The Desert, The Palace, & a Border Sneak

Boy do we have some catching up to do. I guess when I left you I was getting ready to make a move out of Petra. A decision made easy by a fun young couple from the Netherlands, Chris and Micah, who offered me a spot in their car, Uncle Benz, to the nearby desert oasis of Wadi Rum. They had been driving Uncle Benz all the way from Holland and our little journey to the desert got me jonesin' for a road trip of my own real soon. Just need to learn how to hotwire a car.

Once we arrived to the town of Wadi Rum, we arranged to spend the night in the desert, traveling to a Beduoin camp via camel. Although the budget left room for only an overnight visit, it was a pretty amazing place and quite a mystical experience. Got enough of a taste to respect the harsh but tranquil nature of desert living.

Determined to get off the beaten path a bit, I decided the following day that would try and hitch rides from Wadi Rum (south part of Jordan) to the northern capital city of Amman. Luckily, I snagged my first ride with Omar, a yorgurt deliveryman, who after a few deliveries along the way, would take me about 300 kilometers to the outskirts of Amman. Although our language barrier was extreme, Omar plied me with coffee and snacks the whole way and in true Jordinian custom said "welcome" about 10 times. Omar was not alone in this show of hospitality as I have found about 85% of encountered Jordanians saying the same thing. Trying to recall if I have ever said this to a visitor in the U.S...........

After being dropped off on the side of the highway by an onward travelling Omar, a series of friendly Jordianian bus drivers (one refusing payment) coordinated my desposit in the city center of Amman. Having concentrated the whole day on just making it there, I was unsure of what to do or where to stay when I arrived. I went to a cafe and checked my email to find that a Couchsurfer in Amman had responded that I would in fact have a place to crash. I met up with the CSer, Murielle, not long later and enroute back to her pad she informed me that I would need to surrender my passport to the guards at the entrance of her apartment--as she lived on the grounds of the Jordanian Royal Palace. She is allowed this residence as the personal stylist of the Queen of Jordan. So, such is the dichotomy of things in my life lately--hitchinghiking by day and palatial sleeping by night.

And so I spent the next two days with Murielle, who is actually Lebanese, touring the nearby town of Jerash, eating tables full of Lebanese food, and doing what presumably all Jordinians do on a good Saturday--shooting guns at a gun range. After turning in my work-issued gun over a year ago, I was wondering if I still had what it takes to win a Duck Hunt tournament and was pleasantly surprised to see that if I fired 10 rounds at something/one I would hit them at least once. I left the shot-out target for Murielle to hang in her apartment to warn off any creepy CSers.

Tonight, I am back to my old routine--just checked into a "hotel" downtown that actually charges to use the showers. Always exploiting the loopholes, I plan on sponge bathing in the sink later.
Tomorrow is a big day for me. I am going to make the overland border crossing into Israel, which normally would be fairly routine, although the trick is that since I want to travel through Syria and Lebanon (and other countries un-friendly to Israel), I cannot receive the dreaded Israel stamp in my passport nor can I receive an Exit or Entry stamp from Jordanian officials at the border-- as this is tell-all evidence to many countries' immigrations officials who would refuse my entry or would kick me out if discovered later. Essentially I have to go through a total of 2 check points tomorrow and 2 on the way out, making sure both the Jordinian and Israeli officials defer on the stamping. If I get stamped, my fate will be sealed as I will have to ditch much of my middle east plans and fly straight to Turkey. Leaving this one to the travel gods.

Risking banishment,

Q