Amman to Damascus

Amman, Jordan to Damascus, Syria

The last day in Amman I spent at Darat al-Funun, www.daratalfunun.org an arts center run by the Khaled Shoman Foundation. Several early 20th-century houses set in landscaped gardens cascade down a hillside, the complex includes galleries with the works of contemporary artists, an art library where I spent a contented hour, workshops, and at the bottom of the hill, an old Byzantine church with columns. At the top is a lovely outdoor cafe set in a peaceful shady courtyard. (T.E. Lawrence penned part of Seven Pillars of Wisdom in one of the houses.)

From there I got thoroughly lost en route to Wild Jordan. Amman is not huge but being built on hills, its streets wind round and round and can be quite complicated to navigate, especially when you are not armed with a proper map, and taxi drivers do not know street names. In the Middle East street names change frequently, so old people know the names of the streets from 50 years ago but not today, and young people have no idea of the old names. I tried several times to explain to taxi drivers where I wanted to go - I tried in Arabic and English, several otherwise innocent passers-by got involved, but I eventually thought it best to set off on foot before we tied up the whole of downtown traffic.

 

The Tribes of Ma’an

Ma’an, Jordan

Today we left Amman fortified with Turkish coffee and manakish - flatbread with thyme and sesame seeds or with cheese, and toasted in a pizza-style oven in front of you, and started off on the drive south to Ma’an, a historic town central to Jordan’s history. It has always been on the pilgrimage route and even today, the city lies on the Desert Highway, Jordan’s north-south highway that cuts through the badia (stony desert steppe) like a die.

After driving round a bit we came to old Ma’an in the form of half stone-built, half mud-brick ruins, surrounded by date plams and tamarisk. The ruins were hard to date for the layperson but had clearly been re-built at different periods; one round tower, one square tower, different size stone, etc. and the denizens had incorporated the ruins into their housing. There was nary a plaque or a signpost in sight, nothing in the guidebook, and my guide had never been there before.

Old Ma'an

We set off to find someone who could tell us about falling-down Ma'an, stopping at a 16th century Ottoman-era renovated khan to talk to the local Dept of Antiquities, but they could not tell us anything about 14th century Ma'an. We then got somewhat distracted by the shops which were old-fashioned in a way that reminded me of the Old American West - perhaps not so far off the mark in these rebellious parts....... Moawia bought a sheepskin and was a fraction away from possessing several Bedouin flatweave rugs. For my part I almost came away with a metre long coffee-bean roasting spoon. I came to my senses just in time.

The Castle of Ravens

Amman to Karak, Jordan

I am staying at the Hisham hotel in Amman. It is centrally located near the 3rd circle, is clean and well maintained and the management and staff are exceedingly pleasant and helpful - it is apparently frequented by UN people, journalists, writers and the like. The only downside as far as I am concerned is the food. Breakfast consisted of ‘air bread’, triangles of cream cheese, packets of jam and Nescafe. I don’t think there was a vitamin in the entire package. It would be undoubtedly cheaper, tastier and certainly healthier if they were to offer flat Arabic bread, labneh (yoghurt), olives, boiled eggs, local cheese and jam. Just a suggestion for the new owners......

And now, picking up from Bosra where we left Ibn B............

The Jordan Valley’s tombs

Amman and the Jordan Valley, Jordan

I am not sure what Ibn Battuta did about changes of clothing. Much of the clothing in my suitcase is linen, quite lovely and not remotely suitable for temperatures of -5 degrees Celsius which has been the the case in much of Syria in the last few days when the sun drops. (It is not much warmer in Amman.) It snowed in Palmyra, Jebel Ansariye and the hills around the capital. When I re-started the trip in Cairo - after divigating to Uzbekistan you will recall - it was 38 degrees Celsius and humid, and linen was perfect.

The beautiful linen wardrobe designed for me by Dabiki, www.dabiki.com a soon-to-be-launched label of lightweight linen and silk clothing for the tropics.

No longer. I was so cold one day that Khaled bought me a jacket in the souk after I had told him I was going to get a Bedouin jacket - they are made of cotton lined with wool - but wooly wool, straight from the sheep’s back.... So now I am warm but the wool of the jacket sticks to the fleece making me look like a shaggy dog when I take the jacket off. This is fine for the ‘local caff’, it is not fine for meetings with officials. It already seems as if I have been wearing the same two pairs of jeans, T-shirts, sweater and fleece for the last two months so the gathering wool bit is not making me feel better. When I next move the suitcase the clothes are going in the trash, I cannot bear to look at them any more and besides you can only wash things so many times.

And so back to the travels and yet another instance of 21st century politics making the same journey today if not impossible - difficult and potentially crippling.