Crossing into Jordan

The last time I blogged, I was in the Holy Land.Today, I am back in the U.S., still jet lagged and missing the part of my heart I left behind.

With each new international trip I take with The Faithful Traveler, it becomes more and more clear to me that blogging while on pilgrimage or a filming trip is next to impossible unless I actually schedule time to sit and write. That, of course, is the LAST thing I want to do in a foreign land. Sit and write?! NO! I want to go out and explore and drink and eat and discover new places and meet new people! The sitting and writing can come later when all I have to do is … well, sit and write. 🙂

So here I am, sitting in a hospital waiting room (David is having a stress test), and reminiscing about the amazing times I had in the Holy Land. Want to join me? 🙂

Last I wrote, I was talking about Thursday, May 22nd, our second day in the Holy Land. It seems like ages ago since then, when we made our way from Nazareth to the Israel/Jordan border.

As a San Diegan, borders aren’t new to me. When I was young, my parents would frequently traverse the US-Tijuana border to shop for whatever they thought they needed in Mexico. My sisters and I would sit in the cab of the truck my dad was driving (it had a camper cover). We made up this song we’d always sing as we crossed the border: “American citizen, from San Diego!” and we’d sing it over and over again. The border patrol guy must’ve either laughed or wanted to throw us back into Mexico for being so goofy.

As our guide, Uri Golani, drove Andy, Patrick, and I toward to Jordanian border, that song played in my mind. How funny would it be if that was the only thing you had to do to cross a border: sing a goofy song? But no. Crossing borders into and out of Israel is no laughing matter. It took us a good 2 hours to cross, and I know it would have taken much longer had we not had two things working in our favor:

1) we discovered this VIP service that, for a fee, helped ease our trip across. It was AWESOME. We used two different companies–one entering Jordan and the other leaving Jordan, but both were spectacularly helpful. For any camera crews traversing these borders, I HIGHLY recommend them.

Just a quick note on crossing borders with a bunch of camera and sound equipment: it is always an issue, no matter where you go. There are many safety and customs concerns involved, and there are an equally large number of forms and procedures you need to take to ensure a smoothish entry. Throughout our trip, we crossed a variety of borders and encountered a lot of searches and delays, as well as some friendly and some not-so-friendly people. Sometimes it was frustrating and annoying (like when we arrived at the airport 4 hours in advance and they asked us why we got there so late… grumble). Suffice it to say, I’m glad it’s over, and I’m glad I know more for the next time around.

2) Our Jordanian guide: Izhac (or Isaac, as the boys called him).

What can I say about Izhaq? He was one of the highlights of our trip. We all came away from Jordan loving him and loving his country, and we all hope to return some day simply because he is so fabulous.

As we crossed into Jordan, I had no idea who would be picking up up. Part of this was bc the Jordanian Tourism Board’s emails kept getting kicked into my junk mail folder for some bizarre reason, so I didn’t see their email about who our guide would be. I just hoped that SOMEONE would pick us up and take us to where we needed to go.

And that someone was Izhaq, with his huge smile and his awesome accent, bordering on Australian and Chicago gangsta. He greeted us with a big smile and told us to hang out while he took care of everything. And he did.

As we sat in the waiting room, looking around at everyone, I had a distinct feeling I was leaving one country for another. I don’t know how to explain, but the people looked different, the feel was different. It wasn’t better or worse, just different. On the walls of the waiting room were photos of the Kings of Jordan: the late King Hussein (who I think looks a lot like Sean Connery),

and the very handsome King Abdullah II, who would be meeting Pope Francis in a couple of days, his gorgeous Palestinian wife, Queen Rania, and their beautiful children.

I was amazed at how little I knew about this family, so I started looking them up online. They are a fascinating people with a fascinating history–I won’t get into it here, but I encourage you to read more about them, because they reign over the only country in the Middle East where Christians and Muslims live in peace. During his welcome to the Pope on May 24th, King Abdullah II said, “you have become a conscience for the whole world.” And the Pope called King Abdullah a peacemaker.

The entire time I was in the Holy Land, I spoke with many people about how wonderful we thought Jordan was, and many expressed their hope that Jordan’s peaceful coexistence among Muslims and Christians would spread to the rest of the Middle East. Inshallah.

Now, that reminds me of the few Arabic terms I learned during my time in Jordan and Bethlehem. I have always been of the mind that it shows respect to foreign people when you visit them in their land to at least TRY to say a few things in their language. I generally start with “please”, “thank you”, “good morning”, and whatever other pleasantries I can remember. Izhaq was such a great teacher, this is what I learned in Jordan (these are obviously not written in Arabic, but phonetically, so I could remember how to say it):

• Please: min fad lick (to a woman) / min fad luk (to a man) / lao sam hat (gender neutral)
• Thank you: Shokran
• Thanks be to God: Al ham dulelah
• If God wills it: Inshallah
• Morning is good (Good morning): Sabah al Khair
• (the response to Good Morning) Morning is bright: Sabah al noor
• Good evening: Massa al Khair
• Welcome/Hi: marhaba
• Father: Abouna
• Dear/Dearest one: Habibi

Suffice it to say, I didn’t learn nearly enough Arabic as I would have liked to, but the fact that I learned something brought smiles to the faces to whom I spoke, and made me feel as though I was trying to not seem like an entitled American. We aren’t the only country, after all. 🙂 Inshallah, I can learn more Arabic for the next time I need to use it, but I don’t see myself ever not using the terms Inshallah, habibi, or al ham dulehlah.

My friend Habib, whose name I only later realized must mean “dear one” (and he is so dear), told me how beautiful Arabic is, because it incorporates God’s name in everyday parlance. And I agree. Of course, other languages do that, too. I remember, back in the day when I was trying to learn Gaelic, how the Irish greet one another by saying “Dia dhuit“, which means “God be with you”, and the response is “Dia is Muire dhuit”, which means, “God and Mary be with you”. And, of course, in Spanish, we say “Si Dios quiere”, which is the equivalent of Inshallah, if God wills it. 

Speaking this way leads to thinking that way, which, I think, is a great way to think. God is a better planner than I am, after all. So I’ll leave my future to Him, just letting him know every now and then what I’d love to do or see happen.

Wow. This is a super long blog post. Clearly, I don’t do well with word limits, and since this is my blog and I am the Queen, I could continue. 🙂 But I’ll break for now and explore our Jordanian trip tomorrow.

Today, I begin reviewing the footage, particularly for clips to send to EWTN for my appearance on Life on the Rock next week! Tune in if you can!