As an Arab travels, as a bird flies....

A total of 20 hours travel over the course of two days, covering no more than 200km. To share some time with our dear friend, Sarah Chynoweth (we call her "B" to avoid confusion), there is little we wouldn't do. Equivalent time spent en route could deliver us to Beijing, Seattle, or Sydney. In exchange for such a block of time we decided to spend our weekend travelling as the Arabs do, an analogy for as the birds fly. I say this because while the map presents a clear path, it was infinitely longer than it appeared to be. The Arabs in this part of the world are burdened with bad roads, suspicious border guards, road blocks that were not there the day before, and borders opening and closing at random. Hurry up and wait, hurry up and waiting, hurry up and wait. A truly direct path from Be'er Sheba to Amman and back again clearly does not exist. Now we know....

We started our journey at 6 am on Friday, tired from a night of low flying helicopters and booms in the night. Such as it is sometimes here 18 miles east of Gaza City. During our bedtime ritual of NPR we learned that the Palestinian Authority disbanded its government in Gaza. Hmmmmm, we thought. Wonder what the West Bank will be like tomorrow? I have to be honest here and say that during the course of that night was the first and only time since moving here I have tasted fear in my mouth. Things quieted down by 4 am and Jed and I went back to sleep. Adam, of course, slept through the entire thing. Here he is, smiling, on the Jordanian side of the border. Clearly, he had a good night sleep behind him!


The day was much longer and way more expensive than we anticipated. Suffice it to say that on days when our company includes eight, nervous Japanese tourists, we feel like we could've planned our day a bit more adventurously (and probably mapped a cheaper route, as well). We arrived in Amman after too much time spent at the border watching the diplomats blow through the lines around 5 in the afternoon. Seriously, no more than 200km. Here is the view of Amman from our hotel, downtown.


After a luxurious bath on our swanky hotel room (thanks Mom and Sam!) we rang up B and headed out for dinner. Adam had been to Amman before and recommended a picturesque Lebanese restaurant: Fakrlel-Din. We dined on goat, chicken (yes, I am back on the meat again) and of course humus, olives, and red wine from Mount Nebo. Here is a picture of the three of us.



"B" is in Amman with The Women's Commission for Refugee Women and Children. She is conducting an assessment of the almost 1 million Iraqi refugees struggling to survive there. It is being characterized as one of the current most dangerous refugee settings due to the total absence of services there. As you can imagine, the majority of our time spent together was spent talking about her work in Jordan, COHI's work here, and Adam's brilliance at school. She is doing amazing things, and is a true leader in her field these days. Its marvelous to see her shinning while ensuring women are being addressed in Iraq, and elsewhere. I am honored to call her my friend. To learn more about what B is seeing, visit: www.womenscommission.org/fromthefield/jordan/061507.php.

Mid-day on Saturday (not even 24 hours after our arrival in Amman) we started our journey back to the border. This time we were taking our lives into our own hands, the bull by the horns, as they say, and planned to travel by buses and local taxis. Little did we know, we were about to miss the first border crossing by 20 minutes (it closed early) and the fun would really begin. Lots of time spent, and money as well, trying to find a way to get across the border and a taxi to take us there. And that was just the beginning of another 11 hour day!

Finally across the border (four hours later) we waited for Shabbat to end and the buses to start running again. After an over-priced taxi to Jerusalem, we decided to pass the reamaing three hours in a Georgian restaurant. Amazingly good food, and some cool bottles and flags, too. Adam studied, I read a "Choose Your Own Adventure" book about Tibet with 22 different endings, and we longingly watched the sky for the first three stars to appear and for Shabbat to end.

One more long bus ride home, and we arrived safe and sound to be showered with kissed by our canine companion. Upon arrival we found a few nervous messages from friends and family members about the breaking news in Gaza. We made some quick phone calls before we collapsed, to reassure everyone that we are well, and things are much calmer than the news is making it out to be. Quiet night, sweet dreams.

A long but pleasant journey to a city no further than the distance between Boston and Hartford. Twenty hours. Incredible. Whenever I forget that I live in a war zone, I will just hit the long road to Amman and travel like the Arabs do: slowly, as the recipient of a great deal of suspicion, yet smiling and enjoying the ride.