Crossing Jordan (6/30/2008)

Geography, circumstance, and U.S. foreign policy seem to have conspired against the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. A holstered handgun-shaped nation skirting the East Bank of the Jordan River, Jordan has few makings of stability: a staggering 91 percent of its land is desert. Twenty percent of the land supports 80 percent of the population -- one which has grown by more than a million since 2003 with the influx of Iraqi refugees, and for which the country has received little to no outside assistance. The government is a hereditary monarchy with a strong king who executes all laws but is constitutionally "immune from any liability and responsibility" for their outcome. To Jordan's east lies an unstable Iraq, to its south dogmatic Saudi Arabia, and to its north a fickle Syria; westward simmers the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. In all directions, Jordan is mired between Iraq and a hard place.

And yet Jordan, for all going against it, is the most stable Arab country in the region. With few natural resources to export, Jordan has instead turned to its tourist industry as its economic driver, which is readily apparent for the average visitor. While most tourists dip in and out of Petra within a day or two - salaam and thanks for the memories - Jordan offers so much more than Indy's Nabatean capital. In hindsight, I wish I had rented a car to explore Jordan at my own pace.

En route from Petra to Amman, I persuaded my driver to stop over at two Dead Sea vistas. The first, Karak, is a crusader castle which sits high atop a hill overlooking a modern town on one side and the Great Rift Valley (and Dead Sea) on the other. As far as ruins go, the site is impressive -- even more so that the abutting residences actually incorporate the medieval castle walls into their own properties. (Saladin was here. Like my begonias?) The castle, while one of Jordan's most famous sites, doesn't strike a chord outside the trained Western ear: for those unread on the Middle East, it was the setting for Orlando Bloom's "look-at-me-I'm-Legolas-but-I-can-really-act-like-a-badass" movie "Kingdom of Heaven." I'll pause while you clear your heartburn. Moving on...

Next was Mt. Nebo, where, Deutoronomy has it, Moses took a physics-defying look at the Promised Land he never entered (this, dear friends, is called "term limits." God wanted them; take note.) As with most biblical sites, ruins (yay! more ruins!) of a Byzantine Monestary sit on the site, in front of a vista where tourists can survey Moses' view. Well, almost the same view, since the haze and pollution hamper pretty much everything beyond the Dead Sea and (I think, since I'm not sure if I could actually see it) Jericho, the oldest continually-inhabited city on earth. Pity, since clear days are supposed to yield views of the salty Rift Valley hills and the Judean desert, even Jerusalem's Dome of the Rock, glittering gold in the distance. Alas, the haze didn't abate during my time there, so I had to imagine the panorama -- or just wait two days.

What struck me most about traveling in Jordan was the presence of the monarchy. I'd expected just a photo of the King at the border - Hi, nice to meet you, welcome to Jordan, I'm the King, I rule, any problems let me know, enjoy your stay. No, though, King Abdullah and his father King Hussein are everywhere. I'm not kidding. On the banknotes and state buildings are expected. But both - or just Abdullah - are on private storefronts, in front of tourist attractions, inside taxis, in hotels, on postage stamps, in souvenir shops. They are in various forms of military garb, in Bedouin headgear, in plain white kiffeyehs (headdresses), smiling or sternly scorning. Sometimes Hussein is pictured behind Abdullah, eminating "this is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased." Their omnipresence (and I hate to make this comparison, since I liked Jordan a lot) reminded me eerily of another father-son dynasty at the other end of the continent.

That aside, though, both Hussein and Abdullah have toed lines of moderation in an otherwise uncompromising region. Hussein, much to his neighbors' chagrin, struck a peace accord with Israel in 1994 and steadied Jordan while its largest trading partner, Iraq, was mired in three wars. Abdullah, for his part, has increased foreign investment and has dialogued with Pope Benedict on Christian-Muslim relations. Not that I wouldn't expect it, though: the man attended high school in Massachusetts (Deerfield Academy), undergraduate university in the UK, completed a postgraduate program at Georgetown (WE ARE..!!!), is an avid sportsman to boot. His cosmetically gifted Palestinian wife, Queen Rania, champions women's rights, speaks at the World Economic forum, and (the clincher) was on Oprah. Abdullah, not to be outdone, had a guest role on "Star Trek: Voyager" and has been spotted wearing Harley Davidson jackets in public. I'm guessing that on rainy days he plays the Royal Wii.

While Jordan is not by no means perfect, the city streets show the fruits of the kings' efforts. Amman is a base for most NGOs and companies operating in Iraq, which has brought a boom of Westerners in to follow the money. Downtown apartments fetch upwards of $700,000 - and, hell, you can even shop at Safeway. In the annals of Arab history, Amman doesn't hold a candle to Cairo, Damascus, or even Baghdad -- in fact, it's built on seven circles (cue Dante's "Inferno" references now), and according to one friend of mine, is "the Middle East's suburb." From a panoramic view - beige apartment blocks rolling on 24 hills - it's hard to argue. Nonetheless, though, Amman served its purpose for my journey: it was a (relatvely) quiet comfortable base to relax, see a few sites at my leisure, and recover my legs after Petra. I needed them back for Jerusalem.