Middle-aged flash packers

We were treated to double call of prayer this morning. I don’t know why the Imam did it, perhaps not enough people responded the first time. I guess church bells are the British equivalent but at least that’s limited to Sundays and weddings.

I noticed at breakfast that the second hand mansaf eater is staying at our hotel. She looked fine which was a relief as I’d hate to think I was party to her poisoning.

We decided today’s exploration of Amman would include a visit to the car museum, basically a museum full of King Hussein’s cars. And he had a lot. It was very interesting as the King’s life story was told alongside the acquisition of his cars.He became king when he was 18 after his father was assassinated. He and Queen Lizzie were good friends, with both of them having in common the ultimate of royal duty thrust upon them at a young age.

The car collection was quite excessive. Admittedly a substantial number of them had been given to him but these middle-eastern patriarchs certainly like to flash the cash.

When we had finished and emerged out into the daylight, we realised it had been raining! Wasn’t expecting that one.

Next, off to Hashem for falafels. It’s very famous and I wondered if it was going to be another tourist trap aka Rainbow Street, but thankfully it was the real deal. Delicious falafels and fantastic value – lunch for all four of us was less than a tenner. There is some controversy re the origins of falafels in Jordan. We were emphatically informed that they came from Syria then equally emphatically told they come from Egypt. Whatever. They’re nice, they need to be global.

An afternoon of history beckoned. We walked to and around the citadel which provided a great view of the city. Steve was very disappointed to find that the supposedly huge hand from an ancient statue turned out to be photographically enhanced and was really quite small.

Next, we made our way to the ancient theatre where we didn’t hang around, being somewhat cultured out.

Finally we made our way home stopping off at a slightly more upmarket (and prices to match) “tatt” shop. Jan and Nik sensibly made their excuses at this point and wisely headed back for a cup of tea while I dragged a surprisingly compliant S around the shop rejecting his suggestions and buying nothing.

How do the days pass so quickly? Before we knew it, it was time to head off to the very exclusive Fakhreldin restaurant for our final meal in Jordan.

The building has posh origins and is decorated grandly with chandeliers, the waiters wear suits and have a condescending air. We were shoved out of sight with the other tourists whereas it seemed as though regulars and other poshies were in the centre of things. The cars outside reflected the wealth of the clientele: a Maybach, top of the line Range Rovers etc.

However, Jordanian service showed its weakness yet again. Steve’s meal arrived and was finished by the time the rest of ours were served. (This wasn’t because S gobbled it down super fast, we exhorted him to eat rather than his meal go cold) As far as the food was concerned, it was ok but nothing we couldn’t have got for half the price elsewhere. Still, I’m glad we went, everything is an experience and it was an interesting insight into the lives of the Amman elite.

Tomorrow we fly home. It’s been a blast, we’ve had a lot of fun and thoroughly enjoyed all the activities and history Jordan has to offer. Fingers crossed Jordanians are not overly affected by the troubles close to them and can continue charming their visitors with their friendly and happy approach to life.