November 2nd - There we gooooooo. It's over!
I suspect Ali the muezzin hid in the trunk of our Mitsubishi to follow us here… Because at five on the dot, he started up again, bellowing like a madman from the top of his mosque until we woke up. That’s it—I’ve had it up to my slippers! If he’s going to be like this, tomorrow I’m heading back to France! Anyway, no choice really—on my flight ticket, the guy wrote in big letters that it’s almost time to go back and grind away in the gray skies of our faraway land… But screw varicose veins! Let’s savor our last day to the fullest, and you, your last page to read!
This morning’s goal is to make a quick hop to Jerash by trying out the local buses. To get to the bus station, two options: the bad one, on foot, and the less bad one, by taxi. So, we’ll have to take on the brotherhood of taxi driver scammers that plagues the world. To arms, citizens, form your battalions! For this ride, I set myself a maximum price, and you can trust me—I’ll fight to the death to get it, even if it means negotiating for hours! Here’s my technique...
“Hello, three dinars to the north station?”
“No problem, it’ll be my pleasure…” Well, if even taxi drivers are being nice in this country… pfft… Not even fun! At the bus station, not a single tourist in sight except our four clueless white faces! And since our day’s tourist destination must be written in big letters on our foreheads, we’re quickly directed to the right bus. We’re on the right track, even if we’re at a bus station… We board an old, beat-up minibus! 1960… No, that’s not the number of horses under the hood—it’s the year of its last inspection… Oh well, it’ll do, even if once we’re moving, we’re going as fast as a horse tied to the stable…
The driver, who’s actually really nice, drops us right at the entrance after a forty-five-minute ride. By the way, I didn’t explain why we’re here? The new city of Jerash surrounds an ancient Roman city, entry for eight dinars. According to my trusty Lonely Planet, it’s known for the excellent state of its buildings thanks to the desert’s dryness. And my good old Lonely didn’t lie to me! I’ve visited a bunch of Roman cities, but never one this well preserved! Except, of course, Pompeii, which got lucky by being covered in volcanic lava. Anyway, we visit the famous oval plaza, unique in its kind, the Cardo Maximus, the Decumanus, the theater with its magnificent Carlus floor… A real peplum movie set! We’re half-expecting Maximus—aka Russell Crowe—to come charging in on a Roman chariot! You’d think you were there! Too bad the many extras don’t look very… Roman! Today’s fashion trend is Bermuda shorts, long socks, and flip-flops. And if the leader doesn’t have a little flag, everyone’s on a diet of huge badges on their T-shirts and neon yellow caps! Yuck!
The interesting part of the visit is also seeing the local giant puzzle club in action! Really impressive! From three or four scattered stones in the grass, they rebuild a monument! Okay, the traditional site visit takes about three hours. My little herd, being very mobile, wraps it up in two—just enough to still have tired feet… Time to head back to the capital! Either by bus like on the way there or in the taxi of the guy who clearly has a deal to propose:
“For you four, thirty dinars to get back to Amman!”
“We’d planned to return by bus in our budget, so we won’t go over ten!”
“Come on, okay for twenty-five!”
“Uh… No, I think I said ten!”
“Come on, my friend, twenty and it’s a deal!”
Well, to save you precious time that you’re already giving me, I’ll take you straight to the punchline, about five minutes later:
“Okay for ten!”
“Alright, buddy, you’re hired!” We head satisfied toward the taxi parked a little further away when, just as we’re about to get in, the guy turns to me and innocently says:
“Ten dinars isn’t enough! Okay for twenty!”
“Well, you greedy guy, you’re really taking us for six-week-old bunnies! You just signed your resignation letter!” Furious, I grab my bag, open it determinedly, plunge my hand in, and pull out… my first red card of the trip! Back to the locker room, direct expulsion! The return will be by bus or not at all… We start by gathering info. “Please, where’s the bus stop for Amman? What time does it come?...” And our work stops there—we let the magic of the grapevine do the rest… In less time than it takes to write it, I feel like half the city of Jerash has gathered around us, bustling to help! By Toutatis, these Jordanians are crazy!
A bus full of buses is stopped. I ask the driver: “Amman?” Damn, apparently not… Yet, we’re forced to get on anyway! We don’t understand what’s going on… Kidnapping, ransom, scam…? Don’t panic, little scaredy-cat, remember, we’re in Jordan… I get it when our bus catches up to another and makes it stop. And of course, it’s the one going to Amman! You’re probably getting tired of hearing this, but we’ve got to give credit where it’s due: these Jordanians are so nice!
After a half-hour ride in a bus “air-conditioned” by drafts from the open windows and doors, back to the bus station for a quick and easy negotiation for a taxi at three dinars. This time, the lucky winner is Madhi, proud as a peacock to take Europeans in his beautiful all-yellow car… And as soon as we’re in, he’s also proud to blast his new Jordanian music CD:
“Jordan music! Good?”
“Well… Let’s say yes!”
Track two...
“Jordan music! Good?”
“Uh… Yes, yes, it’s cool!”
We clap, we dance… Another really nice encounter! Track three… Track four… And every time, his same question… And every time, my same answer, which clearly fills him with happiness comparable to that of a young maiden in heat locking eyes with a Twilight actor! And it’s when paying the fare that Madhi definitively wins my vote for Jordan in the election of the nicest people met while traveling: He carefully puts his CD back in its case and hands it to me… “Here, it’s a gift, you can listen to Jordanian music in France…” I’m floored! We pay our taxi fare—three dinars (that’s three euros)—and the guy gives me a brand-new CD he paid five for! I think if I’d told him his car was “Good,” I’d have left with it too! Encounters like that really make you think…
At our request, Madhi drops us off at the entrance to the city citadel. We pay the two-dinar entry fee and start the visit. After a little tour, I feel like I know the site as well as the inside of the Mitsubishi. It’s not very big and not amazing. They’d warned me, but I still wanted to come for the 360-degree view of Amman, which is worth a photo or two… And let’s be honest, the awe-inspiring sites in Amman can be counted on one hand! We come to Amman mostly to soak up the atmosphere of a big Middle Eastern city… So, let’s go, time to soak up the vibe! We dive into the flow of pedestrians and start our papal tour. I mean by that we say hello every two meters: Salam aleykoum here, welcome there! The people really seem happy to see us and let us know. They greet us with as many hands as they can, and teeth, when there are any, show in a smile. People approach us, looking for contact… We even end up chatting with an old Jordanian who, after two minutes, insists on calling his wife to put her on the phone! For sure, Pékin Express or Antoine de Maximy won’t show up here—it’d be too easy!
We wander like this through the fruit and vegetable souk, in the goldsmiths’ quarter, in the one where you can find any trinket made in Taiwan… until the quarter with the super sexy lingerie shops, paradise for porn actresses or drag queens… Well, not quite. The clientele is rather covered in black from head to toe, “integrated fitting room” style. We didn’t expect that! Just for my personal curiosity, I’d love to take a little tour under their outfits to see what’s going on…
Anyway, you’ve probably got it—there’s no Eiffel Tower or pyramids to see in Amman, but we still have a great time connecting with the locals. Plus, if you want to hang around a bit, know that you’re as likely to get mugged here as when visiting the White House. Amman—if I had to do it over, I’d definitely come back! And to finish this last episode of our adventures in the land of nice people in style, we dive into one last chicken kebab. Jean-Pierre Coffe can yell “This is crap!” all he wants—I still find it delicious…
We get back to the hotel around eight, legs tired, throats parched, noses full… full of everything! While waiting for departure time to the airport, the program is internet for some, snoring for others—everyone’s happy! As for me, I collapse into a comfy couch in the common room. It’ll take a crane to get me out…
It’s at eleven that the shuttle guy shows up to send us back to France (fifteen dinars for the private shuttle)… And in the “I drive like a maniac” family, I’d like the son… We end up with Sami Nacéri—I thought he was still in jail! He drives like a madman as if our lives depended on it. On this one, they kinda did… But anyway, we arrive at the airport in one piece and start the most exciting phase of any trip: Waiting, check-in… At security, I end up without a belt, without shoes… without a shirt, without pants… Tonight, we’re going to dance… no, I think I’m getting carried away… That’s it, it really smells like the end of the end… It was the last sequence, the last show, and the curtain has fallen on the screen… Ma’asalam Petra, ma’asalam Wadi Rum, ma’asalam Jordan… Hello Ardennes! Yeah, that’s way less classy…
To conclude, I’ll tell you that Jordan is the kind of destination you can go to with your eyes closed—though that’d be a shame. And if you’ve made it through reading my whole travel journal, I think you’ve got it—Jordan, what a blast! But if you only read the last paragraph of this last page, to sum up, our trip was greenery, kebabs, temples, desert, road, beach, fish, picnics, dromedaries, ultralights, palm trees, mountains, city, Bedouins, dogs, tombs, hotels, castles, toilets, 4x4s, stairs, muezzins, valleys, sleeping bags, hummus, ice cream, ruins, nights under the stars, sweat, diving, restaurants, blisters, flat tires, encounters, arak, taxis, tents, buses… in a word, pure bliss! And if that’s not enough, you’ve just got to follow me on my next adventure…
