Crossing Jordan (Not the TV Series)


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Middle East » Jordan » North » Amman
December 6th 2014
Published: December 9th 2014
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After finishing the previous day’s blog at about five in the morning, with that stupid donkey chiming in every twenty minutes, I did manage to fall back into a deep restful sleep with my phone charging in the other room by the two only available outlets in the entire suite (okay, at eh Pilgerhaus retreat they refer to these two room units as apartments). Apartments with twin beds at that. There are plenty of great reasons to stay at the Pilgerhaus when you are on Pilgrimage in the Holy Land and are staying on the Sea of Galilee; but, if you don’t like being raised from a sound sleep in the middle of the night by donkeys, then this may not be the retreat for you! If you don’t like door keys that fail when you need them to work (what did the desk clerk say shaking his head, “This happens all the time), then this may not be the retreat for you! If you don’t like simple German food with limited entrée choices for dinner (two) and limited egg choices for breakfast (soft boiled with hot dogs), then this may not be the retreat for you! And if you do not like sleeping on twin beds after celebrating the renewal of your vows at Cana, then this may not be the retreat for you! I’m just saying. It’s no wonder I didn’t hear my phone alarm in the other room; so, when we did get our wakeup call I was quite disoriented, trying to get up to figure out where that infernal ringing is coming from and Sharon reaches over and gives me a push out of my bed. The phone stops ringing and I lie back down; but, the phone starts ringing again. This time I do manage to stop it, walk back into the bedroom and collapse into bed. Sharon says that it’s my turn to go first in the shower. Hey, this isn’t my first day at the rodeo. I’m fully aware that I’m the one who waited and waited and waited for the water to warm up in the bathroom, in case you needed any other reasons why this might not be the retreat for you. Sharon eventually did go first, and we did get our bags out in front of our door by 7 AM for the porters.

By the third morning I knew what I wanted for breakfast and went straight for the cereal. I saw that this morning grapefruits were available squeezing and so I cut one in half, squeezed it, and that was enough for one glass. I added everything I wanted for my cereal and noticed that the milk pitcher was empty. No one was around, so I decided to eat my nutty pumpkin seed pasty treat I’d had the day before, the slice of ham and my juice and wait for the milk to be replenished. I spotted the girl come by, check the spoons, and the fruit in the bowls and was about to leave and I had to point at the empty pitcher to get her to notice that there was something for her to do. My cereal was good; but, Sharon was resigned that for the third day in a row she would have to wait until she got on the bus to eat some Peanut Butter crackers. I did confirm that the third cereal dispenser does indeed contain Cocoa Puffs.

Erin had said that they had seen four donkeys up on the hill again this morning, and Sharon mimed taking a picture, strongly suggesting “Oh John…” I walked around back in time to see a donkey in the sun atop the hill behind the Pilgerhaus, but before I could snap a picture it had walked over the hill and out of view. I wasn’t all that sure it was a donkey because the color didn’t seem right, glowing a golden tan in the direct rays of the sun. I walked closer to where it had disappeared and then spotted three donkeys fenced in and lower on my side of the hill, so I was able to get the picture of those stupid donkeys (for the blog of course). As we were later waiting to point out our bags for loading onto the bus I did tell Dennis “Sharon made me take a picture of the donkeys.” He shook his head questioning, “She… she made you? Not those stupid donkeys.”

Father David told us a story of St. Nicolaus, this day being the Feast of St. Nicolaus. There was a poor man with three daughters who didn’t have the means to provide any of his daughters a dowry so that they could be married. Nicolaus supposedly threw three bags containing gold coins through the family’s window so that the father could provide a dowry for each daughter. The symbol of those three bags has been adopted as the symbol of a pawn broker, and can be easily identified on the black shirts of the Pawn Stars brokers (Sharon didn’t think I would get my Pawn Stars reference in for our trip to the Holy Land).

We travelled through Tiberius by a massive cemetery with head stones dotting the landscape virtually on top of each other. Father David reported that this cemetery dates from the time of Jesus, and looking at it, I have no doubt. The weather is nice here in the winter, much as it is today; but, can be blistering hot over 100 degrees Fahrenheit in the summer. Some people come to Tiberius for the hot springs. And some people come for its proximity to where the Jordan River leaves the Sea of Galilee and continues its journey on to the Dead Sea (the lowest land spot on earth). The Sea of Galilee is 150 feet deep at its deepest point; although, after two very dry seasons the water levels have receded some, and the total circumference is just under fifty miles. Here at the exit where the Jordan River resumes its journey to the Dead Sea, a kibbutz created a baptismal retreat for people wanting to be baptized in the Jordan River, just as Jesus was by John the Baptist. They provide participants changing cabanas, white robes and concrete ramps for walking into the river for baptism by total immersion. The kibbutz did a booming business prior to the peace accord between Jordan and Israel some twenty years ago (1994). Not as many pilgrims come here to be baptized today, preferring to go farther down the river into Jordan to be closer to where Jesus was baptized; still, we saw two dozen white robe clad pilgrims walking down a ramp into the river as we drove by. Father David noted that since the fresh water of the Sea of Galilee flows into the Dead Sea where the water becomes highly saline and unusable for drinking or agriculture, damming tries to keep as much water in the Sea of Galilee as possible. Over the years this has caused damage to the downstream ecosystems. Optimal management of the water and environmental resources is still being worked out.

Growing up in America, I had heard of places like the Sea of Galilee and of course the Golan Heights from the 6-Day War, but like many Americans I must confess to being somewhat geographically challenged and didn’t have the understanding that one overlooked the other. As we drove on to the Jordan border with Israel, Father Jan reminded us not to take pictures at the border crossing, adding, as he did the last time he entered Jordan. In the old days the border patrol people would insist on confiscating the film. Today, if you get a tech savvy agent, he might settle for ensuring that all objectionable pictures are deleted from your digital camera. But beware the old-timer border patrol guy who doesn’t know film from digital and if he can’t have the film he’ll settle for the whole camera. Father Jan had been lucky with someone who wasn’t digitally challenged; but, one lady in our group entering Estonia encountered one of the old-timers. She was lucky that her sister was with her who could talk enough of the native language to settle the situation down: still, it took her over an hour to be on her way. Sharon and I packed our camera and put it away in the backpack.

At the border we needed to change busses and bus drivers. We also needed to pay our border taxes. Our visas had been arranged for our group by the travel agent Georges. But we still had to stand in the various lines, with proper receipts and get the proper stamps. It was highly recommended to use the WC (restrooms) on the Israel side before crossing into Jordan: How did Father David put this with all the PC correctness that a monk can muster, “The Israeli restrooms are clean and well maintained, the Jordanian side, not so much.” Waiting for the proper Jordanian stamps and stickers was the worst part. Someone in our group said that walking into that waiting room for processing by the Jordanian officials was like walking into the DMV in 1970, the smoke was over powering. Erin was suffering in the rear. Even my eyes were starting to ache. My reference would be it was kind of like walking into the Golden Nugget casino in 2014; but, then that’s just me. Somebody wondered if the Tourist Police could do anything about the smoking problem, and I pointed out that they were the problem. Both policemen in front of their corner office were already lit up. I noticed that the lady in front of me was sniffing some lavender she’d picked the day before and using its fragrance to mask the smoke. One from our group later asked our Jordanian driver what exactly are the “Tourist Police”. Our equivalent terminology would be “Security” for an office or venue. This would not be the only place we would see a presences of the “Tourist Police”. It took some time to get through the border, get onto our new bus, and be on our way. It’s not something that I would want to do in the heat of summer or in inclement weather, as there was an awful lot of standing around and waiting, and half of that outside. So I guess we were fortunate. At one point we had to drag all of our luggage and carry-ons and backpacks to be scanned. There was no need to remove laptops. There was no need to remove belts, shoes or even cell phones from our person when we passed through the metal detector. Each person that went through the alarm would sound but people kept moving through. I’m guessing the guards had orders to scan everything, but no orders on what to do if they found something. It really seemed like an exercise in futility, and Erin agreed with this assessment.

Our new driver was introduced to us as Jamal. And our tour group gets our very own Tourist Police escort on our bus. Our guide apologized for his name, Jihad, but noted that he is among the 4% of the population in Jordan who is Christian. He is also a naturalized American citizen of which he is very proud. That leaves 96% of the country being Muslim. The country is a monarchy whose King traces his lineage back to Mohammed, and uses that to establish the legitimacy of his rule. Jihad noted that reform is in progress; but, slow at times in Jordan. There is progress in separating the powers of the executive, legislative and judicial branches of government. It does sound familiar.

The literal translation of “Jordan” is something akin to “Low Land”. As we discovered with the Sea of Galilee, the Jordan Valley is also below sea level. Aramaic is the language of Jordan, and as the pope recently corrected someone who thought that the language of Jesus was Hebrew, he affirmed that the language of Jesus was also Aramaic. Jordan has four distinct climate zones. The first is the Jordan Valley with its lush green agricultural richness. The second zone is the Mediterranean zone, still agriculturally viable, but rockier soil with less access to water, so crops not requiring abundant water do better here. The third environment is the steppe a semi-arid region that buffers the fourth region: the desert. Jihad informs us that we should learn how to say two things in Aramaic, offering English word equivalent guidance. “Thank-you” is “shook run”; and, “You’re welcome” is “Off one”.

This is the third day the rosary was said on the bus, and this time was offered to those not participating as a good nap-time. Sharon is right about which choice I would make. Later we passed through a village center of town area where one store had a full skinned pig carcass hanging outside by the store’s front door. I’m wondering how that works out in a mostly Muslim country. When we had been in the Jordan Valley, Jihad noted that most of the people there were middle class or better. His definition of middle class were people who owned their own home and could provide for their family. We arrived in Jordan on a Saturday, or the last day of the weekend. In Jordan, the workweek starts on Sunday and ends on Thursday. We arrived at our restaurant where fresh pita bread was being baked stone ovens in front of the restaurant entrance. Inside tables were set aside for us, and we went straight for the buffet, including hummus, olives, the red spicy pepper salad that seems to be ever present but different everywhere. Large pieces of pita were served community style on each table, and this resembled (for me anyway) naan bread more than anything else; and, it was very good. I chose some rice and tasty meatballs of lamb and a rotisserie chicken thigh. Sharon also picked out some white meat to eat. Jihad had warned us not to drink the water in the restaurant, and not to bring in bottles of water either (it would be an insult). He had suggested the mint lemonade, and before ordering it, I confirmed with him that that would be safe as all of the restaurant’s prepared drinks are made with bottled water. Sharon and Erin had Sprite and Dennis a bottle of local Jordanian beer Amstel. The problem with the water in Jordan for Americans, is not the water itself, but the infrastructure for delivering water to the people. Buildings have water tanks on their roof tops, and running water is provided by draining them by gravity feed to faucets. Water is pumped into these reservoir tanks twice each week. If more water is needed, then arrangement must be made with a private water company to supply additional water. There is no real means to clean these cisterns, and over time bacteria can accumulate. Over time people become used to the water; unfortunately, tourists don’t have the time to acquire that tolerance. After China, I’m thinking I don’t want to press my luck. The “Holy Table” was sitting behind us, along with the bus driver who seemed to be quite good friends with the restaurateur, and this table got that extra special treatment, receiving a basket of fresh fruit and the arch bishop got a sundae with whipped cream and plenty of fruit. It pays to know people.

We made our way to the ruins of Jaresh, a city founded by Alexander the Great in 300 BC and now stands as the best preserved ruins of a Greco-Roman city in the world. It is the largest complete Roman city outside of Italy. Sharon decided to remain with Erin. Erin had confirmed with Jihad that conditions at the site were too rough, and they were that. First we found ourselves at Hadrian’s Arch erected in front of the already completed city following his victory. Dennis and I did follow Jihad beyond this up to the entrance of the city at the Gate of Delphi. The name of Philadelphia is derived from this word, as is its nickname “The City of Brotherly Love.” In ancient time there was a custom of citizens of Delphi for going off to war to marry (on paper) their sisters, in the event the brother was killed, the sister would have a legitimate recognized claim on her brother’s assets. Outsiders seeing this tradition would often ridicule those of Delphi for their “brotherly love”. As I recall now, Sharon was born in Philadelphia.

The ruins at Jaresh contain all of the infrastructure that comprises a Roman City, including a hippodrome, center piazza, Main Boulevard and an amphitheater. Everywhere that we went in Jaresh our group was shadowed by street vendors, first men trying to sell picture postcard packs and loud annoying wooden flute whistles. After a while it was just 6 to 8 year old boys tagging along looking sad and trying to peddle five pieces of gum for one dollar. One started walking alongside me and mumbled so that I could barely hear in a very sorrowful voice “No mother, no father, two baby sisters, baby brother, buy gum, one dollar.” One lady in our group later asked Jihad, “I feel so bad when I see these children, are they supporting themselves, or are they working for some adult?” I think that we all knew the answer, even Jihad who replied, “It is your choice if you give them money or not, not for me to say, it could be they work for someone else. It can be that they go to school, and this is a job for them, or that they just skip school and do this.” It’s still very sad to see kids exploited in this way. It was about here that my camera stopped working needing a new battery and my only replacement was back on the bus. Sharon would later say that she told me to take an extra battery with me. They certainly don’t be lasting as long as they used to!

The amphitheater was quite impressive as were its acoustics. Standing in the acoustic center of the stage, easily identified by the ornate floor of the stage, one could utter even whisper phrases and hear them reverberate back. We were all impressed by the enhanced echo and its richness in tone reverberating of the massive high semi-circular tiered seating forming this perfect sound amplifier. We all heard this effect; except, one lady who even speaking more loudly could not hear her echo. She wondered if the problem could be the noise cancelling circuitry of her hearing aide.

Jaresh is a complex with a 3.5 kilometer circumference. There are columns and structures and parts of structures everywhere. The sheer magnitude boggles the mind and Dennis agreed that this was by far most extensive ruins that he’s ever seen in one place. At one point, while Jihad was waiting for others to assemble, he asked those present if they could guess what kind of tree those present were sitting under. We smelled the fragrant needle like leaves that seemed to me to have the fragrance of lemon. Someone suggested willow; but, when nobody could guess Jihad said it was a black pepper tree. Maybe could have guessed this after seeing the pepper pods. Opening these the aroma of black pepper was very intense.

It was nearing 4 PM so we had to cut our stay in Jaresh short and make the trip back to the bus to drive the hour to the outskirts of Amman where mass was scheduled for us. The church was in a Catholic neighborhood in one of the suburbs of Amman. It was already dark. This mass was special for Sharon and me because we got to see Erin read the intentions.

We made it to our hotel at the Cham Palace in Amman. We had more fun getting bags scanned and people screened getting into the hotel, and it seemed to be the same exercise in futility as at the border. We got to our room but had to wait for one of two elevators to take us to the fifth floor. We didn’t have much time before dinner at 7:30 PM. It was served buffet style. Sharon refused to try the “Chinese Chicken” dish, but it really was delicious, and Erin agreed that her sister would have liked it. Sharon always kids me when I get into some mood that I’m “Grumpy Boy”. Well, this time Sharon is “Stubborn Girl”. I also had something they labelled “Frick Soup”, and I’m not sure what that was or if perhaps Frick is the name of the chef. There were a number of deserts that were very good. I sampled the bread pudding and a tapioca pudding dish and of course the chocolate mousse. Even Sharon got a large helping of chocolate mousse and we both agreed that it was very light; almost as if it was whipped cream mixed with chocolate sauce. I will say that it tasted very good, and despite being light it was more the texture of mousse than whipped cream. Sharon and Erin both ordered Sprite with their dinner; while, Dennis and I both had the local Jordanian Amstel Beer. When the bill came Dennis offered to pay, and the waiter responded the drinks would be $30 US. Dennis thought that that could not be right; but, at $10 per beer and $5 per soft drink that’s pretty much what it works out to. It’s a good thing we didn’t get the more expensive imported beer that they offered, like Heineken or Lowenbrau. Many others in our tour group had a similar experience. And back in our room, it figures: twin beds again. At least these aren’t close enough to be pushed out of bed in the morning.

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