From Amman to Netanya

In Amman, my cab driver, Jihad, picked me up at 8am and drove me to the King Hussein/Allenby Bridge border crossing with the State of Israel and the Palestinian Territories. This border crossing is in the center of the country, just north of the Dead Sea, and about 35 minutes from Amman. Jihad was not afraid to tell me, in Arabic, how much of a distaste he had for Israel and the Israelis. To avoid an awkward drive I told him that I was only going to East Jerusalem and not to Israel. This made him feel better about dropping me at the border.

Leaving Jordan, for me, was no problem what-so-ever. There was no security and no questions asked. I entered the border terminal, smiled and spoke in my best tourist English, payed my 5JD exit tax and was handed a Post-it note with my name written on it along with a red Jordanian border-tax stamp. Although the Israeli border is only 2km away, I was not allowed to walk and I was told to wait for the bus. After waiting for the bus to become full (it was filled with people holding black Jordanian passports, and the green Palestinian Authority passports, as well as some Palestinians with American passports, two dutch tourists, and a nice American guy who works in Saudi Arabia) we departed for the Israeli border.

Once crossing over the Allenby Bridge...


...we reached the first Israeli border checkpoint. Here, we got off the bus, handed our passports to a young border guard behind a bunker-like window, and waited in the shade until they had determined that the bus' passengers were fit to move to the actual passport control/customs building. This took 5 minutes maximum. This was also my first opportunity to attempt to speak in Hebrew in a while. I think the young border guards were a little surprised to see me get off the bus and say: "Mahamtzav ach'sheli!?! Kol tov ha yom? Ken? Beseder?" They nodded in bewilderment. I followed up with, "Metzuyan." They responded in English, "You speak Hebrew?". And I responded, "Betach ach'sheli." They said, "Are you Jewish?" I said, "Na'am". (Readers: If you speak enough Arabic and Hebrew to understand that exchange, I hope it gave you giggle. If not, sorry that you had to sit through it. But trust me, its funny.)

Everyone got back on the bus and we drove for 1 minute to the main border terminal. Upon reaching the terminal everyone piled out of the bus, grabbed their bags and headed to drop them off to be x-rayed in the initial area of the building. I must report that this all happened relatively smoothly. The Israeli border employees all spoke Arabic or English with the people trying to cross, and treated the travelers respectfully. Of course, as regional custom dictates, nobody tried to stand in a proper line or wait their turn. There was a lot of pushing and shoving and jockeying for position although it wasn't necessary at all.

I stepped over to a young Ashkenazi border guard and told him, in Hebrew, how happy I was to be crossing the border to visit my friends in Israel. I also asked him if there was a special line for tourists with foreign passports that might expedite my passage through the next security phase of the border crossing. He then asked me, in Hebrew, "Ata Yehudi?" I responded, "Kol ha'chaiim sheli, gever." Then he said, "Hold on, let me check for you," and he inquired via his walkie-talky. He couldn't help me then, but once I waited with everyone (still pushing and shoving for no necessary reason what-so-ever) and made it through the metal detector, I begin my same Hebrew chit-chat with the border guard girl there. She was then the third person to ask me, "Ata Yehudi?". Again, I said, "Betach, kol ha'chaiim sheli, motek." This is where racial profiling worked in my advantage. She pulled me out of the line, which was then destined to walk through the explosives-detection machine, and walked me around everything and put me at the front of the passport control line that is set aside for foreign tourists.

In the passport control area I didn't see any Palestinians get rejected, or be disrespected by the passport agents. The lines seemed to be moving rather quickly. In the end, even though my Yehudi-ness moved me around the security line, I was one of the last ones to get through this area becauase the only two people in front of me in the passport line were a European (maybe Austrian) father/daughter combo who had some type of criminal record that was showing up on their passports records. It took a while for their problem to get resolved but once I made it to the window I was home free.

I jumped in a shared taxi with 11 other passengers (all Palestinian and Israeli Arab) and we headed into the West Bank. After a stop in Ramallah to drop off a passenger, we headed towards Jerusalem. This is where we had to pass one of the infamous West Bank checkpoints that puts you into Israel proper. This took no more than 10 seconds. The shared-cab pulled up to the window, the soldier looked in and we all held up our passports, the soldier got out, and we moved on. I was sitting towards the front of the taxi, so I didn't get a look at everyone's passport, but I think it went so easy for us is because all the Israeli Arabs and Palestinians in the cab had Israel ID cards. I don't know if it would have gone so smoothly if green Palestinian Authority passports were held up.

Once in Jerusalem it was like being back home. We drove past my old university on Mt. Scopus, and down to the Old City where we were all dropped off at the Damascus Gate in East Jerusalem:

I walked through the Arab Quarter (below) where I changed some money and spoke some Arabic with the shop owners there. Everyone wanted to know the story behind the Oud that I was carrying from Amman for my friend in Israel.

Then I headed straight for the Western Wall (HaKotel):


From there I took a cab to Kikar Tzion, and walked up Ben Yahuda St:

I bought an Israel SIM card (I felt cool because I have permanent local phone numbers in 3 countries now), ate at my favorite schwarma stand in the world...

...and walked to Nachlaot for a quick visit with two of my oldest Israeli friends. It was wonderful to see them. Around 7pm I got a ride to Tel Aviv...

...I was dropped off at the train station in Tel Aviv, bought a ticket to Netanya, and wound up in Binyamina because I wasn't paying attention and I got on the wrong train. But no problem! My friend picked me up and brought me to his place in Netanya. Thats where I am now, preparing to go to the beach.

There is Starbucks in Jordan...

...just in case you were wondering.

This Starbucks is located on a pedestrian street in a very upper-class Jordanian neighborhood. The area is so upper-class with a Western twinge that there was even an Apple store. The Jordanians that were walking around this area looked like the average people in the suburbs of Chicago, DC or Boston (the areas that I have vast experience observing average people). They wore designer clothes, carried designer bags, wore short skirts, were wearing sunglasses that cost the same amount as my rent, didn't cover their heads, etc. It was a little capitalist island in a sea of regional conservative tradition (and ample poverty).

When I sat down at Starbucks to begin my studies at around 5pm the place was half empty. But 30 minutes later, it was packed - with Jordanians. They had completely sold out of the 2JD cranberry muffins but they did have one blueberry muffin remaining. I ate it.

It was a funny situation because Starbucks couldn't survive in Israel. They had to shut down after the country basically boycotted it in favor of their local cafes. And the CEO of the Starbucks Corporation is a Jewish man who is an unabashed supporter of Israel. I love the contradictions of the Middle East. They are everywhere.

The view in one direction from my table:


I wish I could have taken more pictures of my people-watching, but I didn't think it would be appropriate. Plus I needed to study. Perhaps the most interesting observation was seeing several Saudi guys in their traditional clothing, fingering their prayer beads, sipping their Frappachinos, all while watching with great pleasure the young Jordanian women walking back and forth.

Outside of that neighborhood, back to the greater Jordanian reality, here are some scenes from the top of a pedestrian bridge where my friend and I stopped to eat fantastic hummus:


There is traffic in Amman (usually much heavier than this) 24 hours a day, 7-days a week. It is a non-stop, unorganized mess of machinery and constant honking. And more honking. Although it doesn't look like it in these pictures, lanes are usually taken as a suggestion, not the rule. I have no idea where all of these people are going, or how they survive not crashing into one another. Somehow it just works - although sometimes I have to close my eyes on my cab rides and just pray for the best.

And this place just made me smile (below). The sign reads: "Lebanon. Rest & Grilled Meat". Two of my favorite things. (See the sheep carcases waiting to be grilled in the window?)

Obama in Jordan

I waited by my phone all day... but Sen. Obama never called. When will this campaign get its priorities in order?

Photo courtesy of the AP.

Here (http://video.yahoo.com/watch/3150549/8935718) is some cheesy video coverage from ABC. (Judging from Sam Donaldson's tone, it looks like ABC is worried about the "Right's" criticisms that the press is goo-goo-ga-ga'ing too much over Obama's foreign tour. I think Sen. Obama has been nothing short of spectacular and presidential.)

Here is what the BBC had to say.

And here is a bit from Maureen Dowd that made me smile:

The king of Jordan personally drove the prince of Chicago from the palace to the airport on Tuesday night to catch his flight to Israel, leading a motorcade in his slate Mercedes 600 across the tarmac and right up to O-Force One, as The Chicago Sun Times mockingly calls the candidate’s freshly branded 757, with the captain’s chair embroidered with “Obama-’08/President.” As the senator got out of the passenger seat, King Abdullah jumped out to chat some more, as though the two, who had only met in passing on the Hill, were old pals.

Obama finally found a Muslim with whom he’s willing to be photographed.

At moments, Obama was acting as though he were already “on a coin,” as Jon Stewart would say. But cocky or not, he needs to swoop up to conquer so Americans can picture him in the role.

The One left them swooning in Jordan. A member of the king’s inner circle who attended the chicken-and-rice dinner with King Abdullah and Queen Rania said that Obama had gone a long way toward assuaging their fears that he would be so eager to run away from his paternal family’s Muslim roots and to woo skeptical American Jews that he would not be “the honest broker” they long for after W.’s crazed missionary work in the Middle East.

“The guy gets it,” the Jordanian official said after dinner with Obama. “Sharp, aware and a very good listener. He doesn’t seem stuck in preconceived positions. He said he would get straight to the Palestinian issue as soon as he becomes president.”

And finally, a funny piece about the Obama staffers accompanying him to Amman.

It's Good to Be the King Vol. I - The King's Cars

King Hussein was an avid car enthusiast, racer, and collector. Cars played a major role in his life, and one of them in particular - a 1968 Mercedes-Benz SEL 6.3 - is where he survived two assassination attempts. After King Hussein's death in 1999, King Abdullah II established the Royal Automobile Museum in honor of his father. Housed within the massive building are dozens of rare and beautiful cars and motorcycles.

This museum was a sight to see. I left with mixed feelings. On one hand, the collection was incredible and so was the history that went along with it. The place was simply "cool". On the other hand, in a country where nearly 15% of the people are living below the poverty line, and many many more are living just above it, it was a bit hard to see millions of dollars of beautiful cars just sitting under a museum roof. My friend described the museum as: "Hey poor Jordanians... In your face!". But then again, its good to be the king.

If you like cars I recommend checking out the slide-show (HERE).

And here are just a few of my favorites:

1952 Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith Sedanca de Ville

1956 Mercedes-Benz 300 SC Roadster

1948 Packard Super Eight Convertible Victoria

1940 Packard Super Eight Convertible Coupe

Turkish Bath - Amman Style

I have never been this clean in my life.

The guys and I decided to treat ourself to spa-day today, and oh-boy, was it worth it.

Welcome to Al-Pasha: http://www.pashaturkishbath.com/index.htm

This was my first Turkish bath experience and because a genuine Turk went with me, I have validation that it was genuine. I wouldn't dare bring a camera into the "bathing" area so I hope you will trust my description of the event. Allow me to break it down into phases.

Phase I: After changing into your bathing suit (locker room nudity does not occur in Jordan - privacy during this phase of the event is of utmost importance) you enter the lavish bathing complex. First you enter a steam room. This room is all stone and the ceiling is embedded with colorful globular-glass lights. There is a steam mist that fills the room and it is hot. Very hot. Once seated on the stone benches inside you are brought a glass of water and prune juice. Both are consumed immediately. After 15 minutes you move out of this room, and after a quick shower you move into Phase II.

Phase II: Hot tub. Nothing out of the ordinary here. 15 minutes of soaking and Phase III begins.

Phase III: You now lay face down on a large stone tablet, and in my case, a 250 pound Syrian man rubs your entire body with a rough glove for a full-body exfoliation. And I mean full body. The large Syrian man then shows you the skin he has removed from your body. Soon he changes to a somewhat softer glove and rubs you again with a warm soapy mixture. You are then asked to stand and bowls of water are poured over your head until the soap is no more. Another shower and onto Phase IV.

Phase IV: This was my favorite. Another large Arab man lays you down on another stone tablet. You are then rubbed, thoroughly...

Lets pause and explain "thoroughly" - Every part of your body where skin meets skin, is separated with a hand, and you are slathered with olive oil from head to toe. Then you are massaged and stretched.

Phase V: This phase is what makes the Turkish bath "Jordanian Style". This is where you get a full body mud-masque with mud from the Dead Sea. After the mud is applied to your entire body you sit on a stone chair for 10 minutes while you rub the mud into your skin.

Phase VI: Now covered in mud, you return to the first 250-pound Syrian man who pours more bowls of water over your head to wash most of the mud off. This is followed by yet another shower.

Phase VII: Sauna. Hot Sauna. Followed by shower. Followed by application of huge towel tied toga-style around your body.

Phase VIII: Change, tea, complete relaxation...

Ramallah Underground

How did you spend your 4th of July?

I spent mine at a Palestinian quasi-militant hip-hop concert in Amman, Jordan. No fireworks, apple pie, and hamburgers for me this year.


The concert featured Ramallah Underground, an electronica hip-hop collaborative that is based in Ramallah (West Bank, aka Palestine, aka the Occupied Palestinian Territories). According to the band, their group "was born from the immediacy of musical experimentation and the need to give voice to a generation of Palestinians and Arabs who face a turbulent and uncertain political landscape."

Their lyrics and music are "an expression of anguish and defiance, ultimately remaining a defiant voice of the colonized against the colonizer. They continue to play a big role in the Arab Underground cultural scene while slowly gaining wide global and local popularity."

This was the first concert that I've been to where the artist was introduced as, "the group that waited for 6 hours behind a checkpoint to get here...". This fact is true, sad, and a reality of the security situation faced by Israel. And while I do not subscribe to the band's politics, I am really happy that I had this experience. Musically, I found the group to be very talented.

I would like to briefly describe the scene at the concert. I estimate that there were about 200 people in attendance, maybe more. The venue was Books@Cafe, one of my favorite places that I have found so far in Amman. It is a bookstore located in one of the city's oldest neighborhoods. It has a bar/cafe roof deck that has a beautiful view overlooking the southern end of the city.

I believe the crowd was about 60% Jordanian and 40% foreigner. There were a number of Europeans and a lot of students from Jordan University. The Jordanians at the concert were not the Palestinian-militant type. They were instead the upper middle class "hip" type. I imagine that the 10 JD ticket charge is not in the budget of the average displaced Palestinian-Jordanian. The Arabs that were there where very excited, and many knew the band's lyrics. I counted about 30 Yassir Arafat-style black and white checkered kaffiyahs.

There was also a group of six not-too-undercover Mukhabarrat (Jordanian Secret Police). I assume that they were there to monitor the show to make sure there wasn't too much anti-Jordanian government rabble rousing, or instigation of violence.

I am choosing not to blog my personal feelings about the songs, or my impressions of how the other "Westerners" in the audience reacted to the band's message. I'm happy to discuss this off-line if anyone is interested. Here is another blogger's recent interview with the band if you'd like to read more (click here).

I am happy, however, to share some pictures and a video from the concert.

Here is a video I took on my little camera: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IEMZGXvUVyE




UPDATE: This article was recently posted in the Jordanian Times regarding the group and their Amman concert - http://www.jordantimes.com/?news=9221

Jebel al-Qal'a, Philadelphia, and the Martyr's Memorial

In about 1800 B.C., the hill known as Jebel al-Qal'a was fortified for the first time.

According to Genesis (the first book of the Old Testament, not the band fronted by Phil Collins) Jebel al-Qal'a was a hill inhabited by the near-mythical Ammonites, the descendants of the "drunken seduction" of Lot by his two daughters. By 1200 B.C., the Citadel on top of this hill was renamed Rabbath Amman, which was the capital of the region.

Later, in the year 1000 B.C., the book of Samuel reports that that the Israelite King David sent messengers to Rabbath with condolences for the death of the Ammonite king. These messengers, believed by the Ammonites to be Israelite spies, were sent back to Jerusalem minus their beards and fine clothing. Later, David would send his army to defeat the troublesome Ammonites. David himself joined the battle at its end and soon returned home to marry the widowed Bat-Sheba. Soon after this, the future King Solomon was born.

After Alexander the Great conquered the region in 332 B.C., his successor Ptolemy II Philadelphus rebuilt Rabbath and named it Philadelphia - the "City of Brotherly Love." After a series of wars and turmoil, the Romans rebuilt Philadelphia in 114 A.D.. They built impressive public buildings, among them a theater:

(click on the pictures to enlarge)



And a temple to Hercules:



In 635 A.D., Philadelphia was conquered by the Arabs and city's name was changed to Amman. The city was ruled by the Damascus-based Umayyad dynasty. Amman became the capital of the area and the Umayyads quickly expanded on the Roman-developed city by building an expansive palatial complex which was quickly destroyed by an earthquake in 749. The remains of this city remain in the same place where they fell today.

This is the partially-reconstructed Umayyad Palace:

And some additional views of the ruins:





When the Abbasids took power away from the Ummayds, the center of power in the region shifted from Amman to Baghdad. Over the next centuries Amman became desolate - it was mearly a stop-over area for pilgrims to Mecca. The town barely changed until the Ottomans settled Circassian refugees in the area in the 1870s. Still, it remained nothing more than a farming villiage with some impressive Roman/Ummayd ruins until Emir Abdullah chose Amman as his capital after the fall of the Ottoman Empire at the end of World War I.

Of course, the next important milestone was Robert Marcus' visit to Jebel al-Qal'a this morning.

Today I also visited the Jordanian War Martyr's Memorial.

Like the Egyptian, Israeli, and American military museums I have visited, this one contained its fair share of propaganda. Of course, Jordan has never lost a war. Much of the museum is dedicated to the Great Arab Revolt. The rest is dedicated to Jordan's wars against Israel, its current-day peace keeping missions as part of the United Nations, and the late King Hussein's military paraphernalia.






And I will leave you with another panorama of Amman taken from atop Jebel al-Qal'a (note the return to the blog of the world's tallest flagpole on the far right):

The King's Hummus

Tonight I ate the King's hummus.

Located in a narrow alley in the oldest part of Amman is Hashem - an outdoor diner that was founded by Hashem al-Turk in 1920. There are only three dishes to choose from: falafel, hummus, and fuul. (For those of you who read Arabic you can see the menu on the picture below)


There are three kinds of fuul that are available. The first, Jordanian-style pictured below, contains a dollop of chili. But if you ask for fuul Egyptian-style, you will get it minus the chili but with a lump of tahini. There is also fuul Jerusalem-style, which is fuul with a blob of hummus in it. Everything is freshly made and its costs only pennies. It is brought to your table within seconds of ordering. A full meal ranges between 1-2 Jordanian Dinars, that is around 2$ US.


Pita, chopped onion, hot sauce, salt, and fresh mint are free. I learned from my travel book that the restaurant goes through 50 kg of onions a day.

This restaurant feeds the royal family and is where the King enjoys the best hummus (arguably) in town. The smile on the King and his father's face that adorn the pictures on the wall say it all. I plan on enjoying Hashem's food several more times before I depart.

Arrival

I have safely arrived in Amman!


This week I will be staying at the American Center for Oriental Research (ACOR) which is conveniently located about three blocks from the main gate of the University of Jordan. ACOR is "a private, non-profit academic institution dedicated to promoting research and publication in the fields of archeology, anthropology, history, languages, biblical studies, Arabic, Islamic studies and other aspects of Near Eastern Studies." ACOR was kind enough to rent me a room for the week while I search for an apartment.

Here is a picture of ACOR that I borrowed from the internet (because I arrived in the dark):


Even though I have been in Amman for less than 4 hours, I have accomplished the following things:

1. I ate my first Jordanian schwarma at a schwarma stand at the 7th circle. Delicious!
2. I visited my first Jordanian cafe where I had a Turkish coffee. Also Delicious!
3. I have obtained my Jordanian cell phone, a Nokia, that has its letters written in Arabic. How appropriate!

I am happy to be here and I'm ready for the real adventure of registering for school, finding an apartment, and finding my way around the city that begins tomorrow. Until then - ma'asalaama.