Jordan > A beer in downtown Amman

The last day has arrived. In the breakfast room, everyone is a bit quiet after the short night. The last ones returned at half past two. At eight o’clock, we leave Aqaba heading for Amman—a 330-kilometer drive along the Desert Highway. A good moment to close my eyes for a while. Midway, we stop for coffee and a bathroom break. Around half past twelve, we enter Amman. The city is busy, and Ibrahim has trouble finding the hotel. Even after asking for directions, it’s difficult to find a place to stop. Fortunately, we manage to park right in front. The hotel is practically next to the Abdullah Mosque, also known as the Blue Mosque.

Jordan - The blue Abdullah Mosque in Amman Jordan

In the afternoon, we walk from the hotel to the Abdullah Mosque. It’s uncertain whether tourists are still allowed inside. Until recently, visits were possible, but we had heard they no longer admit tourists. It turns out to be fine. At the entrance gate, we are welcomed politely, and for two dinars (€2.40) we are allowed in. The women are given robes with hoods for the visit. While we are taking photos, a woman shouts from above. The ticket man responds sharply to her. While shouting back, he gestures for us to follow him. The woman is apparently standing at the gate on the other side of the mosque—they clearly don’t agree with each other. Our guide tells us to take off our shoes and just go inside. He also indicates that we may take photos. In the center of the mosque, a small group of worshippers is praying. I cautiously take a photo. I feel a little embarrassed. When leaving, we give the man a tip for his help. Afterward, we walk toward Downtown Amman, the city center. As the name suggests, we walk downhill for about half an hour. In the center, there are small shops and eateries. In a side street, we order something to eat—chicken kebab with cola. Everyone in the small space is having the same dish. When we want to use the toilet, the owner’s son reluctantly leads us. He points out a door and starts heading back while we enter. Inside, it turns out to be a coffeehouse. The room is full of smoke, and about sixty men look at us curiously. At least we have their attention. Most have paused their card games.

Jordan - View over Amman with the Roman Theater and the Forum

We are directed to the toilet. When leaving, we greet everyone and give the owner a tip. By the time we return, our food is ready. Through the narrow streets, we reach the Husseini Mosque. It’s a quarter past three, and the mosque has just emptied. A large group of men is still talking in the square. Carefully, we ask if we may enter. Some men leaving gesture “of course, come in.” Judging by the expressions of other worshippers, not everyone is as enthusiastic. We decide to stay at the entrance. The mosque has an open courtyard with a dome in the center and is much smaller than the first mosque. Next, we walk into the souq. Narrow streets with shops and stalls. At the fruit and vegetable market, everyone wants to be photographed. Walking toward the citadel, we get briefly lost, and some boys point us to a narrow stone staircase upward. From the top, we have a beautiful view of downtown Amman, the forum, and the old theater. We arrive at the citadel parking lot and can almost walk straight in—but this is not allowed. A guard explains, using gestures, that the citadel closes at three and has been closed for an hour and a half. When we mention that we are leaving the country tomorrow, he considers for a moment and allows us ten minutes on the archaeological site. The low sun casts a beautiful light on the citadel. On the way back, we thank the guard and walk down. It quickly becomes cooler now that the sun has set. Still full from the late kebab lunch, we search for a beer. This proves difficult in an Islamic country, where bars sell only soft drinks. We try a simple hotel, but again only cola. Asking on the street, we are led to a liquor store. A man offers to guide us to a café. Slightly wary, we follow him. Upstairs through a door, we enter a local, smoky café. We are looked at curiously but welcomed. Said, our host, leads us to a table, translates our order, and even joins us. Before we know it, he has ordered mezze for us—a collection of appetizers. Said is from Jordan but lived in Italy for eleven years. At the end, he calculates the bill for the waiter, probably sharing the profit. It was a nice place to have a drink. We take a taxi back to the hotel. No longer hungry, we have one final nightcap at the Irish Pub near the hotel and go to bed on time.