A Trip to Israel

Being so close to Israel, it seemed silly not to plan to visit what is often billed in the travel brochures as “The Holy Land”.  To go to Israel from Amman one travels to the border either by taxi (about one hour, our choice; 30 JD - $42) or by bus.  The procedure on the Jordanian side is to have your passport inspected by men in two different windows and then to each pay a 10 JD ($14) departure tax.  Then onto a large bus (7 JD per person and 1.5 JD for the bag - $21.70 total) which takes you a few kilometers to a Jordanian check point and then over the King Hussein Bridge (known as the Allenby Bridge in Israel).  The bridge crosses over the Jordan River where the river is brown and smaller than a Maine stream.  Then off the bus and into the crush of people waving their passports at an Israeli official ensconced in a small office.  The bulk of the travelers are Palestinians, with a smattering of Western tourists.  In typical Arab fashion, there were no tidy lines or orderly procedures. To get your passport inspected and the official entry document, it is necessary to be wildly impolite and throw your elbows and reach over other extended arms.  No Israeli stamp goes into the passport, but I wouldn’t want to lose the little paper that was generated.  Then onto a small bus that takes us from the border to Jerusalem, about a 45 minute ride (42 shekels each plus 5 for the bag – about $23).  No private cars are allowed to cross between Jordan and Israel so renting a car to travel there is not an option.

Because many of my colleagues and acquaintances here are Palestinian, Israel is a very touchy subject.  One of my colleagues, of Palestinian descent, has told me that the Knesset (national legislature) is built on land that belongs to her family.  She has also told me that she is not allowed entry by the Israelis.  What is known by many as the West Bank, may be referred to here as Palestine or the Occupied Territories.  It is separated from Israel by what is known as “the Green Line” which dates to the demarcation that was put in place after the 1948 Arab-Israeli War.  In actuality there are three areas, called Area A, B, or C, each with varying degrees of Israeli involvement. Israeli citizens are completely forbidden from entering Area A, which is under civil and security control of Palestine.  It is a complicated issue, one that is unlikely to be resolved any time soon.

Old City Jerusalem 

[click on picture to enlarge it]

all photos by Ed Quigley

We stayed in a hotel in East Jerusalem, just outside the Old City wall.  That night we had dinner in a restaurant that served wine.  While this might not sound like a big deal, it is for those of us who live in a country where alcohol is rarely on the menu.  Even many restaurants that serve “international” or “western” food here in Amman rarely serve any alcohol as it would cause many of the Muslim clientele to shun that restaurant.

The next day we headed out of Jerusalem in a rental car.  We followed the most direct route to Nazareth which took us through the West Bank Area A.  When we reached the boundary with Israel, we went through an Israeli checkpoint.  The armed soldier wanted to know what we were doing in Jenin, a town that we had skirted along the way.  With a look into the trunk and a short look into our suitcase, he waved us through.  Soon we were in Nazareth, a city of 65,000 population, a third of whom are Christian.  Not being particularly religious, we wandered the town, watching the many tour groups make their pilgrimage to the various sites associated with Jesus Christ.

  

Rosary Beads for Sale in Front of the Greek Orthodox Church in Nazereth

On Saturday morning we drove to Tiberius, on the Sea of Galilee (Lake Tiberius on some maps, Kinneret in Hebrew).  Lake is clearly a more accurate designation as it is fresh water and only 13 miles long and 8 miles wide.  At around 700 feet below sea level, it is the lowest fresh water lake in the world.

Then west to Akko (Acre) on the Mediterranean, and a chance to feel the sand on my feet and to make my eyes smile with the sight of salt water.  Since I have no sense of smell, I love when Ed says, “smell that salt air”.  I smell it in my memory.  Akko, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is an interesting port city, filled with history.  Arriving on a Saturday afternoon, the old city and waterfront were crowded with families enjoying the weekend.  Akko is mentioned in Egyptian writings of 4000 years ago.  It has belonged to a variety of entities, including the Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans and the Christian Crusaders.  Each subsequent conqueror rebuilt the city, often dismantling what was there to reuse the construction materials.  By around 1100, it had become the capital of the Crusader Kingdom in the Holy Land, with strong commercial ties to Pisa, Venice, Marseilles and Genoa.  Here we met Amir and Ruth, the couple who bought our last boat two years ago.  Unfortunately the boat is in a harbor more than two hours to the south so we could not see our (their) Cygnus.  Amir was raised in the area, and he and Ruth have lived there since they were married.  He was a wonderful tour guide, including a visit to a Finnish archeologist, who works tucked away in a large room contained in the ancient city wall, patiently fitting shards of pottery together.  We toured the Hospitaller Fortress (Knights Halls), an entire Crusader city complete with secret tunnels.  Akko is also famous in more recent times.  During the British Mandate (1920s) Akko Fortress was the main prison in the north of what was then Palestine; it housed various political prisoners.  Lunch with Amir and Ruth was a treat.  The restaurant was above a fish market.  The procedure is to go into the cold storage area of the market; select your fish, and then go upstairs to where it is served.  My shrimp was delicious!

Akko Harbor

Courtyard of the Hospitaller Fortress 

A night in Haifa, then a visit to Caesarea (the well preserved ruins of another ancient Roman port city, turned Byzantine capital and then Crusader fortress), and back to Jerusalem where we returned the car (gas is almost $6.50 per US gallon).  We entered the Old City to walk along the Via Dolorosa (the Way of the Cross or Way of Suffering, the route that Christ walked to his crucifixion) and to visit the Western Wall (the holiest Jewish shrine).  

Tomb Cover in Caesarea

Roman Aquaduct in Caesarea

After a night in Jerusalem, we reversed our border crossing – small bus to the checkpoint where this time the departure tax was 357 shekels (almost $93) for the two of us, the big bus to the Jordanian side and with our residency cards, a quick wave through immigration and into a taxi for the one hour ride back to Amman.

Western Wall in Jerusalem

Clearly there is much more to see and do in Israel, but our time was limited because I was scheduled to attend a two day international nursing conference in Amman.  However, our brief trip to Israel was interesting and I am really glad that Ed talked me into going.

It All Becomes “Just Normal”

When one arrives in a foreign country, in an area of the world where one has never been before, so much is new and unusual.  But over time, we adapt, and we stop seeing what once was strange.  It all becomes “just normal” which is one of the most common Jordanian phrases that I hear when I ask about something.  And now, so much is truly “just normal” in my eyes.

When I go to the ladies room at the university, I think it is normal to have to take my own toilet paper.  I am not surprised to see a colleague washing her feet in the sink before she prays.  In any rest room and at our apartment here, I am well trained to place the paper in the “poopy paper bucket” next to the toilet rather than flushing it.

Poopy Paper Bucket in the Bathroom in our Apartment

[click on the photo to enlarge it]

all photos by Ed Quigley

 I think it is normal to see a woman in a black abaya, veiled, sneaking her food under the veil.

Veiled Lady

Beeping horns, chaotic traffic, reading in the Jordan Times that 22 newly placed traffic cameras recorded 3400 violations on their first day – all normal. I'm not even surprised by the report that the first recorded traffic violator was a police car.

Not having my own car has become normal.  At first I missed it so much.  Now, I rarely think of what it would be like to just jump in and go wherever I want.  When we have rented car in Greece, Cyprus, Dubai or here in Jordan, Ed has done the driving.  I hope that I have not forgotten how to drive!

I always remember not to extend my hand to a man, unless he indicates that he will shake hands with a woman.  The early feelings of discomfort at being not good enough to be acknowledged in the same way that he would acknowledge a man are gone.  It is “just normal”.

Isn't it normal to go into a café for a cup of tea and see 80% of the people puffing away on shisha (water pipe)?  Reading in the Jordan Times that the majority of lawmakers are still smoking under the Dome of Parliament in violation of the public health law is no surprise.

Man Smoking an Argileh 

(When there is no cafe handy, you can always bring your own waterpipe.)

No mail delivery to the homes is of course “just normal”.  If you want mail, you can get a mailbox in the post office, if you can find the post office.  I still have not seen one in my neighborhood, in spite of many hours of wandering the streets.  A man who has lived in our building for 25 years also does not know where the post office is located.

Photocopied books which at first made me feel guilty to even touch them are “just normal”.  No local library; again “just normal”.

Hearing the Friday sermon broadcast on the loudspeaker from the mosque is normal too.  Wouldn’t you expect that everyone should be allowed to hear it, even if they chose not to attend?  And of course the call to prayer five times a day starting now before 5 A.M. is barely noticed.  Until we changed to summer time near the end of March, it was around 4 A.M., and because it is based on sunrise, it gets earlier every day.

Mosque Near the City of Salt

(The loud speakers are near the top of the minaret.)

Seeing pictures of the King everywhere, often in a trio with his father, King Hussein who died more than 15 years ago, and his son, Hussein, the Crown Prince is so common that I don’t even notice it anymore. 

 The King Above a Store in Amman

(Just below the King is a picture of his whole family.)

Having a taxi driver tell you “no meter; 5 JD”, doesn’t even cause me to blink.  Mostly I either demand that he use the meter or I just get out of the taxi.  Although I have to confess, one day I had had enough.  I raised my voice and said “Just because I’m Western, doesn’t mean I’m stupid”.  He stopped and let me out rather than use the meter which would have resulted in a ride that cost about 1.4 JD rather than 5 JD.

Walking in the street because the sidewalks are obstructed with trees, piles of gravel, trash, merchandise or cars parked helter skelter is normal.

Merchandise and Trash Obstructing a Sidewalk in our Neighborhood

I am not surprised by hearing (or saying) Insha’Allah multiple times in a conversation, or by planning class break for prayer time.

Seeing men walking down the street arm in arm or seeing Ed be taken by the hand as a man is showing him the way is also normal.

Not being given a precise address is normal; why would you want to be able to go directly to your destination without having to describe it as near the Burger King, or behind Kempinski?

I have (almost) gotten used to not seeing any pork in the stores or on a menu.  I do still miss a glass of wine with a meal, and an Easter ham dinner would be a wonderful treat.  Of course Easter Sunday is just another work day here.

What would shock me?  Seeing a man and woman, even husband and wife, have a little public kiss.  Seeing a woman’s shoulders and bare arms.  Seeing a woman’s knees.

In spite of it all becoming “just normal” here in Jordan, I am looking forward to returning to my old normal in mid-June when we arrive in Boston.

We will be traveling in Israel next week so I will not post another blog until around April 25th.