In time at about 5:00a.m. muezzin called to prayer. Well, not the muezzin himself, it’s been an audio tape, a grinding one. It’s message got spread by an old raspy megaphone while being accompanied by some yowling dogs. I was fully awaken after such a prayer call within minutes and decided to leave Amman on the same day.
I arrived only a day before. From Damascus’ Baramke bus station I headed south to make it to Jordan’s capital Amman. When arriving the border you’ll get your postage stamp like visa more or less quickly, but only in exchange of some Jordan Dinars (JD), not US$. The immigration officer works more or less efficient, if waiting takes too long try the counter for diplomatic passports ;-) Actually everything was clear and my bus could have started to finish the rest of the way, if there wouldn’t have been Palestinians on board. Those poor Palestinians experienced something we Germans only know as GDR-like border crossing procedure. Of course their baggage got a in depth double check while the male travellers had to report to a separate office to get a physical inspection. That’s how 2 hours can be inflated to become at least 6 hours. After everything was ok our bus could continue its travel; Jordans got a demerit point as being hostile to fellow countrymen isn’t fun.

When arriving in Amman I missed that typical homelike feeling I had when I visited f.e. Damascus. City of Amman is spread over seven hills and is no architectural gem at all; all buildings are hopelessly nested. Solely King Abdullah mosque architecturally mixes up the townscape and its mash-up way of construction. Undoubtedly Amman appears much more modern. Though I prefer to enjoy a Sharwarma the traditional way, which means spicy and rolled in Arabian flat bread. Shawarma is not slightly salted chicken served in a US-American cake-like bread.
Amman’s value for money in things like accomodation isn’t the best around. While in Syria for a hotel stay I had to pay only 5 Euro a night, Amman-based hotels wanted the double. The room itself was nothing more than a lousy mould stained chamber reminding me of communist times and GDR, as it’s been quite a while I didn’t spend sleeping on a foam plastic mattress. Amman and I didn’t fall in love that evening, that’s why I was thinking about taking the first bus to Petra.

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Date: Apr 9th, 2007 · Comment RSS · Tags: Jordan