Aiding and Abetting Smuggling
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Irbid,
Jordan
Thursday, March 2, 2006
The Jordan border was a bit of an adrenalin rush. Before we got there, the driver stopped at a type of store that didn't have anything on its shelves. A clerk brought some black bags out of the back room. These were cartons of cigarettes. He stuffed five bags under the driver's and passenger's seats. We then drove to the border, and we checked out of Syria with ease.
As we got into Jordan, it was clear that we were entering a different country. The roads were better. The cops wore flak jackets and new looking uniforms. They carried American weapons. First off, the undercarriage of our car was searched by a man in a mechanic's hole. We waited for half an hour. Then we got out of the car and were patted down. Then we got back in and drove a few meters, and our car was searched. The searchers searched everywhere. But the cigarettes must have gone up in smoke, for they were no where to be found! I suppose my silence would be considered criminal in a court of law, but I had paid for my ride and I wanted to get to where I was going.* Later I found out that four men were found in Jordan in suspicious circumstances with explosives. So the authorities were not being too careful.
Getting my Jordanian visa took a few moments. I had to go to buy a visa from a little office where an officer was watching an football match from the English Premier league. He gave me my stamps, although I would have to change money to buy them. Instead of letting me go to a money changer immediately, he said that the changer was out and I sat in his office for a few minutes, while he quizzed me of my intentions in Jordan. The whole thing seemed casual enough, starting off with my favourite European football club (FC Bayern Muenchen) but then half dozen questions about my itinerary and such were a bit pointed. After he seemed satisfied, apparently the money changer had came back in. I could go to change some dollars into dinars (the local currency), and after paying for the visa (10 dinars = 15 USD) I was welcome in the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan (the offical name of the country. Hashemite is Islamically significant).
The smuggler took me as far as Ramtha. That city of 100 000 that thrives on cigarette smuggling from Syria. Apparently it was not a good place to stay, and a few hours earlier, I had scoured my guidebook and discovered Irbid, population 1/2 million, might be a good place. How bizarre to be going to a city that to me, three hours ago, was non existant. Even more bizarre to be staying there. I have been skimping on my homework. Tsk Tsk.
Oh boy but what fun I had entering a new country well after dark! Honestly I had a blast - these moments which once made me nervous and still would unduely stress the uninitiated traveller have become a fantastic adrenalyn rush.
I got another car in Ramtha for about 7 bucks but the driver did no better than getting me to the fringe of the city. Although earlier he said he knew where I wanted to go, (the smuggler spoke english and would have seemed to help me out there) this driver actually didn't. He lied to get my business.
My basic arabic helped me figure out that this taxi driver was useless. He asked me something like "sabo isma sharia" (what's the name of the street) a zillion times, after I had told him as many times, after he had told the smuggler that he knew exactly where I wanted to go. Then my light went on and I realised that he didn't know the street that the hotel was on. After a few other names, it seemed clear that he knew none of the main streets in Irbid. There was no longer any natural light, but I gave him directions (!) based on my pure instinct. He took me more or less to a nearly navigable point (my luck is good but not perfect) before he dropped me off.
I found a bus to a street mentioned in the somewhat incorrect (as I would later discover) guidebook minimap. This bus had its own tout whose job it was to get people onto the bus. He kept asking me "do you speak english" and "sprechen sie deutsch." The latter he asked about a dozen times, once every thirty seconds. The creature spoke nothing of the German language but that phrase. like out of a national lampoon movie or something!
It was so absurd to hear him repeat the question over and over, and he didn't seem to understand even my response to it. The first few times I said "ja" and then I realised he wasn't telling me anything else. Then I said a few other things and he was as blank as a fresh slate. I was looking rather intently at the guide's map. He took it from me to look at it, but from the way he was holding it, he couldn't figure out where we were. He did realise that I was probably lost.
He obviously thought something was funny about all this too. My sense of Arabic vocabulary told me that this guy was making jokes to the other passengers. They giggled a bit. The gist of his one liners was 'why is this tourist taking a bus. He doesn't know his way around, so he should be taking a taxi!' I could tell the tout wasn't mean in making them jokes. Yet the irony was brilliant.
I got off the bus near the proper street and an English speaking Jordanian pointed me finally in the right direction. He confirmed what I figured about the jokes and I filled him in on the irony, but he didn't see the comic genius of the situation. Through all this, I was a wee bit concerned, but I kept reminding myself how much fun this all was. The experience was far better than being lost in Adana, Turkey. Probably the biggest difference, the one that made this period of disorientation far more tolerable, was that it was not raining like God was flooding the world again.
By about 9 pm, I saw a sign for my hotel. Moments later I had a comfortable bed in the 33rd country I have visited.
*Of course some would say that by helping criminals, you never get to where you want to go... I render no judgement.
