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A week in the Middle East
By
James Norton
| Staff writer of The Christian Science Monitor
Editor's note: The Monitor's Middle East editor James Norton shares his observations during a one-week tour of Jordan and Israel.
1-31-03
The Ruins of Jerash
Cameron and I meet for breakfast at the hotel, before heading off to the ancient ruined city of Jerash, one of Jordan's most popular tourist attractions.
Known in Roman times as Gerasa, the city once boasted 15,000 inhabitants and thrived from 333 BC until the beginning of the 3rd century AD.
Nabil is busy, so Cameron and I take a bus up to the ruins. Instead of Nabil's usual fee of 25 Jordanian dinars (about $35), we each pay 375 fils - about 50 cents. The discrepancy between the tourist and local economies becomes jaw-droppingly clear, and I begin to understand why locals can rarely afford any of the food and services made so readily available to Western travelers like myself.
The bus's final destination is the modern city of Jerash, where the local people who overwhemingly fill it are headed. While it lacks the privacy and comfort of Nabil's splendid car, the ride is is relatively smooth, and it drops us off within a minute's walk of Hadrian's arch, a massive stone gate erected in 129 AD to commemorate the visit of the emperor.
The ruins are spectacular. We walk along a long stone road, flanked by massive corinthian columns and rutted by the passage of ancient chariots. Chipped mosaics and intricate stonework attest to an imperial reach that once stretched from Rome to the Near East; it's easy to imagine the empty streets flooded with merchants and citizens.
Arches and crumbling stone gates sprout tufts of green and brown vegetation as nature slowly erases the massive traces of an obsolete empire.
Few tourists interrupt our wanderings as we explore the remnants of temples and plazas. Jerash is largely empty of foreign visitors, and the few postcard hawkers we encounter are dispirited, lobbing one or two desultory pitches before retreating. The shadow of war has made Jordan unpopular among tourists. It's difficult to know precisely how many families typically earn a living at the ruins when they are flush with Western visitors, but few could be doing so today.
Still, the trip is awe-inspiring, even if it seems to me that the site's many holes and tufts of tall grass would be perfect hiding hiding places of venomous, journalist-biting serpents. Cameron skillfully heightens my tension level by referring to a passing police vehicle as "the local snake patrol."
The Taxicabs of Amman
The simple act of cabbing it in Amman can be an eye-opening experience. Many taxis play (or blast) Radio Sawa, the US-sponsored station that mixes Western pop hits with America-friendly news bulletins relevant to the Arab world. There is something distinctly surreal about listening to Bobby McFerrin croon "Don't Worry, Be Happy" while watching people herd goats.
The road back to Amman from Jerash is a cornucopia of sights that might look ordinary to Jordanians, but are a far cry from a flat Midwestern landscape. A boy gathers firewood on a steep, scrub-covered hill. Little caves - hollowed out, looking eerily like tombs - stare down from the rising landscape. A single stooped man in a red and white keffiyeh walks the land with his cane. Everywhere, people are out on the land - hawking small bananas, watching over roadside pottery stands, pacing through fields of construction-related debris, or just sitting by the side of the road, killing time or hoping for a lift.
Back on the streets of Amman, ambiguity about America (and Americans) is a distinct theme. One cabbie talks happily about how his brother moved to Boston to work as a Pizza Hut manager, saying that he himself hopes to move to the US in order to learn "perfect" English. But without qualification, he adds that he won't leave Jordan - he loves his parents too much. Besides, he says, his work - which includes a graveyard room service gig at the Intercontinental Hotel - is too good to drop.
Another cabbie slips in a tape with "The Gambler" on it after Cameron and I hop into the car. The beefy, bearded man stares meaningfully at Cameron for a moment before asking: "Do you know who this is? It's Kenny..."
"...Rogers," I supply.
"Yes, Kenny Rogers!" During another pop song, he sings along, passionately addressing the "I love you" chorus to Cameron, who somehow fails to respond in kind.
But at the end of the trip, he charges us 2 Jordanian dinars, which is double the typical fare. If he'd truly loved Cameron, he would've cut us a deal.
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