Thursday, December 27, 2018


On the outskirts of Amman lies a small, predominantly Christian community called Fuheis.  One of the most interesting phenomena I have encountered while living overseas are how people of similar religions cluster together.  It may not seem like something that should spark much wonder.  But it is something I've never really experienced before living overseas.  We first encountered it in India; I remember driving through Chennai with Mr. Sundar who didn't hesitate to note when we were driving through a "Muslim part of town" or a "Christian part of town". Being Hindu, there was an unmistakable hint of contempt in his tone each time.

In the United States, the ultimate mixing pot, a country which prides itself on its diversity, I had grown up thinking that it was something other than race or religion that defined communities.  I know during the immigration "boom" between 1880 and 1930, many new arrivals to the United States clustered in ethnic enclaves in New York City, some staying, many venturing further afoot. It makes sense to gather with those who speak a similar language, have similar beliefs and value systems, eat the same food, smoke and drink the same things, have the same vices.  In a new and foreign place, anything familiar is sought out, then clutched close.  We find ourselves doing the same now living overseas.

But gradually, some of these ethnic enclaves dissolved and the boundaries between communities blurred, an osmosis of sorts, like drops of cream into a cup of coffee, it stay together for a while, creating a milky swirl, before turning the coffee from black to brown, one uniform color.  I had grown up thinking it was something other than race or religion that defined communities, but I don't know what those common bonds may have been.  (Certainly, in South Florida in the early and mid-80s, there were communities of blacks, mostly separate from where we lived.  It wasn't until I moved to the city, to Baltimore for college, that I thought about that difference.) I couldn't tell you now what common denominators a community in South Florida possessed that a community in, say, Minnesota or Iowa did not.

We had heard there was a giant Christmas tree in Fuheis and so we went in search of it, on an exploration, of sorts, our second big holiday outing in as many days.  For a family that is mostly content to stay home, warm and cozy though we don't have a fire or fireplace to gather around, this was a big deal.  Especially for Peter who most days doesn't want to go anywhere.

After driving mostly aimlessly through the small town, Elise finally spotted the tree over a hill, a sparkling oasis.

If they look really cold, they were.  We tried to convince them to grab their puffy winter coats, but like with most things we try to tell them, our advice went unheeded. 

This vendor had -- inarguably -- the creepiest selection of Christmas-themed trinkets for sale I have ever seen.  

It's difficult to make out in the photo above, but the red rod laying on its side is a battery-operated Spiderman "microphone" which shoots multicolored sparkling lights from the disco ball top and emits the most bizarre, music box like tune.  Aside from the masquerade ball masks on the bottom shelf, the devil-eyed purple bunny (which reminded me of a B-movie horror film "Bunnicula" about a bunny vampire) was by far the scariest!

Wednesday, December 26, 2018

Holiday Cheer

It hasn't been difficult to find holiday cheer this Christmas season.  Though a Muslim-majority country, Jordan is embracing Christmas traditions.  There is no shortage of Christmas festivities, holiday lights and markets, and skinny Arab men in red Santa suits, held up with designer white leather belts, and fluffy, cotton ball beards pulled over wiry, rough black Arab beards. 

The Sunday after Elise returned from India, she had to report for parenting duty at 8:00 a.m. sharp for Clementine's holiday performance at school.  They were to perform a song and dance Clementine abhorred.  As you can see in the clip below, she never took her eyes off of the camera and never was shy about rolling them for dramatic effect!

After the performance, they returned to the classroom for some holiday goodies and a craft (they're bid on crafts in first grade!).

School was soon out for winter break, and Elise fully rested from her week exploring Chennai (yeah, right!) was thrust into the role of having to entertain three high-energy kids from sun-up to sundown.  First up, making of Christmas cookies. 

Not exactly sure why Peter doesn't have his shirt on in this shot...

Or why Clementine is handling her rolling pin like a bludgeon in this shot...

According to Elise, things weren't under as much control as they seemed...

Our first big holiday outing took us to the Boulevard at Abdali Mall, a brand-new, mixed-use center in the heart of Amman.  It is sleek, ultra modern, and really unlike anything or anyplace else in Amman.  Not entirely sure that is a good thing, but it was to be the epicenter of holiday cheer in Amman with strings of holiday lights, a life-size Transformer robot, a sledding hill, and snowball pit.  

First stop was the sledding hill.  Though only Peter could muster up enough courage to take on the run.

After the sledding hill, was the snowball pit.

Finally, after the snowball pit, was wine!

Elise and I had been wanting to check out the J.R. Experience at the Boulevard for some time.  We had never really intended on doing the wine tasting with the kids, but desperate times call for desperate measures.  Anna Lyn has taken three weeks off to be with her own family in the Philippines, forcing Elise and I to bring our three small companions with us on our date night-like outings.

Clementine, as she does with most everything, hurtled herself enthusiastically into the process.  Not tasting the wines, but eagerly participating in filling out our score cards.  While Peter and Sam were initially grumpy and reluctant, we were able to chalk that up to hunger and once we got some pizza, bread, cheese, and warm spinach dip into them, their moods improved quickly.

Sunday, December 9, 2018

‘Tis the Season

As Christmas approaches, the house begins to take on a certain sense of merriment and cheer. We hung all the white Christmas lights above the patio outside to create a festive outdoor space that we now are unable to take advantage of for several months because of the cold, wind, and rain (it’s already rained more in the first few weeks of the rainy season than it did all last winter. In fact, we just had two straight days of cold misty rain as a result of a low pressure system that hung over Jordan over the weekend, an almost unheard of phenomenon), so we had to use the colored Christmas lights on the tree which Elise refers to as the “Charlie Brown” lights, but which the kids actually prefer.

Disappointed she wouldn’t get her woodland-themed tree this year, Elise reluctantly acquiesced and allowed the kids to go to town on the tree. It was a hodgepodge, but a colorful, festive hodgepodge even Elise eventually admitted was beautiful, even if it wasn’t the Anthropologie store window tree she secretly yearned for.

Letters to Santa have been written (but not mailed). I’ll have to take a photo of the letter and email it to Santa.

There have been Christmas musicals the likes of which our family has never experienced. 

This past weekend, we spent most of Friday at the mall, because of the rain. We ate lunch at the food court, went to the arcade Magic Planet, and saw a movie, the new “Grinch”. Saturday, my office hosted a Christmas brunch which included a visit from Santa who rode in on a soaking wet camel. The kids were understandably reluctant to have their picture taken with a fake Santa. But they really wanted a candy cane (life’s simple pleasures largely unavailable for living overseas), and the only way they were getting a candy cane was by sitting on Santa’s lap and having their picture taken. Well played, Dad! Well played!

We ended the weekend at the school’s holiday bazaar. Where Sam’s class sang Christmas carols.

Friday, December 7, 2018

Elfis and the Frozen Princess

Everything is Better When You’re Around

Elise left for India last night. 

She was supposed to have left the previous day, but after realizing the third grade musical “Elfis and the Frozen Princess” was scheduled to debut the night of her departure, we made a last second decision to delay her departure so she could see Peter perform.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Peter had tried out for the lead role, an Elvis Presley-inspired elf named Elfis. As such, he would perform a solo as part of the play. A solo! Our Peter! It was almost too much to believe. And the fact that he had been rehearsing and practicing at music class at school for several weeks without him having even mentioned that he had tried out...well, that’s Peter for you. 

Eventually, we did find out. Though I don’t exactly remember how, I do know it wasn’t by Peter coming right out and telling us he had tried out for the lead in the third grade Christmas musical and got the part. As the performance approached there were several rehearsals, one a Saturday afternoon the week before and another that morning. Elise, thinking she would be out of town for the actual performance attended both, so she could hear Peter sing. She was astounded. He had the voice of an angel, she reported back. When he sang a line for me the night before, I knew I would be a wreck during the show. But knowing Elise was out of town and I would have to meet him after school and get him ready for his big night on my own, I began mentally preparing for navigating the big night without Elise. 

Peter is anything but moderate. He is either sweet and kind like Winnie the Pooh or a field of marigolds or like a pot of boiling water or possessed like the kid in the Exorcist. I had no idea what his mental state might be like right before such a big night, but I was preparing for the worst, having to coach him through a torrent of emotions or, if he decided to back out all together, somehow convince him to get on stage. As with everything else in life with Peter, it was going to be either be incredibly easy or incredibly difficult. So, I was picturing how things would go down in my head, just in case. 

The difference between how I pictured things going down were I to have done it alone, without Elise, and how they actually went down with Elise here could not have been more different than dull black and white Kansas and Technicolor Oz. 

Elise helped him into his costume and styled his hair like Elvis. She took pictures of him in his costume, in his car seat, walking the stairs of the theatre. She even made a video. All things I wouldn’t have even thought to do. Afterwards, she suggested we all go out for sushi to celebrate whereas I would have been more likely to get straight home and warm up a packet of ramen. Though both Peter and Clementine acted as though they were both going to pass out of starvation the moment we sat down at the sushi restaurant, they peeled up when the edamame came around, and it ended up being a pleasant ending to a momentous evening. 

All this to say I’m really glad things worked out the way they did. People say things happen for a reason, and that couldn’t have been more true the night Elise delayed her trip to India by one day to see Peter perform the solo in the third grade holiday musical. 

Sunday, November 4, 2018

You Are Loved

One of the most interesting aspects of life is how narratives evolve, how certain decisions lead to certain events which lead to certain outcomes and create certain stories.  This story is a little bit like that.  If Sam's soccer coach hadn't pushed one of the players on Sam's team, Peter might not have had to write a note apologizing for his own behavior.

Soccer has not turned out the way we thought it would.  We signed all three kids up for soccer through Amman Little League, the same league Peter and Sam played baseball on in the spring. Baseball was fun...actually, perhaps I should rephrase that.  I had fun watching the boys play baseball. I don't exactly know how much fun they had playing baseball. Now that I actually think about it, I do recall Sam complaining about having to stand in the outfield for interminable periods of time. I think they thought it was boring.

Soccer promised to be less boring.  Sam's team, Ajib, short for Arab-Jordan Bank, was a small squad to start, maybe only three or four kids had originally been assigned to the team, coached by two very young men, both alumni of the Amman Little League, still teenagers themselves.

Peter's team, Miqdaddi, named after a fertilizer or some Jordanian agro-chemical company, was coached by a Jordanian jidu in him mid-sixties or seventies, a figure who reminded Elise of my dad.

Then, there was Clementine's team, Hala's Chips, in their bright yellow, banana-themed uniforms, so they looked the part of a swarm of bees, following the soccer ball as it rolled around in the dust.

The coaches for both boys' teams were impassioned.  Likely, too much so. After Peter's coach yelled in the faces of all the boys during the halftime of one of Peter's first games, Elise approached the league commissioner and I talked to the coach himself about our goals for Peter in the league. It was a bold move, asserting ourselves in a foreign land this way, but we thought it important enough to do.

From our perspective, this season could make or break soccer for them for the rest of their lives. That may sound dramatic, but all I've ever wanted for my kids when competing team sports is the opportunity to run and feel the wind in their hair. Winning wasn't important. Certainly not to be yelled out because they weren't winning, though neither Elise nor I are against a coach instilling structure and a sense of drive.

Peter's coach responded and Peter has thrived on the team.  Once perhaps a timid player, he has stepped up his game.  Especially on defense, a position he gets to play perhaps a little more than he would like. Even so, when someone is driving toward his goal, Peter is not afraid to step up and challenge him, something he may not have done last year.

A few weeks ago, Sam wasn't played at all in the second half of his game. Again, neither Elise or I come from a mindset where our kid needs to be played, especially at the expense of other kids getting minutes, but Sam was the only kid who sat out the entire second half.  Elise brought this to the coach's attention who basically told her to eff off, "This is my team. If you don't like it get lost."

You can imagine how well that went over.

The league commissioner again intervened, apologizing for the coach and trying to blame the slight on the coach's poor English. But not two weeks later, the other coach pushed one of the player's in a team huddle. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Sam was done. Weren't not quitters and we explained to Sam these were unique circumstances. We wouldn't be making a habit of starting a season we didn't intend to finish, but it was important to show Sam we weren't going to willingly sit by while he was exposed to a toxic and potentially dangerous environment.

Last Friday morning, we had soccer games scheduled as usual, but neither Sam or Clementine went.  Clementine had a sore throat, so they both stayed home with me while Elise took Peter to his soccer game.

Miqdaddi won (after starting the season winless for several weeks, they've won their last two games.  It is still not all about winning, but Miqdaddi has been making steady improvements over the course of the season), and Peter came home with his after-game snack.

The after-game snack is not a snack, but a full-blown lunch.

In other countries, the after-game snack may be a piece of fruit, bag of popcorn, or a cookie and a juice box, but in Jordan anyway, the after-game snack is shawerma or a turkey sandwich, chips, fruit, a lollipop, and a Capri-sun, an entire meal.  I joked with Elise that when it was our turn to bring snack I was going to set up my grill and make hamburgers and hot dogs. Elise went just shy of that with a bento box full of nutritious and delicious goodies.

Peter came home from his game, plopped himself down at the kitchen table where Sam and Clementine were diligently completing their homework and started wolfing down his "snack".

Not to mention, Sam and Clementine were trying to concentrate while Peter was doing his best attempt at imitating the Cookie Monster, smacking and growling, food flying everyone. It was annoying, and I think we all three told him as much. When he unwrapped a giant Ho-Ho cupcake and was about to shove it in his mouth, I told him not to. He hadn't eaten anything nutritious, no fruits or vegetables whatsoever since he woke up, so I told him he had to have some fruit before he ate his cupcake. I told him twice, but he still took a giant bite out of the cupcake which I then promptly snatched from his mouth and threw in the garbage while pulling him out of his chair and spanking him on the butt in the same motion.

He was pissed.

He called me a few choice words ("dumb" being one I distinctly recall), before being sent to his room.

He proceeded to destroy his bed and most of the room. When Elise and I came to talk to him, I told him I wasn't mad at him.  He had made a mistake and I had forgiven him.

"Well you're dumb, I know that!"

"Do you really think that?" I asked him.

He didn't say anything. I left.

He sulked in his room for the better part of an hour. At one point, Elise went back, bringing with her a note that said, "You Are Loved".

The following night, after we had returned from the Mini Marine Ball, everyone was wound up from an evening of dancing.  While Sam hit the showers, Peter got naked and was writhing around on our clean bed sheets.  Basically acting like a hyped-up eight year-old.  We were all tired and not much in the mood for his shenanigans.  Elise and I hadn't even eaten dinner yet.  She asked him to go put his pajamas on, brush his teeth, and go to bed.  It was a school night, after all.

That's when he admitted he had torn up the note she gave him the day before, the same one that read, "You Are Loved".

She sent him immediately to bed. 

I tucked everyone in, then poured Elise a glass of wine and myself a beer. We sat in the family room, recounting the evening and deciding where we wanted to get dinner from.

I heard a rustle and caught a fleeting, pajama-clad form crawl into the room and scoot back out.  I got up.  Behind a chair, on the floor in the hall leading to the back bedrooms was a note. I picked it up and gave it to Elise.

Thursday, November 1, 2018

Halloween from Xadia

The kids new favorite show on Netflix is Dragon Prince.  So, somehow, someway (probably because she is amazingly creative and talented!) Elise was able to handcraft costumes so Sam and Clementine could be Moonshadow assassin elves from the show and Peter the namesake dragon.

Everyone had a lot of fun at the Halloween event hosted by my office, where the kids go to go traick-or-treating from table to table, followed by a pirate-themed spaghetti and pizza dinner (plus beer for the adults!).  

Elise's hard work paid off.  The kids were happy (despite Clementine's pre-trick-or-treat meltdown. I'm not exactly sure what precipitated it, but the results were streams of purple face paint on her cheeks which Elise then had to reapply after finally getting her to calm down) and a good time was had by all!

But it's store-bought costumes for everyone next year!

Tuesday, October 30, 2018

Flag Day: Part Five

Colombo, Sri Lanka!

Monday, October 29, 2018

How to Drive in Jordan

Elise's first triathlon was only one of two endurance events we participated in on Saturday.

The second was the drive back to Amman from Aqaba.  There are two main highways connecting the north of Jordan with the south.  The Dead Sea Road connects Amman with the Dead Sea resort areas before continuing to the south, hugging the fence line between Jordan and Israel, and ending at the port city of Aqaba on the Red Sea.  The Desert Road is a straight shot from Amman to Aqaba.  As such it is about 30 to 45 minutes faster than the Dead Sea Road, even though it is constantly under construction and passes through several small towns which necessitate slowing down for speed bumps and children and small dogs sprinting across the highway between speeding cars.

Since Aqaba is the port city, the Desert Road is heavily used by tractor trailers hauling goods from the port to Amman and points beyond.  When parts of the Desert Road are torn up by construction, the going can be harrowing (at one point yesterday, as Elise will attest, we went to pass a car only to find four eighteen wheelers abreast of one another barreling towards us in the opposite direction).  We had planned to use the Dead Sea Road, even though the trip was a little longer, because the going is much safer, but the Dead Sea Road closed on Thursday night, right before we planned to leave, and doesn't look like it will be re-opening any time soon.

As mentioned in the last post, Thursday brought the first rain of the year.  Last year, the first rain was a light, but cold, spittle, little more than a mist, that barely got anything wet.  This year, the rain was torrentuous.  Several inches of rain fell in a very short amount of time.  On earth that hadn't seen a drop of moisture in nine months or more and likely had the consistency of hardened concrete.  Amman sits atop seven hills.  In between the hills run wadis, the Arabic word for river bed.  The wadis connect with one another all the way down to the Dead Sea, below sea level.

On Thursday afternoon, the heavy rain thundered through the wadis, wadi emptying out into wadi after wadi, until finally reaching the Dead Sea, splitting the canyon asunder and gushing into the sea.  Tragically, 21 elementary school students lost their lives in the flash flood which also wiped out a bridge on the highway.

With the Dead Sea Road closed, all traffic was on the Desert Road coming back to Amman Saturday night. The traffic was definitely heavier than it was driving down to Aqaba Friday morning, but didn't get really bad until we drove up behind a sea of brake lights and flashing hazards.  Cars stacked up behind us and we were soon boxed in between vegetable trucks.  We inched forward for a few minutes before coming to a complete stop.

We sat there for a few minutes, wondering what could be causing the blockage.  Truck drivers opened the doors of their cabs and leaned out, then stepped out of their trucks and walked to the side of the road to see if they could see what was causing the traffic jam. Then, people started walking past our car.  Had they abandoned their own vehicles and were now walking to Amman?  It was slightly apocalyptic: rows of abandoned cars on a freeway, zombies stalking from their cars in the night.

As we sat in the highway, we watched cars pass on the shoulder, as they inevitably do.  Then we saw cars get off the highway completely and bump across the desert, headlights shining to and fro as cars bounced over rocks and tumbleweeds.  Then we saw cars drive down the median. Box trucks tipped precariously dipping off the pavement into the steep gravel.  Finally, we saw a car drive down the opposite side of the highway into oncoming traffic.  Then two cars.  Three.  Four.  Before a whole lane of cars took over the opposite side of the freeway.

We finally decided to follow suit. When in Rome, right?  We made our way to the left side of the road and drove down into the median and up onto the opposite side of the freeway, looking to make sure no headlights were rushing at us from either direction.  To our right, finally, we saw the cause of the backup, a tractor trailer on its side, dozens of men milling around it as though contemplating lifting it out of the way, if that were possible.

We drove into oncoming traffic until we found a place safe enough to cross and work our way back on the right side of the road.  We were almost home, but drove slowly the rest of the way until we got home and rested our weary tailbones. 

Sunday, October 28, 2018

Elise's First Triathlon

This past weekend, the five of us drove to the southern tip of Jordan to Aqaba on the Red Sea.  There, Elise would compete in her first triathlon, the 3rd annual Ayla Oasis Triathlon and Duathlon Championship.

We left Amman in the morning on Friday, after seeing our friends visiting from Dushanbe for the past week off to the airport.  After checking into the hotel, Elise headed down to the Red Sea for a short warm-up swim to check the water temps and shake out some day-before race jitters.

Back in Amman, we had just endured our first ran of the season.  Unlike last year which produced a light misting for the first rain, this was a torrential downpour that split apart canyons with flash floods and brought with it cooler weather and a stiff rain.  Aqaba, however, at sea level, was warmer, though the wind of the previous day was still present, and would be a factor on the bike leg the following day.

We enjoyed a late lunch of fish fingers and french fries by the pool, sipping on a couple of cold Carakales, before heading over the race hotel to pick up Elise's race packet and to attend the pre-race briefing.

Besides serving as Elise's initial foray into the sport of triathlon, the race was also host to the Asian Cup and West Asian ITU Championships which meant the race meeting was filled with broad-shouldered, pimply-faced professional triathletes zoning out on their headphones or scrolling through their iPhones in the packed conference room.  Elise was convinced she was the only mother of three competing in the race the following day, and she was most likely right. 

Because of the pro races, Elise's wave wouldn't go off until 10:30.  We had to head down to the race start first thing the next morning anyway, because she had to set up her bike and transition area before the gun went off for the Elite men's race at 8:00.  

Unbeknownst to Elise or I, she was missing a handlebar plug on the end of her handlebar. The open metal tube (though wrapped in tape) can be a hazard, especially in a fall.  They weren't letting Elise into the transition area until the end was plugged; they said tape was fine.  The only problem was we didn't have any tape.  In our haste to get to the transition area on time in the morning, we didn't bring the first aid kit with us (or our snacks for the kids who would tell me they were hungry approximately every 15 minutes in rotating shifts).  

This called for fast, creative thinking.  I looked around for something, anything that could be used to cover a small opening in a metal tube about the diameter of a quarter.  Then, I saw it. Tape. The blue electrical tape that was keeping the carpet Elise and Peter (and a bunch of other random triathlon dudes) are standing on in the photo above connected to the carpet next to it, and so on and so forth all the way through transition and down to the water's edge. I quickly pulled up a small piece and ripped it off, and between Elise and I we fashioned a handlebar plug out of electrical tape in true McGuyver style. 

It was a beautiful morning as you can tell from the photos.  The kids and I watched the Elite men and women's races, cheering for the lone American in the men's race (as well as the Jordanians, Syrians, Palestinians, and Egyptians...when in Rome, I guess). 

Elise (tried to) relax on the beach until the start, and before we knew it, the time had come for her to toe the starting line. 

So, Elise will tell you she didn't know how to swim before she met me.  And will credit me for teaching her to swim when she was pregnant with Peter in Florida.  I don't know how much of all that is true, but the results is quite clear...she can now swim! 

Elise was nervous about the swim, never having swum in the open water before.  A few weeks ago, she and I got up early and drove down to the Lagoon Resort near the Dead Sea.  There is a large, man-made lagoon, a giant swimming pool really where you can drive ski boats through that is a couple of hundred yards across at its longest point.  This was good practice for Elise. 

I watched her receding form carefully to make sure she didn't panic.  When one women had to be fished out of the water by kayak, I squinted into the sun to make sure it wasn't Elise.  Of course, it wasn't, and her swim was much faster than I thought it would be.  As I was tracking her progress, I had her a little bit ahead of one of the medical rafts -- at one point, still at the 3rd and last buoy before making a last left hand turn and heading for shore -- when in actuality she was almost to the finish of the swim!

At the end of the swim, Elise sprinted up the beach and to the transition area to get ready for the bike!

The course called for four laps of a four mile loop.  Fortunately, the road was closed and the course wasn't too crowded.  Though there was the wind and a few ascents to contend with.  

Elise professes she saw a few of the elite women get out of the saddle coming out of the hairpin turn, so she decided to do the same!

After the bike, it was back into the transition area to strap on her running shoes. 

The run was two laps on a 2.5 km circuit, or 3 miles total.  It was a long straight stretch in the hot desert sun, and Elise said it was pretty brutal as it was almost noon by the time she finished the race.  But finish she did!

Saturday, October 13, 2018

Spin the Wheel

One of the reasons the blog has been suffering as of late, like a neglected child left in a basket on the steps of the firehouse, besides the fact that Elise and I have been crazy, ridiculously, beyond busy, is because we are deep, deep in the throes of bidding on our next posting. 

Like it or not, we have to leave Jordan this summer. The job I am in now is only two years. No option to extend. They left out that part when I signed up for the job. In fact, they’ve recently hired my replacement, so we really must go. 

Elise has been training like mad for her first triathlon in two short weeks from now. She is ready. Even if she doesn’t think she is. She will toe the starting line on the edge of the Red Sea just a few days before we may hear where we will move to this summer. 

For some reason — I’m not exactly sure why — this bid season has been particularly gut-wrenching and especially stressful. The list was very good, and we could easily imagine ourselves on any one of the four corners of the globe. We started researching and reaching out earlier than last time; that, in part, has made this time around very long. We’re just ready for it to be over. 

We talked over all the possibilities with the kids. They have been more involved (and curious) than ever. They’re no longer tiny babies in bucket seats we sling over our shoulder and head out. Nor are they quite the petulant teenagers we have heard about, filing ardent protests of having to move and leave friends, boyfriends, and girlfriends. They are excited by the move. Like Elise and I, they are thriving in this lifestyle. 

We submit our final list this Friday and may hear something by the end of October. The last two times Elise and I have bid, we reached the end and still didn’t know where we were going. I am hopeful that is not the case this time around. 

Or, as they say in Arabic, inshallah. 

Wadi Rum, Part Two

We left the house for the four hour drive south at 8:30, in time to coincide our arrivals with our friends from Jerusalem who were driving up from an overnight in Petra.

The King’s Highway connecting Amman to Aqaba on the Red Sea was completely turn up and made driving like a spectacle out of Grand Theft Auto, 18 wheeler’s hurtling down the wrong side of the highway, random barriers, shoulders, not to mention pedestrians popping up out of the middle of nowhere. The drive was long than we had intended and we arrived after our friends. But after proceeding through the visitors center and paying our 1.5 JD (the residents’ going rate) per person, we drove a few more km to the parking lot in Wadi Village where we were met by our Jeep which would 4x4 us out to the camp.

The Jeep was actually a tricked out Toyota FourRunner. It was the only vehicle in the entire village, giving the rundown landscape a disorienting “Children of the Corn” feel, as though every vehicle was a clone of the other.  But given the terrain, the mode of transportation made sense. It was either FourRunner or camel. You decide. 

We were met by a striking man in a long white robe. I’m sure the gown has a traditional name but I don’t know what it is. It was surprisingly immaculate given that everything else in Wadi Tum was covered in several centimeters of red dust. He had the eyes of Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow in “Pirates or the Caribbean”, piercing and ringed in black as though circled in mascara though he wore no makeup. 

He loaded our luggage into the front seat of the Toyota as we loaded into the back l, squeezing onto two bench seats on either side of the flatbed truck. We then bounced over the last few meters of rough asphalt that was Wadi Village. The road ended and the desert began. We were soon sliding over red sand. 

Wadi Rum looks like the surface of Mars. In fact, the Matt Damon movie “The Martian” was filmed there.

In addition to the traditional Bedouin tent, many of the more upscale tents have taken the Martian theme and run with it. Hence, the dome tent, a round white pod. Most have their own facilities and air conditioning. You can really spend as much or as little as you want to on accommodations in Wadi Rum. We opted for the former for our first sojourn to the red desert. 

The Jeep maneuvered across the desert floor, navigating around and between colossal red rock formations rising on either side of us like stone giants. The Jeep tumbled by the occasional random caravan of wild camels before pulling up to our camp, Memories Aicha Luxury Camp. 

We were guided to the sheehsa/coffee area where we were reunited with our friends from Chennai. Neither of us had lunch yet so we let the kids scramble up the rock escarpment which rose steeply on either side of the tent city while we waited for lunch to be served, a family-style serving of maqlooba, a Jordanian chicken and rice dish. “Maqlooba” means “upside down” in Arabic and that is exactly how the dish is prepared. 

After lunch, in order to avoid the somnambulism brought on by such a heavy meal, we went on Jeep excursion to see some of the nearby sights, our family in one Jeep, the other family in another.