and again to leave. I think about whether US, Canada and Mexico have ever considered that method of dealing with their budget problems.  I am still getting sheckels and dinars confused when I’m giving a tip or buying something and occasionally even throw in some Omani rials. I think I should bring three different purses – oops perhaps four as next we will need dirhams in Dubai.  Okay sorting the different exchange rates to figure out what it costs in American money is one thing but where did I stash our American money? At one point John pulls out an envelope from his clean pants pocket and realizes that is where he put his extra cash in case we were robbed. Similarly I have repacked my suitcase and backpack twice in search for the sheckles I meant to repay Diane with. I am sure I probably hid it in some special place when going to West Bank ~ problem is I can’t remember where? Then I realize we are almost at the end of our trip and have not been robbed. This is a significant discovery because in some of our other trips to places like Peru, Chile, Equador and yes Boston and Seattle we have been robbed. This is what led us to hide money in different places because once being robbed left us without money for 2 weeks because there was a bank strike. But I can't recall where I put the money to be used for an emergency! 

Our lovely friend Diane ~ ever the gracious hostess and mentor picks us up at the hotel and deposits us at the bus in Jerusalem that takes us to the border.  We love her support but I wonder if she is worried that we don’t know how to get to the right place to catch the bus to the Allenby Bridge crossing into Jordan. Perhaps she is right. This is not the usual way for tourists to go into Jordan, rather we are taking a small local bus holding about 20 people that most Arabs take to go from Israel into Jordan. The trunk is quite small and our driver must unpack all the luggage in order to cram in our two large suitcases.  Once again I ask myself why I bring so many clothes when I have worn less than 50% of what I brought. I really didn’t need 4 pairs of pants, 3 skirts and 4 types of shoes! Sometimes I don’t even want to open my suitcase and am happy to put on the same thing I wore the prior day and a few nights I have even slept in my jacket because I am frequently cold due  to the air conditioning. Next time I won’t bring pajamas and take only one carry on bag. We reluctantly say good-bye to Diane and I wonder if we can manage the border crossing without her coaching. She reminded us the night before that we must re-read all the border instructions on the web and John the travel planner has done so. 

We are ready to navigate all those multiple check points and scanners. This time we more confidently release our passports to the bus driver knowing we will get them back after paying our fees. We switch buses at the Israeli border to take another bus across the Allenby Bridge to the Jordan border. This bus driver targets us to sit in the front seat squeezing me between him and John. He comments, “front seat view for VIPs”.  He points out the VIP cars on the road and tells us it costs 10 times more to bring a tourist across in one of those cars. He makes jokes about VIP travel and I naively think he is being very friendly ~ that is until at the border he explains he can’t go any further to the Jordan side and he wants money for our VIP trip. Another surprise at the border is that all the Arab bus riders must pay the hefty departure fee, not just tourists. John was sure we would be the only ones required to pay and this would be fair. We navigate the Jordan entry and scanning without difficulty and drag our suitcases to the roadside that is a congested mad house of taxis and people being picked up by relatives in both fancy and cheap cars.  A woman holding a baby and her son come up to me to ask for money and I realize this is the first time I have been approached by beggars.

We wait by the side of the road enjoying all the activity and John sends another text to Jim who has offered to pick us up and take us to Amman. Jim and John have planned to go to the Royal car museum put together by King Hussein who loved both beautiful women and beautiful cars. After waiting for 45 minutes, the policeman who is checking taxis and cars as they enter the bus station offers John his white plastic chair to sit upon. John is relieved, thankful and again I am reminded of how hospitable Jordanians are ~ “welcome to Jordan”.  After awhile John notices an elderly lady standing nearby in a burka also waiting to be picked up and he gives his chair to her. This action prompts the policeman to offer John his last plastic chair. (Later when the elderly woman leaves the policeman offers me the chair ~ this reassures me that women may not get first class seating but are at least recognized in Jordan.) We have now been waiting 90 minutes and I begin to suspect something is amiss and call Diane who says Jim must be there. Sure enough he has been waiting for 2 hours about a block away and did not get our texts, probably because we were in a dead zone.  We feel dreadful that on Jim’s one day off he has had to spend so much time waiting for us plus driving us around. He is a calm, patient and gracious person and we set off for Amman taking a new route for Jim. We are happy to be back at the Four Seasons Hotel ~ and almost feel as if we have come home as people recognize us and welcome us back.  After a lovely lunch in the lobby John and Jim take off for the car museum and I crash for a nap.

Afterwards despite the fact that the hotel concierge highly recommends taking a taxi downtown due to traffic, Jim decides he wants the driving challenge of finding an authentic Jordanian restaurant. After a thrilling drive Jim, clearly not directionally challenged (as I am), takes us safely to Al Quds a local restaurant where we don’t see any tourists.  This place could be thought of as the Kentucky Fried Chicken of Jordan in terms of atmosphere but is amazing in terms of authentic food. The array of desserts as we enter is mouth watering. John orders mansaf the national Jordanian dish and Jim and I each have half a chicken that we eat with our fingers as well as rice with toasted almonds and a lovely gravy sauce.  Of course we also have tabouli and John thinks he is in heaven as this is definitely his kind of meal and restaurant. We talk with Jim about Jordan and Israel and our favorite restaurants in Seattle and really enjoy our last night together with him.