June 1, 2001

There's no such thing as a straightforward journey in these parts.

We decided to fly back to the States from Amman rather than from Tel Aviv, happy to avoid the many questions and searches we'd be subject to at Ben Gurion Airport. We caught the early morning taxi from Zababdeh to Ramallah, then Ramallah to Jerusalem, Jerusalem to the Jordanian border (after being hustled for a while, we found the taxi stand for the shared taxis to the Allenby Bridge). Once at Allenby, we managed to get lost. We went through "VIP" customs (i.e. non-Arab), put our bags under the bus waiting outside, and boarded to find we were on the "non-VIP" (i.e. Arab) bus. When we disembarked, our bus driver was beside himself. Apparently nothing is allowed underneath the Arab buses - security precaution, no doubt. We were quickly whisked away to the VIP section (Jordanian side of the bridge, now), where the wait is much shorter and the taxis are ten times the price.

We rode into Amman on the Arab bus (i.e. non-VIP), from there to the airport, where we waited for eight hours for our 3:00 AM flight. But we met the airport doctor-on-call and chatted with a French documentary filmmaker just returning from a project in Iraq.

The flight to Chicago (via Milan) was unremarkable, as was picking up our rental car near O'Hare, though everyone was a little bit too friendly. "HI! Where did you come from today?"

"From Jordan."

"WOW! (long pause) Where's that?"

Connecting with our Chicago hosts.

We wound our way to friends north of Chicago for dinner and an early, early bedtime. Oh, wait. This story began yesterday!