Customs people. Passport people. Border crossing people.
All of them at the Sheikh Hussain border crossing, and a sea of humanity who waited in lines with us to move into Jordan. I would love to have taken a photo of the border crossing, but I would have been thrown in jail if I had. Photography is illegal there.
Gila had been through all this before, and had the procedure completely dialed. The unknowns in the equation would be the speed with which we would move and the number of people ahead of us. Our main jobs would be to quickly go to the Israeli passport control, go back to the bus, pick up our own luggage (and it had to be our own; we couldn't take someone else's for them) and then go through the next stage of the border crossing.
"It can take anywhere from a half hour to three hours, depending on the traffic in front of us," she'd warned. "If we can get to the border crossing early, we can aim to be the first in line."
All of this took place as voices around us shouted in Arabic and a bit of Hebrew thrown in.
Like the good shepherd she is, Gila kept us rounded up and moving in the right direction. She was quite amazing as she took charge in the most efficient way. We went through Israeli passport control, waited as Gila got our Jordanian visas then picked up our luggage and marched onward across the border into Jordan.
There the process was repeated as we went through Jordanian passport control, passed through the duty-free store (what a coincidence) and wandered out to where our Israel bus had crossed to the between-land. We had to pick up our luggage once again, walk across to the Jordanian bus area and be checked in yet again. Then it was onto the bus, where we met our Jordanian guide, Zac.
Jordan is a land of contrasts, which became apparently as soon as we pulled away from the border station.
Trash of all sorts littered the highways. The land was dry, barren, spotted with houses of all sorts along the way--from hovels to elegant limestone almost-mansions, side-by-side.
Jerash would be our destination for lunch and afterward an exploration of its principal feature.
Never heard of Jerash? Neither had we, but we'll never forget it. We thought Beit She'an was pretty amazing. Jerash was even more so.
A city about 30 miles north of Jordan's capital city, Amman, it is home to an astounding set of ruins set in the middle of rolling hills, the city surrounding them. But first we were treated to an astounding lunch at the Lebanese House. We feasted on salads, hummus, baba ganoush, fresh pita bread and an entree of mixed grill (lamb kebab in a lovely tomato sauce) topped off with a delicious, light pudding. Gila had told us that as scrumptious as the Israeli food had been, Jordanian cuisine would surpass it. If this meal was any example, she was on-target yet again.
After scarfing up everything on our plates, we waddled back to the bus for the short trip downhill through Jerash to the ruins that are its claim-to-fame. As we walked through the visitor center/marketplace, this sight greeted us:
But this was only the beginning, and the ruins of Jerash deserve their own post. Stay tuned.
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