The Jordan Diaries 2005: October 27 Day 1.2 The Arrival

Met on arrival – quite literally at the point of  arrival i.e. the door of the aerobridge -by a Jordanian gentleman who must have been under the impression it was a cold day in Amman – even though it was a warm 30 something outside –  as he was wearing a fairly thick red, black and grey pullover. He was waving the usual meet & greet sign with our names on it ...which DOES make for peace of mind and relief of knowing you’re in the right place and delivering yourself into the custody of the right people.

With impeccable manners and very good English, he issued us a formal welcome to Jordan and introduced himself as Mr. Allal’aiyah (*al-larl-‘lai-yah)– or so it sounded. He ushered us like a mother hen to the Visa Desk (all of 5 steps away), collected 20 JOD (10 x 2) from us and oversaw the issue of our visas, which took about 5 minutes flat with a minimum of fuss.  Then it was over to the end of the Immigration queue, obviously too slow for his liking, so he had us lane-hop to the queue at the far end of the desk, where there was a sign declaring Reserved for VIPs/Transit. As we were distinctly neither, we felt we were most definitely in the wrong line. However, the Jordanian Immigration officer didn’t seem to notice and/or care and processed the passports with the same lack of fuss and bother that we had come, over the course of our brief 15 minute experience of the country, to expect of Jordanian Officialdom.

We looked up from tucking the documents away safely, just in time to see Mr. Al lal’aiyah scurrying away and watched in dismay as his departing back view disappeared round the corner, to the top of an escalator leading down to Baggage Collection.

Visa issue – 5 minutes; Passport Control – 10 minutes; Baggage Collection – interminable!  It took an absurd and inexplicable 45 minutes! The bags appeared through the rubber-stripped hatch onto the creaking and grinding carousel at the rate of 6 per deposit from somewhere outside....disturbing wild imaginings of some poor man doing the shuttle between aircraft and terminal struggling with an overloaded wheelbarrow! 


With nothing else to do while we waited, TheBoy amused himself with the mental gymnastics of number crunching and announced that on present form, 45 minutes was the mathematical equivalent of 37% of the entire flight time from RUH to AMM. * thanks for that!They really ought to consider sorting out that aspect of the Welcome to Jordan experience!!

In the meantime, as a distraction of my own, and being The Queen of Detail, I was busy reviewing the paperwork and discovered, with a small degree of alarm, that there was an apparent error regarding the itinerary and hotel vouchers that Mr. A had handed us – vindicating once again that there is absolutely nothing wrong with being obsessive, especially about detail, and even more so when one is in a foreign country!

We were meant to be visiting the Dead Sea and accordingly staying at The Dead Sea Marriott – both events distinctly absent from the sheaf of documents in my clutches. By the time we had finally plucked our bags from eternity, passed in a blur of people and noise through the x-ray set up in front of a totally disinterested official in a uniform, Mr. A had very efficiently got it sorted and was ushering us out to our waiting driver.

We were once again welcomed warmly with a handshake and genuine friendly smile from Mr. Sufian (*soo –fee-‘yan) who reminded me instantly of Mr. Nidal from Al Hussan, though for no particular reason I could think of. Guess I just could never have come to Jordan without remembering him- hope he finally made it home and now rests somewhere here in peace.

We were ushered to Mr Sufian's car, a pale blue Samsung (didn’t KNOW they made cars!), which we sort of guessed was his own personal car, complete with tissue box and other outward signs that he and his car had been through a lot together. Nevertheless it was very clean, ran well and gave us the distinct feeling that we were to be in the company of a personal friend showing us his Jordan.