A Day in Amman, Jordan

After the calm countryside of Jordan, the capital city, Amman hits all of your senses full on. Brightly coloured goods cram the stores in the narrow streets made narrower by stalls and markets, their wares spilling onto the roadways. And thousands of people mostly on foot darting this way and that…

Toyota pick-up trucks, the workhorse of the Middle East are painted white in UAE; here they’re multi-coloured, and driven with much more care… And, in Jordan, no one pushes you aside in a brand new SUV. We entered through the ‘car repair district’; stores filled with mag wheels, foil-wrapped tires and sheepskin seat covers. Every other store is a garage with men’s rear ends displayed from under the hoods of autos being tuned. Not a square metre is wasted here - we saw our first rooftop scrap yard.

Roof-top Scrap Yard

In fairness, we filled some senses too; in our large van, driven by our friend with her long auburn hair on display, and Carol with her blond locks too – we caused a stir – one guy ran from his store, hands on his heart, blowing kisses to Carol as we passed. She waved back coyly.

Roman Amman below the Theatre

Despite the intense traffic, everything went well until we parked. I guided the van into a tight spot on the street but, too close to the kerb; a tire popped and released some air - not quite flat but close. As we took in the sights we kept one eye open for a garage – eventually we spotted one; the van limped there cautiously for a puff. Whew; now all I had to do was convince the guy to accept payment – he didn’t know how much hassle he’d saved us.

The Parking Camel

Amman is new having been built largely within the last 150 years, although it does have some impressive Roman remains; an amphitheatre and the Citadel that dominates the city from its perch atop Jabal al-Qala’a, built when the metropolis was known as Philadelphia. Sadly, we only had time to see the theatre before heading to the airport.

Jordan is an oasis in a region of turmoil but there are the inevitable signs of security; barriers protect the British Council in Jordan along the iconic Rainbow Street. But, as with everywhere in Jordan, the people are warm and friendly; and just down from that wall, a quirky leather camel marks a parking spot in front of a cafe.

Our time in Amman was short but definitely flavourful.

Hair adornments on sale

Karak Castle, Jordan

Karak Castle from the East

Karak Castle dominates the surrounding countryside, from its perch high in south central Jordan. On a clear day you can see the Dead Sea from here. The Christians built it in the 12-century at the height of the Crusades in their attempt to control this part of the world and managed to hold it for almost 50 years.

Its most notorious ruler in those years was Raynald de Chatillon, noted for his cruelty – he was fond of throwing people to certain death from the castle walls. Often he would encase the victim’s head in a box in order, he thought, to prolong their consciousness.

He signed a truce with the Muslims led by the great Sultan Saladin but almost immediately violated it, plundering their caravans. Saladin, celebrated for his noble and chivalrous behaviour, was so enraged that when he ultimately captured Raynald, Saladin personally beheaded him.

Karak Castle detail

Karak is the largest Crusader Castle remaining in the Middle East and it’s impressive; the city clings to the north end of the castle, its only entrance. The roads around this gate are sparse and parking even more so. We climbed to winding roads in our rented van and looked for a spot. As I approached the main entrance a large man in a billowing shirt called to me. “If you’ll have lunch in my café, you can park here,” he said, pointing to a space in the street. I’d started to parallel park when a policeman appeared.

“No!” he shouted, “Police parking.” And as he said this, a police van drew up.

“Ignore him!” white shirt man said, “this is my space.” The two started to argue furiously.

Eventually, a second cop arrived and was even more strident with me. I explained that although I liked his shirt, I felt I should obey the guy in uniform. White shirt man strode off and moved a car in front of his restaurant and put me in there. He was furious though, explaining that the restaurant owners around the castle had paid to have that parking before the police had appropriated it.

Bus reverses by my driver’s door

The castle is a large site, well preserved and with many levels – we did our best to burrow through it, romping along dark passages, climbing the turrets and enjoying the expansive views. We never could find a washroom though… and frankly after the parking debacle, we were keen to get back to our friend’s cafe for lunch.

As we sat on his patio eating our chicken kebabs, washed down with lemon-mint drink, I realized how little room we’d left the tour buses. I must say it challenged my appetite as I watched each bus squeeze by my driver’s door. 

View from Karak Castle looking south west

Jerash, Jordan

Jerash is an hour north of the capital, Amman, just off the main north/south highway in Jordan – don’t let your GPS (SatNav) tell you any different.

When we visited in October, my GPS had a short cut, it said; foolishly I followed it – through Amman’s ‘car-repair’ district, over a very steep goat track, up hill and down dale, dragging some friends behind me – we were in two vehicles. Note to self – always check the map first! …And, this was not a good place to get lost – we were only 30 kilometres (20 miles) from the Syrian border, yet there was no sign of the conflict.

Jerash is one of the largest and best-preserved Roman sites in the Middle East. We entered from the south through Hadrian’s Gate, built for his visit in AD 129, walked along the side of the Hippodrome, home of the chariot races, then and now. We entered the main site through the South Gate and walked up into the Forum, a large oval plaza surrounded by columns. It was a hot early afternoon as we climbed the hill to the west and into the impressive South Theatre. As we approached, the sound of bagpipes floated through the air; a Scottish player, I thought, although the song was the improbable ‘Frere Jacques’. As we walked in, I discovered the piper and his drummer were locals…

Temple of Artemis

This is a huge site; in the three or so hours we had to explore it we could only scratch the surface and we welcomed the opportunity to sit and listen to the pipes before I climbed to the theatre nosebleeds – I was out of breathe when I got there but could see the whole site spread beneath. We made our way to the Temple of Artemis, the highest building in Roman Jerash, and from there east to the Cardo Maximus or main street and down into the Forum.

Cardo Maximus chariot tracks

The guidebooks tell you that chariot wheels caused the deep ruts in the Cardo – this had been a busy street. As we walked, I mused that these ruts reminded me of Calgary’s icy streets in winter, when there hadn’t been a Chinook (the warm Chinook wind melts the snows in winter and the city relies on it to clear the streets). A voice from behind said: ‘Did you say “Chinook”?’ It was a family from Calgary, of course, reminding us what a small world it is.

Virgin Mary with blue hand

Exhausted and a little sunburned, we retired to our hotel in Amman. Next day we drove south to Madaba, famous for its spectacular mosaics. But, I was more interested in entering the basement of St George’s church, to see the painting of the Virgin with the Blue Hand. Legend has it that this ghoulish extra hand just appeared on the painting one day; it’s blue and appears to have fire coming from the thumb.

St Georges was built to protect a 6^th Century mosaic map of the Holy Land and it was packed with tourists. The ‘Blue Hand’ painting is a shrine and I thought I’d have to fight to see it, but there it was in a small empty room below the altar, locked behind graffiti-coated Perspex.

But, I had to hand it to Jordan. For travellers in the Middle East, this is one country that has a wealth of antiquities within safe, easy access.

The South Theatre from the ‘nosebleed' seats

My Life in Australia

I’ve started a new blog to record a series of essays I wrote during my stay in Canberra, Australia in 2007:

http://expatbobinoz.blogspot.ca/

Bob

The Souks of Dubai

The Dubai Spice Souk

I’m walking down a narrow, dark alley with wooden barrels on each side – it’s noisy and people are jostling me. A man steps out grabs something and shoves his fist right in my face. My nostrils twitch as the air fills with an intoxicatingly familiar smell. But what is it? This is Dubai’s old Spice Souk and it’s an education; I recognised the smell of vanilla, of lemon from dried lemons, of sandalwood, but I could no more have identified them than flown…

Gold, frankincense and myrrh; the magic of the Middle East must surely be found in its souks (markets). There are several in Dubai, each specialising in different commodities. We’d gone to the Gold Souk first, which deals in jewellery, watches and some clothing – these stores seem to be operated primarily by Indians, Pakistanis and Sri Lankans and you are expected to bargain when you buy. I go for gold jewellery (no surprise if you know my wife): first they weigh the piece, tell you the current price of gold and give you a price. Then you bargain – ‘that’s more than I wanted to pay!/what did you want to pay?/etc… I manage to get my guy to cut 30% so I feel good, whether I should or not…

In the Gold Souk, Dubai

As you walk through the Gold Souk guys call out to you, offering ‘knock-off’ Rolex watches, Gucci purses and Versace shirts, and initially I brushed them aside.  Then I remembered I’d promised to buy a Harley Davidson t-shirt for someone at home so I asked the next tout where I could get one. ‘I only know one place you can get them – follow me…’

I followed him through a maze of little alleys and finally got to a door where an old man stood. The old man ushered me in and up some stairs, looking left and right as he went. Then we reached another door and he flung it open and disappeared. Inside was a young guy surrounded by ‘knock-off’ items – no Harley stuff though. It was then that I realized my guide had mistaken ‘Harley Davidson’ for a luxury brand. So, I bought a Louis Vuiton purse for $25 (£15)…!

Spices in store

Then we went to the much older and more intriguing Spice Souk; many tiny stores jammed with colourful jars and packages, barrels overflowing with produce, and such smells; almost overpowering, unrecognisable but familiar smells. It was the hardest thing not to buy a little of everything. These guys were all Iranian though - no haggling here – I picked up four different items: a jar of curry, a pack of multi-coloured, gravel-like chocolate, sandalwood and frankincense – and he quoted a price. I offered him less, tried walking away, put the cash in his hand but no, the price was what the price was – take it or leave it… I took it!

Looking through Dubai's Textile Souk

Finally, the Textile Souk, which you reach by boat taxi (abra) across Dubai Creek – the most fun you can have for 1 Dirham (25c / 20p) the guidebook says – and it’s true. Passengers cram on one side or the other and head out, rocking from side to side, between huge aging dhows loading goods from the wharf – their crews waving as you pass.

The Textile Souk is housed in shops that open onto a cobbled street. The vendors are more aggressive here and call to invite you in and try a gown, scarf or sandals from the brightly coloured embroidered cloth that fills the street.

There are souks all over UAE but the ones in Dubai around its creek seem the most intriguing… All you have to worry about is bringing your purchases home!

Aboard an Abra crossing Dubai Creek