We spent our final day and night in Jordan on a little trip north that we had previously written out of the schedule. We never quite knew how to spend our time in Jordan, and the same was true of our final days there. Given the extensive and exhaustive desert immersions we’d focused on in the days preceding, we used our flexible schedule and transportation to break north, beyond Amman, towards the mountain towns of Ajloun and Jerash.
The drive north was never dramatic, but constantly beautiful. Slowly, we left the sugar cane fields, the vast dustiness and the ferociously heat-haze warped panoramas of the lowest point on Earth (The Dead Sea lies at 1,378 feet below sea level). The Dead Sea would give way to dusty palmeraie and dustier towns.
Eventually the golden mountains would rise, and as we climbed the twisting roads, the hills became more and more populated with the sage greens of olive trees, and the roadsides would become dotted with fruit sellers offering grapes, dates, figs and melons. These were, no doubt, the famed and fertile hills of the Jordan River Valley.
Ajloun had a crisp crusader castle and long views across these sage green hills. A new and welcome perspective on a country we’d known so much for its deserts. After a slow walk around the castle and a coffee with a Bedouin who assured us we would have 5 children and named each of them, we pushed further into the mountains for a comfortable stay a stone’s through from Jerash.
We spent our final morning in Jordan walking the impressive Roman ruins carefully cradled in the center of the small city. There’s a lot of Roman ruins in Jordan, and given that we’re not huge ruins people, I think we hit Jerash as kind of a matter of “getting it all in” – but damn, Jerash is pretty spectacular. A massive complex of well kept colonnades, theaters and temples. As interesting as it all was, our final drive to the airport was just minutes away – there’s a strangeness to waking in one reality knowing it would drastically change by the end of the day – and we happily if distractedly made the lap around the large complex of ruins, had a final delicious Arabic coffee infused, as always, with that remarkable cardamom, and we made our way at last towards the Amman airport.
As I’d said earlier, we never quite knew where to put our time in Jordan – at some stops the time flew by, while others inched along, leaving us scratching to occupy ourselves. Ten days is a relatively short timeline for any foreign travel – you feel compelled to pack in as much as possible, but constant logistical navigation, general road weariness, and in the case of the Middle East, HEAT, puts a loud voice in your head that begs you to slow down. Guiltily you give in, spend a lazy day in a hotel and try to tell yourself, “well, balance in all things”.
There is more to see, certainly, than the things we’d seen – but travel isn’t just about what you see. I think the real ache is for learning, for broadening your horizons on how other people think, how they live and how they make a living – “living” in a broad sense. How you balance work and life. How you spend your active time as much as your down time. How you buy a bus ticket, how to order at a pastry counter, whether you pay your waiter or the cashier, The real travel happens with interaction – whether that means meeting a local that gives you an insight or two, or just dealing with a complicated purchase at a local grocery.
Our final task before hitting the airport was to have the rental car washed before returning it. A normally banal task now made complicated by this new and unknown world. Though the highway towards the airport was speckled with exactly the kind of service stations that would normally have car washes, our stops yielded unworking, unmanned or nonexistent facilities. In a final attempt, we rolled up to a series of bays that was either a car wash, a lube place, or a junkyard. Cabs swarmed the place – clearly this place wasn’t for “us”, but as we were out of options, we braved it up and approached a person. After a lot of confused looks and an absolute inability to communicate, an English speaking man was produced who explained the cost and helped us through the process. He ushered us back into the office, and poured us tea. He explained that this was a service station for taxis. He didn’t work there, he was just a cab driver having his oil changed, as he does every 10 days. He asked if we’d tried Mansaf, the national dish of Jordan prepared for special occasions. Regretfully, we said, we missed our opportunity. He lamented that we were leaving so soon, as he would have invited us to his house where his family would make us Mansaf and share a little piece of their world with us. And he meant it.
We are so grateful to have travelled to Jordan. By western standards the accommodations are awkward, the roads are wild, the sites are few (but powerful), it’s hot, it’s dusty… but being here unlocked a remarkable new idea about living, about hospitality, about what interaction means. It has been a remarkable opportunity to reconsider and discover with our own senses what “The Arab World” is. This is a good time, globally, to unplug from the news and find your own story. The TV has been screaming the evils of the Muslim world to westerners since the late 70s, only showcasing the rise of cruel leaders bending the words of their religions to instigate personal agendas.
Granted, we’re not in Iran – Jordan is, perhaps, the Costa Rica of the Middle East has a relatively contemporary world view, though culturally they are aligned more with the Arab world than any other affiliation they might feel. As such, women are extremely marginalized – in fact, you almost don’t see them. Outside of some housekeepers and the occasional tour guide, women aren’t working publicly. So, it’s complicated to throw out all of our preconceptions here…
But if interactions count, Jordan has been one of the warmest, friendliest, hassle free, SAFEST, places we’ve ever been.