Jordan Trip Report- Wrapping things up
It’s an early start to catch our flight but we still manage a quick breakfast at The Abbasi. The Abbasi is probably my favourite place (hotel, motel, hostel) I’ve ever stayed in. It’s a little shabby in places but it is such an interesting building and the people there are not at all cliquey. The common room is filled with old books, carpets, instruments and weapons. You felt like the staff actually cared whether you made it through the night. There was a free computer to use whenever you wanted. Not forgetting, of course, the cheap tours to most big spots, which saved us a fortune.
Hani (a driver we had met on our return from Musa) delivers his promise of a cheap taxi to the airport and we’re there in little under an hour. He needs to break a note to give us our change so we stop at the cafeteria. He tells me to go in and break it because they staff will be more likely to do it if a woman asks. Sure enough, once they understood what I wanted, the guys there nearly did themselves an injury getting the notes. We waved Hani off and trudged into the airport. It was too early for much to be open but Amman airport has a reasonable amount of shops to keep you occupied.
We’re some distance from the BMI desk when, bizarrely, the guy at the desk there yells “Garvey?”. “Yes?”, I yell back from ridiculously far away, trying to weave through those godforsaken bollards. (I’m guessing we were one of the last to check in and he took a lucky guess). We go through security twice- one general and one for the particular gate we’re going to. Each time I forget that women are searched separately and have to be pointed towards the cordoned-off area to the side where a bored looking burka-clad woman with her shoes off frisks me.
The flight is enjoyable, despite getting decked by a falling baby basinette and spilling the most orange juice anyone has ever spilled on another person on the unfortunate man next to me. He’s very good-natured about the whole thing and we fall into conversation. He’s taking his wife, daughter and grand-daughter to visit his engineer and doctor sons in America for 4 months. When he hears I’m Irish, he says: “I went to Leeds once. That’s close, right?” “Eh…kind of. I mean, it’s in England. But it’s closer than Jordan!” After about half an hour he turns to me and says: “Riverdance”. Looking proud, he continues “I like Riverdance”. An hour later he adds “Riverdance and Irish coffee”.