Rising earlier than our normal 6 am wake-up call, a group of us grabbed our cameras and walked from the main buildings of the Ginosef Hotel out onto a pier overlooking the Sea of Galilee to watch the sunrise. Taking in the gorgeous landscape, looking out onto the same water that Jesus and his disciples enjoyed each morning, was an incredible experience!
Promptly at 730, as every other morning, we gathered, this time stowing our larger luggage beneath our bus to be taken onto Jerusalem and keeping only a small carry-on to have in Jordan for 3 nights. A 45-minute drive brought us to the gates of the Jordanian border control.
Led by Pitch, we passed through several pre-check points guarded by armed soldiers before reaching the steps of the initial clearance office. Pitch led us inside, where we were formed into lines to approach the passport-check windows. Without a single glitch, exactly as we had prayed, our group made it through without delay and proceeded to an outdoor waiting area to catch a bus to the main immigration office. We waited for a bus, with Pitch by our side, for nearly 20 minutes. When it came, we said our temporary goodbyes to Pitch and boarded carefully, trying to stay together as a group.
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| One of the photos I wasn't really supposed to take, but this is only a sign, so I think it's ok for you to see. I won't breach security and post the few I took of the surroundings... *The Jordanian King, Abdulla II, is pictured on the Left, whose wife, Queen Rania, I was told could be my twin. (Pictured below) |
Led by Pitch, we passed through several pre-check points guarded by armed soldiers before reaching the steps of the initial clearance office. Pitch led us inside, where we were formed into lines to approach the passport-check windows. Without a single glitch, exactly as we had prayed, our group made it through without delay and proceeded to an outdoor waiting area to catch a bus to the main immigration office. We waited for a bus, with Pitch by our side, for nearly 20 minutes. When it came, we said our temporary goodbyes to Pitch and boarded carefully, trying to stay together as a group.
When all the seats were filled, we expected those left would be asked to wait for the next ride, but not only did we cram our whole group of 45 onto a 40-or-so seat bus, we made standing room for 8 to 10 more Arabs and one Jewish gentleman to ride with us. I gave up my seat to a middle-aged, Arabic-speaking mother traveling with her two sons, and a few others from our group did the same for the other Arab women.
It took a good 10 minutes to get everyone loaded and situated on the bus, which then seemed pointless when we stopped at our next check point, not 2 minutes up the parking lot. I assume the only reason they had us ride the bus was to keep us in one controlled location, instead of scattering and entering the gate by foot. An armed Jordanian soldier entered our bus to verify every passenger’s passport, then exited the bus and waived us through towards the last check point. We unloaded and were grouped with our luggage to meet our Jordanian guide, Firas (“FEAR-ahs”), and receive further instructions. Leaving all bags and belongings outside the main building with one person to guard our things, Firas led the rest of us inside the security office to form a line in front of the passport-check windows. We approached the clerk behind the window, when called, one by one.
Handing over my passport, the expected questions were asked – verification of name, purpose of travel, expected destinations, etc. The process seemed more official and thorough than my experience at the airport, yet I felt more relaxed. This guard, although a male, was far less intimidating, which certainly helped to keep me feeling calm. My passport was stamped for entrance, and for extra security, and eye scan of me, as for each person crossing the border.
Successfully clearing boarder control, I claimed my backpack from our group luggage pile outside and walked to a small, white metal building to have my luggage screened. It’s a good thing I knew the procedure from airports, because the men with guns running the x-ray machines barely spoke a lick of English. I plopped my bag on the conveyor belt, and bending down to unload my laptop to be scanned separately, I got that funny feeling that I was being watched. I looked up to see 5 or 6 pairs of eyes – Arab men with guns – staring me down, looking pleased. Grossed out, I moved discretely behind the machine to wait, and snatched my bag off the belt the instant it cleared the x-ray-er, then hurried out the door. This was only my first taste – a very mild taste, indeed -- of the forward, aggressive demeanor of Arab males that I would experience throughout my time in Jordan. Good grief, little did I know…
Safely out the back door, and free from the dirty stares, I found our bus and some of our bunch waiting for the entire group to be passport-cleared. With a long drive towards Petra ahead of us, it was necessary to use a restroom before departure. I had been waiting to find the “W-C” or “wash closet”, as they call it, since leaving Israel, so my stop was urgent. I walked a short distance from our bus to the tiny, stucco restroom. It was a far cry from any Israeli WC, especially the polished porcelains we had grown accustomed to at Ginosef. The smell was overpowering, and the only light came through a small window in the ceiling. I pushed open the first unlocked stall door, and there it was: a HOLE.
I laughed audibly upon seeing this authentic Jordanian toilet – or lack thereof – somewhat from excitement, since I felt the experience about to take place would definitely authenticate my overseas travel, but mostly from horror in realizing what I was about to have to do. It took a lot of courage, and a fair amount of coordination, but I can now say that I have peed like a true Jordanian! Enough said. Or too much said. Whatever.
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| See? I TOLD you. Definitely harder than it looks.... [The hose on floor to the left = ""toilet paper""] |
I laughed audibly upon seeing this authentic Jordanian toilet – or lack thereof – somewhat from excitement, since I felt the experience about to take place would definitely authenticate my overseas travel, but mostly from horror in realizing what I was about to have to do. It took a lot of courage, and a fair amount of coordination, but I can now say that I have peed like a true Jordanian! Enough said. Or too much said. Whatever.
Returning to the bus with our entire group finally loaded for departure, Firas presented us to our new bus driver, “Aladdin”. As if riding through the dessert now in a "magic bus" was not cool enough, we were introduced to the young, handsome tourist police officer that would be traveling with us as well -- “Saddam Hussein”. Ironic? Firas had to state the poor guy's names more than once because nobody believed they were real on the first announcement.
We commenced our drive towards Petra, at last, listening to lectures by Firas and Dr. Wyrick while riding. Traveling north, we visited the Decapolis cities of Pella and Jerash. As one of the mos important and best-preserved cities in the Near East, Jerash is sometimes identified as the 'Pompeii of the Middle East', due to its magnificent size and impressive excavation -- only, Jerash was never covered by a volcanic ash. Viewing the amazing architecture of Jerash made the wait to view Petra even more exciting.
As daylight expired, the chit-chat quieted and most of us, including Firas & Wyrick, dozed off. We traveled mostly on straight stretches of deserted highway, passing a village or small town every half hour or so. After 3 or 4 hours, we approached the first bit of thick traffic. Our speed slowed gradually until we came to a complete stop, where we waited for nearly 15 minutes before Firas and Saddam could discover what was causing the standstill. Negotiations were made by Saddam, and our bus was given clearance to bypass the traffic by off-roading for a bit to reach a different highway. After another 20 minutes of travel, we stopped at a rest area to use restrooms and briefly stretch our legs. Returning to the bus again, the last leg of our trip began. We continued to the hotel and arrived around 8 pm that night. We found our rooms, ate a delicious dinner, and sleep came quickly after.
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| Left: Aladdin (al-ah-DEEN) patiently waits as our groups loads onto the bus. Right: Saddam, rarely seen without a smile, looks down through the ceiling of a Crusader castle to "keep watch" as we tour the rooms below. |
We commenced our drive towards Petra, at last, listening to lectures by Firas and Dr. Wyrick while riding. Traveling north, we visited the Decapolis cities of Pella and Jerash. As one of the mos important and best-preserved cities in the Near East, Jerash is sometimes identified as the 'Pompeii of the Middle East', due to its magnificent size and impressive excavation -- only, Jerash was never covered by a volcanic ash. Viewing the amazing architecture of Jerash made the wait to view Petra even more exciting.
As daylight expired, the chit-chat quieted and most of us, including Firas & Wyrick, dozed off. We traveled mostly on straight stretches of deserted highway, passing a village or small town every half hour or so. After 3 or 4 hours, we approached the first bit of thick traffic. Our speed slowed gradually until we came to a complete stop, where we waited for nearly 15 minutes before Firas and Saddam could discover what was causing the standstill. Negotiations were made by Saddam, and our bus was given clearance to bypass the traffic by off-roading for a bit to reach a different highway. After another 20 minutes of travel, we stopped at a rest area to use restrooms and briefly stretch our legs. Returning to the bus again, the last leg of our trip began. We continued to the hotel and arrived around 8 pm that night. We found our rooms, ate a delicious dinner, and sleep came quickly after.
The next morning on the bus, Firas announced that the large traffic jam the night before had been caused by political upheaval which had escalated to violence, leaving at least two people dead. Other tour buses that had been on the road behind us were stuck on the road, not allowed to pass for over 7 hours. They did not reach their hotels near Petra until 3 am. Saddam had told the road police that night that our bus of tourists only needed to get through to reach the rest stop 15 minutes away. He did not tell him that we were traveling towards Petra, which was 2 more hours past the rest stop. Without realizing the severity of the traffic jam and the potentially dangerous situation we might have found ourselves in, the Lord miraculously caused our bus to be the only one that passed immediately that night. We had prayed, but did not know what our prayers had accomplished until that next morning.
"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God's people in accordance with the will of God."
Romans 8:26 & 27
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