Umm-Kay...I mean, Umm Qais

An overseas trip to a developing country will teach you a lot of things about your children. Their intolerances and discomforts surface first. Their deepest desires surface next. And of course there is always the reconfirmation of the things that you already know but manage to ignore most of the time when living in the relative comfort of home.

Silas’s discomforts surfaced right off of the plane. The person who so kindly rented us a car without a deposit or credit card number picked us up in his 1969 Land Rover. We rocked through the area surrounding Amman’s Queen Alia Airport, driving the wrong way on one way roads, trying to escape the airport without paying for parking, and attempting to conjur enough English to make small talk. I was doing the same with my very lame Arabic. If someone wants to talk about their green balls or oranges they bought, I am game, but plunk me in a car in Jordan and I am lost. I was so involved in my contemplation of the conjugation of “to like” that I failed to notice Silas nearly in tears.

When we finally met up with our rental car, in a parking lot that looked like the apocalypse meets the Mojave Desert, Silas wandered off. When he returned to us he lamented, “Why do I feel so…outcast?” Of course we laughed at him (mistake one) since I have never encountered Silas using this word in conversation. This made him feel even more outcast. Then we asked for clarification (mistake two) since Silas does not clarify. Ever.

But we finally managed to squeeze from him that he was less than impressed with the general state of Jordan’s architecture. Even a brief history of Jordan’s recent history explaining the reason for the look of things did not cheer him out of his outcastness.

 Once we hit the Roman ruins at Umm Qais, though, he perked up a bit. Masha’allah.

Still not thrilled about this Jordan thing

But the Roman toilets made everything better

Tian on the other hand was Miss Chipper from the moment we hit the ground in Amman. After I pointed out how people were greeting one another at the airport (smooch other person’s hand and then press hand to forehead several times, then kiss on one cheek once followed by two kisses on the other with a pause after the second, and then a third kiss) she went wild with the observations. And she persisted in observing all the way to Umm Qais, which was an inexplicable distance away from Amman. According to my phone’s GPS, Jordan Lonely Planet, and the Jordanians we had spoken to, Umm Qais was just 100 km from Amman—an easy 90 minute drive.

It took us about 3000 hours to get there. And I swear we drove through Israel, Lebanon, and Syria on the way.

And for all 3000 hours, Tian was making observations, satisfying that deep-seated desire to know everything about the world RIGHT NOW. “Dad, I think we are going in circles. Look, there is another Flower Petrol Station!”

“Tian, it’s a chain.”

“Oh. Oh wait! Look! There goes another Flower Petrol Station. Dad! Turn around! You’re going the wrong way!”

“Tian, chill. And buckle your seatbelt.”

“I don’t have a seatbelt. I wonder if all cars in Jordan lack seatbelts? Does it smell like cigarettes in here to you? I wonder if lots of Jordanians smoke. Dad, did you notice that there are lots of little stands on the side of the road here? I love this! And look at all the trees. Look! There are pine cones! Oh wow…look at that. Can we stop there? Dad. You are going in circles. When will we get there?  Oh! Look! Another sign for Umm Qais. Oooo, I think we just turned the wrong way…I just saw that Flower Petrol Station again.”

Miss Perky with the guide

Miss Perky staring into catacombs

Miss Perky with a centuries old bead that a mole unearthed and left behind on the Roman road

And Tehva has been continuing in her search for the perfect family that will take her in. The only condition is that they not be us. Other than that, anybody will do.  In Muscat we are able to ignore this because she has polled all available families and, sadly, no one can accommodate her right now. But Jordan is a whole new country with a population not yet immune to her charms.

Tehva...pretty typical of her first day in Umm Qais...outside of the Grotty Hotel

We arrived at and checked into the Grotty Hotel (name changed to protect the grotty) in Umm Qais and Tehva started working it right away at the falafel shop out front. She managed to score a handful of falafel fresh from the deep fryer within seconds of hitting the pavement and, within an hour every shop keeper on the Main Street knew her name. But no one offered her kinship and so she remains with us.

Yes, travel teaches much—especially travel with children.