Back in Jordan
When I was in Jordan during my semester abroad, I never noticed that the smell of Jordanian shawarma was a very specific one. I didn't realize that the taste of the Jordanian falafel was something particular, or that there is something special about the sound of Jordanian Arabic. But now as I stroll along the streets of Aqaba one year later, I realize that there are tangible differences between neighbouring countries in the Arab world - and the familiarity of smells, tastes and sounds on the streets gives me the feeling of being at home. Jordan is definitely one of the many homes I have on this planet.
During my short stay, I visit Jordans attractions in the opposite direction of former visits: Aqaba - Wadi Rum - Petra - Dana. This means ascending slopes for three days. While Aqaba is situated on the northernmost tip of the Red Sea, the famous Kings Highway along the edge of the Jordan Rift Valley reaches heights of 1600m. Soldiers on a checkpoint gaze at me from their tank and wave as I drive by soaked in sweat. "Urdun awwalan", I shout towards them. "Jordan first" - the national slogan. They smile happily, wave again, and I continue my way to Rum, knowing that they would have reacted quite differently if if they had been Palestinians.
The majestic desert sandstone walls of Wadi Rum seem to be even more impressive than before as I am trying to push my bicycle forward through the sand and gravel soils in the vicinity of one of Jordans biggest attractions. In the Rum area, now declared a nature reserve, traffic could be considered "heavy" (about 50 vehicles a day), but a few cliffs away, I have a whole valley by myself, with no human sould in a radius of at least five kilometers. As the night falls, the stars come out and an incredible silence pervades the landscape. Holding my breath and listening to the blinks of my eyes, I realize once again that the desert is about the best camping ground that exists on Earth.
Jordan is not only a centre for bird migration, but also lies on all major intercontinental cycling routes. Whether travelling from Africa to Europe or Asia, or hibernating in Egypt on a Eurasia trip - Jordan is always part of the route, and there is basically only one interesting road to get from Syria to Egypt: The Kings Highway. This means that the beautiful, curvy road is often frequented by cyclists, leading to one of the more irritating phenomena of my trip: About every group of children on the roadside between Rum and Amman picks up stones and tries to throw it at the weird-looking, innocent passer-by. Contrary to what I hoped, my beard, the Jordanian scarf and the word "Allah" written on my front bag don't seem to make any difference. "School is out" now means "Hide in a teahouse and wait".
I skip the rose red sandstone city Petra, Jordan's biggest tourist trap, this time and enjoy instead the hospitality of a roadside construction worker. I had made the "mistake" of asking him for a restaurant in the vicinity, failing to predict that this would result in the immediate counterquestion "why restaurant?" and several rounds of khubz, fool and hommos. The same is repeated a day later at my arrival in the Dana biosphere reserve and every evening during the following days - even if I try, I cannot spend money on food.
At my second day in Dana, the weather changes drastically. Sunshine turns into fog, rain and snow. Many roads are closed and my only option to enter Syria before my visa is going to expire are motorised vehicles that I wanted to avoid. A pickup takes me to Amman, where I give an interview to Jordanians biggest newspaper Al-Ghad. As the article is published [1], the Ministry for the Environment calls and tells me that the minister would like to meet me. Unfortunately, time is running out, and two hours after the phone call, I catch the bus which takes me over the Jordanian border to Syria. Again, I am sure that I will come back.
[1] See the press section for the article of Al-Ghad and other newspapers.
12.03.2006 12:38h
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