In Jordan: "Special Price for You"

It was interesting to see different prices for different people posted for all to see throughout Jordan. All of the national parks I visited had prices for both foreigners and for locals. For instance, for Petra, foreigners were asked to pay 50 Jordanian Dinars (JD) for a one-day visit or 90JD if one's visit would be the only visit in Jordan without an overnight stay in Wadi Musa--I was told that the 90JD rate was set up to discourage Israelis or other Western tourists from crossing the border for just a day's visit.  As far as Jordanians go, they were asked to pay only 1JD every time they entered Petra.

At the Dead Sea tourist beach that I went to and wrote about, they charged me nearly three times more, 15JD, while my Jordanian counterparts were asked to pay 4JD. Even all the way south in Aqaba, the beach parking asked that foreigners pay 4JD while the locals paid a single JD.

Some of the travelers that I ran into along the way did not agree with this price difference and thought it was discriminating to pay more for the same product or service.  They would often say that a policy of that sort would never fly in a Western country; everyone pays the same price no matter who you are or where you come from.  Actually, when I thought about it, even Morocco didn't have different price schemes for foreigners (at least not posted officially).

I had mixed feelings about the issue. On the one hand, I can see why a government would seek to exploit something that is so unique and so in demand to generate revenue for the government. The question then is do the people benefit from the extra revenue or is it eaten up in government bureaucracy? A number of Jordanians would argue that it is probably the latter.

Also, a higher sticker price can stem the flow of tourists thereby reducing the environmental impact of tourist traffic and keeping the country's fragile historical treasures intact.  That does not seems not to be the case though for Petra.  In fact, just last year a Jordan Times article reported a 42% increase in tourist traffic at Petra National Park during the first six months of 2010 in comparison to the same time period in 2009.  The Art Newspaper worries that too much traffic may endanger some of the most remarkable sites in Petra like, for instance, the recently restored and conserved one-of-a-kind Dionysiac wall painting found in the Siq of Little Petra.

Dionysiac painting in Little Petra

Another Jordan Times article goes on to say that the Petra Development and Tourism Region Authority (PDTRA) plans to use some of the funds to rehabilitate sites and upgrade services to enrich visitor experience, and that the new price scheme was setup with those needs in mind as well as the needs of the kingdom.  In essence, there seems to be little effort to cap numbers, and when things are going this well, I can't see the authorities doing much to contain the flow even if it's for environmental concerns.

Regarding the locals, I think it's wise that the Jordanian government mandate a reduced price for its citizens because the current foreigner price would put many sites out of reach for many.  Reducing the price also encourages domestic consumption of tourism-related services thereby boosting the local economy.  Not only is it good for the economy, I think it's wise that a country's citizenry be well traveled and know their country and their countrymen and women.

For the meantime though, if you're a foreigner traveling in this foreign land, get ready to pay up. But take it from me, floating on the Dead Sea is an experience like no other and walking through the Red-Rose City is once again something for which there is no equal.  Did it hurt to pay? Yes! Was it worth it? Totally!

Chowing Down Some Jordanian Maqlouba

Sometimes when you travel, you set goals for yourself as to what you'd like to accomplish that day. Let's say for example you're in Paris. In Paris, you must, of course, visit the Tour Eiffel, Sacré Couer, Moulin Rouge, and perhaps other landmarks. Some people get a kick out of going to these historical, architectural wonders. I too enjoy taking in the scenery, but other times I like to indulge other senses. So when I woke up in Kerak, already on my third day of what was supposed to be a one-day visit, I got up with only one goal in mind— EATING MAQLOUBA!

The Peace Corps volunteer (PCV), Peace Corps trainee, and I had a very light breakfast so as not to spoil our hunger. Last time when I was treated to mansef, I was not as hungry as I could have been. I didn't want to make that mistake again. Jordanian families like Moroccans don't just suggest that you eat more; they order you to eat and I was planning to comply.

We walked to the Christian part of the town and arrived at the home of a Christian family that had befriended the PCV.  Upon entering, we were engulfed by an assortment of aromas indicating that something good was in the works. Our empty stomachs were ready. The father took us directly to the dining room, seated us, and then called his grand-kids and son to the table. The mother was still rummaging around the kitchen setting the table and giving a large pot its final stir.



Maqlouba

Then came the moment we were all waiting for: the unveiling of maqlouba. The mother brought over a the large pot and a serving tray, placed the serving tray on the pot, and flipped the contents of the pot onto the serving tray in one swoop. In front of us was a mix of Jordanian basmati rice, fried cauliflower and eggplant, and what looked like pan-fried chicken. It looked messy, but it smelled delicious.

Jordanian Maqlouba

The mother and father went about filling our plates. I savored every bite trying to take in all the flavors and spices. I ate and ate until I could eat no more. Everything in that dish was so juicy. The cauliflower and eggplant were cooked just right. The chicken had been seared, but it was still tender. It was a wonderful combination of ingredients that produced another Jordanian masterpiece.

Shortly after filling our stomachs to the brim, the mother brought over some pitch black Turkish-style coffee. A sip of that and any desire to lay down quickly dissipates, and perhaps it was given to us for a reason. Any normal person would simply collapse after that meal. We still had to walk a few kilometres back to the PCV's house.

Jordanian Red Bull - Turkish style coffee

The father told us that he had private classes starting in a few minutes. That was our cue to go, but not before exchanging hugs with both the father, mother, high-fives with the two young boys, and thanking everyone profusely for the marvelous hospitality they bestowed upon us.

Our gracious host

Once again, I thanked my lucky stars and the cosmic forces of the universe for what had just transpired. I didn't see any tall buildings or historical landmarks, but I was fortunate to have been the recipient of some amazing Jordanian hospitality. Muslim or Christian, they have given me the best that they could offer and did it out of the kindness of their heart. We shared stories, ate together, and sipped a little coffee or sweet tea to cap our encounter. I'll forever remember maqlouba and the folks that made that day a day to remember.

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Click here for maqlouba recipe Jordanian style.

Breaching Kerak

The first time I heard of Kerak (الكرك) was through an email correspondence with a potential couchsurfing host.  He told me that the city and its famous crusader castle could easily be another day trip from Amman.

Even though at one point I had trudged through Karen Armstrong's exhaustive account of the medieval crusades in her book Holy War: The Crusades and their Impact in Today's World,  I still wasn't all that interested in checking out the sanctuaries and other crusader ruins.  I think my indifference stemmed from having read the gory details of their slaughter campaign through the Holy Land or was turned off by their general ignorance and arrogance.  To be fair, the Crusaders weren't the first to go on a rampage in the Levant.  Prior to them, Canaanites, Israelites, Moabites, and other tribes went on their killing spree sometimes at the behest of a god or for strategic purposes.

So before arriving in Jordan, I had heard of Kerak, but I had no intention to go until a fellow volunteer living in Kerak, who I ran into while traveling Jordan's shamal (north), suggested that I crash his place. I thought, “Why not?” 

No Loose Change Around

To get to Kerak, I took a bus from the South (janubia) Amman Station and arrived in Kerak about 2 hours later.  I think the fare was about 2.5JD.  I remember upsetting the money collector when I gave him a 20JD bill.  Small bills and coins, like in Morocco, are a prized commodity. 

I still don't understand why change is so hard to come by in these countries.  Is it because the central bank is not minting enough coins or printing only a few small bills?  Are the general banks and central bank forgetting to turn in and replace the bills that have lived out their life-cycle?  For instance, Morocco's lowest denomination bill of 20 Dirham was the grimiest bill of them all.  Sometimes you could barely make out the images on the bill because everything was so smudged.    

However, before I blame the government or the bankers, maybe the root of the problem is a lack of planning and coordination on the part of the local bus companies who forget to keep change in hand.  I remembered not too long ago in Israel giving a bus driver a 50 shekel bill for a trip that cost 12 shekel and getting my change in bills and coinage in a snap without the frustrated look or rebuke.  It just made me wonder why is something like having a proper flow of currency such a big issue as soon as you cross the River Jordan or in Morocco's case as soon as you cross the Mediterranean.   Fortunately, about halfway through my trip after collecting money from everyone that boarded at the station and the stray passengers they picked up on the way, the money-man gave me and everyone else their change back.

The DL on Kerak

The PCV in Kerak told me to get off at the outskirts of the city near a truck stop.  I got out, and he was there a few minutes later.  Lining a major street leading to his house were a few shawarma stands. We went to one that he frequented and were greeted like family.  We had the Jordanian fast-food combo meal of a shawarma sandwich, a small dish of sour vegetables, and Jordan's sweetened black tea.

On our way back to the PCV's home, the PCV shared some tidbits about the make-up of his community.  He told that there were two to three prominent tribes that controled most of the local government and that the family ties were really strong.  In addition to tribal affiliations, Kerak had a significant number of Christians who actively practiced their faith.  In his community, most of the Christians lived on the north side of the city near their churches, parochial schools, and cemeteries.  He said that in general both groups respected one another and shared some of the power in managing community affairs. 

He told me that both Christians and Muslims made wise-cracks about each other.  For instance, when the volunteer visited a Christian family once and felt sick the following day, his Muslim neighbors blamed his sickness on what they said was the Christians' notoriously bad hygiene.  Christians, on the other hand, would joke that Muslims must believe that Allah is deaf so much so that he needs to hear them say 'Allah u Akbar' (God is Great) so many times during their prayers.      

@ the Castle

Kerak Castle

The following day the volunteer and I went out to see the Crusader's Castle.  The City of Kerak itself is perched up on the same hill as the castle.  We took a small transit van that zig-zagged its way up the narrow and congested city streets and dropped us off a few blocks from the entrance.

I paid a small entrance fee.  The volunteer went over to one of the gate attendants and told him that he lived in Kerak, showed his Jordanian ID, and dropped his host father's tribal last name, which immediately brought a smile to the attendant's face. They spoke to each other for a bit, exchanged a few God phrases, and soon thereafter, the attendant told him to proceed without paying.

The views from the castle were quite stunning.  Most of the fields in this dry and hilly terrain were plowed waiting for the winter rains to come.  Off in the distance, one could make out the blue of the Dead Sea and the silvery haze that hovered over it.

View from Kerak Castle-Dead Sea in the distance

The castle was a labyrinth of tunnels with all sorts of nooks and crannies.  We snaked through the tunnels, checked out some of the major halls, rooms, and wells, climbed to the top, and imagined the siege of Salah al-Din's army.

Angry birds at Kerak Castle

I can see why Saladdin had such a hard time conquering the post.  It was nearly impossible to scale it without getting shot at, burned by any type of scalding liquid, or run over by whatever debris was thrown from the top.  The narrow windows on the fortress walls protected the archers very well.  One had to be quite a marksman to be able to squeeze an arrow through such a narrow opening.  Even though I'm no fan of the Crusaders, I had to marvel at the ingenuity of the fortress architecture.

After an hour or so walking through the castle, we made our way down to the city center where we made a small pit stop to refuel on some delicious kenafa--that mozzarella and crunchy filo dough drenched in honey confection that just never seemed to get old for me.

Kerak City - Making haram billboards halal

On the way there, I saw a number of young girls dressed in fairly revealing Western wear.  I pointed them out to the volunteer, and he knew that the families of those young girls were Christians and that in general Christian girls and guys dressed a little more Western than their Muslim counterparts. 

Change of Plans

A few blocks later, the volunteer and I parted ways.  I went to the bus stop in hopes of catching an afternoon bus to Ma'an, which is about 40k from Petra, where I was hoping to crash for the night.  Once at the station, I asked about going to Ma'an or Petra.  I was told that the only thing available even at 3PM on a weekday was one last express bus to Aqaba, the southernmost city in Jordan.  I didn't want to go to Aqaba to then ride up north again to Petra; so I called the PCV, asked if I could crash, and he obliged.  I went north to the truck stop where I was dropped off the first time and met up with the PCV and with a Peace Corps Trainee (PCT) who was sent to Kerak to observe a day-in-the-life of a PCV. 

Later on that evening, we got an invite for tea from a Christian family that the PCV had befriended.  Coming from Morocco where 95% or so of the country is Muslim, our walk through the streets of the Christian neighborhood seeing crosses, parochial schools, and Christian cemeteries in what is still a predominantly Muslim country was surprising.  At the door, we were met by the father of the house who greeted the PCV with the same God phrases I had heard earlier when the PCV greeted his Muslim friends and neighbors. 

We were escorted to the living room where his wife and a couple of young boys greeted us.  Even though the volunteer had told me that most Christian families don't follow the same protocol that many Muslims do in protecting their women from male strangers or segregating male and female interaction with respect to foreigners, I still hesitated when greeting his wife, who was dressed in a simple blouse and casual dress pants with no headscarf.  For some reason, I felt a sense of relief walking in.  I felt that I could probably be more myself in this home. 

The Holy Bible in 3rabia

We had a nice little chat over some coffee and some cookies.  The father spoke English and translated for his wife whenever she had something to say.  It was a very open environment.  A few boys, who happened to be their grand-kids, were playing in the living room.  One of their younger sons came out of his room to greet us, but then went right back inside to continue working on his latest techno-house-rave mix, which served as the background music to our cross-cultural exchange.  The mother half-smilingly told us that he worked as a DJ for private parties. 

The father shared some stories about some of the scuffles some Christians had with their Muslim neighbors, but he said that for the most part everyone respected each other.  He asked if I and the PCT were Christians to which we nodded yes.  I told him that I wanted to take a look at his Bible if he would allow me.  He brought it over and read a few of the first verses of the first chapter of Genesis.  Knowing already how these verses read in English, it was easy to make out Arabic words in use.  He went on to tell us that the Arabic language Bible is a closer translation than the English version because Aramaic is within the same family of Semitic languages.  He added that the Arabic translation is also much older than the English version having been translated all the way back in the 5^th century.  I asked if I could hold it.  I browsed through some of the pages and just sat in awe of it. 

For the longest time, I had associated Arabic with Islam and the Qur'an.  Here I held the very book I had read ever since I was a kid, but in Arabic.  Here was another book, considered sacred by many Arab Christians, that was written in the language many Muslims claim to be the language of God.

From then on, Arabic took on a more multifaceted look.  Not only could this language be the language of Islam, but also Christianity; of not only Muslims, but also Christians.  It was a language for all Arabs no matter what one believed.  They both prayed to Allah, but in different ways.  They both recited scriptures in the same language, but in distinct ways.  Sure, I had heard that there were Arab Christians in the Middle East, but once again just like visiting Jerusalem, meeting various people of different faiths, and seeing the Holy Scriptures in Arabic makes much of what I heard and read much more real.

More Kerak to Come

Before we left though, the father invited us to come back for a special lunch treat.  He asked his wife if she could cook up some maqlouba, which supposedly means upside down, and she smiled and said, “Yes.”  The PCV was super excited to hear this.  The dish was on my list of must-eat, must-try Jordanian meals, but all I had heard was that it was kind of like mansef with more vegetables and different spices.  If it was anything like mansef, it was bound to be delicious.

Because transits to Ma'an only ran in the morning, dining with that family would mean I would have to chill out in Kerak for another full day.  The PCV had no problem letting me crash so just like that I extended my stay for another couple of days.  On our way back, we walked back through the Christian neighborhood and then back onto the surrounding streets leading to the PCV's home.  I thought to myself, “Wow, in just one day I went back in time imagining the days of the Crusaders, had some mouth-watering kenafa again, learned a little about the community dynamics between some Christians and Muslims in this small corner of Jordan, and got to see and hear verses from an Arabic language Bible."

I would have to agree with a quote I read a while back from Saint Augustine that said, "The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page."  I probably got a few pages worth that day.  Even though I was tired, I laid awake in bed as my mind raced to process, categorize, and archive all of the experiences. I finally drifted thinking tomorrow would undoubtedly bring even more surprises.

Back in Jordan: Holy Land Divided and Partitioned

After a few days in Jerusalem, I made my way back to Jordan.  I had to go back the same way I went in by way of the Sheikh Hussein Bridge, but the second time around took a lot less time.  On my way up Bayt She'an, I stopped at the King Hussein crossing, but was told by one of the border guards that I could not cross because I had an exit stamp from Jordan meaning that I would need to pay for another visa to cross into Jordan.  Essentially, Jordan considers the Palestinian held territory to be theirs as well--granted it was at one point--so visiting Ramallah for instance to Jordanian authorities would be as if you had never left their country.  So in order to make it back to the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, I would need to go through either the Sheikh Hussein Bridge or head all the way down south to Wadi Araba.  I knew that a bus headed to Bayt She'an would come around in about 20 or so minutes so I parked my stuff on the west side bus stop and waited for the next northbound bus to pass through again.

Delicious falafel and Hebrew brew to wash it down

Once I arrived in Bayt She'an, I grabbed a falafel sandwich and a kosher beer at a fast-food joint just down the block from the bus stop next to the McDonalds.  The kosher beer was a decent pilsen, but nothing too exciting; however, knowing that I was on my way back to a Muslim country where drinking is haram (forbidden) even though it does happen in tourist areas , I took my time taking in what little scenery there was while I savored the brew.  The falafel was quite good actually mainly because of the tangy yogurt they slathered all over the bread.  After finishing the beer, the restaurant manager asked if I needed a cab to go to the crossing.  I said, "Yes," and within minutes the same cab driver that brought me to Bayt She'an a couple of days ago was there to take me back.  Whaddayaknow, small world!

This time around, though, he said less offensive things about his neighbors on the other side of the river and was mainly interested in how I spent my days in Jerusalem.  Towards the end of the short trip, he gave me his business card and told me to call him next time I pass through so I can dine with his family.  It was a nice gesture to leave on.

At the crossing, I paid my Israeli exit tax (98.50 NIS or roughly $30, ouch!), and on the other side I paid for another Jordanian visa (10 JD or approx $15, ouch again!).  Knowing that I would now have this visa for the next 30 days, I decided that I wasn't going to rush my travels in Jordan.  I called up my Peace Corps volunteer contacts near Irbid.  One of them told me that I could totally crash his pad for another night.  Unfortunately, the only way to get out of the crossing station on the Jordanian side was to pay 19JD or a little over $25 for a 12km ride to the Jordan River Crossing taxi service, which in NYC would be a bargain, but in Jordan, it's highway robbery.

The dispatcher was trying to convince me to go all the way to Amman and pay 35JD for the trip, which was even more obscene knowing full well that a Hijazi bus from Irbid to Amman runs about 2JD, but it was a better value per kilometer nonetheless.  This was one instance when traveling with someone else would have made the trip much cheaper.  A lot of Jordanians at the crossing were already traveling in twos or threes and split the fares to their destinations.  The few Israelis that had crossed over got into a tour bus that was waiting for them.  Finally, the dispatcher gave up trying to convince me to go to Amman and made the call for a taxi for Irbid, and I reluctantly paid the 19JD.

Once in Irbid, my volunteer host told me that he was sightseeing in Umm Qays with another volunteer and some of his Jordanian buddies that I had hung out with on my first visit to his village.  So from Irbid, I took a transit to Umm Qays for 1JD.  Normally, it's about .500 pistares/half a JD for the 15 minute ride, but because it was still Leid Kabir /Al-Adha or the Grand Holiday Feast weekend, the unlicensed, private transits wanted a little extra.

Upon arrival, they told me that we were going on a little road trip. I hopped onto another passenger van, and instead of going back on the road to Irbid, we went the opposite direction, downhill from Umm Qays and towards a military checkpoint.  Our driver and our Jordanian friend asked us for our passports, they handed them to the guards, and then went about asking the guards where they were from, which village exactly, family names, and then told them that we were American tourists passing through.  The guards took a peek in.  Saw all three of us and none of us looked stereotypically American so he asked our guide again if we were indeed American.  He confirmed we were, the guard nodded, and then signaled that we could proceed.

We went another mile or so until we reached another checkpoint.  Now, I was thinking, "Maybe I should have asked where we were going before jumping onto this van." For a moment, I thought that maybe we were headed to Syria, which seemed unlikely, but then Umm Qays is a stone's throw away so it wasn't too far fetched.  At the second checkpoint, our Jordanian friend followed the same procedure, but this time one of the guards mentioned a village that one of our friends recognized.  From there, they went back and forth dropping names of mutual acquaintances.  That guard only glanced at our passports and then handed them back.

After that checkpoint, our driver cranked the car into second gear as we climbed a hill overlooking the Yarmouk River Valley sandwiched between the towering Golan Heights and the Jordanian east bank hills where a few families were there picnicking and watching the sunset.

Golan Heights from Jordan

Our Jordanian friend asked a gentleman who was laid out on a blanket on the hill's edge to point out some landmarks for us.  The man pointed north to the Golan Heights, which is currently under Israeli control, but that he considered to be part of Syria.

He pointed east and said that the olive-tree-dotted hills were part of Jordan and then pointed west and said that the fertile valley extending towards the Sea of Galilee/Lake Tiberias was Palestine.

He then pointed specifically to a certain area in the valley and said that his family had lived there before the war drove them out.

He said that he came to that hill often to gaze into Palestine and he hoped that one day he would be able to go back and live there once again.

The sun was setting quickly so our driver and friend told us to get back in the van.  We descended down the same hill and got back on the road.  We stopped at another military checkpoint.  We showed our IDs and were flagged through.  We stopped on the side of the road about 2-3K from the last checkpoint to see the Palestinian territory up close and the barbed and razor-wire fences on the other side of the river.

We were told that this was the demilitarized zone and that entire stretches on both sides of the river were lined with land mines.  One of our guides commented that it was like fillaha (agriculture/farming).  Along with the land mine cultivation, there were some fancy irrigation channels with all sorts of tunnels going in and out of hillside.

After getting a few pictures, we made our way back to Irbid.  It took me a while to process what I had seen.  For so long I had heard about the tensions in this region of the world, had read about the Six Day War, and had watched one Al-Jazeera documentary after another about the Israeli occupation while living in Morocco, but now I had met someone, a  Jordanian national of Palestinian descent, who was personally affected by the conflict.  I had seen first hand how decades of unresolved border disputes had led to a buffer of land mines to prevent further incursions from either party.  It was just hard to reconcile the land mines, military checkpoints, razor-wire fencing, every other young Israeli carrying assault rifles, and the animosity on both sides of the river with the messages of peace and compassion that I had read in the Bible, and I wondered whether, if ever, the message to love thy neighbor and to do unto others as you would like to have done unto thyself that is central to all Abrahamic faiths would ever be manifested in the very place where it was preached thousands of years ago.

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I think we are all guilty of dismissing every other beauty queen's wish for world peace.  It seems preposterous in the face of the calamities this world has witnessed and the conflict-ridden state of affairs.  I also dismiss it because it is hard to imagine what that world would look like.  Where and how do you begin?  How do you sustain it?

In a follow up to her Charter for Compassion, religious historian Karen Armstrong talks of reviving the Golden Rule.  She mentions in the TED talk below how doing so has the potential to turn us from an ego-centric mindset to a transcendent state, "an imaginative act of empathy, putting yourself in the place of another", which has the effect of making us value the life of another as much as we value our own life.  Towards the end, she paraphrases a theme in C.S. Lewis's book Four Loves in which the author differentiates between erotic love when one looks deeply into another's eyes and friendship when two people stand side by side gazing out towards a goal.  She says, "We don't have to fall in love with each other, but we can become friends....and when people of all different persuasions come together, working side by side, for a common goal, differences melt away.  And we learn amity.  And we learn to live together and to get to know one another."  It's a thoughtful response worthy of some serious consideration.  See the full TED Talk below:

So You Want To Join Peace Corps

I just had to pass this along.  I haven't laughed this hard in I don't know how long.  An RPCV put together a brief YouTube video of a conversation between a young man who just finished his Peace Corps application and a parent or friend who is all too aware of the cultural misunderstandings and frustrations and the emotional and physical challenges that the young man may encounter during his service.

The various bits on the gastrointestinal issues, picking out "worms like zits", the local, organic foods myth, experiencing what winter is really like without any heating, the occasional hermit phase that many volunteers go through, and the case of the overbearing and bureaucratic supervisors are so spot on.  I had first-hand experience with a few of these and some others were expressed by fellow volunteers.  So many memories flashed through my mind with each exchange.

Some people may feel that this video discourages anyone from joining, but I would beg to differ.  I think a dose of reality is necessary, and I think glossing over the difficulties or side effects of serving is worse.  I think a lot of young people need a sense of idealism to get through the rough patches, but they shouldn't be naive.  In a way that quixotic idealism is perhaps what prompts volunteers to help build a school where there was no school, set up a computer lab where there was none, foster the growth of a small business despite its many naysayers, or raise the self-esteem of young women in a society that does not value their input.  Sometimes you are able to accomplish the goals you set out for yourself and other times you fail miserably for a variety of reasons that may or may not be under your control.

Let's say hypothetically that I was able to go back to the past on a Back to the Future's DeLorean Time Machine (I've always wanted to, and yes, this movie reference is pretty old) knowing what I know now about my Peace Corps experience to the time when I decided to go.  Would I still go? Absolutely!  I was challenged personally and even professionally.  I'm not sure how you can measure personal growth, but I do agree with French novelist Marcel Proust who said, "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”  Living in Morocco and traveling through the Middle East and Europe have exposed me to different ways people have decided to carry out their lives, and the journey has obliterated the notion of what we Americans consider to be the normal, usual, or the customary way of life.

I think it's difficult to understand another vantage point unless one is fully immersed in another, but it doesn't take a trip or an extended stay overseas to notice differences.  The U.S. is fortunate to have little pockets of people from all over the world that have established restaurants, businesses, and places of worship that reflect their values where one can get a taste of that culture.  And I guess if one is still wanting more, then of course, one should head out and plunge in to get the full experience.

So you want to join  the United States Peace Corps? If you have the time and the financial means to do so, do it!  Beware of the hardships.  Then, when you've had time to reflect a bit, come back to tell us what you've learned and what you've seen.  Enjoy the video and go ahead and finish your application already!




More travel quotes at: http://thinkexist.com/quotations/travel/

Is There Enough Milk and Honey for All?

So I got up early in the morning and my couchsurfing hosts in Israel dropped me off at a nearby bus stop where I was then able to take a bus to the central bus station in Jerusalem where I was then able to hop on an Egged bus to the Sheikh Hussein Bridge. The bus ride from Jerusalem to the Sheikh Hussein Bridge was 40.50NIS, same as last time, and the trek was about 2 hours or so.

The environs just north of Jerusalem and towards Bayt She'an are a stark contrast to the city of Jerusalem. In the city, you get the sense that water is not in short supply given the manicured lawns in some parts of town and grassy knolls south of the city, but as I moved north, I realized that much of what I had seen in Jerusalem was far from the norm.

The area north of Jerusalem resembled the dry desert wilderness that I had seen on my trek from Errachidia to Ouarzazate, Morocco. There were many dry river beds and plains scarred by precipitation and flash floods. However, unlike Morocco where the only patches of green could be found in the lush palmeries sprouting from the river beds, the north of Jerusalem had quite a large number of vegetable and fruit plots and an acre here and there of neatly lined palm trees in the middle of the pale, sun-scorched shrubbery landscape.  There were countless greenhouses and some plots even had black or clear plastic coverings for each row of whatever was growing underneath. The highway we were on was running parallel to the Jordan River Valley and you could see more green when you looked east, but it seemed like the farmers were trying to stretch out that green as far as possible and it looked like they were using the latest in irrigation know-how to make that happen.

Even with all the technological advancements though, it appears that all the countries relying on the Jordan River Valley and Sea of Galilee are headed to another standoff, not so much about the land, but about the lack of water.  Here's a brief excerpt from an Inventory of Conflict and Environment(ICE) study from American University titled Jordan River Dispute:

The consequences of unilateral action by each riparian [countries with water sources that feed the Jordan River] has been that both the aquifers and surface waters suffer from overuse use due to the large-scale diversion projects. The National Water Carrier and the East Ghor Canal almost dry out the Sea of Galilee year round. Diversion projects have also lowered the level of both the Sea of Galilee and the Dead Sea. This has caused aquifer levels to drop and has increased their salinity levels. Both Jordan and Israel have also over pumped their fossil (nonrenewable) aquifers. On top of these projects, the population growth in both countries is raising the demand for water. Israel has attempted water conservation in agriculture, where most water is wasted, through introducing the drip irrigation system and recycling of sewage water. This has helped save water in the area while at the same time irrigating more land with less water. It does not make much impact, though, without any joint conservation. Therefore, conflict under these circumstances is highly likely, and these depleting factors have in fact led to conflicts in the past.

 Source: http://www1.american.edu/ted/ice/westbank.htm

Sea of Galilee or Lake Tiberias from Jordan

I also read that Israel has plans to begin building settlements in the Negev Desert (Here's a short article from Newsweek calling to question David Ben Gurion's dream to see the desert bloom: http://www.newsweek.com/2008/06/28/the-myth-of-water.html). While I sympathize with many Jews and their desire to move back to the land of their forefathers, after taking that drive up and down from Bayt She'an to Jerusalem and back, I wonder whether they're even considering the environmental impact of their decision.

Israel is a leading innovator in irrigation and water management and with good reason--nearly half the country is semi-arid desert.  (Here's an achievements-filled and rather optimistic outlook titled Israeli Agriculture: Coping with Growth) They're also leading the way in building state of the art desalination plants that will hopefully supplement their unreliable and dwindling supply.

I applaud their efficiency and I think many countries should adapt some of their techniques even those that have ample supplies, but I wonder how far technology can forestall what seems like an inevitable water war much like the ones we're already experiencing in Nevada and Colorado and to some extent in Morocco between the urban and rural farming and cattle ranching communities.  At least in Morocco and in our Western states, it appears that people can still gather at the negotiating table.  For Israel and its neighbors, setting a date to meet at a table requires an entire diplomatic corps, months of wrangling about preconditions, and then, even if it is set, not all stakeholders are present.

It is presumed that when Moses spoke of a land “flowing with milk and honey” that he was gazing out towards the Jordan River Valley, and that valley is certainly a beautiful fertile oasis in the midst of an arid wilderness, but I wonder how far can that milk and honey be stretched for everyone that wishes to live out their dream of living in the Promised Land.

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Other Reads

Timeline of Water Conflicts in the Levant: http://www.nad-plo.org/nego/permanent/water/related/Howb.pdf

Crossing the River Jordan and onto Jerusalem

Sometimes I regret not having researched my travel plans well, but then other times, I am glad that I don't. The moment I arrived in Jordan I began asking the locals, fellow travelers, PC volunteers, and anyone in the know about crossing over to Israel.  I read a few blogs prior to starting my trip and every single blog spoke of the tediousness associated with crossing into Israel also referred to as the Palestinian Occupied Territory.  It was interesting that when I speaking to Jordanians about crossing, most would refer to the land west of the River Jordan as Palestine (Filistin) and hardly ever as Israel.  When I asked Jordanians for details, they gave me a lot of contradictory information.  The volunteers I was with had heard of the various crossings, but most had not crossed personally so they weren't really sure which way was the best way to go.

Most of the blogs I read spoke of the King Hussein Bridge or Allenby Crossing west of Amman. Lonely Planet and the Rough Guide also had a lot more to say about the King Hussein Bridge than the Sheikh Hussein Bridge or the Wadi Araba crossings. They all said that crossing through the King Hussein Bridge normally is an entire day ordeal. I personally did not want to throw away an entire day crossing into Israel so I thought I'd go where others don't generally go. Plus, Irbid, where I was chilling at the time, was only about 15km from the Sheikh Hussein Bridge, so I figured I'd take that route and hopefully shed some light on the process.

Because it was still L3id Kbir/Al-Adha in Jordan, there were fewer buses running to Irbid so I woke up a little early in the hopes that I could catch an early morning transit. The transit dropped us off at the Moujemma Shamal Bus Station. The volunteer I was with was told that there were taxis that took off from the Moujemma Amman Bus Station to the border crossing so we headed over there only to find out that indeed there were taxis that would go there, but not legitimate/licensed ones and they were asking for 15JD to go there. We were told that it would be around that amount, but the illegal taxis looked more suspect than usual so we asked a policeman.  The policeman told us to head back to Moujemma Shammal and to take a legit taxi from there to the border.  He told us that the price would be from 12-15JD.  So we went back to the station, my PCV friend looked up a friend of his that worked at a cell phone boutique, and his friend pointed us to a taxi that was chilling next to a snack shop.  He inquired for us about going to the border and the taxi driver offered to take me for 12JD.

The taxi cab ride was rather interesting.  For the next 15 minutes or so, the driver went on to talk about all his sexual exploits and his disdain for Israel.  Of course, none of this was said in any sort of descriptive way.  When speaking of Israel, he would make a spitting sound and he said he prayed for the day when Israel would not exist.  When talking about all his sexual encounters, he would simply say how good or bad the sex was with different nationalities from a scale of bad/ugly, good, and to wonderful/beautiful fuck.  He had a lot to say about Russian girls, which struck me as odd, but later on I learned that many Russian girls travel to Jordan to work in strip clubs or to work as escorts.  A fellow couchsurfer also pointed out how it's usually Russian girls who are dancing in the disco video recordings that I would see on the street or at various cafes.  Supposedly there are other neighboring Arab nationalities that work at these clubs, but usually if they do, the girls are "Christian".  During a lull in his sexual expletives, I asked him about his family.  He said that he had 3 boys and one wife.  He said he wanted another wife, but could not afford it.  He did say that he was very happy with his family and his wife and that he no longer smoked marijuana or had sex with other women because he said that doing so would be haram(forbidden)--figures.

At one checkpoint, he handed over my passport to a guard.  The guard wanted to ask me something, but the taxi driver yelled at him that I was American and asked him, "what's the problem?"  The guard smiled and returned my passport and we were on our way.  After driving out for about 12km, the driver made a right turn towards another checkpoint.  The guards asked for my passport.  He handed it over and then they told the driver to pull over to the side of the road.  I thought there was an issue, but there wasn't.  That was simply as far as my taxi driver could go.

As he began unloading my baggage, another taxi pulled up with some tags on the sides that said Jordan Border Crossing.  I gave my taxi driver the 12JD we agreed upon, shook hands, and said our m3a slamas (Go in safety).  I hopped onto the other taxi and we headed towards the next checkpoint.  Once there, I had to take my luggage through a huge scanner.  This thing was massive.  My luggage went through without any problems.  I then picked up my backpack and got back on the Jordan Border Crossing taxi.  We went another kilometer before I was dropped off at the customs office.  I paid the taxi 1.10JD.

At customs, I told an officer that I was coming back to Jordan after a few days.  He said, "Good," that I needed to pay an 8JD exit tax, that my Jordanian visa would be "no good", and that I would have to pay for a new one to get back in.  I didn't ask about the exit stamp, but a tour group on a pilgrimage through the Holy Land that was ahead of me told me that they were going to have their exit stamp on a separate sheet of paper.  They had some cards filled out with their name and other information.  As soon as my passport was stamped, I was ready to cross over.

Due to the tight security, I couldn't just walk over to the border.  I had to exit the customs building and walk back out to the Trust Intl. Transpo kiosk right behind the Duty Free store and purchase a bus fare for 1.30JD.  The distance from the customs building to the border was no more than a couple hundred meters, but it was forbidden to walk to it.  The only way to approach it was taking the Trust Intl. bus and the buses only left at certain times, which for me meant waiting over an hour for the next bus to go out.

Right around 1:30PM, I and a whole bunch of Chinese tourists hopped on the bus.  It took no more than a minute to get to the final gate on the east bank of the River Jordan.  Once there, a guard came through to make sure all taxes were paid and everyone was stamped out.  He then gave the okay to the driver.  We crossed the once mighty River Jordan and then proceeded to the Israeli side.

We were dropped off at the Israeli customs entrance.  It was interesting to see such a stark difference in administration.  On the Jordanian side, I dealt entirely with older mustachioed gentlemen, some in formal military or police uniforms, and everyone appeared to be disgruntled about something.  On the Israeli side, I was greeted by a bunch of twenty-something-year-olds, male and female, in polo shirts and khaki cargo pants and with a more relaxed vibe to it.  I walked over to the scanners, handed over my bags, and gave an attractive female guard my passport.  That guard called over another attractive female guard.  I was hoping for a frisking, but unfortunately they just tagged-team on the questioning.  I was asked what was the purpose for my visit to Israel, info on my passport, who my parents and grandparents were, and if I had been to any other Arab country besides Jordan.  After the quick interview, they smiled and said, "Welcome to Israel."

I picked up my bags from the scanners and then walked over to a customs window.  I gave my passport to another female guard who was being supervised by another young men.  She asked me a similar round of questions and then asked if it was okay to stamp my passport.  The same group on the Holy Land tour was also in the customs lines in the process of getting their entry stamps on a separate sheet of paper.  After taking care of the stamps, I was given another nice cordial "Welcome to Israel" and just like that I was through.

Now, the challenge was how to get to Jerusalem from there.  I asked a couple of customs reps if there were any transportation options from this crossing and they said that maybe, just maybe there would be some taxis waiting outside that would go the nearest town called Bayt She'an about 6km away.  They also said to ask the tour buses if I could hitchhike with them.  I thought I'd give it a try so I went out and asked a number of them if they had room for one more.  I asked one driver who said "no" rather frankly.  I asked some people who were awaiting to board another bus and their driver gave me the "I'm not in charge" line.  Another driver said he could get in trouble.  I got tired of the rejections so I decided to get a taxi.

Outside of the gates, there were a number of cars waiting to get through and a couple of taxi cabs on the curb.  I went up to one who told me that there was no transportation available from Bayt She'an to Jerusalem so he offered to take me to Tiberias for 200 shekels(NIS) (about $60) where transportation would be available for sure.  Tiberias was a good 40 kilometers away going northwest.  I only had about 60NIS, which I had gotten from the last $20 I had on me so paying out 200 something shekels was out of the question.  I walked over to the next taxi, I asked him about Bayt She'an and if there was transportation and he said there was and that he would drop me off at the bus stop.  When I asked him how much, he told me he would go for 60NIS.  I liked that this guy was at least willing to take me to Bayt She'an, but 60NIS seemed outrageous.  After some light negotiating, we finally settled on 50.  With not a lot of other options and with the sun setting, I still felt I was getting hosed, but I had little choice.  I shelled out the 50NIS and we drove off to Bayt She'an.

The winding road to Bayt She'an was quite refreshing as we passed farm upon farm in this stretch of fertile land.  When I told him that the other taxi driver wanted to charge me 200 shekels to go to Tiberias because transportation was not available in Bayt She'an, he made the same spitting gesture that the Jordanian taxi driver had made and said, "Arabi".  He said in a choppy English, "Those Arabs all they want is money; they don't care about people."  The whole time I was thinking, "...and this is from a guy that wanted to charge me about $17 for a 6km ride.  He asked me where I was from and I told him I was from the U.S., but had lived in Venezuela.  As soon as I told him Venezuela, he switched to a rough, but less choppy Spanish.  We spoke in Spanish for the rest of the trip.  He mainly went off about how much he hated Arabs.  The taxi driver took me to an ATM to get some cash and then he dropped me off at a bus stop on the side of a four-lane road that ran north to south close to a McDonald's.

At the bus stop, I asked a few young guys in military garb in English if they knew which bus was going to Jerusalem and they said that the 966 Egged makes the north to south journey everyday.  I went over to the 966 bus stand and put my bag down and finally took a look at my surroundings.  The infrastructure difference from Jordan to Israel was night and day.  The roads, the signposts, the paint on the roads, traffic lights, and the buildings were in order and well maintained.  Just across the river, there was significantly less trash on the street and more trash cans available.  Not to say that Jordan does not have things in order; it's just more chaotic and spaces that are well maintained and free of trash are like little oases in the midst of the disorder.  Like Morocco, the fancy esplanades and promenades that are meticulously maintained for tourist traffic are the exception and not the norm.  

It felt a little unsettling to be hopping on a bus to Jerusalem with about 20 uniformed young men carrying automatic rifles, but after a while I got used to it and found it odd when I didn't see some young person with a gun slinging from their neck.  They were probably wondering why I wasn't carrying one.  As I got on the dark green 966 Egged bus, I told the driver, "Jerusalem," and he said, "40.50NIS".  I handed him a huge bill and he didn't even flinch; he gladly took my money and gave me the exact change.  Even just an instance like this would have caused a heap of drama on most buses on the other side who always seem to be out of change.  I thought the 40.50NIS was a little steep, but perhaps that's exactly why the same ride is cheaper on the other side of the river; perhaps the convenience or the more efficient management hasn't been priced into the ticket.

It was a breath of fresh air to be in Israel and here I was on my way to the city that all three Abrahamic faiths call their own.  Soon I would be walking the streets and on my way to witnessing the grandeur and the mystery of this old city.  All in all, it was an easy and somewhat entertaining crossing.  In the end, all I could say is gracias a Dios, hamdullah, and thanks be to God and/or the cosmic forces of the universe for allowing me to be where I was.

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Please note that if you exit through the Sheikh Hussein Bridge and you wish to come back to Jordan from Israel, you will need to come back through either the Sheikh Hussein or the Wadi Araba crossings.  Likewise, if you cross through the King Hussein Bridge, you will need to return through there as well.  Reason being that Jordanian visas cannot be issued out from the King Hussein Bridge, but the Jordanian authorities are able to at the other two crossings.  Basically, according to Jordanian border policy, you are not leaving the country when you cross into the West Bank (formerly part of the Transjordan territory and currently in geopolitical limbo) and as such they do not ask people to pay an exit tax and do not issue exit stamps.  The con is that the King Hussein Bridge is perhaps the busiest crossing of them all, and from what I've read or heard, it can take an inordinate amount of time to get through.

If you're crossing back through Sheikh Hussein, please note that there are few transportation options available on both sides of the crossing.  Only private taxis run by the Jordan Border Crossing Company are available, which can take you to almost any major destination in Jordan, but for a pretty hefty price.  I paid 19JD to make it back to Irbid.  Knowing I had made the same journey for 13JD, I tried to bargain, but the dispatcher would not budge from the posted prices.  A taxi to Amman was around 35JD.  I don't think it is a matter of not enough demand because it appears that there are plenty of people crossing on a regular basis, but perhaps it's a tolerated monopoly.

So as far as convenience and less stress, I would cross through Sheikh Hussein again, but if I did not want an exit stamp from Jordan and/or to pay the 8JD ($12) tax, then King Hussein is the way to go.

For more info, visit the following links: http://www.visitjordan.com/default.aspx?tabid=105
The exit tax info on the website says 5JD, but it is 8JD now.
http://www.kinghussein.gov.jo/facts2.html

Also, visit the Israeli side of the web at: www.goisrael.com

Bon voyage everyone!

In Jordan - Reaching Amman and Tasting Nirvana

I arrived in Amman, Jordan, on Saturday, November 14, after taking a red-eye flight from Casablanca on Egypt Air. Without even planning it, I and three other Peace Corps volunteers were on the same flight out of Casablanca. They were starting their Middle East trek from Cairo; I had a quick layover before heading to Amman. Before our flight, we scoured all the money exchange bureaus at the Mohammed V Casablanca Airport and none had Jordanian Dinars or Egyptian Pounds to exchange. Knowing that I was going to come back to Morocco after my Middle Eastern trek, I kept my funds and hoped that the 25 Euros that I had kept stashed from my last trip to Europe would be enough to get through customs and to get to the nearest ATM.

I blogged earlier about my arrival to the Holy Land and the great experience I had with Egypt Air. I was fortunate to get a window seat, which allowed me to take in the scenery during the descent and ascent into and from Cairo. I'm 30 years old and I still feel like the 10 year old boy who was completely awestruck by his first flight out of Venezuela and how different things looked at 40,000 feet.

Like the experience I wrote about earlier about the mountains and plateaus making me feel insignificant or being humbled by the sheer breadth and size of nature's wonders, I feel the same when staring out from my tiny window in the sky. Ironically for me, every flight is a grounding experience. It just makes me realize how inconsequential my problems are in the scope of such vast amounts of space and over the course of time. What I begin to understand is that many of these landscapes are indifferent. Men and women have come and gone and yet they are still here changing and adapting to the elements. On my way in to Jordan, I saw various shades of sand, the blue of the Nile and the Red Sea, the Sinai Peninsula's mountainous wilderness, many dunes, plateaus, rocky hills dotted with olive trees, and a few lush valleys and oases.

The flight from Cairo to Amman was about 40 minutes. Counting our ascent and descent, we probably had about 20 minutes of coasting, and in that brief lull the flight crew scrambled to give everyone their complementary drink. It was a nice surprise to be able to walk directly onto the terminal rather than taking a shuttle or walking to it like you often do when travelling outside of Europe or the U.S. The causeway takes you straight to customs where an Arab Bank money exchange branch is at the center of the hall ready to exchange almost any currency to Jordanian Dinars. I found it interesting that a money exchange branch would be situated in the middle of the customs hall, but I guess a lot of countries do not carry Jordanian Dinars, Morocco being one of them. I exchanged my 25 Euros and got 22 Jordanian Dinars(JD). I knew coming in that the Jordanian Dinar was an expensive currency, but all the blogs I read said that most things are nowhere near U.S. or European prices. So it's little startling at first to get less money for your dollar or euro, but once you get out, you realize that a JD can be stretched out pretty far.

It was 10JD to get the visa. Some of the blogs I had browsed through before coming said that the visitor's visa was for two weeks so I was surprised to hear that the visas were now good for an entire month, which makes a lot of sense. You could traverse the country in two weeks. It's not very big and transportation to the main touristy sites is readily available, but for those who wish to take their time to meet people, taste the cuisine, and ponder the meaning of life in nature as I do, two weeks goes by in a flash.

Once I passed through customs, I went down to pick up my luggage. At the luggage carousels, I found some stands with maps and guides in various languages to the main sites in Jordan. It was a great find since all I had to go by on this trip was a Lonely Planet guide titled Middle East on a Shoestring Budget published in 1997. I was planning to travel on a shoestring budget, but after sleeping in one of the hotels this guide recommended, I decided to upgrade myself from shoestring to respectably clean. I stayed at one hotel called Jerusalem Hotel in Aqaba, and it literally was the nastiest place I've ever stayed at with roaches crawling around and the grimiest bed sheets I had ever seen, but the guide was spot on with the price. It was the cheapest of all the "budget" options. After one night in that hole, I moved next door and paid 5JD more for a bigger room, hot water, and peace of mind.

The Amman Queen Alia International Airport is about the size of your regional airport in the U.S. Once you get past customs, you walk out into the arrivals waiting hall, which has a number of snack shops, car rental stands, banks and ATMs, and a couple of cell phone boutiques. If you plan to spend some time in Jordan, I strongly encourage purchasing a SIM card from one of the boutiques. They run anywhere from 4-6JD from Orange, Zain, Umniah, and others, and the purchase generally includes 1 to 2JD of credit, which is more than enough to make initial arrangements with friends and hotels. Also, right outside the airport there's a bus shuttle company called Airport Express that travels back and forth from the airport to Amman. They have a stand at the airport and an attendant is outside asking any confused-looking tourist if they're going to Amman. It cost me 3JD and it dropped me off at the North Station also known as either Abdali Station or in Levantine Arabic as Moujemma Shamal. As the bus begins to park, taxi drivers converge near the bus's drop as they prepare to pounce on the fresh-off the plane tourists. I told one gentleman my destination and he offered to take me for 12JD. I told the guy in all honesty that I did not have 12JD and immediately he lowered the price to 7JD. I told him to lower it some more so he lowered it to 5JD and said in English, "Final price."

The guy took me through a touristy route, which allowed me to see the Roman fortress and auditorium. A ride through Amman is much like your typical roller coaster ride. The taxi drivers go just as fast as they wind up and down the many hills and valleys of the city. My first impression of Amman was not a memorable one. I thought the city lacked color, but then later I heard that it's by city mandate that the buildings use the local white and beige stone for the exterior. I don't know how legit that statement is, but it certainly seems like most people are adhering to it. The only contrast to the vanilla cream buildings are a few skyscrapers in the new city.

Upon arriving at the hotel, I asked the hotel receptionist about how much it costs to get from the North Station to the hotel to which he said, "Oh about 1.5JD to 2JD." I was hosed, but fortunately it was only for 3 or so dinares. Oh well, it was a lesson learned. From there on, I didn't hop on a taxi unless they had their meter running.

I checked into the Farah Hotel, which I had made a reservation on www.HostelWorld.com. I paid 5JD for a shared accommodation for one night. The rooms were clean, the bed was soft and sturdy, and the bathrooms were well-tended too. The lobby was also nice with plush couches, a TV and DVD player, a couple of large dining tables, and a couple of shelves full of board games, books, and bootleg movies.

When I checked in, I saw a guy chilling out on one of the couches. After I dropped my stuff in my room, I asked him about his travel plans. He told me smilingly that he lived in Jordan. Immediately I asked him if he was a Peace Corps Volunteer and he said yes. I told him that I had just finished service a couple of days ago.  He then asked me if I was Jonathan and I said yes, and then I followed asking him if he was Torin and he said yes. We had exchanged a few emails prior to arriving. He had said that he was likely going to be busy touring with some friends. It so happened that he was at Farah waiting for his friends to arrive from Palestine. I was exhausted from the red-eye flight, but I had a lot of questions about travel options and sites and then we spoke for a while about his Peace Corps experience and he gave me his lowdown on Jordan. I also shared a bit of my Peace Corps Morocco experience and gave him my lowdown on travel, food, and culture. I was fortunate to have found him and to have had this exchange on the first day of my trip.

We decided to meet up later on in the evening. I ran into him at a small fast food joint and joined him for a shawarma. The shawarma was not that great, but it was dirt cheap at 1.50JD for the plate. I was more impressed by the size of the meat spikes rotating in the fire. These spikes were probably about a meter and a half long and about half a meter wide. Some of the guys tending to it had to climb a small step ladder to shave off the meat at the top.  Some used a long knife to cut the meat and others used what looked like industrial size hair clippers. 

After the shawarma, we walked over to Habiba, a confectionery shop preparing Jordan's famous kenafa. This delicious sweet treat should rank pretty high in terms of the world's greatest inventions. The scrumptious treat has a mozzarella cheese base, a thin crunchy cake layer or stringy top that is doused in a honey or sugar-based syrup, and topped off with pistachios, cinnamon, and nutmeg on top. Every bite was like reaching taste-bud nirvana.

After Habiba's kenafa, we moved on to a cafe right on the main strip of King Hussein St. called Eco-Tourism Cafe. It was a scruffy looking place. About the only thing “eco” about it were the plants that the owner had throughout the cafe. There I got my first taste of Jordanian coffee. It was a contrast to Morocco's fancy coffee presses that squeeze out the coffee from the coffee grounds. In Jordan, you get the coffee and the grounds. Moroccan coffee also seems lighter in comparison to the almost syrupy makeup of Jordanian coffee, but as far as sugar is concerned, they're neck and neck. The coffee's bitterness is offset quite well by the generous amounts of sugar in each cup.

It was a nice first night in Amman. The following day I was to head out to Irbid with Torin to meet a couple of other volunteers. Upon arrival I had heard that L3id Kabir would most certainly fall on Tuesday, November 16. When I was drawing up my initial plans, I was hoping to avoid another sheep slaughtering, but it looked like I would be witness to yet another. I felt bad for the sheep, but at the same time I was thinking that I wouldn't object to some slow-cooked or grilled sheep meat. I was looking forward to meeting up with more volunteers and was even more excited about the opportunity to experience village life with one of them.

It had only been two days since I had checked/stamped out of Peace Corps. You would think that I would be running towards the comforts of Western amenities, but here I was wanting to experience village life in Jordan, and here I was in the hands of volunteers that were making it possible for me to do so. I felt blessed and fortunate to be part of this select group of people who have invested so much time and energy to get to know the people around them and their surroundings and who are so willing to share the little bit they know with me.

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Some Travel Details

Farah Hotel

Amman Al-Hussein Cinema St.

Behind Arab Bank

Downtown

+962-6-465-1443

Email: farahhotel@hotmail.com

www.farahhotel.com.jo 

One of the best state-run tourism websites that I've seen to date:

http://www.visitjordan.com/

Arriving in the Holy Land

pilI arrived in Jordan around 10AM local time on Sunday, November 14, exhausted from a red-eye flight from Casablanca-Cairo-Amman.  It's been a while since I flew into the future.  Last time I did that was exactly 27 months ago when I swallowed the red pill and began my Peace Corps journey through the land of the far west.  Having experienced the mix of cultures and traditions and seen first hand the practice of Islam of the Maghreb, I was curious to see another part of the Arab and Islamic World and to carry out a little pilgrimage of my own; so I embarked on a journey through the Holy Land.  As I wrote in an earlier blog [In Matters of Faith: Minding My Own], I feel that it is extremely important to contextualize the Holy Scriptures.  I don't consider myself to be a religious person and it may sound strange to my friends to hear that I am going on a pilgrimage, but truth is that despite not being a pious individual, I find it amazing how the tales and stories, oral traditions, and culture of this region of the world have resonated throughout the world and to some extent are still changing the beliefs and conduct of isolated pockets of the world that are just beginning to hear about the Abrahamic faiths.

I find it interesting walking through this rocky Mediterranean landscape that people in the tropics could still relate.  The environments are so different.  As I flew into Cairo, all I saw was a vast open expanse of sand and arid hills up until one reaches the Nile, but even the mighty Nile looks puny in the midst of the wilderness.  From Cairo to Amman, we flew over the Sinai Peninsula and there I saw the wilderness that the Children of Israel supposedly wandered around for 40 years for punishment for disobeying the God of Moses.  Well, after flying over it, I would say, "Dang, God, did you have to go that far? I mean, really?"  As we flew into Jordan, it was more of the same except perhaps a little more colorful with some red sand hills in the distance.  Upon arrival, I thought I would be greeted with a cool winter breeze, but instead I got a big waft of summer.  It was such a change from the low-50s temperatures I was already dealing with in Morocco. 

Supposedly according to the locals, the temperatures have been unusually high for the month.  We'll see if it cools down at all while I am here.  However, even it cools and rains come, it would revive the hills and turn them green, but just for a brief moment.  Irrigation is helping to create more arable plots, but there's only enough water for isolated oases.  It's tough to say why the stories stuck, but I believe one way of getting a better understanding is to do as the locals do or as we say "walk a mile in someone else's shoes".  That I will do and will soon share those insights.   

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Some Travel Details

I flew on Egypt Air.  The flight took off at 12AM from Airport Mohammed V near Casablanca.  The airline served us a meal at 2AM Morocco time and then an hour and half later gave us a muffin and a choice of beverage.  The meals were delicious, one of the airline hostesses was extremely HOT, and the seats were decent.  The flight took off a little late due to some baggage mishandling problems, but they were forthright about the issue.  Due to the delay, I arrived in Cairo with only 30 minutes prior to the departure of my connecting flight to Amman.  Thankfully, the airline did an amazing job of fast-tracking all individuals going to Jordan through their connecting flights lobby and they also got my luggage transferred in time.  I recommend the airline.

For my return trip to Casablanca, I am going to try out UAE-based discount airline Air Arabia.  Their rates are the lowest I've seen for travel through the Middle East.  For instance, flights from Casablanca to Alexandria will run about $140 one way.  Egypt Air flights are marketed through major online travel websites like Orbitz, Expedia, et al;  Air Arabia flights are not.  I have heard some stories of subpar service from Air Arabia from other volunteers.  We'll see if their stories are isolated instances or the general rule.  For the price though, it's tough to complain when most everyone else is charging 30-50% more for the same route.  Who knows? Perhaps the service will be so good or so bad that it may merit a blog entry.  Stay tuned.