I Love Jordan!!!! (and Jordanians) part 2

We chose to take the Desert Highway – a shorter, less scenic route from Madaba to Wadi Musa the village outside of Petra. We wanted the most direct route so that we would be able to get a few hours in Petra on Saturday afternoon. That was a good choice but a Saturday visit to Petra was not in the cards. About half way to Wadi Musa, our right front tire blew out and thus began a new kind of adventure. We were on the side of a major highway that is travelled by almost every long-haul truck in the Kingdom. We had seen a number of tire repair places along the highway our little rental van would be back up and running in no time. Insha’Allah (as they say here, God willing). Well apparently, God had some patience lessons to teach first…

As three perfectly capable men were preparing to change the tire – removed the spare, found the jack and tools, even already jack the care up – a Jordanian truck driver named Mohammed stopped and took over the operation. We were having a problem with one of the lug nuts and were somewhat reluctant to simply force it. Mohammed had no such reluctance and got it off quickly only to find that it was tripped in side – only the first of our problems. We also pointed out that the spare was in horrible condition and that it would be wise to get the other tire fixed soon. He pointed out that there were tire places all along the way and we should simply proceed forward and stop at the first. We were very grateful for his assistance and could not thank him enough. In what we would, over the next few days come to know as simple Jordanian hospitality, this truck driver on the side of the highway offered us tea or coffee. We declined the hospitality so that we could resume our trip, but I would like to have seen how he would have prepared it on the roadside. We were the stranger in his midst and in traditional Semitic fashion, Mohammed saw us as his responsibility while we are in his land. He was the first of many gifts we would encounter on Saturday.

We continued South and soon found another tire shop. The first thing we noticed was that all the tires were huge truck tires. Sure enough, all those tire shops we were encountering catered to the Truck traffic on the highway. The mechanic took a look at our flat tire and said it was not fixable (I think – he spoke not a word of English) and indicated it would have to replaced and pointed us in the direction of Amman. We were two hours out of Amman, we did not want to have to go back. We showed him the map and asked him about the towns in front of us. He and a driver who stopped both indicated that it would not be possible to get the tire fixed in any of the small towns between there and Petra. We pointed then to the next sizable town south, called Ma’an, and he indicated we would find a mechanic there. So we headed south.

Because we were concerned about the integrity of the spare tire, we drove more slowly than I normally would and it took us about an hour to get to Ma’an. We quickly found a shop and were enthusiastically greeted by the mechanic speaking broken English. Good sign. “You American? America good! Obama? Obama good man! Bush, not so good man. Obama good man!” Okay as much as I can buy the particular political position, politics is not what I am looking for here. My mind is racing with all the negative possibilities of our particular situation and I see our time in Petra this afternoon fleeting. We simply want to get the tire fixed or replaced and move on. But in the Middle East, business is about relationships and nothing is done quickly. Emet, our mechanic would prove to be a vey welcoming host for the next two hours. I was quite impatient with the whole situation and frustrated with our limited ability of our host (who incidentally spent three years in the Jordanian Special Forces on the King’s security detail) to communicate. He was undaunted by my frustration and kept the air very light. Thank goodness for the ever-patient Fr. Carl who ran interference between Emet’s pro-American enthusiasm and my growing frustration. (I wonder if he would have been so enthusiastic to help us if George Bush were still President. :) After looking at the tire, Emet proposed that it had to be replaced. He searched through various used tires in his shop (mind you, there was not a single new tire anywhere in the shop). I called Reliable Rent-a-car Company to discuss this with them - they asked us to bring the blown out tire back with us so they could make a determination as to whether they should pay for the repair or not. (they will henceforth be referred to as “Unreliable”). My cell phone does not work in Jordan, so I was at he mercy of using a strangers phone. Emet did not have a phone, but the proprietor of the stationary shop on his block was more that willing to let me use his phone.

Before the next step Emet insisted in stepping next door to buy us a Pepsi. No sensein refusing. We offered to pay for our drink and his. You know, for someone who considers himself a relatively savvy traveler, I sure haven’t learned the Arab hospitality thing very well – his buying us a drink was his duty of hospitality and my offering to pay for it was robbing him of that kindness. Doh!

Back in the shop, a number of proposals were floated most of which included our continuing our journey on either our precarious spare or his putting a not-much better used tire on. The problem was that he did not have a tire of the proper size _ “No Problem” he kept saying. Eventually, his collegue located a new tire in another shop on the other side of town and took a taxi to get it. We had to give him the cash to go buy the tire (not a comfortable way of doing business for me, but the way things are done here.) It took a while for him to return with the tire – nothing happens quickly here. During that time we took pictures with our host and Fr. Carl gave him an impromptu English grammar lesson.

Once Emet’s friend returned with the brand new tire, it took only minutes to repair and we were on the way again, Grateful for the hospitality and care we were offered by yet a second and third Jordanian ministering angel of the day. The sun was getting low in the afternoon sky and it would take us about an hour to arrive in our hotel in Wadi Musa.

We arrived at 6 pm the very hour that the ticket office for Petra closed. That’s okay, Sunday would be a full day in Petra (and I mean full day). Our hotelier told us about “Little Petra” a few kilometer’s beyond Petra where we could climb up and see the Sunset. Fr. Carl was not feeling well and, given that we planned a 5 am start on Sunday, decided to call it an early evening. Fr. Steve and I headed for Little Petra. Our host was right, it was a beautiful place to watch the sunset and gave us a foretaste of the Glory that would be ours on Sunday. Here a few Little Petra photos, there are a lot more at http://picasaweb.google.com/FrBart/0725LittlePetra.