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 visiting the ruins of the ancient city of Petra, foreigners were asked to pay 50 Jordanian Dinars (JD) or $70 for a one-day visit with an overnight or 90JD or $127 for entry to Petra without an overnight stay in Jordan-- I was told that the 90JD rate was set up to discourage Israelis or other Western tourists from crossing the Israeli border for just a day's visit.  In contrast, as far as Jordanians go, they were asked to pay just 1JD or $1.41 (Nov. 2010 exchange rate) 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 or $21.15, whereas my Jordanian counterparts were asked to pay 4JD or $5.64. Even all the way in their southernmost city of Aqaba, the beach parking asked that foreigners pay 4JD while the locals paid a single JD.

Some of the travelers I ran into along the way did not like this price difference and thought it was discriminating to pay more for the same access or service at various sites.  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). The expectation in many tourist destinations in Morocco was that you would haggle for your ideal price, a process that economists call dynamic pricing and business folks call capturing the right amount of value.

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 I spoke to argued that it was 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.  However, that does not seem to be the case 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 preserved one-of-a-kind Dionysiac wall painting found in the Siq of Little Petra. I was fortunate to visit the site of the painting thanks to our licensed tourist guide.

  

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, why would it restrain the flow even if it's for environmental concerns?

 As for 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 Jordanians.  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 fellow 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? Absolutely!

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.

___________

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.