The long way to Israel
I left New Delhi early the next morning, while Adam’s flight only left that night. I was happily ungraded on my Qatar Airlines flight to Doha, Qatar becuase of yet another overbooking. The service was splendid.
Doha was another desert city on the Gulf whose name gained recognition during the begining of operation Iraqi Freedom. I believe that the main U.S. M.E. Command is stationed here and i’ve heard that soldiers living here are on R&R. But I was only around for an hour to change planes. I boarded the next flight with one traditionally dressed Yemani man, a scary looking guy with a red and white Kafiya, and a minimum of thirty giggly 20 year old Phillipino girls. I must have garnered attention because I was the only Westerner on the flight. I over heard one girl say under her breath “He thinks that we are short”. I quickly turned around and commented that quite to the contrary, short was beautiful. They laughed in unison, and I continued on my way. They were heading to Amman, Jordan for work as nannies, house cleaners, and by some accounts, prostitutes. The Middle East is a funny place. Don’t fool yourself into thinking all the Jihadist are Virgins.
I spent the next day and a half in Amman. I found the city to be clean, organized, yet a little conservative and dull. I found a cool cafe in the Jebbel Amman neighboorhood where they were playing Bob Marley. Iwalked in and order a plate of french fries and a glass of tea. Tea?, they exaspirated. I guess coffee has become the cool thing here too. We spoke for a few minutes and the kids told me that they were Iraqi but their families had just moved to Jordan due to the security risks. I had to laugh when they asked me about Bush reading the childrens book upside down on Sept, 11th. You realize that all people want the same thing, and that extreamism is frowned upon in any society. The cab drivers showed me the three hotels that were bombed just a few weeks earlier.
“we want to kill Zharkawi” they said. I happen to agree.
A friend that I made drove me to the King Hussien Bridge and I waited patiently in line for passport control until I was ordered out. They told me that Israelis could not pass at this crossing because it was Palestine, not Israel on the other side. I should have used my American Passport. After conversing for a few minutes with the chief police officer about his cousins in Dearborn, Michigan, I got into a Taxi and headed further North.
Much to my luck, there was another border crossing in the Galilee of Israel near Afula. It actually saved me time, because I no longer had to take the bus up the coast in Israel. They gladly took my Israeli Passport there, and in no time I was in the promised land. Crossing from any of country bordering Israel into Israel is like entering a different world. I was convinced Israel was different. But I realized that this was the first time I had entered directly from the East, rather than from the states. The modernity, the loose clothing style, the long hair and cavalier style, the smooth paved roads, and napa like grapefields, the modern security systems, and familar tongue played straight to my heart. I was beyond words and happy to be back in a familiar place.
One thing that I want to put forward though, is that Jordanian people are some of the best around. They are friendly, honest, and have the structure that Egyptians (the only other country i’ve been to in the immdiate area) could learn from. I encourage you all to go there when traveling in Israel. Skip Amman though and head straight to Petra.
My mom picked me up from the cafe next to the gas station where the bus let me off.
Tags: Travel
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