Jordan

I was terrified before I got on the plane. I am ashamed to say (and I blame the media in part) but the look of Middle Eastern men is so so scary. That, and every single man appeared to have about 30 kgs of luggage each. What the hell was in those bags? So I was pretty nervous. I figured if the plane didn't blow up (dreadful thoughts, I know), then it would sink into the ocean due to overloading. Obviously, neither of these things happened.

By the time I got to Jordan I was dying for a shower and a sleep. Instead, I got stuck at a service desk having a mini-domestic with a very tall, dark eyed man about my transfer. My brilliantly inefficient travel agent had failed to sort out the transfer properly, so I would have to pay or fly on to Cairo - estimated arrival time midnight. Yeah right.

Anyway, I was feeling pretty rattled after the little fight, and when I got to the immigration desk the man was like "Why are you not smiling? You made it to Jordan. You must be happy. Smile". That seems fine on paper, but everything sounds like an order over there. After sighting a UN peace keeping truck on the tarmac, I was not going to mess around with anyone official, so I put on what I can only imagine must have been a sickly grin. Then, because my handwriting is so dreadful, he started teasing me about having 5 children. He was trying to be nice, but I was getting so flustered, and asked if I needed to fill it out again. No - he could tell I wasn't married. Ok then. So I darted off grinning madly as he ordered me to "Smile!".

The smile was starting to wear thin by the time I got to the hotel, but there was just the nicest Concierge there. Jordanian people really are lovely, but the strain of the situation was starting to take its toll. I kept on with my god-awful smile (I got an upgrade for my efforts) and when I got to my room, turned on CNN and found out Van Nguyen had been executed (I can't believe it, by the way.) I was almost tipped over the edge. Then - of all things - The Sound of Music came on. Ordinarily this is the type of thing to send me off to sleep. Or at least hum. Oh no. I started imagining that my luggage (kindly sent on by the airline to Cairo so I had no toiletries, clothes etc at the hotel) was now stuffed with illicit substances, and that upon arrival I would be arrested and stoned to death in a public square. Poor Phuong bore the brunt of my paranoia with a rather tear soaked telephone call (WHERE were my parents - although in hindsight, better not to have worried them with my wild imagination at that particular point).

I am also ashamed to admit that I was too scared to go outside to find food. So it was a rather miserable evening, with only Julie Andrews and my growling stomach for company. Insomnia and my imagination kept me awake, so I listened to the prayer channel (you really have no choice in the matter - everything else is stopped for prayer on cable) and watched the sun rise over the desert, which was spectacular. It sounds boring, but it was amazing. I can't wait for more sunrises on the trip!