Journey To Jordan

Entry 1: November 5, 2022

From the friendly skies over the Atlantic Ocean, I begin my journey closer to the origin of our species than I have ever been before. I am headed to Amman, Jordan, in the Middle East. I have, to date, been incredibly fortunate to trek across numerous countries dotting our fragile planet. The Middle East, though, is a region undefined by my eyes outside of the digital walls of movies and television.

The influence of media on my preconceived notions about the Middle East aggressively tugs at my sense of self and my understanding of a region flush with history and culture to be discovered. The tug is self-induced because my exposure to the wonders of the region is rooted in Hollywood and sensationalized media.

I am also pondering the education I received as a youth and the gaps in the opportunity to learn about the people and customs of an incredibly diverse part of the world. This is primarily why I feel a sense of mystery about my impending arrival. We live in a world organized by answers, by structures that give us expected experiences and results. So it is good, in my estimation, for the soul to be wonderfully surprised now and then, like a child experiencing ‘firsts’ at every turn.

I do not know what to expect on my journey.

I do not know, nor can I prepare for what my eyes will see. The landscapes I enter will be

emotional and revealing. I only hope to do justice by the generosity of the people to adequately paint a picture that is informative, emotionally moving, and, most importantly, powerful.

#StoriesTravel, as I say, and I welcome all of you along this most humbling journey to Jordan.

From seat 20F aboard flight UA525, I bid everyone a peaceful close to Saturday.

Humbly,

Rod

Entry 2: November 7th, 2022

I usually write my journal entries daily, but since I landed on Sunday evening after starting my journey Saturday afternoon, I thought I’d wait until a full first day here in Amman, Jordan.

A trans-Atlantic flight of 11 hours is different. Upon landing, you peel yourself out of your seat like a real-life version of ‘Flat Stanley,’ only to find yourself in a foreign land under the sun of a different culture and language.

For those who followed my journey to Senegal earlier this year, you’ll appreciate it when I say that the trip from the airport to my accommodations gave me a similar experience in Amman.

Transit from the airport into the city drops a newbie, like me, into a cultural blender of sights, sounds, smells, and structures, unlike those back home. I rarely see people that look like me. I struggle to find images that resemble what I know.

That might be the beauty of travel. A spring cleaning of the heart and mind to resettle assumptions about our place in this world and our perceptions about those around us.

Jordan is giving me that gift already.

After a beautiful meal where gluttony might have sidled up next to me at the table, I, for the first time in my life, experienced smoking a hookah. Of course, the smoking of hookah can be found anywhere amongst the many layers of earth-washed masonry. I was recently in Rome,

so, ‘When in Jordan…” seemed to fit nicely into my rationale.

This morning I awoke feeling the complete pain of a 9-hour time difference. Coffee, in any land, is a gift from the Gods. I set off to spend time with the leadership of ITG and the World Refugee School. Interviews were balanced with small talk and introductions, conversations about shared experiences around the world and in the U.S. I am getting better at using the salutation salām, meaning peace and said across the globe by Muslims. I would try to learn more Arabic, even the slightest vocabulary, but this is an English-friendly nation, and I feel comfortable only after a few hours.

A walk around the city in the late afternoon led me to share a meal with a dear friend that is traditional to Jordanians – mansaf. I find it to be an incredible honor when I get to experience treasured cultural experiences and meals that are infused with history and stories with each step and bite. For those interested, I recommend Googling the traditional expertise of mansaf, especially when in the home of a local.

After another incredibly satisfying meal, we meandered through the streets to indulge in another tradition, kunafah – a cheesy and sweet goodness dripping with pistachios and syrup.

The experience coincided with my recent memory of waiting in line, in Rome, for gelato. The longitude and latitude were different this time, but the same cultural gathering to share in the sweeter part of life. And, yes, it was delicious.

I had heard that the people of Jordan were both gracious and hospitable – I concur after just a few hours. It is almost hard to accept the level of generosity extended to me at each intersection of experience. It reminds me of the virtues we all hope to teach our children and share with neighbors. It does feel that many communities at home have lost their way. It becomes increasingly apparent being dropped into a new world as I have been. I am not naïve – no land is pure, nor are its citizens immune from the perils of a changing world. It is nice, however, to experience others through the lens of kindness and not what political color or banner they fall under back home.

Tomorrow, I head to a Date Farm - something I never knew existed here. Then off to see where Jesus was baptized and then to the Dead Sea.

I am unsure what to expect, but I acknowledge that the streak of cultural fortune I am riding is exceptional. I am humbled moment by moment.

Salām, from Jordan

Rod

Entry 3: November 8th, 2022

I had little idea what New Year’s Day 2022 had in store for the rest of the year. I had not

contemplated a pilgrimage that would fall beneath my feet, covering four continents. Yet, this crossed my mind today as I ‘walked’ through history, trying to fit this year into one explainable and rational box of ‘why.’ 

I am unsure if I have discovered the answer; maybe I don’t need to. You can tell I’ve been short on an explanation for a year and a day today that continued the trend of experiences that say more by saying less. I’ll try to keep this entry short…here goes.

My day started with the sound of a tap tap on my window. It was raining in Amman. It has been over a month since it has rained here. This change in weather was welcomed quite enthusiastically by my charming and humble driver, Yusef. After meeting with my party, we set course for a Date Farm near the Dead Sea. I am covering the World Refugee School, and as part of the uncovering of this incredible organization, I discovered that they are part of a larger vision that includes farming.

The Medjool palm dates are both exclusive and exquisite, especially when the backdrop is 3,700 Medjool palm trees. I learned how the farm supports local farmers and agri-tech innovators looking to test their ideas on real farms (more detail forthcoming in my article).

After the eye-opening farming experience in Jordan, we set off for Jesus' baptism site. Not far from my mind, I had just recently met with the Pope as we meandered to the site. To think that

the site is still preserved…

One could look down onto the site and take pictures. I had a different and extraordinary experience. The tour guide, a former archeologist, approached me and told me to stay with him. As he directed others around a bend and towards the Jordan River, he looked at me and said let’s go. He meant to go! We ran back towards the baptism site, only this time, he told me to go in. I looked around and descended the initial steps to the landing where Jesus was baptized. Even though I type these words, I can’t believe it, but it is true. I feel incredibly blessed and thankful for a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

We quickly rejoined the others at the river’s edge. Israel is on the other side of the river (just a few meters). I watched as others were baptized, trying to soak up what my eyes were seeing figuratively.

We gathered our things and proceeded to leave. Next stop, the Dead Sea. I am unsure what I thought, but the Dead Sea is stunning. The salt levels in the water prevent boats from floating and fish from living. The tradition is to go to the water and cover your body with Dead Sea mud.

Since I was able to experience the saying, “When in Rome….” I thought I’d follow suit in Jordan, so I covered my body in mud and stared off into the angel rays piercing through the scattered clouds, trying to allow the experience to overtake my mind. After a few minutes, I walked into the Dead Sea and sat down so the slow-rolling waves could crest over my shoulders. Peaceful, yes. Spiritual, yes.

I know that not everyone reading this entry will have the opportunities I had today, but I hope that all universally experience the sense of peace I was a part of today. The world moves too fast. We all need a bit of calm to reflect on the past to write our future.

I bid you a good night from a chilly evening overlooking the past and present of Jordan.

Rod

Entry 4: November 9th, 2022 | Petra | One of the 7 Wonders of the World

When I shared that I would be traveling to the Middle East and specifically Jordan, the initial responses I received shared one word among many backchannel messages – Petra! The energy of the individual messages screamed through the digital highway. Notification received, and then some.

I was picked up this morning by a thoughtful and engaging man named Hussam. A three-hour drive south to Petra provided ample time for my curiosity to run wild, and I had the perfect road companion to engage with. We talked about the U.S. and Jordan, the Middle East, and the perceptions of each. He asked me, at one point, if he could ask me a delicate question. I, of course, said yes. He asked me about 9/11, wanting to know how it impacted my country, my opinion of the region he calls home, and the political complexities of the resulting war. Of course, what we discussed is between Hussam and me. Still, we had a compelling conversation about the subtleties that make up community and culture and what happens when we run counter from the beliefs underpinning our respective cultures.

We arrive. I had intentionally avoided researching Petra because I wanted to experience the day with eyes wide open, surprised by each turn my walk would take.

I made the right decision.

I have put an inordinate amount of pictures and videos in this post because I want everyone to share the phenomenon that is Petra. I have also included several images with my guide, Ahmad. It is funny or just the wonders of the world that stories find us all if we are open to the pen of others around us.

Ahmad, 79 years young, has been a Petra guide for 32 years and has conducted over 6,000 tours. He writes down every tour guest’s name in his book and has done so throughout his work. Like Hussam, Ahmad and I shared stories of the world beyond Jordan, opinions on world issues, and the history before us. Ahmad, a proud man, a proud father of 4, and a grandfather of 11, took me under his wing, showing me details within the sandstone layers, revealing centuries of stories over 4 hours.

Part of that history entails the storytelling magic of Hollywood. Fans of the Indiana Jones films will recognize the Last Crusade in my photos. Younger movie fans might recognize Petra for the 2019 remake of Aladdin with Will Smith. It is easy to see why Petra is home to so many movies

– a canvas of history going back to the 1st century that leaves most speechless.

I bid you all a pleasant close-to-humping day, where this visitor saw but didn’t ride the

surprisingly docile camels of Petra. Maybe next time.

I leave you all relatively speechless in Jordan.

Rod

Entry 5: November 10th, 2022

Today, I was selfish. Not in the way one might think. Today, I was able to play in a world of stories that makes me the happiest.

I didn’t explore historical sites today.

I spent north of 5 hours interviewing some unbelievably accomplished citizens of this planet, narratively walking down paths undiscovered and revealing, brilliant in color and context, and affirming that while we push, pull, and tear at the very fabric that binds us as humans, we are all a part of the same, global community. Our stories matter. Our stories unite us in times of tumult. And stories are the bridge between the past and the present.

I interviewed a man whose accomplishments are long and his character deep. Without giving too much away, he was awarded the Order of Independence by His Majesty King Abdullah II Bin Al Hussein. For context, consider the ‘Sir’ title in England designating knighthood.

That discussion of nearly 2 hours was followed by an interview with a direct descendent of the Prophet Muhammad, the founder of Islam. The debate was spiritual, unique, and one I will not Forget.

And while my last interviewee has not been knighted, nor can he claim to be a direct descendent of a Kind or Queen or founder of a world religion, this individual gave me the trust to explore his winding tale of a life rich in humanity. The discussion started with a straightforward question, even one I cannot recall now.

He responded that a pivotal event twenty years ago forever shaped his understanding of life and the delicate nature of the structures that define our lives.

He was working in Iraq, and one day, he and others were ordered out of the country. Not later that day. Not the following morning, but right then and there. He was rushed onto an old bus with doctors, lawyers, U.N. high-ranking officials, and others with a ‘one-way ticket’ to hold refuge in Amman, Jordan. A trip that should take twenty hours took nearly thirty in a bus meant for the scrap heap, not a get-out-of-town mission.

I was so taken with the unraveling of words that became sentences that became paintbrushes depicting a dilapidated bus slogging through the night and across the desert that I just had to ask about the impact.

In a slow, raspy, ‘I smoke 3-packs a day, gritty, Palestinian-by-birth accent, he shared that that voyage is never far from his mind. I wanted to go further, and I wondered aloud if he had boarded busses since then and, if so, why? I was amazed that whenever he travels to a foreign land, the first thing he does is he boards a local bus.

Why?

He wants to hear the sounds of cultures interacting outside of his experience. I am probably not doing justice to his story through a few keystrokes this evening. If you try to picture him, I would suggest a café backdrop with dim lighting, the site of smoke slowly encircling his head as he leans in and out of the conversation as we share in the magic of meandering stories.

Close to this evening found myself sharing a meal with a father and son who share a bond that cannot be hidden. Stories and pictures of years gone by, times of excitement, pain, and distance soothed by phone calls and visits.

Fathers and sons can be complicated as metaphorical dance partners. It was an honor to share a meal with two men who were humble in their disposition and fervently committed to honoring each other and their respective impact on one another throughout this lifetime.

This was a special day of stories that surprised me, impacted me, informed me, and supported my notion that stories can enlighten us on the power of shared experiences that make us uniquely human, uniquely in community with one another.

From a grateful Jordanian night, I bid you good night.

Rod

Entry 6: November 11th, 2022

This will be my concluding journal entry from Amman, Jordan. I am slated to board my plane at Queen Alia International Airport at 2:15 a.m. early Saturday morning. I don’t know if I’ve ever taken off so late or early in my life.

I am packed up, looking out over the valley, trying very hard to package together the sights, sounds, and experiences that have revealed a beautiful land filled with gracious people. I want to say I have one word or phrase to sum up this incredibly impactful experience, but unfortunately, I cannot.

My morning, I started with sharing a meal with my host family. I met grandparents, siblings, parents, and cats. Yes, cats. In my next life, I might request to return as a Jordanian cat if I have a choice. It feels like everyone has multiple cats, and even those you see on the street appear pretty happy and healthy.

Before we sat down for our meal, we exchanged laughs, stories with fits of translation for my benefit. I joked that I had attempted to learn Arabic in one week, but… I was shown pictures of family members, accomplishments, and gifts representing cultural heritage and family pride.

The highlight may be an after-meal discussion with an extraordinary woman named Layla. An author of 34 children’s books, Layla and I connected, each as parents, writers, and observers of the wonders of life. She asked if we could stay in touch and talk about kids and stories.

I look forward to our following conversation.

Sandwiched in-between food and authorship, I conducted my final interview. A discussion with an old soul about fathers and sons, honoring legacies, and the pressures of walking in the shadows of a great man. I have a hunch that my guest will one day be able to talk to his future children about the threshold he crossed to reveal his unique and special gifts. A humble man. A destined man. A man I call my friend and brother.

That may be the theme of this trip now that I think of it. The power of travel lies in the condensed nature of experiences that value quality over quantity. I may accumulate airline miles, but in truth, I am accumulating friendships that emotionally connected me and my passport to a time of connectedness and shared life experiences.

I truly am a #luckyGuy. #StoriesTravel #UntilNextTime and from #DestinationsUnknown

I thank all of you for participating in my Jordanian adventure. I’ll be back!

Rod