Welcome to Jordan!
Welcome to my random musings about the world, on a weekly-to-occasional basis.
Where we are: We’re leaving Mexico City this evening, headed to Spain. I’m looking forward to trading in corn tortillas for egg-and-potato tortillas, which are something different altogether. I wrote this essay a while back, but don’t worry—we are definitely not in Jordan right now.
Welcome to Jordan!
The first truly Muslim country we ever visited, back in 2016, was Jordan. It’s a fantastic destination for a compact trip to see lots of sights, and it’s one of the top places we recommend when people ask us for ideas.
We rented a car and spent two weeks driving in a big loop, all the way around the country. We saw the famous ancient Nabatean city of Petra, of course, but we also floated in the Dead Sea, wandered through an ancient Roman city, stargazed in the desert, and tramped through castles that were built during the Crusades.
We experienced extraordinary hospitality—all over the country, people waved as we drove by. Young and old alike greeted us with Welcome to Jordan! I poked my head into a bakery on our first morning (in the ancient city of Madaba), and the baker handed me a fluffy, fresh round of bread, hot out of the oven. He wouldn’t let me pay.
In the remains of the Roman city of Jerash, I fell in with a group of women who tried to teach me to ululate—it didn’t go particularly well, but it was great fun. At our camp in the desert, a group of high school girls on a field trip tried to teach me to dance. That didn’t go well either, but then they all went through their bags, pulling out things (a keychain, a candy bar) they could give me as gifts. I was speechless—all I gave them in return was hugs, but they were heartfelt.
And then … we arrived at our hotel in Aqaba. Actually, I arrived; Lee dropped me off at the lobby, intending to find parking on the street, which turned out to be a 20-minute ordeal of traffic and narrow roads.
I went to the front desk to check in, handing over our passports expectantly—as you might imagine, it was (as Lee likes to say) not my first rodeo. I have more than a little experience checking into hotels.
The desk clerk glanced at me, then ant our passports, then motioned to some chairs and told me to go sit down. Confused, I did.
But by the time Lee arrived in the lobby, there was smoke coming out of my ears. Other people were being checked in, while I was just waiting.
I joined Lee at the check-in desk, and the same clerk who had told me to sit down nearly fell all over himself to welcome Mr. Rosen.
About that time, ‘Mr. Rosen’ noticed the smoke coming out of my ears—he’d have been hard-pressed to miss it, because I was about to spontaneously combust. He suggested I go use the bathroom while he got us checked in. I did, but only because I really needed to go.
Later, in that same town, we had to get a tire repaired on our rental car. When we found the tire shop, another car was already up on the lift. The wife and children of the driver were in the back seat. Of the car at the top of the lift. I got the feeling that women might not be welcome in the waiting area, so I stayed in the passenger seat. Luckily our car didn’t need to be put on the lift, and when the mechanics realized I was out there, they brought me a cup of coffee. Lee, of course, had his coffee in the air-conditioned office, because in Jordan, there’s always a cup of tea or coffee.
I learned a durable lesson in Aqaba, one that has held me in good stead ever since: two things can be true at the same time. The people of Jordan are incredibly welcoming and hospitable. At the same time, it is a culture in which women have a clear role, and it is not what I am accustomed to.
The world is just complicated, no matter how much we prefer simplicity.
Take care,
Lisa
P.S. Thanks for reading, and feel free to share. If you have feedback, I’d love to hear it. And if someone forwarded this to you, thank them for me, and go to https://bookwoman.com/ to subscribe.