Jordan... Again/ Longest Post to Date

For the Eid holiday I couldn't bring myself to stick around Ramallah for 9 days so I decided to head back to Jordan... I am sorry... I couldn't help myself. My friend Hamza, who I mentioned in my previous post, told me that he would arrange everything so I could enjoy myself... and that I did.

A couple of the amazing views in Jordan! South of Wadi Mousa

North of Wadi Mousa

Last Sunday I headed out early in the morning to the Ramallah central bus depot where I caught a bus to East Jerusalem. I then had to get a taxi to the Jerusalem Central Bus Station where I caught my bus to Eilat -- which was a 4 hour ride via the Dead Sea. Once in Eilat I took another taxi to the border crossing, and then once through the border crossing, Hamza's cousin, Ahmed picked me up, took me to the market in Aqaba to pick up some groceries and then dropped me off at the apartment that Hamza had arranged for me to stay at for the first 2 nights. The apartment was big (far too big for one person) and dirty, but it was the same price as a hotel and had a full kitchen so I couldn't complain too much ... except about the cockroaches. Aqaba is a beautiful, well-kept city that sits along the Red Sea and is nestled below the rocky, picturesque mountains of Jordan. It was my first ever glimpse of the Red Sea and after looking at a map I don't think I realized at the time just how close I was to Saudi Arabia and Egypt. No wonder every time I asked a taxi driver to take me to the border crossing they always asked "which one?"

Overlooking the Bedouin village near Petra

On Tuesday Hamza met up with me in Aqaba and took me somewhere so I could rent a car. The system there was a little misconstrued and not what I was used to. They required cash for the deposit and required all the money up front. In addition the car was a piece of crap and definitely not worth the money I paid for it. Having said this, it didn't break down on me or run out of gas... so again I can't complain too much. After securing the car we then headed north towards Petra. Hamza showed me around his village of Wadi Mousa and let me see what a typical night in the life of a young Wadi Mousan is like... which ended up not being that different than a night might be in small town America. We (myself, Hamza, and his friend Muhammed) cruised around the streets of the town with our Arabic music blaring and stopping to talk when we saw friends. The guys played jokes on their friends, we stopped at the "record store" to buy cassette tapes for the rental car, and made sure to stop by the corner store for snacks and drinks. We ended the evening at Muhammed's cousin's restaurant drinking tea and eating gullayh with lamb -- delicious!

Wadi Mousa at Night

On Wednesday I went to Little Petra which is about a 15-20 minute drive north of Petra. Little Petra is as its name suggest a smaller version of the various tombs and homes carved into the rock walls of the nearby, more famous Petra. I was accompanied by 3 local boys who although I told that I didn't need guides, decided to follow me regardless. They took me up to one cave that contained an ancient painting that was being renovated by 2 hardworking people from France. We then made our way up a narrow passage of stairs that would take me to a fabulous view of the valley and surrounding area. I then shared bedouin tea with my new friends and after a couple of hours of exploration headed back to Wadi Mousa where I met up with Hamza and his friends who had prepared for us to spend the night in the desert.

So me, 4 guys, and a whole load of camping gear piled into my little rental car and headed on our way to Wadi Araba -- northwest of Wadi Mousa. The drive there was amazing with its back, windy roads and spectacular views of the Jordan Valley. When we got down to the desert we ran into a number of camel caravans before we turned off into the sand. We found a good spot to settle for the night and the guys set up camp quickly in the dusky light of the last remnents of the sun. We sat around the campfire while I listened to stories of Islam and the Prophet Muhammed being told by men who truly believe in their faith. It was beautiful and a moment that I will never forget. They then cooked a fabulous meal of goat shish kebabs and chops, and bedouin gallayh. Holy deliciousness! The night was very cold and unfortunately I was feeling a bit under the weather with my sore throat and runny nose, but I was so happy to be in the middle of the desert in Jordan with great company that it didn't matter much!

My Bedouin friends
View on the way to Wadi Araba
Sunset in the desert
The boys cooking up the delicious meal

On Thursday we woke up early and hoisted ourselves back into my car and continued heading north on the road that runs along side the Dead Sea. I have to say that the Dead Sea is much more beautiful on the Jordanian side than the Israeli side. It is much greener and picturesque. We winded our way up into the mountains and through Madaba and then back down just south of Amman. We then stopped at a horse ranch because Ahmed was looking to secure a purchase on one of the horses. For the citizens of Wadi Mousa horses make up a huge part of their life and the therefore the choice of horse is of high importance. After the business deal we headed back down to Wadi Mousa where I crashed for the night after an interesting night in the desert and day on the road.

The next day I adventured in the area around Wadi Mousa. Near to Petra is an old 12th century fortress that sits high above the valley. I had to do some climbing to get there, but it was well worth it as there was not a person in sight and the structure of this place was amazing. It was only me, the broken down fortress, and the village of Wadi Mousa in the distance. After a decent morning of hiking and climbing I relaxed the rest of the day by reading and spending time in the local restaurants and coffee shops. My all-time favorite drink of this area of the world is "asir limon wa nana" -- fresh lemon juice with mint. Holy lord... it is delicious and ridiculously refreshing. That and "chay wa maramiya" -- tea with sage. I never thought that I would like the combination of plain tea with sugar and fresh sage... but it is now my favorite hot drink.

On Saturday, my last day in Jordan, I got up early and headed back to Aqaba. The roads in Jordan are very well patrolled by speeding cops who sit on the sides of the road with their white SUVs and radar guns. At some point I was flagged down by one even though I knew I was not speeding. I thought, oh great I got a speeding ticket in Jordan... nice! However when the policeman came over to my window I realized that he actually wanted a ride. So him and another cop got into my car and off we went. They were very friendly although they knew very little English we were able to communicate and have a bit of a laugh. They kept calling their friends who knew English well and had them talk to me and then translate what I said to them. I dropped them off near the turn off to Wadi Rum.

Hamza

I found the car rental place quite easily and decided to walk around Aqaba until I had to head to the Israeli border. I found a nice, quite park with a fountain to sit and read in and then I walked down to the Red Sea to watch the locals play in their boats. I had lunch (tabbouleh and hommous wa lamha) at Ali Baba restaurant, where the meal was great, the staff ridiculously friendly and attentive and the atmosphere perfect. I then took a taxi to the border. I was a little nervous about the questions that they may ask, but I took my usual approach of being really friendly and laid back. When I got to the customs area, the border guard asked me what my family name was, what my parent's parent's names were and what my grandparents names were. I got to the point where I told him "I don't know; they were dead before I was born." He let me through with a smile and when I got to the passport counter --which is typically where the majority of the crazy questions are asked -- the girl behind the glass didn't say a single word to me.

After the 4 hour bus ride to Jerusalem I had to take a taxi to the East Jerusalem bus station to catch the last bus home to Ramallah. When my taxi driver found out that I was going to Ramallah he told me how bad it was and how "no good" the people were. I just told him "maybe to you, but to me Ramallah and the people there are nothing but good." When I got on the #18 the bus driver bought me some tea to keep me warm while we sat and waited for the bus to fill up with people. I found out that he lived in Ramallah and I kept thinking to myself, "yeah this person who bought a total stranger tea must be no good."

Jordan - Days 2.5

After a fabulous first day and a half in Jordan, I hired a private taxi to take me to Petra, which is 3 hours to the south of Amman. I had heard from a number of people that Petra is amazing and that when in Jordan it is a must, so I figured... why not? My driver, Wael, was fantastic... he spoke English fluently and was a joy to talk to. He dropped me at the entrance to Petra at around 10:30 and I was off. The first mile and a half of the walk is a narrow descent called the "siq." At every turn the local Bedouins ask if you would like to ride their horse or horse carriage as the walk can be quite tiring. I told me self that I was going to suck it up and not give in to their offerings. I can't even explain how beautiful it was to be walking along this old ancient passageway -- beautiful in every way except for the copious amounts of tour groups full of teenagers. After a 20 minute walk I turned the corner and there the famous "Treasury" stood in a wide open area. From there you are forced to go to the right and descend further in. All along the way there are tombs and houses carved into the cliffsides. Eventually I came to the ampitheatre, which is said to be on its way to holding performances after being closed for thousands of years. I continued along the main path but at some point climbed a hill to get a better view of things.

It was at this point that I met a Bedouin boy by the name of Khalled (however he told me to call him Shams -- which is the Arabic word for "sun"). Shams owns two donkeys, Suzannah and Zuzu, which he uses to make money at Petra. Shams and I quickly became friends and he asked if I wanted some Bedouin tea. I couldn't decline so he took me around to one of the tombs where we could get some tea. It seems the women who are normally there were not, so he decided to take me to a path to get back to the entrance. Along the way he somehow managed to convince to get on his donkey. I admit that I was a little apprehensive, but Shams assured me that I would be fine. I was riding along and all of a sudden Shams decided to hop on the donkey and join me. So along the path I went on a bedouin donkey with a bedouin boy. Before I headed down the narrow, rarely used path that would take me back to the entrance, I sat down and had some tea with a local bedouin lady, her young daughter, a sleeping infant, and about 3-4 little bedouin boys. They were all so captivating with their honey-colored eyes and their radiant smiles. I felt like I wanted to stay forever, but alas I could not.

I started headed along the path that would take me to the entrance. At first I thought that I was crazy because I ended up basically having to become a rock climber to maneuver the difficult path and within the first 5 minutes I nearly turned around. However, when I spotted one other hiker coming the opposite way I figured that I must be headed in the right direction so I kept on trekking. After about 45 minutes or so I spotted the main path. After I climbed the rocks I met a bedouin man by the name of Uthman and his brother Hamza. They both owned horses and worked at Petra for a living. I was invited to have some more tea with them and with pleasure I accepted. They took me to their "father's" cave where I saw an older gentleman laying on a bed. He woke up and invited me to come inside where he proceeded to make us tea. According to Hamza, Muhammed has the cave as a place where the bedouin workers can come and get something to eat and drink while they rest. Muhammed was lovely and again knew English like the others. I thanked my new friends and said goodbye to them and the surreal place that is Petra.

Jordan - Days 1.5

I returned from a 3 day trip to Jordan yesterday and I must say that I think I may officially love that country. After a 2 hour ride to the Shiekh Hussein checkpoint just north of the West Bank I entered the "terminal" where I had to pay my exit tax of 88 shekels and then get my exit stamp. From there I boarded a bus which took me a 1/2 mile to the Jordanian border. My first impression of Jordanians were that they were extremely friendly, helpful and willing to talk. After paying for a 1 month visa (10 JDs), I had to go through customs and then get a taxi that would take me to Amman. My taxi driver's name was Huwwari and although he didn't know any English, I somehow managed to communicate in my extremely poor Arabic.

We drove through the beautiful and lush Jordanian valley, zipping through a number of small villages where the vegetable markets lined the sides of the road. I couldn't help but smile as I heard the sounds of the vendors shouting out their deals of the day. After being in the valley for about an hour, we turned east and headed up onto the winding mountain roads that would take us to Amman. Once I got to my hotel I was tired from a full day of travel (which geographically should only take 1 hour), but because of border "security" ended up taking 5+ hours, I crashed for the night.

View from my hotel room --- notice the 2 minarets from the mosque on the right side and the 2 crosses from the church on the left side.

After footoor (breakfast) I started walking in the direction that I believed the city center to be in. About 20 minutes later I was downtown with all the glorious hustle and bustle that only the city center of a Middle Eastern country could present. I wandered for hours amongst Amman's many shops and markets and had lunch at a wonderful restaurant by the name of Jebri. I sat outside on the 2nd floor balcony eating hummous, bread, and tabbouleh while filling out my postcards, watching the action on the street below, and smelling the nargileh wafting over from the man sitting next to me.

View from my seat on the balcony -- downtown Amman.

I dropped my postcards off at the post office, picked up my map and headed towards the Roman ruins that dot Amman. The ruins and in particular the ampitheatre, which seats 7,000, are absolutely gorgeous and I was probably only 1 of maybe 10 tourists there. It was fabulous. The men that worked there were again extremely helpful and charming. An old man by the name of Muhammed took me around to show me different aspects of the theatre that I may have missed. At first I thought he wanted a fee, but he said that it was free of charge so he took me around to a smaller theatre near the large one and then up to a bazaar that sold an eclectic mix of old and new. I ended up buying an old ring, thanked Muhammed for his time and headed back to the hotel.

Jordan.... who knew?

I regret to say...

I realize that I just don't blog enough. There is so much to say sometimes that I feel it may become repetitive and erroneous; however I will say that I am getting accustomed to life here and it is a good thing. The last few weeks have held so many surprises that I don't know where to start. It has consisted of the following:

• luncheons with ladies in beautiful Palestinian villages



• my first nargileh - peach flavoured that is



• setting up a bank account - with surprisingly no hassle



• buying oodles of Palestinian and Chilean wine



• discovering a fish and chips shop in Ramallah



• taking a road trip to buy a ham sandwich



• getting a private tour of a tiny olive oil press in the old city



• spontaneously going to the opening of a women's film festival



• visiting Mahmoud Darwish's memorial at night



• drinking proper cappuccino at Cafe de la Paix

• rushing to Jerusalem after a busy day to meet with friends from Italy

• realizing that all the kids who wear the keffiyeh here actually deserve to

• running into a parade of boy scouts in Al Manarah square - complete with horns and drums

• discovering that my washing machine cleans my clothes with dirty, black water - hence defeating the entire purpose

• walking on the streets of Ramallah breathing in the smell of falafel and nargileh - such a glorious combination

• visiting beautiful Nablus for the day - and spending it in an office full of men who smoke and drink Arabic coffee far too much

Day Trip to Jerusalem

At the end of September I was off of work for 9 days because of Eid. I decided to take advantage and so I rented a car and went adventuring around Israel. The day that I rented my car I headed to Jerusalem because I had to stop by the Centre for Jerusalem Studies in the Old City. I took a regular taxi to the Qalandiya checkpoint and from there took public transportation into East Jerusalem. It ws my first time going through a "proper" checkpoint and admittedly I was a bit intimidated as I headed towards the entrance. I first had to walk through what could only be deemed as a "corral" and then I saw a line forming at a controlled gate. In front of me was a Palestinian woman and her 3 young children. They all proceeded through the gate and showed their ID cards to the men behind the bullet proof window. They were denied entry and turned back around with their heads hanging low. After they buzzed me through I had to set my purse on a conveyor (just like the ones that they have at airports) and slide my passport into a tiny slot to be reviewed. I had no problems and after I collected my purse I was buzzed through yet another gate. I had no idea what to expect on the other side; however I spotted the queued busses and headed that direction. I inquired as to whether or not they went to Damascus Gate and I was told that they all do.

I got onto the #18 bus and for a mere 5 shekels I was on my way. Seated next to me was a couple with their 2 children (one a new born and one no more than 2 years old). At some point during the journey into Jerusalem the 2 year old (who was being helf by her father) threw up. The mother (who was holding the newborn) asked me in Arabic if I had a cloth or tissue. Although I couldn't understand what she said, I knew exactly what she needed and found a tissue in my purse to give to her. This wasn't enough to clean up the mess so the father went to the front to ask the driver if he had anything to help. He did; however he gave the father a very hard time about it. At some point the 2 year old wanted her mommy, but her hands were full because of the newborn (who was sound asleep). The mother then turned to me and said something in Arabic while holding out the baby. I realized that she wanted me to hold him and I gladly obliged. The baby was the sweetest thing sleeping soundly in my arms as we made our way through the bumpy streets of Jerusalem. When we arrived at the end of the line, I gave the baby back to his mother. She thanked me and I could see that she was extremely grateful. After it was over I couldn't help but think about what a precious moment it was. Even though we didn't speak the same language, it wasn't necessary because I knew what she needed and we were able to communicate in complete sincerity.

I started headed down Saladin Street in East Jerusalem when it started pouring down rain. I found an awning to stand under until it passed. What I find amazing about the rain storms here is how quickly they come and quickly they go. No one owns and umbrella, but they just deal with it. The couple of times that I have been caught in the rain it seems to change the atmosphere completely. The people seem more happy and apt to laugh when it is coming down hard not to mention more chatty! After the rain cleared up I headed into the Old City. I had studied my map hard the previous day in hopes that I didn't get lost; however the Old City has an uncanny ability to disorientate you while you are strolling along its narrow streets. I knew where I needed to go so I asked people who looked like locals if I was headed in the right direction. After a couple of wrong turns I ended up in the Suq-al Qatannin -- which is where I needed to be. Score! The Old City is unreal and I think I could spend hours in there; however I think I will wait until the weather is a bit cooler to do that!


Herod's Gate

After an hour or so in the Old City I made a few phone calls to see if I could find a place that had a car available for me to rent. Luckily the first place I tried did and it was within walking distance. Before I picked up my car I went into the American Colony Hotel's bookstore, which I had heard was fabulous. They did have some good books (academic as well as novels); however they were a bit overpriced so I left quietly without purchasing a thing. Despite this, I was able to pick up a colloquial English/Arabic book down on Saladin St. for pretty cheap so I was happy with that.

I was so happy when I got into my rental car for the first time because I realized that I miss driving so much! I admit I was a little scared of driving in Jerusalem; however I just thought of it as an adventure and with my handy street atlas was able to make my way back to Ramallah.

Finally Settled in Ramallah

Eiffel Sweets in Ramallah

I am finally settled into my new home in Ramallah. I ended up staying in Nablus for about 3 weeks. Although I was glad that I was able to experience Nablus, I am happy to be out of there. My first few days in Ramallah were spent in a hotel about 2 blocks away from my office. On my first weekend I decided to walk down to the separation barrier to take some pictures. About an hour and 5 hills later I was there. I walked on the dirt road that runs right along side of the wall. There were 2 boys sitting along side it listening to music and smoking cigarettes. I asked them if I could take their picture, but they said no. I was disppointed for it would have been a perfect photo op... but I respected their privacy. Most of the wall is covered with simple phrases and sayings in a number of languages. Most are political statements, but some are advertisements or well wishes to friends and family.

I moved into my flat less than a week after my arrival in Ramallah. It is in the area of Al Masyoun near the Palestinian Legislative Council and the building is shared with 3 other families -- including my landlord. My second night there I was invited to my neighbor's house for iftar (nightly breaking of the Ramadan fast). The people I met were many of the "elite" of Ramallah -- journalists, art historians, etc. They were all smoking and drinking to their hearts delight. At some point guessing everyone's age became the topic of the evening. As usual I was thought of as far younger than I am. One woman said that she thought that I couldn't be older than 18. I appreciate that I look younger; however sometimes I am not sure whether to take offense or be flattered.

The weeks following this were spent getting to know the ins and outs of Ramallah. At first I took a taxi to and from work; however once I figured out where everything was I started walking and have been doing so since. It takes about 15-20 minutes for me to walk to work and 30 to walk back home because I take the "scenic route" through the city center. The downtown area is wonderful... so bustling and full of life. I love to go down there and just people watch and smell the air -- which consists of the sweet scent of nargila drifting outside from the coffee shops, and the savoury scent of falafel and kebab from the corner stands. One night during Ramadan I was walking around and I suddently heard the sound of cymbols and drums. I followed the sound to what looked like a small procession of people in the street who were holding torches, playing drums while dancing and singing. I wasn't sure what was happening; however I of course followed the procession until its end a few blocks later. That same evening there was a live performance in the street by an Islamic singing group. They had a side street blocked off and chairs set up. I stood there and drank my Arabic coffee in awe of the fact that I was able to witness this.

Nablus

I have been in Nablus for the last couple of weeks. My first few days were spent attending various lectures on Middle East politics at An-Najah National University. It was very interesting to get the Palestinian perspective on liberalism, realism, orientalism, and human rights. Walking around the campus I felt extremely exposed. Nablus is a city that is pretty fundamentalist. When I say that I don’t mean extremist, I simply mean that they follow the Islamic religion very closely. This means that the vast, vast majority of the women here cover themselves entirely except for the face. The usual choice of coverage is the ever flattering hijab. I was wearing trousers that showed my ankles, and a shirt that showed my upper back and a large portion of my upper arms. In addition to this I wore flip flop type sandals. I have never felt so exposed in my entire life.

The flat that I have called my home for the last 2 weeks is on the southwest outskirts of Nablus. It is huge with its 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, and 3 terraces. My favorite thing about it is that just to the north of the flat is a mosque, so the call to prayer can be heard very clearly. The call to prayer is one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard – I just love that it is a live person every time (no recordings) and that they are just singing their hearts out for the love of their god. Beautiful!

The view from my terrace is a neighborhood mosque.

The other day I saw a funeral. I heard a commotion outside and what sounded like moaning. I went to the window and across the valley I saw a large crowd of people gathered. The men seemed to be separated from the women and children and some of the women were sobbing and flailing their arms. I then saw the crude wooden coffin being lifted into the air and an Islamic flag thrown over the top. Carrying the coffin, the men headed towards the mosque. Once they neared the mosque the call to prayer began, but this time it was different. Although it was the same words that are normally sung, it sounded so mournful and disheartened. The men went into the mosque and about 5-10 minutes later I saw 5-6 children coming towards the mosque carrying what looked to be palm branches high in the air. Another 10 minutes after that the women finally went into the mosque. It was saddening as I wondered what happened. Was it a child? An adult? A mother? A father? A son? A daughter?

Jerusalem - Day Three

Saturday 23.Aug.08

We went to Askadinya again for lunch. I had pizza with goat cheese and fresh tomatoes and herbs. Once again this place is fantastic and has wonderful service and ambience. We then dropped Kherieh’s car off at her apartment in the French Hill neighborhood of Jerusalem where Hanni was waiting to pick us up. He drove us via a back way (no proper checkpoints) to Bethlehem. It only took maybe 20 minutes to get there and almost seems to be a slight suburb of Jerusalem. Bethlehem was beautiful with its winding streets and old majestic buildings. At some point we had turned down a street that was swarming with pedestrians who had no regard whatsoever to the cars that were trying to drive down the street. I loved every second of it. The citizens of Bethlehem are beautiful and I was so overwhelmed at points that I couldn’t help but just smile.

We made our way to the Church of the Nativity where we all had to bow upon entering. The church was not like any church I had seen before. It was old and the lanterns and lights that hung from the ceiling were distinctively Middle Eastern (much like the lights I had seen at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher). I have to admit that I didn’t know what to expect in the birthplace of Jesus. In the section of the church that we entered there was a mass being held by what seemed to be Greek Orthodox (don’t quote me on that). There was a chapel next door that was actually used for weddings. Can you imagine getting married there? The downstairs of the church is where the “grotto” is located; which is the spot where Jesus was actually born. There is another section just a few feet away where Mary was said to have placed Jesus after his birth. It was hard to picture how things were back in the day since the current-day church was built around these holy spots – not to mention they have been decorated so extensively that they are hardly recognizable.

Me and Vicki at entrance to Church of Nativity------->

<-------Me at the "grotto" where Jesus was born

The manger where Jesus lay after his birth------->

<-------Church of the Nativity

Inside the church------->

After the church we went across the street to the Bethlehem Peace Center. In the square was a tree that was called the “Tree of Peace.” Mind you the tree was in a cement “planter” and was looking rather dead as that branches were cut off and no green was to be seen. Quite the statement if you ask me; however upon looking closely at what the Is written on the planter, the idea changes drastically – “I am 500 years old, I was uprooted without my permission from my original site (The Khamis Land) in Bir Ona – Beit Jala along with thousands of trees all over Palestine to build the apartheid wall…”

The gift shop inside the peace center was great. It had some really good books; novels as well as academic books. I didn’t purchase any; however I now wish I had as I am still without a book to read during my spare time here. After our visit here we drove around the Bethlehem area looking at settlements, the separation barrier, and refugee camps. Our way back to Jerusalem took us to the south side of the city and the Richard and Rona Goldman Promenade; which is a hilly section of the city that has amazing views of the old city, Mt. Scopus and the Mount of Olives. It is here that the original location of the British Mandate is – a place which now seems to be used as some sort of Israeli military outpost. We then took a drive towards Mount Zion and the south side of the old city. We then drove around in East Jerusalem looking at the various cemeteries and where the separation wall was cutting off the Palestinians from their olive tree groves.

The Dome of the Rock is visible just to the right of my right ear.