First days in Amman

I don’t have too much time to see Amman during the conference. I am staying in a cheap but comfortable hotel in the Downtown, from where I have to catch a taxi every morning to go to the Conference and back in the evening. The ride takes around 30-40 minutes, so I usually have time to talk to taxi drivers, those graduates in city life.

On the first night I decide to go out with the Jordanians before going to my hotel to sleep. It is around 1.30 and we are at a really crowded street, full of people smoking Argile and drinking non-alcoholic beverages. Around me I see people dressed in the Khaliji way (people from the Persian Gulf) with long white dresses and kefiyas. I see big expensive cars, most of them huge AWD, with plates from Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Dubai, etc... My Jordanian friends explain to me that in summer it’s typical for the Arabs from the Gulf to come to Jordan escaping from the unbearable heat in the area.

I decide to go home and hop on a taxi. After an unclear conversation with the taxi driver, he understands that I am from Spain. Madrid or “Barshalona”? (Referring to the football teams) Barcelona, of course! (I’m no real fan of any, but if I have to confess I have more sympathy for Barcelona). The guy says, Barcelona good! He seems to be a big fan of Barcelona. He starts looking for some CD, then he surprises me opening the sunshade for the co-pilot, which turns out to be a DVD player with a screen. He plays a DVD and I cannot be more astonished. He has the best plays and goals of FC Barcelona in the last years. All of them, of course, with Arabic songs at the back which praise “Barsha” like this, this or this. He kind of played around 10 videoclips on our trip to my hotel. After trying to sell me the copied DVD with the videos for some dinars (as a good Arab, always making business) I get off the taxi and I could not be more amazed to see the devotion of these people to Spanish football.

The next morning I try to go back to the hotel to attend the conference. The taxi I get in looks like a dump. It is dirty and destroyed. The driver is a quite old and very dark skinned man with a very Arab-bedouin appearance, but hidden on his uncountable wrinkles he has surprisingly blue eyes. He speaks good English so we talk during our trip. He explains me that he is Palestinian, from Jerusalem, now a refugee in Jordan. He says he still remembers the time when he was expelled in 1967 from East Jerusalem and had to come to Jordan. The man has an excellent education, as he acknowledges to have gone to University in Cairo and to have a couple of degrees. As a matter of fact, he says he has been working as a border official at the different Jordanian borders, including the Israeli, but he is now retired. Is it ok for you now bein Palestinian here? Yes, he says, now I am Jordanian. Can you go back to Palestine? I can, but I have to ask Israel for visa, of course, it’s possible but takes time. By the way, I say, if you had such a good job and you are retired now, why are you working as a taxi driver? I am retired, he says, but I still like beautiful women! He answers while he “gives me five”.