The Writer is Out There.

Yes, I know I'm 3 weeks out of date. And I'm not apologising. Provided there are open internet places in Tel Aviv during Memorial Day and Independance Day (great timing as usual, huh?) I'll update over the next few days. Otherwise, I'll have to hope that the kibbutz has speedy internet I can access.

 For now – Petra, is, well, Petra! Dana's much better when the weather's good, though I kinda liked the familiar 'Wales Holiday' feel of the bad day). Wadi Rum is INCREDIBLE, for a thousand reasons you'll know soon enough. And I went diving today. It was weird. Very weird. But also very very cool. I touched a turtle.

It's 36* I need a shower. See you once I've crossed the border. 

How long do you have to be in a place, how far beyond your arrival point do you have to go, or what do you have to do, before you can say you've really been there?

Thoughts, anyone?

7th-9th

Irbid, the base for Northern explorations, which I explored in its own right – something most don't do, apparently – was I suppose, your average Middle Eastern city; the 2nd largest in Jordan. Somehow, it feels way different to Amman. Less exclusive than the richer parts, and more relaxed than downtown. I like it. I like the way you can be recognised in places you go more than once, but still maintain some anonymity. I like the fact that people have more time for you here.

Irbid will forever be in my mind for two things, however:

The mosquitos – big, scheming fuckers that get at you no matter how much repellant you wear, or how tightly you close the windows.

And the casino. Not, actually a casino, more a cafe. On the last evening in Irbid, Edwin and I (Introductions: Met Edwin on the Irbid bus, and we travelled around together until the end of Um Qais. He's Dutch. He's cool. He's said he's gonna read this blog.) are on a tea hunt, because the restaurant didn't serve it (weird!) and we spot two drinks canisters outside one small shop. It's a seedy looking place, which, alone, I'd have loved to try but never dared. Inside, amidst the smoke and faded kitchzy Jordan flags strung across the ceiling and walls (along with the obligatory President/ family-of-past pics) are a few tables, two crowded with smiling men playing a card game I don't recognise. Edwin immediately jumps in peering over one guy's shoulder and pointing at the other players' hands with a feigned knowing look. They all seem to appreciate the joke as we sit at a free table, between the games and the window.

It's an awesome place. We sip at tea and try to figure out what they're playing, but the rules are alien. I muse over the unfair divide of teh sexes which prevents me from really interacting with the men (note: I know it's not unfair. I erspect the reasons behind it. I'm just… not used to it). I think about asking tehm to teach me how to play, but we head off before they finish their round.

They smile and laugh, as relaxed and playful on tea and coffee as a pub full of workers at home with beer in-hand.

They ask us how we find Jordan, and where we've been/ where we're headed.

"Ah, Al-Himmeh." they nod and smile, "beautiful – and Um Qais."

When we stand to leave they all say goodbye and wish us luck. We try to pay , but the proprietor pushes Edwin away with a smile. He won't take money, so we offer hearty thanks. I wish I were here another night – I'd learn their game, and maybe take my backgammon board. Best 30 minutes in the city!

1st Stop; The Roman Ampitheatre; set amongst the towerblocks yet surrounded by the most laidback, quiet place in all of Amman – green lawns, palm trees and squat shrubberies fill an oval of space. Locals frequently duck in here to escape the buzz outside – to think, to read the paper, or lounge about with friends. Small groups of young-ish lads take boomboxes, but, far more civilised than other parts, they  keep the volume down. The only disturbance you're likely to find is the amiable 'shy, shebab?'  -'tea, anyone?' – from mobile vendors. Incidentally, these guys can offer you some of the best quality tea in Amman – way better than the restaurants and cafes, and not abit like the poor roadside standard a westerner might expect from a thermos.

Later in the afternoon, I found a secluded spot to play music, and soon found that I had a small audience, including one elderly tea seller, who gave me a free sage tea, and would not stop thanking me.

Within the theatre, there are 2 small museums. The 1st held my interest throughout – an incredible tour of traditional costumes (clothes, jewelery, accessories) of various clans through the ages. I found myself examining every detail of every piece to uncover it's stories, what went into making it, and what it meant to its owner.

The second museum, filled with models of 'traditional life' which were actually kinda creepy, with their badly moulded, orange faces, was less inspiring. It did have a case of traditional instruments though, which I longed to get my hands onto. And at the far end of one display was a note about the traditional coffee grinder (can't believe I've forgotten its name!) making a rhythmic melody, often accompanied by it's handler's singing voice. Thus, the coffee grinder is considered an ancient musical instrument!

The theatre itself appears less remarkable than the one at Bosra. It has two awesome features though. Stand centre-stage, and even a whisper can be heard from the uppermost seats, and, at each end of the orchestra pit, a small channel runs in the rock, so that two musicians at opposite siides can whisper to each other, perfectly audibly, and no-one else can hear. It works; I found someone to try it with.

Heading out from here, I shifted into the bustle of Downtown. It reminds me of the newer parts of Damascus. The hills it stretches across are punishing, though, not least because of teh endless flights of steps, some so high that you can't see the top… When someone gives you inaccurate directions here, you know about it. There are some awesome secrets hidden up these stairs though – glimpses ino family life through open gates and doors, sleepy little shops, and excitable children who've never seen 'blonde' hair before, or long to practice their English. Several people think I'm mad, when I pass their unknown street more than once. I was lost. But actually, it was kinda nice.

One other fantastic feature of the area, darting through the crowds with a grace and ease I'll never understand, are guys carting silver platters of food and tea, balanced on one hand, high above their heads, delivering them to one shop or another, and collecting the empty trays – probably called upon when the customers are done. How's that for service?!

Am now in Aqaba, having explored the north, and travelled the length of the country today. Will update blog in the too-hot-to-move hours of tomorrow. It was 40* when I arrived! So wrong! Most of the trip once Aqaba's over, is probably out of reach of internet, unless there's a place at Wadi Musa. Itinerary now updated, again. Off to buy some swim shorts and a quick-dry shirt or costume. Cool enough for a dip by now, I reckon!