Words From Adelaide: Amman Adventure
John Powell tells of fraught times and excellent hospitality during a visit to Jordan.
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After being 'conned' in Cairo to the tune of $A40, I arrived safely in Amman on a Wednesday. There I was met by Zaid, from the Travel Agency, holding a large card with my name on it. I felt very important. He led me to the carousel and, seeing my suitcase, complete with my yellow ribbon on it, he took it, steered me through the airport and drove me 35Ks to my hotel. In my room I went to open my suitcase and, to my horror, saw that it was an exact clone of mine, even with the yellow ribbon, but belonged to somebody heading for Bangkok!
I phoned Zaid, and he drove me back the 35Km to the airport. There I showed my passport, took my lonely suitcase waiting for its owner and Zaid drove me back 35Km to the hotel.
In my room I opened my suitcase arranged a few things, locked it and went down for a meal. Returning, I discovered that I could not find my passport. It had disappeared completely. I turned out my suitcase; no success; it must have slipped out of my shirt pocket when we drove back to airport. Panic-stricken, I phoned Zaid. He drove me 35Km back to the airport again, without success and drove me back 35Km to my hotel. He then fled.
The next day, Thursday, I told Khalil, my new guide, of my loss.
'We must abandon any idea of visiting Petra today,' he said, ' You want to fly to Athens on Sunday. Tomorrow is Friday—everything is shut, also Saturday and Sunday the Australian Embassy is shut. We have to get you a new passport today.' We drove to the Embassy; there was a notice on the gate, 'The Australian Embassy has moved', no address, no 'phone number. Khalil worked overtime on his mobile and we reached the new location.
The Passport Officer informed us that issuing an Emergency Passport must be through London and takes four days. First, new photos were required. Khalil did a wonderful job through the busy traffic; photos obtained, I handed them in. Next, I had to report my loss to the police. Once more, Khalil showed he was a traffic-driving genius.
The Amman Police Station was bedlam; police milling all over the place; each office was crammed with people all talking and shouting and arguing with the police at once. At the fourth attempt we found the correct office. In the corner was a steel cage with bars from ceiling to floor. A huge bolt with a gigantic padlock secured the door while, inside, were five prisoners all shouting continuously, 'We are innocent! Set us free; for the love of Allah and the love of King Abdullah of Jordan set us free.' There was a constant procession of visitors to see the Police Officer, most to inform him that they had met his father, or his cousin in Jarrash, or his mother's sister, who sent her regards.
Somehow my statement was translated and written in Arabic by the Officer between continuous phone calls. He deserved a medal. In the middle of it another officer came in and told him something; he looked up at the prisoners and said, 'You can go.' No policeman stepped forward to unlock the huge padlock, instead, one of the prisoners reached through the bars, slid open the bolt, opened the door and they all ran out before somebody changed their mind. The giant padlock hung there, undisturbed, locking nothing.
We had had to have the Report signed by the Chief of Police on the other side of town. When we arrived, with one hour to closing, he refused to sign, said he had done enough work for one day and walked out. Despite this, the Embassy issued me a passport.
When it came time to leave, the Airport Passport Control refused to let me go as it was not signed by the Chief of Police. Meanwhile, as the 'Final Call' was made I confessed to Zaid I had found my old passport. He grabbed it and going to another Passport Officer, a friend, had it exit-stamped.
I ran for the Gate, which had to be the last one, and panting and pooped flopped into my seat, just in time and asked for water. A voice announced:
'This is your Captain; due to a technical fault there will be a half-hour delay before take off.'
It was all worth it however, just to visit Petra. I'll tell you about that later.
© John Powell
