Ankles and Bhurkas
Today, we woke up, packed our trusty backpacks, grabbed some lunch, and walked to the bus station in Wadi Musa. Now, this is truly the first time that I’m really frustrated about not having pictures postable on this blog.
The bus station was a total joke. It wasn’t so much a station as it was a parking lot with signs in Arabic. It is important to note that there is no bus schedule – the drivers arrive with the minibuses and wait until they’re filled before leaving. We figured taking this public transportation would not only save us money, but would give us a chance to see even more of Jordan than we would if we had taken a taxi. I’m confident that we would have seen exactly the same 3 hours of desert in a taxi, but possibly with air conditioning. It was a trip.
We arrived in Amman around 5, walked around a little and looked for cheap places to stay. Decided on a nice little dive called the Concord or something cheesy.
We grabbed dinner at Al-something, where they had chicken rotisseries in the window. We walked in, and immediately 30 men are staring at us. See, in Jordan, there are women out in the streets (definitely more so here, in Amman, than in Wadi Musa), but, they are completely covered up. Knowing that this is an Arab country where women are viewed differently, I dressed modestly, a long skirt, hat, and collared shirt, but I think these men are mesmirized by my ankles. So much for low self-esteem.
Anyway, Amman is a huge city, the city is on the bottom of a huge hill, and the houses are on top. It’s nice.. you know, for an Arab city. We passed signs today on the mini-bus for turn-offs for the Iraqi and Saudi Arabia border crossings. I had forgotten how close I really am.
Don’t worry.. I won’t risk it.
Leaving the day after tomorrow for India, where the posts are sure to be more interesting and less frequent.
Tags: Travel
swarjam
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