Postscript

As Churchy, Walt Kelly’s turtle used to say, more or less: when you’ve reached the end it’s over.

I’m writing this months after our return home, putting paid to our four-month-long odyssey. Allowing my autistic bent to take over, the trip has set some records for us: four months on the road, three continents, ten countries, nineteen national border crossings, 2,800 photographs and, with this posting, over 30,000 words on the blog.

This will effectively close the blog, although I’ll leave it up for a spell. For those who patiently suffered through my meanderings with the unrequited hope for some nugget of interest, thanks. Fortunately, most of my readers are family, leaving them with no recourse to pity or apology for their staying the course. Family is what family does.

DLS 21 December 2010

Friends

A summer castle, complete with a natural moat.

Family is dandy but friends are like candy. You may quote me. One of the reasons…primary reasons…we made this a four-month odyssey, spending the intervening months in Europe between the two family weddings, was to visit friends well remembered and sorely missed. And while many had the audacity to be doing other things elsewhere during the summer, we managed to catch up with most of those who mean the most to us.

In particular, we saw D. and L. in the Netherlands, whose friendship has made so many shared events over the past two decades memorable. Christmas and New Years, in particular, have never been the same. Some of our best voyages of discovery around Europe have been in their company.

They are animal-lovers (three dogs and six cats at last count who are also our good friends), and rather brilliant at what they do. They provide essentially the only reason we visit the Dutch, for, despite sincere attempts on our part, we continue to find little to love about their flat country. There are, of course, features that are appealing about the Netherlands, but unless you ride a bicycle or own a small caravan, on the whole you’re better off going elsewhere for a holiday. I’m ignoring those who would find the red-light district or cannabis cafes in Amsterdam appealing.

D. and L. live in the central east of the country, east of Utrecht, and are thus well above sea level, and in a more heavily-forested part of the country. It’s rural (or as much rural as is found) and pastoral, and very, very green. If we do anything much during our visit to them and their various dogs and cats, it’s to walk along the many paths and byways provided, or visit some of the manors and their grounds that can be found in the region, many dating from the 17th century or earlier. One is pictured above. Here’s another:

If you want to sense how much time has passed under your feet, reminisce with friends of the things you’ve done and seen in their company. That said, accumulating those experiences may be one of the best reasons for getting old. As it becomes apparent that opportunities will be fewer to see our old friends (in both senses of the term) in coming years, our time with them this past summer becomes more valuable. Perhaps it is better to stop seeing friends at some point and let memories take over the job of keeping us all young forever.

Oktoberfest in Taybeh

It's not all about beer, but it does play a part.

We're back in N.'s ancestral village in the West Bank, having crossed into Palestine from Jordan at the Allenby Bridge yesterday. The crossing went easily enough, although we had to invest some four hours to the process. There was apparently some security concern on the Israeli side of the border that locked up their terminal for an hour or so, which also delayed the bus taking us from the Jordan side.

We were early at the Bridge because it was Saturday; the crossing only operates a half-day for the Jewish Shabbat. This meant an early arrival at the Bridge was required. That it was open at all on the holy day is a relatively recent event. In the bad old days it was closed from mid-Fridays to Sunday.

No matter how much they make it resemble an airport, the Allenby Bridge crossing will always be complicated by all the security steps taken on both sides of the border. However, even with multiple luggage checks, four or five passport reviews plus immigration, and a somewhat chaotic final luggage inspection and x-ray, I've experienced worse border formalities. The problem is that, although the system is essentially simple, it is not scalable to handle larger groups of people efficiently. If there are several tourist buses at one time, the process degenerates into a mad scramble for position and privilege. Tourists on buses are insulated from the melee, for the most part, but with the heat, noise, smells and confusion, crossing is not pleasant for anyone. It does make a good story for your next cocktail party, however.

An early start did help, as we arrived in Taybeh (pronounced "Tai-beh") in time for the beginning of the festivities. The idea of an Oktoberfest in a small, Palestinian village may seem strange, but it works very well for Taybeh. The small town is home to the only beer brewery in Palestine (Christians can drink alcohol, for the most part), and Taybeh Beer is the festival's primary, but not sole, sponsor. Every year has seen the festival grow, and this year the traditional venue has reach the bursting point. Evenings are given over to rock bands and similar entertainment, and the small, outdoor court holding both stage and audience offers standing-room only—if you stand on one foot. Plastic chairs are at a premium, and are scattered as the crowd sees fit. The crowding seems to be part of the charm for the young, but I understand that plans are in place to move into the surrounding streets and expand the venue dramatically for 2011.

I'm not too sure that expansion is a good idea. The festival is becoming too large for Taybeh and will inevitably attract the wrong kind of attention. I understand they are already having problems with vandals and unruly behavior. This is to be expected because of the alcohol and presence of a lot of young persons. The festival is a bright and solitary spot on the social calendar so it draws many from surrounding villages.

There was a strong police presence from the PA but the force, and the organizer, seems to have been surprised by the turnout. Far better planning is necessary for future events, along with parking plans, directional signs, better lighting, segregated food stands, spreading craft sellers around the area, and even more police presence. Did I mention PARKING PLANS?

It's an international party, with everything from a Karate demonstration to a Sri Lankan cultural dance. High points included the claimed first Palestinian rock-rap group, a doubtful premier achievement in my view, and a complete Taybeh wedding celebration, which N. says was truly excellent. (I fortunately missed it by enjoying a cigar and a Taybeh beer under T.'s wonderful fig tree. I've had enough of weddings for this year.) Throw in local crafts and produce booths (olives, oil, spices, etc.) and you can sense that it's quite a two-day party. You can even buy a T-shirt.

People come from all over to this event, and not just from Palestine; many European countries provided tourists on the first day, and several consulates with representatives to the Palestine National Authority were also present, along with their security contingents. Even the U.S. consul was present with American families and a line of black SUVs. (Are these things available in any other color?)

T. and his wife, E. use the event for a massive open house for hundreds of friends and locals. He provides an enormous amount of food and drink (lots of Taybeh beer, of course), and everyone takes the opportunity to see what they have done to their house and grounds recently. We were happy to participate and help direct a tour or two.

For me, it's a grand opportunity to sink into a soft chair, clasp a good cigar, sip a drink, commune with the ample and gentle nature all around me, and thank the fig tree above me for its shade. T. has invested in gardens and fruit trees which provide great beauty and bounty, and the gentle but persistent Taybeh breeze brushes your cheek like God's breath. This must be close to heaven; no wonder they call it the Holy Land.

A Trip to Kanzaman

Welcome to Once Upon a Time.

N., S. and I made a late evening excursion by taxi to the Jordan tourist and craft center called Kanzaman, Arabic for "A time in the past", or, as S. put it a bit romantically: "Once upon a time". This is a complex of craft shops and a large buffet restaurant, popular with tourist groups, but set in what seemed to be the end of nowhere. At night, It's like an oasis in the middle of the ocean. It is near several villages, but as street lighting is not common outside the city proper, it can be pretty dark while getting there. We experience so much light-pollution in the U.S. cities, true rural blackness is intimidating.

The taxi ride was worth the five dinars. Kanzaman is south of Amman, off the airport road, and for us about a twenty-minute journey. Jordan highways are generally good-to-excellent, but once you leave them for less populated areas they tend to follow the natural grade, and all bets are off. Lane markings on these secondary roads have faded away long ago, with drivers free to use whatever part of the road they feel opportune. It's rather like Italy on steroids. Underpasses are particularly thrilling.

For the most part, taxi drivers are skilled and cheerful souls who keep up a friendly chatter while answering cell phones, honking at anything that doesn't move to their liking, and threading their car through the intense, crazy traffic. To call their driving aggressive is to make a HUGE understatement. I usually sat in the front, called the death seat, and spent much of each journey fighting the seat belt and rediscovering my faith.

Kanzaman was created from stables sturdily built in stone, and Jordan did a good job in accommodating and integrating a number of craft shops and souvenir stores with the large restaurant. Someone put some money and thought into the place. Items offered, particularly local craft items, were up-market in quality. Prices were reasonable-to-outright cheap. Kanzaman is not your usual souvenir stop for your tourist bus.

There is an in-house bakery, a very large dining hall and an equally-large, comfortable open-air lounge covered with billowing, brightly-colored panels (think "tent", you're supposed to). Perhaps because it was the end of the summer season, selections were a little thin on the ground. No alcoholic drinks are offered, of course. Also, avoid the cranberry juice as it's a disappointment and overpriced. Stick with the teas. By all means order the flat bread with zata herbs/spices and white cheese; hot from the oven, it's delicious.

If you take a bus tour in Amman you may well end up at Kanzaman for a meal. The food seems okay and the décor superior to most of the large buffet-style tourist stops. Every shop seems either up or down some stairs and the natural stone floor and steps can be a little awkward to navigate, so if walking is a challenge, hold on to someone. It's clean, staff seems trained, and if you're in the market for a little silver trinket, stop by and see Samer the silversmith at his little shop where hand-made jewelry is priced by the gram. Some interesting things can start around $15. Don't forget to bargain.

The Citadel of Ajloun

It's a fixer-upper with a great view.

We invested the middle of the day to a trip to the north of Jordan to visit the city and fortress of Ajloun. This is a well-resurrected Islamic castle built during the Crusader period at the orders of Saladin. While N. and I have visited most of the southern touristy sites over the decades, for some reason we skipped the north of Jordan until this year. This was wrong on our part, for the countryside is quite impressive, mountainous and scenic. It also holds the second-largest city in Jordan, Irbid, a university town.

I won't give the history of Ajloun here—Wikipedia and the Jordan tourist agency sites do fairly well in describing the background of the Islamic castle's development. As any threat from the great Crusader castle at Karak disappeared with its fall to the Ayyubids only two years after Ajloun's construction, the fortress never had a chance to fight back the Crusaders, its apparent original purpose. It did, however, suffer slings and arrows through the centuries in internecine fighting, and was captured and severely damaged by the Mongols. It had mostly an administrative function in latter centuries. Two earthquakes (in early nineteenth and twentieth centuries) didn't help.

I was surprised at how little I could find on this pre-Islamic history of the fortress and the important, strategic mountain it sits upon. While not talked about much, it was earlier a Roman construct and the site of a Byzantine church, the latter revealed through recent excavations, but not mentioned much officially. History has so much baggage in this region that you can pretty much select from and interpret events as they suit your previous convictions. A cursory inspection provides evidence of several reconstructions and a varying quality of stone work.

Scampering about the ruins makes a great afternoon—there are a lot of nooks and crannies to investigate—and we had exceptional weather for it. Jordan has done a good job in making this a comfortable tourist site, and an excellent work of reconstruction where necessary. We were a bit off season, but there were a number of groups passing through and the castle was well staffed with guides and security. A. tells me that they once picnicked on the castle grounds, but this is no longer allowed.

One area where Jordan could put additional effort: directional signs to the castle. It's a little unfair for me to mention this, as they have done a great deal already in basic highway signage, but even Jordan residents get lost trying to find their way to the citadel. Advice: get good directions.

For those on a pilgrimage, there is a Catholic school, church and shrine on the route to Ajloun where the Virgin Mary is said to have performed several miracles in recent years. One miracle was said to involve the cure of cancer for a Moslem woman, which, in a small sense, illustrates the religious tolerance evident in this country.

The roadsides are packed with vegetable stands, pottery factories, bakeries and every imaginable shop. On the way back, we stopped at one of the villages and bought some fresh goat-milk lebaney, a yogurt-based product that I dearly, dearly love, some bread from the local bakery as it came out of the oven, and some of the local white cheese (the latter must be soaked overnight in water as it comes naturally with a degree of salt that will still your heart). It made a great snack as we drove back into Amman as dusk fell.

Dust in the wind, with apologies to Kansas

The City is out there, somewhere.

This may not be Kansas, Dorothy, but you could forgive some confusion two days ago when Amman was struck by an unusual and surprising dust storm in the late afternoon. Residents could not remember a similar phenomenon at this time of the year. I was reminded of the terrible dust storms of the 1940s and running for storm cellars; it was not pleasant.

The day had been strange from the start. It rarely rains in Amman during September, and yet we awoke to on-and-off sprinkles that continued through the early afternoon. Then, in a sudden rush, we had strong winds, with bent trees and debris in the air. "Weather change" was murmured, and there were expectations of unusual events. Lightning was observed, without accompanying thunder.

As we prepared to leave for the wedding party, thought to be held in open air, there was concerns the evening would be spoiled by rain or strong winds; the reality was even stranger.

As we departed, a dense dust cloud settled over Amman; visibility dropped to less than a hundred meters, and it became deathly still. Lights were quickly lost in the amber gloom, and in a city of several million, our auto traveled in its own little pool of light; we were all individuals, now, the dust had removed our sense of community. It became difficult to breath.

Families met at one of the better hotels to organize for the trip on to the wedding party. By the time we were ready to depart, conditions had improved, a moderate wind had reappeared, and by midnight, the dust had settled and the moon could be again clearly seen. The next morning, other than with everything having a coat of grit, the dust storm was a memory.

Across the Bridge to Jordan

It's not the Allenby, but nearby in Jericho; a bridge over a very dry wadi.

Crossing the Jordan River via the Allenby Bridge is much easier than it used to be. I can recall being poled through barbed-wire gates amidst a mass of humanity, animals, food stuffs, bags and luggage, and anything else the authorities would allow to transit. There was no air conditioning, no nice terminal building, and, certainly, no posters welcoming you, one direction or the other. One year I remember we had to walk across the rickety bridge into Jordan carrying our own luggage like refugees. The old, crowded and un-conditioned buses were rudimentary, to say the least.

That experience seems to be firmly in the past. While there is still a small dose of arrogance involved on the Israeli side, procedures and administration, especially for foreigners, is immeasurably better. The similarity to an airport is stretching it a bit, but most of the trappings are there: glassed-in passport controls, luggage handlers and carts, taxi and bus zones, currency exchange, customs officials, and signs with best wishes for a speedy and pleasant trip. On the Jordan side, it's even simpler and much friendlier. There's even a free-tax shop! We didn't even get off the bus.

The Allenby used to be the only land route between Israel and Jordan; now there are three crossing points, one to the north and one at Aqaba on the Red Sea. The Allenby crossing, named after a British officer, is still heavily militarized on the Israeli side, with multiple check posts and tedious vehicle, passport and visa procedures—particularly for the Palestinians. Foreigners are treated somewhat differently, though only marginally. The two groups—Palestinians and those with foreign passports—are segregated at the bridge and don't meet up again until the Jordan side.

Both governments recognize this as a money-making enterprise, a common denominator for most Palestinians dealing with governments, even their own. Israeli exit fees for a foreigner amount to over 200 NIS, and you should be certain keep some shekels, as the exchange rate at the Bridge is simple usury. Then there are mandatory bus fees and luggage handling charges exacted in dinars. Also, don't attempt to enter Jordan from Israel via the Allenby as a foreigner without a Jordanian visa—you'll be turned back at one of the Israeli check points.

The border has been peaceful for generations now, and there are few visible reminders of the war fought across this river in 1973. There used to be a few burned-out armored vehicles on the Jordan side where there was a spirited defense of territory, but they've either been removed or have fallen into history. As a sign of how relations are now between the two countries, there is a freeway being built between Jerusalem and Amman. A freeway! How Western can you get? Already, cars with Jordanian license plates are already visible in Israel.

Jordan is an enlightened country and an example of how an Arab country can cope—and thrive—with peace and religious minorities. While it is an absolute monarchy, there is a balance between parliamentary rule of law and royal dictates. In a sense, the King provides the moral compass while the government worries about macro and micro management. Make no mistake, though, the King is the power in Jordan.

Christians, amounting to only about three percent of the population, have a vibrant public life and churches are common. No one seems to be put-upon or suffer discrimination. Palestinians are well represented in government and ministries. Such accord is not only extraordinary in the Mid-East; it seems to be increasingly uncommon in Europe or even, with its ultra-conservative political insurgency, America. I don't want to be a Pollyanna, but it has been thirty years since I was in Jordan, and I am much impressed with its accomplishments in becoming a modern, civil and progressive country.