A Pinch of Salt

Salt, or Es-Salt, is a town 20km (15 miles) northwest of Amman that was a regional capital under the Ottomans. It might have become the capital of Transjordan had the railway from Damascus reached it instead of nearby Amman in the 1920’s. However because of this, Salt did not experience the modernization (i.e. destruction) that has affected the capital. Instead much of the Ottoman architecture, built with limestone in the Nabulsi style (Turkish and Italian influences), remains intact and makes for a wonderful half day trip out of Amman.

Salt is actually not named for the condiment that the title of this entry suggests, but stems rather from the ancient Greek work ‘saltos’, meaning ‘thick forest’. Thetown is not frequented by tourists and we were as much of an attraction to the locals as their beautiful town was to us. I had to remind myself a few times that I was not actually walking through a small

town in Italy, as beautiful pinkish-honey colored limestone buildings with ornate doors and brightly painted shutters wound their way up small alleys and steep staircases. Grape vines draped over balconies and attached themselves to buildings, while the pedestrian only Hammam Street, beautifully tiled and lined with shops and fruit and veg vendors, beckoned us to wander aimlessly.

As the heat was once again a problem we spent some time in the Abu Jaber mansion. Located right in the center of town, this former residence is now the home of a local history museum that highlights the heyday of Salt

when it was a major player in the trading network of the Middle East. In addition, most of the rooms are laid out as they were in the early 1900’s with ornately painted murals on the walls and ceilings, allowing us a glimpse of how it might have been to live in this lavish residence in this quaint, did I already say beautiful?, town.

Arabic Hospitality

Thursday night was the final night for our good friend Stan “The Man” Plante. As a special going away gesture our new friend and colleague, Reham, invited us ex-pats to her home for a traditional dinner. When we arrived we were greeted by much of her immediate family; her two brothers, one of their wives and their two little boys; her two sisters, one of their husbands, and her mother. We began what would be a memorable evening with a small cup of Arabic coffee as we sat in the living room getting to know one another. Shortly thereafter the parade of food started and it became obvious that this was the focus of the evening. My first thought as I watched the massive platters of food being brought into the dining room was that her mother must have been cooking all day long. We sat down at the table to a spread of the most traditional of all Jordanian dishes; mensaf, as well as homemade stuffed grape leaves, stuffed eggplant and zucchini, and kibbeh. To drink they had a made a special fruit juice beverage with apricots called amar al-deen. The drink is made with dried apricot sheets (just like fruit rollups) that are soaked in hot water overnight and then chilled.

I’ve discussed mensaf in this blog previously but this was the real deal. In fact I’ve had it a few times before this night, but nowhere close to this tasty. I find out that they had purchased an entire lamb for this feast and everything but the head (traditionally the head is also placed on the platter to show the guests that the bounty was legit, but they were afraid to scare the foreigners) was laid out on the three foot diameter platter, topped with slivered almonds and toasted pine nuts, over a bead of rice and a special paper thin bread used exclusively for mensaf. On the side was a giant bowl of “soup” which is really a sauce that binds the whole thing together. The sauce is made with a dehydrated yogurt ball (Jameed; hard as a rock initially) that is softened in water and then mixed with the water that was used to stew the lamb all day. The result is a succulent sauce that soaks into the rice when ladled over the dish.

The stuffed grape leaves were delicate, about the size of my pinky finger,

and stuffed with minced lamb, rice and tomatoes. The stuffed zucchini and eggplant were also smaller versions of the vegetables than what we find in the States, hollowed out from the top and stuffed with a similar mixture of minced lamb, rice and spices, then baked. Delicious. The kibbeh was an added treat. I’d had these before at a cafeteria style place which did not at all do them justice. The outside of this oblong sphere is made with bulgur wheat and minced beef which acts as a shell for a filling of spiced minced meat. Perfect little appetizers that I could eat all day. Initially I thought that the presentation and quantity of food was the most startling thing, but I soon realized that it was their Jordanian hospitality and pride in their food that was the most special part. Before I was even a third of the way through what had been spooned onto my plate, one of the family members would get up from their chair and insist on putting more food and/or “soup” in my dish. By the time Reham was unloading a fifth or sixth piece of lamb onto my plate, along with more heaping scoops of rice and “soup”, I was so full that I had to literally undo my belt buckle. The family said that the goal was for us to finish the entire platter, but as you can see from the pictures, even with more than a dozen people eating, we were not able to do so.

After we all pleaded with them to stop dishing out more food (“Halles!”) they reluctantly agreed and I struggled to hoist myself out of the chair. We retired back to the living room where we were given more Arabic coffee to help us digest. Oh, but we weren’t done. Next came desert; kunaffe which is the amazing cheese desert with syrup and crispy pastry that I mentioned having downtown earlier during my trip. I felt bad, but I couldn’t eat more than a third of it. I was starting to feel light-headed as the blood rushed from my brain to try and help my under matched, almost bursting stomach, but managed to try a fresh date that had me very intrigued. I’d never eaten a fresh date before (only dried) and found it to be very good. We sat around and talked for a while and I had no problem sucking down a nice cup of Turkish coffee as I munched on some mixed nuts later in the evening.

In all it reminded me of an Italian dinner; multiple courses, coffee, and nuts at the end, all taking place over the course of four hours when plenty of talking and laughing. As the time approached 11:00pm we realized that Stan still needed to finish packing before heading to the airport for his 3am flight. We thanked our hosts profusely and commented on how truly special it was to have been invited into someone’s home and treated with such hospitality. A unique and exceptional evening provided to us by our new and most gracious Jordanian friends.

Good Thing It’s Not Hot

This has been my mantra over the past few days as the temperature has soared to 115⁰F here in Amman. I learned that you can tell when the outside temperature is over body temperature (~99⁰F) when the breeze feels warm as it passes over your skin. But when it’s 115⁰F it literally feels as if someone has pointed a hairdryer at you as you sit inside a sauna. It saps your energy, all but eliminates your appetite, and at least in my case, makes you wicked irritable and ill-mannered.

Friday was the first day of this heat wave and before I knew what I was getting into I ventured out to do some exploring. I started at the 1^st Circle where trendy Rainbow Street (lined with coffee shops and eclectic boutiques) heads down Jebel Amman (Jebel is Arabic for ‘hill’) into the old downtown. I came across an artisan market with stalls lined up one after another selling handmade beaded jewelry, funny and interesting t-shirts (I ♥ Amman, and the like), and antiques. I decided to buy a 100-year old hand crank coffee grinder from Turkey. The guy told me that it grinds nicely; I just hope he wasn’t lying. If not it’s still an interesting find, but it would be great if I could actually use it to make Arabic coffee when I return home. I wander around a little more, head into downtown to compare prices of argileh’s at different shops and find out it’s going to be best to find a shop where I can create my own, and then buy a sweet fedora (grey with a pinkish-red band around it) for 1JD at the used clothes/junk market that I had visited the week before. This comes in handy later in the day.

I realize at this point that it’s got to be 1,000 degrees and things are starting to move in slow motion. I’ve done the right thing, drunk plenty of water and replenished salts and sugars but it’s just not cutting it. It’s around 1:00pm at this point so I take an air-conditioned taxi to the district of Shmeisani to find some lunch. I walk into a place called Tarweea, tucked in behind a traditional café, in a neighborhood full of American fast food joints (KFC, Popeye’s, Burger King, Subway, Chili House, Boston Chicken) and discover quite a gem. I walk in with my newly purchased, second-hand fedora and am greeted by a man, who turns out to be the owner, wearing a snazzy suit. In fact, all of the waiters are wearing suits and I’m worried this lunch will set me back more than my per diem allows.

I must have looked like I might pass out at any moment as they hand me a bottle of water before I even sit down. Once seated I peruse the menu and realize that it won’t be too expensive, but also not the 1-4JD meals I’m used to for lunch. I start with a platter of tomato, cucumber and green and black olives. Ajloun (a town north of Amman) olives to be exact, the best I’ve ever eaten. Seriously. Sorry Italy, no offense, but wow, these were amazing. Then I order stuffed grape leaves (nothing overly special here), a thin bread spread with za’atar, and layered, and then baked in a wood-fired, brick oven, and a ‘sandwich’ (a wrap really) with minced lamb mixed with scrambled eggs. It really is a fantastic and different kind of meal (I’ve been getting tired of all of the falafel, shwerma, hummus, kebobs, etc.) and I take a few photos.

I guess the fedora made me look like a writer or journalist or something that combined with the photos) and the owner came over to ask me what company I was writing for. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity so I simply said that I was writing for a food and travel blog in Amman. He thanked me graciously and offered me a refreshingly cold, lemonade with mint drink to cool me down further. I ask him how it’s made and get the recipe.

After lunch I headed across the street and down a block to the famous el-Farouki coffee shop where they roast the finest coffee beans from Brazil in their in-house roasters. I go against my instinct and ask for an Arabic coffee made with beans that are literally black. Good, dark coffee does not necessarily need super dark roasted beans. In fact, usually beans roasted this dark are bitter and terrible, but these were not. I’d been told and also read that the guy here is a magician when it comes to roasting coffee beans and it turns out all that I’ve heard is true. An amazing cup of Arabic coffee, with freshly ground cardamom of course, to finish off my afternoon.

The next day was just as hot but I had learned my lesson and planned to finish my adventures outside by noontime. I first went to the Roman amphitheater with my friend James. We tried out the ancient acoustics by squatting along either side of the stage (80 feet wide), next to the parabolic wall that separates the stage from the first row of seats, and easily had a conversation, even with people talking around us. Amazing engineering for a structure built in 130 AD with the ability to hold a crowd of 6,000. The climb to the top afforded views of the Citadel up on the hill and the old city downtown. Since this is the largest Roman amphitheater in the world it goes to show the importance and distinction of Philadelphia (the original name of Amman during Roman times) in the Roman Empire during the 2^nd century.

I helped James do some shopping as I know the downtown quite well at this point, and he returned the favor by helping me design my own argileh. I’m going to use it as decoration in my condo so had a color scheme in mind. I went to a store where I could mix and match different pieces to create my own design. You are able to pick out a glass base, body, ash plate, tobacco holder, and tubing/mouthpiece to suit your taste. It was a fun experience and I ended up with something quite striking. I also purchased the sticky and wet tobacco (peach flavored) to bring home. I must

try it out and show it to friends first before retiring it to decoration-only status. You must believe me when I say that it’s not like smoking actual tobacco. Every one of the ex-pats has tried it at some point on this trip and even people who have never smoked anything in their lives have no trouble with it at all. Since the tobacco is so wet in the first place; it burns not by being stoked with actual fire, but rather by hot coals that sit on top of aluminum foil over the tobacco holder; and furthermore since the smoke passes through a bowl of water, the resulting smoke is flavorful and soothing. If you’re reading this blog and want to give it a shot, let me know when I return and I’ll hook it up.

It’s so hot that we have to get out of the heat, but feel bad that we’d be wasting the entire afternoon on our day off, so we get a hold of two other colleagues and attempt to go to the art museum. Although the guide book says it’s open and the sign on the outside of the building says it’s open, it’s definitely not. Standing there in the skin-boiling sun we look up and see the King Abdullah Mosque towering over us not far away. It’s the largest mosque in the city, with a beautiful teal and green dome (I used it as a photo for my blog about religion earlier in this diary, see below), and the minarets have just started screaming the call to prayer. None of us have been brave enough to venture into a mosque, but there’s strength in numbers.

We head over to the mosque and it’s a tourist friendly place. We are asked to wait in the cultural center downstairs and not even directly connected to the mosque, while the afternoon prayers are taking place. They give Catherine a full-length, hooded black nylon robe to wear as women must be covered up when entering a mosque so as to not distract the men from the importance of prayer. We hang down there for 15 minutes or so, making sure to stay in the shade, until they tell us it’s okay to enter. They hand each of us a pamphlet that describes the construction process of the mosque and a very fascinating book that talks about the Islamic faith and the challenges that it faces today with extremism being associated with and dominating the minds of people all over the world.

I take off my shoes, leave them on a shelf outside, and walk in. It’s not like a Christian church. The main room is a giant circle, carpeted, with no furniture of any kind. There are no religious symbols on the walls (i.e. churches have The Cross everywhere, and candles) either; just a clock on the southeast facing wall (towards Mecca), with a digital board below it showing the date in both the Christian (2010) and Islamic (1431 A.H.) calendars, and the upcoming times for the next five calls to prayer. These times change daily based the rising and setting of the sun. To give you an idea, the times now are approximately 4:30pm, 9:30pm, 12:30am, 4:45am, and 12:55pm.

Sitting down on the carpeted floor towards the middle of this enormous circle I read the literature that was provided. The fascinating ‘Amman Message’ talks about the values of Islam with reinforcement through passages from the Quran. As I read this I realize that it’s very similar to passages in the Bible and I’m convinced now that all of these religions are basically the same. Be kind to one another, respect life, help the poor, etc, etc. Why there’s so much fighting about it all I don’t think I’ll ever understand; especially now.

Ding-Dong the Sea Is Dead

This was something that I had been looking forward to for a long time. Ever since I thought I might be coming to Jordan my plan was to immediately, on my first weekend off, make a beeline for the Dead Sea. The fact that it’s the lowest point on planet earth, that you float effortlessly on top of the water, and that the ancient Egyptians used to use the jet black Dead Sea mud (bitumen) that is produced on the bottom of this water body for embalming their mummies, intrigued me to no end. So as planned, on my first full weekend in Jordan I arraigned a trip with two other colleagues.

My original plan had been to simply take a bus to the Dead Sea. I found out however that because this is the lowest point on earth, the heat gets trapped in this ‘bowl’, and during the summer months the temperature can reach 115⁰F or more. So staying for only a few hours in the mid to late afternoon is the best way to do it. Also, since I was going with two other people it made sense to hire a private driver who could pick us up first thing in the morning and take us to Madaba to see the beautiful and historic mosaics on the floors of some Christian churches, then visit Mt. Nebo where Moses looked out over the Promised Land, and finally to the baptism site of Jesus, before heading to the Dead Sea. Quite a day with so much to see, but also so much history and body-tingling sites to make it all worthwhile.

The day started with a ride to the city of Madaba, an old market town 30km (18 mi) southwest of Amman. It’s famous for a 6^th century mosaic map of the Holy Land on the floor of a church. The town is mostly Christian and is full of narrow streets and Ottoman era stone

houses. We arrived just as the famous aforementioned St. George’s Church, or Church of the Map, was opening. We were the first inside and did not have to battle with any other tourists or crowds.

The map itself is pretty impressive. The names of the cities and towns are written in Greek so you need a guidebook to understand what you are looking at. But it’s amazing how they were able to create three-dimensional representations of walled cities and the like, all shown spatially correctly according to one another. My favorite part of the map is of the Jordan River flowing into the Dead Sea. One fish is swimming with the current, toward the Sea; while another is frantically swimming upstream to escape it’s certain, untimely death.

We hop back into the car and head towards Mt. Nebo. The car climbed some pretty massive mountains up to a very hot and dusty ridge. We stared out over the Promised Land, as Moses did after wandering through the wilderness for 40 years as leader of the Israelites, looking west towards Jerusalem, Jericho, and Bethlehem, over a vast expanse of semi-arid desert. Pope John Paul II had visited this famous site in 2000, and the holiness of the place was tangible.

Back in the car, on to yet another place that wasn’t quite on my radar, but once again well worth the visit. A place called Bethany-Beyond-the Jordan, now widely accepted as the place where John the Baptist baptized Jesus Christ. First we drove down from the ridge at Mt. Nebo, a winding road with hairpin turns, Bedouin camps scattered around, and camels wandering. As we descend towards one of the lowest spots on earth my ears were popping. We arrived at the car park where a shuttle bus awaited to take us onto the site. I stepped out of the car and was immediately hit with a wall of heat. Being 350m (1,120 ft) below sea level traps the heat in and makes it 10 degrees hotter. It’s hovering around 105⁰F. Oh, but the humidity is low; Right. I shuffle slowly along so as to not rev-up my body temperature anymore than need be. A guide takes us and a small group of other tourists to a few locations around the site. He’s a wonderful storyteller and I’m captivated by it all. The tale goes like this:

There are many different passages in the Bible that helped archeologists locate this special spot along the Jordan River. I can’t quote the exact verses here but I can at least loosely explain. One verse talks about how Jesus was baptized near Jericho. Another verse describes the location as being “five Roman miles from the mouth of the Jordan River into the Dead Sea”. A third says that “Jesus was baptized in Bethany-Beyond the Jordan”, meaning on the other side (beyond), of the Jordan River from Jerusalem; hence in the country of Jordan. Finally, a forth passages describes the baptism site as a “stone’s throw” from the actual river itself (taken to be approximately 20-30m), down a series of marble steps into a smaller tributary of the Jordan River. Using all of this information archeologists started digging and unearthed many different churches and holy sites. Nothing that quite matched the descriptions mentioned above, but enough to give them hope that they were on the right track. This was obviously an important religious site at one time and it did seem strange that a bunch of churches were built so far away from any other major cities or towns.

Then one day, after many years of searching, archeologists discovered a miscalculation in one of their clues. The passage that said Jesus was baptized “five Roman miles from the mouth of the Jordan River into the Dead Sea” represented this location back in Biblical times. Over the past 2,000 years the Dead Sea has been shrinking at a rate of approximately 1m/year. When they extrapolated the approximate location of the northern bank of the Dead Sea during Biblical times, and worked back upstream five Roman miles, they discovered a clearly defined tributary

of the Jordan River and started digging. To their utmost surprised they unearthed another church with a series of marble steps heading down into the tributary, a “stone’s throw” from the Jordan River. Viola! The baptism site of Jesus Christ. A fascinating piece of archeology and detective work, with lots of conjecture and assumptions, but worth serious consideration in the end. I was impressed and actually rather moved. Picturing these real historic figures actually here, right where I was standing; people that changed the course of religion around the world, was really unreal.

As described before, the Dead Sea is only five Roman miles (“mille passuum”; 1,000 paces or two steps; approximately 0.9 miles) from the baptism site. It was a short drive, but another 55m (176 ft) down to the lowest point on earth; 405m (1296 ft) below sea level. Picture that the rest of the fish in the oceans are swimming more than 1,000 ft above your head!

The coast of the Dead Sea is dotted with uber-upscale hotels and resorts. Just a one day admission to the beach areas adjacent to these resorts can set you back 40-50JD ($55-$70), so instead our driver takes us to the public beach, known as Amman Beach. When we arrive we are not disappointed in the least. Although it is public there is still a resort-like facility with changing rooms, showers, a restaurant, pools, bars, etc. You walk down to the beach below when it’s time to jump in the salty liquor.

The Dead Sea is actually not a sea at all. Rather it is an inland lake that is fed by the Jordan River; however there is no outlet (Endorheic Lake). Due to its extremely low elevation and subsequent extreme heat, the rate of evaporation is staggering, and the atmospheric pressure is the highest on earth. So much so that the air is thick, sounds are dampened, and the atmosphere naturally blocks out harmful sunburn inducing UVB rays while allowing the suntan friendly UVA rays to reach sunbathing guests. The result is a wonderful day at the beach with no need for sunscreen or any worries about uncomfortable burning.

The water itself is salty; Salty beyond imagination. Sea water is 3% salt. The Dead Sea is 31%. When you touch your wet finger on your tongue the initial sensation is that of someone jamming a hot metal rod onto your tongue. Then the taste hits and it’s enough to make you spit profusely and gag. Mind you, this example is not with actual water droplets, but just wet fingers. I can’t imagine actual liquid. If/when some of it gets into your eyes the pain is beyond horrible. Think someone throwing HCL into your face after being pepper sprayed. It happened to me once and I was forced to close my eyes harder than I ever have before, for at least 15 minutes, to make them tear and flush them out. Even after I was able to open them, partially, I was told that the whites had turned a maddening, blood-red color.

The experience of floating effortlessly was truly magical. You just lay back and enjoy the ride. It’s even possible to sit Indian-style with your tailbone serving as your center of gravity. The best way to describe it is that of a wine cork floating in liquid. As soon as you pick your feet up off of the sea bed your body immediately bobs to the top. Unfortunately I do not have many pictures of all of this because I have yet to get the super Mike Nelson waterproof camera. It might be necessary for my next trip as I’m quite sure I’ll be going back to the Dead Sea again.

The water and thick mud on the bottom contains all kinds of body nourishing minerals such as calcium, potassium, magnesium, that have many proven healing capabilities. I had a nasty puncture wound on my index finger that had become infected, complete with zit-like spouting yellow puss. But after a few hours in this water the swelling was gone and by the next day it was as if nothing had ever happened. Another fun thing to do is rub the jet black mud all over your body and let it dry in the baking sun. When you rub it off the tingling sensation on your skin is wonderful and the resulting softness is like a babies’ butt.

The entire experience was all that I had hoped for and more, especially with the extra excursions that we were able to do as part of the trip. On the way back to Amman we stopped on the side of the freeway to buy figs; the best in Jordan according to our driver. It’s hard for me to disagree as they were the best figs I have ever tasted, bar none. Some green, some purple-ish, all with bright pink and red centers, sweet.