My Weekend Get-Away: Across the Border

I decided with a two friends to make a break and head over to our neighbor Jordan for a free weekend. The beginning was tough as it is because the official security notice says that it is unsafe to travel and we should just wait it out. The program’s stance was that if we wanted to go to Jordan we would have to sign a waiver that essentially un-enrolls us from the program so they don’t have any liability should something go wrong. So sure enough, a little bit of research and three waivers signed, im off to Jordan.

Day 1
To get to Jordan there are three boarder crossings: one in the Golan, one due east of Jerusalem in the West Bank and one just off Eilat in the south. Because we wanted to see Aqaba, we decided to go to the crossing in Eilat. We woke up at 5:45 to get to the Tachana Mercazit (central bus station) to get a bus down to Eilat at 7 am. The moment we get there we are told the bus at 7 is sold out and we have to wait for the 10 am bus. This puts a bit of a damper on our plans. We decided to wait it out. What else’s to do? Five hours later, we tell the bus driver to let us off on the side of the highway so we can walk over to the crossing. We walk over and get through the crossing with no problems (besides for a highway robbery of an exit fee from Israel). Though the boarder guard police were very impressed with our dabble of Arabic. We then walk to get a taxi on the Jordan side. As we’re driving we see sand storms sweeping along side us. After about ten minutes of driving, the cab pulls over and we switch to another cab on the street. From the moment we get in the second cab the driver tells us that the weather is terrible here and there is no way we would be able to get to our destination of that night, Petra. He tells us that the weather is so terrible, so so so terrible. The man is quite persistent. We keep telling him that we’ll play it by ear but thank you. We then hear “do you want to die?” the man continues with his shtick. Finally, we get off alongside the beach and breath in the day. We begin to walk on the beach and eventually through the city, with our Arabic knowledge proving to be quite helpful. We finally find a place to go scuba diving. Even as we begin talking, a little boy brings us all tea. The man is very nice and speaks fluent English. Only after we can finally all agree that we’re willing to spend the money to go diving does he tell us the weather is bad and the water will be too choppy. He then also tells us that the weather is so bad that we wont be able to get to Petra and that the police have blocked all the roads. Now we’re screwed, we think. With Mr. Scuba’s help, he sets us up with a cab driver to drive us to a cheap near-by hotel. We begin speaking with the driver, Ahmed we learn, who is also very nice. We get to the hotel which is nothing fancy at all to say the least. We tell Ahmed to come pick us up from a restaurant scuba-man suggested later on that night and we go off wondering through Aqaba.
As we wonder through the city, which for those who don’t know, is on the Red Sea and shares the beach with its Israeli counterpart Eilat. We pick up some street snack, two different bags of roasted beans with sauce, lemon and salt: absolutely delish. We then stroll into a small bakery and buy a few assorted pastries that we save for later. In our wandering, we find a small hookah shop. We follow a man down the street and he brings us to what looks like a parking lot filled with plastic chairs and three tvs showing three different programs: WWE wrestling from at least 5 years ago, an Arabic film from Egypt, and a generic action Hollywood movie. We sit down and again, tea (Shai in Arabic). With our tea we get a strawberry hookah and sit and watch WWE reruns. The experience was truly fantastic. To order in Arabic and enjoy this evening, not doing something we ourselves would typically find ourselves doing, but instead enjoying it how someone from Aqaba might. In the middle of the program, call to prayer comes on and the owner comes out to mute the tvs. Surprisingly, not a single man prayed. After our hookah, we walked to the restaurant that was suggested to us. We enjoy a local Jordanian beer (Amstel bottled in Jordan) and local seafood which we’re told is a specialty here. Sure enough at exactly the time we told him, Ahmed showed up to bring us back to the hotel. We drive through Aqaba blasting Arabic music, singing and enjoying ourselves. We even begin to sign a song we learned in our Arabic class. We get back to the hotel and arrange for Ahmed to pick us up in the morning to go to Petra. (Bukra tisah foondook – tomorrow nine hotel) What a day.
Day 2
We wake up at 8 o’clock to wander a little bit before Ahmed picks us up for our ride to Petra (which interestingly enough is pronounced Betra in Arabic). Moments after getting in the car and singing the Arabic song we learned in class (Baba Fein) we pull up to a car repair shop where Ahmed explains he needs to fix something and it will only take a minute. As we wait, he gets the mechanic to make us tea. As we sit and drink tea we decide to go get more of the pastries we ate the night before. So we run to pick up more and get back just in time for our departure. We picked up some baklava of sorts, some Jordanian drinks and a delish knish-esque snack. The drive to Petra is about 2 hours. Once we arrived in Petra, Ahmed tried to convince us that he should stay with us in Petra, in our room, and that he would drive us to Amman the next day. Although he was persistent, we said thank you, paid him and walked to our hotel. Once we arrived at the hotel we were greeted with tea. The hostel was surprisingly very nice and the staff were very helpful. We walked the 20 minutes to the Petra ruins. WOW. Beautiful. Awestruck. The ruins are absolutely incredible. An entire city built out of the mountains. The mere idea of the city is mindboggling. Naturally we sang the Indiana Jones music as we approached. We hiked up a mountain in Petra and had the most incredible view of the area. Truly amazing. By sunset, all of Petra turns a bright red, giving it its name ‘the rosy city’. We walked back to our hotel and had a full Jordanian buffet which was very delicious. Unfortunately for us, the hotel decided to cut their power at 7:30. So no heat. No light. No hot water. We went to bed at 8:15. The hotel staff told us the roads to Amman should be open in the morning and a bus would leave at 6am. So up we were at 5:30 am.
Day 3
We woke up at 5:30 am, shivering in our beds, positively freezing. As we walk downstairs read to go to the bus station the hotel staff tells us that all roads are closed. Outside it is sleeting and raining. Terrible weather. No cabs, no 4x4 no bus. We hang tight in the hotel, waiting for news. The hotel staff comes to the lobby and tells us that the roads will likely be closed all day. I decided this would be a good time to call my councilor from kivunim, seeing as we need to be home that night at 10 pm. At 10 am, finally, they decide the roads are open. We jump on a bus, but only after debating with the driver in Arabic over the price of the bus for 15 minutes. The roads are beautiful, covered in snow. Snow covered mountaintops in every direction. At the hostel we had made friends with a man named jo-jo, a 20-something year old German man who lived in Cairo for four months studying Arabic and is now traveling the region. Incidentally he should be staying at our hostel in Jerusalem tonight (a day after Jordan) as a leaping pad from the Golan to the south. Once we arrive in Amman, we explore the shuk with Jo-Jo and sit down for a delicious meal of pita, hummus, ful and yummyness. After lunch we need to make a dash to the border. We take a cab to the middle border crossing. After the one hour drive we learn the border crossing is closed and we need to head north quickly before that border closes too. So we do just that. After getting to the north (after another 2 hours) we need to take another cab across the boarder (highway robbery) and then a bus from the Jordan side to the Israeli. At Israeli customs I am told that because my dad is Israeli I should get citizenship and vis-à-vis be recruit to tzahal. How nice. Now that we’re in the north we need to take a cab to Beit Sha’an and then a bus from Beit Sha’an to Afula and finally a bus from Afula to Jerusalem. Once we arrive in our home city, theres a 30 minute walk in the pouring rain to be had. Finally. Home sweet home, but what an adventure it was.