Sitting in the airport in Amman, Jordan at 7:42 PM. Just got off an 11 hour flight from Chicago. Jam packed with lots of babies crying all night. And who do you think forgot their sleeping pills? Mostly men in this airport either wearing suits or jeans or long white robe is prepared to go to Mecca, which is not far from here. Women all in burqas, except two. I'm glad I wore my long skirt down to my ankles and loosefitting clothes and a lightweight poncho over that. I'm the only blonde in the airport.
I went straight to the Royal Jordanian office, which was a little hole in the wall in the international section, because I didn't have a gate for my next flight on my ticket.
A man named Remi greeted me, gave me the gate number, said back in his chair looked at me in the eyes and said, " Life is a joke." Turns out he ran the airport Royal Jordanian office. He was smoking a cigarette. He told me, "people are afraid of the little things but they don't see the big things." We entered into a conversation about how it wasn't cigarettes that was killing everybody but it was processed food, and then launched into a discussion about autism, politics, travel, religion, and how all people are really slaves to money. Remi had a red velvet prayer rug sitting on his cabinet. That's how we launched into a discussion about religion. He told me I should study not Muslims no but the Islam make ideology. He didn't want me to leave; he went and got us two short cups of strong instant coffee. He helped me prepare a list of basic terms to use when I get to Dubai. I took his picture before I left and walked back out into the big room where all the gates were and people in Arabic to get mothers attention for phone calls. The whole place smelled like cigarettes.
I only had two hours left before my flight and I had to find some sleeping pills, otherwise another night on an airplane would be another night of torture. I stopped three times for directions to the place got bigger and vaster and the duty-free section was enormous. I knew I was going to get lost before I did.. But the pharmacy I found at the very end had what I needed. Then I want to dig in my bag to get my money and realized I didn't find it. Had I forgotten to pack my money? Luckily they pointed me to an ATM machine but I could only get Turkish currency. Eenie Meany miny mo; I didn't know the exchange rate so I just pushed one of the things on the machine. I went back to the pharmacy and pay them change the money back to US dollars. I got back 131uS$-not bad.
I was in a lack of sleep induced coma. Then I remembered my money was in my travel purse, deep inside my other purse, next to my computer and beneath my camera.
For some reason I can't put the pictures on tonight using my phone so you'll have to wait till tomorrow when I get the computer out.
Now I'm in an old-fashioned little plane headed for Dubai. Everyone has three seats to themselves!
It smells like a combination of smoke and crusty traveler b.o. My seat is stuck back in reclining position, but I don't care because they're going to feed us and the only thing they've offered today was two rolls for breakfast, which I turned down.
After an hour in immigration, I finagled my way into the taxi VIP line and got a ride for 50 dirhams.
He drove me to the Florida Hotel where the rate is 20 more than what I booked it for. There were two Africans at the desk having another problem. So I booked it for one night. Tomorrow I'll talk to the manager. But for now, it's 3:30 a.m. and I'm too wired to sleep. The Florida Hotel is in the middle of Old Town Dubai, which is exactly the opposite of where everybody else is staying who is with the convention.
Suddenly, I'm tired.....good night, er, I mean morning.
I went straight to the Royal Jordanian office, which was a little hole in the wall in the international section, because I didn't have a gate for my next flight on my ticket.
A man named Remi greeted me, gave me the gate number, said back in his chair looked at me in the eyes and said, " Life is a joke." Turns out he ran the airport Royal Jordanian office. He was smoking a cigarette. He told me, "people are afraid of the little things but they don't see the big things." We entered into a conversation about how it wasn't cigarettes that was killing everybody but it was processed food, and then launched into a discussion about autism, politics, travel, religion, and how all people are really slaves to money. Remi had a red velvet prayer rug sitting on his cabinet. That's how we launched into a discussion about religion. He told me I should study not Muslims no but the Islam make ideology. He didn't want me to leave; he went and got us two short cups of strong instant coffee. He helped me prepare a list of basic terms to use when I get to Dubai. I took his picture before I left and walked back out into the big room where all the gates were and people in Arabic to get mothers attention for phone calls. The whole place smelled like cigarettes.
I only had two hours left before my flight and I had to find some sleeping pills, otherwise another night on an airplane would be another night of torture. I stopped three times for directions to the place got bigger and vaster and the duty-free section was enormous. I knew I was going to get lost before I did.. But the pharmacy I found at the very end had what I needed. Then I want to dig in my bag to get my money and realized I didn't find it. Had I forgotten to pack my money? Luckily they pointed me to an ATM machine but I could only get Turkish currency. Eenie Meany miny mo; I didn't know the exchange rate so I just pushed one of the things on the machine. I went back to the pharmacy and pay them change the money back to US dollars. I got back 131uS$-not bad.
I was in a lack of sleep induced coma. Then I remembered my money was in my travel purse, deep inside my other purse, next to my computer and beneath my camera.
For some reason I can't put the pictures on tonight using my phone so you'll have to wait till tomorrow when I get the computer out.
Now I'm in an old-fashioned little plane headed for Dubai. Everyone has three seats to themselves!
It smells like a combination of smoke and crusty traveler b.o. My seat is stuck back in reclining position, but I don't care because they're going to feed us and the only thing they've offered today was two rolls for breakfast, which I turned down.
After an hour in immigration, I finagled my way into the taxi VIP line and got a ride for 50 dirhams.
He drove me to the Florida Hotel where the rate is 20 more than what I booked it for. There were two Africans at the desk having another problem. So I booked it for one night. Tomorrow I'll talk to the manager. But for now, it's 3:30 a.m. and I'm too wired to sleep. The Florida Hotel is in the middle of Old Town Dubai, which is exactly the opposite of where everybody else is staying who is with the convention.
Suddenly, I'm tired.....good night, er, I mean morning.
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