To get back home we'll travel alllll day.
So yesterday we napped.
But not before we went on a hunt for a local mosque, and then we were scooped up by a local woman, who very politely ordered us to come to her house.
I'm not kidding!
First we enjoyed an epic breakfast buffet, where we joined two from our tour group. They suggested that we go to the King Abdullah Mosque, which was only 800 meters away, according to Google Maps. This isn't the most noteworthy of mosques (not the biggest, oldest, fanciest, etc) but it is the only mosque in Jordan open to non-Muslims. With Google Maps leading the way, we followed the trail and I accidentally led us to the Amman Courthouse.
On the sidewalk outside was a long row of card tables under umbrellas, where men sat with manual typewriters, typing up forms of some kind. They also had a large supply of ball point pens and surgical masks, depending on what the customer needed. I still didn't understand this was a courthouse. We went through security to get into the building, which I assumed would open on the other side to a courtyard and then the mosque, but it never did. Everything inside was written in Arabic, so there was no way to know which door would reveal the mosque. I told my mother that my strategy for getting through the building was to keep walking down corridors, only turning into corridors where I saw a woman exiting. That's what we did for about 15 minutes, up and down stairs, under a beautifully domed atrium. It was bustling with people, many of whom were in what looked like the robes that professors wear at commencement ceremonies, with three bands on the arms. We'd learn later that those were judges.
Just outside security.
Just inside security.
I finally pulled out my phone and realized my mistake. I showed my mom that we needed to walk to the next block for the mosque. She reassured me that it had been an interesting stop on our way there, and was pleased with my mistake. (She's a great travel companion!)
Another block of walking and we arrived!
We went into the visitor's entrance and followed other people through a network of souvenir shops to a room that had two racks of brown robes on hangars. We had already been prepared for this requirement by our breakfast companions. But we arrived quite sweaty after our 1/2 mile walk, and when we entered the room we observed other tourists taking off and re-hanging their robes. We still had to get a negative COVID test to be allowed to come home, Jordan is pretty relaxed about mask-wearing, and I wasn't really eager to don someone else's sweaty robes before taking that test. Besides that, I was really thirsty after our walk, so I was ready to leave and get something to drink, which wouldn't be easy because it's Ramadan, everyone is fasting, so everything related to food and drink is closed. We were on our way to the door when a man came and asked if we'd like to see the mosque. I explained that we weren't dressed appropriately, and he led us back to the room with the robes. I explained that I was afraid of COVID, and he directed me to the robes on the hangers in the back, which were still in their dry-cleaning covers. I was happy to wear that robe to visit the mosque. Mom and I donned our robes and headed up the stairs to the mosque.
Immediately to the right, once we entered the mosque courtyard, was a small museum full of interesting and very old artifacts. Regrettably, even after a week in Jordan, I am still not able to read Arabic. So most of what was in the room was just interesting to look at, but not very informative. There were several Qur'ans in many languages on the front table.
That's mom in the center of the photo, in her hooded robe.
Images of the late King Hussein, current King Abdullah II, and Crown Prince Hussein are everywhere. This is the King Abdullah mosque, but it is named for King Abdullah I, who was the first king of Jordan. These three represent the third, fourth, and eventually fifth kings of Jordan.
Then we walked out of the museum to the mosque entrance.
Before we could enter the mosque we had to remove our shoes.
Inside the mosque.
Images of people in a mosque is considered idolatry, so the decorations are always geometric shapes, or the calligraphy of the Qur'an. You can see the calligraphy etched into the golden-colored fixture that holds the lights.
Here's mom in the middle of the mosque. Directly behind her is the wall Muslims face during prayer, and in the middle of that wall, immediately to mom's left in the photo, is the mihrab, or niche that indicates the direction of Mecca.
This clock shows the time (12:01pm), date (8th day of the month of 9th month Ramadan, 1443 AH), and five prayer times of the day. The first two times indicate a range during which the first prayer must be said. The bottom right number is the current temperature. That's a comfortable 70° inside the mosque! But much warmer outside, and I was still VERY thirsty.
After getting our shoes on and walking down the stairs toward the exit, I noticed another gallery. I had no idea what it was, because everything is in Arabic, but we decided to have a look. It was an area with a sort of auditorium in the center, and the halls outside were full of very cool things. Here's a gigantic Qur'an.
Here's a silver replica of the mosque in Medina, where Muhammed is buried.
We finally got to the mall. Curiously, we had to go through a metal detector and a bag search at the entrance of the mall. They saw my camera in my purse and said, "NO PICTURES." We had just been in a courthouse and a mosque, and no one prevented us from taking photos. At the mosque they told us we can take photos as much as we like! Then we get to a mall and couldn't take photos? It seemed odd, but I wasn't going to fight it. Thankfully, right inside the mall there was a grocery store. Whew!! We bought 1 liter bottles of water each for about 50 cents a bottle, then headed toward the door. Have I mentioned, I was SO thirsty! I stopped at a wall, not wanting to drink in front of anyone who was fasting, and faced the wall while I took giant swigs from my water bottle.
That's when we met Hala. She was entering the store and saw us drinking at the wall near the exit. She stopped and said, "Oh, hello. Excuse me. It's Ramadan. I'm Christian, like you, and when it's Ramadan we don't drink in public, because everybody here is fasting. Just so you know, okay?" We thanked her and sheepishly put the caps back on our bottles of water. Mom had drank a sip. I had emptied a third of the bottle. She took a step away from us when she stopped to ask, "Where are you from?" We answered that we're from the United States, and she got a very bright expression. Then she asked more questions about what we were doing there and what we had seen, and after our answers she said, "Oh, you will come to my house." Mom and I looked at one another with surprised expressions, and mom was all smiles. I replied, "Oh, thank you so much. We can't." She replied, "Yes. You'll come. Give me five minutes." She went in to do her shopping. Mom and I stood there, puzzling over what to do next. Mom said, "Well, we can decline graciously when she comes back." We were going to wait for her to do her shopping, and then thank her again and head to our hotel.
Hala checked out and headed our way. We thanked her again, told her it was nice to meet her, and said we'd be heading back to our hotel. She said, "No. Never decline an invitation. You're coming to my house. You need to see how a real Jordanian lives!" I tried again, telling her I needed to find an adapter for my computer, so I was afraid we had more shopping to do. She asked where, and I said I might find it in an Apple store or electronics store. "Oh! That's upstairs! Come!" We followed her up the escalator to the Apple Store, only to find that the adapter I needed would cost 80 Jordanian Dinars ($112), so I didn't get it. She said, "Okay, come with me to my house. We'll have Ramadan sweets." We tried to decline again. It was hopeless. We were going to her house.
When we got there she opened the door and told us to come look around. She's 60 years old, she's Greek Orthodox, she's not married, and has no children, but she has siblings and nieces and nephews who make her very proud. Some live in Jordan, and some live in the United States. Her father was a diplomat, and his photo with the late King Hussein is on the wall of her home.
Hala's dad with the late King.
Hala in front of one of the walls of family photos.
Hala asked us what we'd like to drink. I held up my large bottle of cold water and told her I was fine with that. As if not hearing my refusal she said, "Do you want coffee?" I said no thank you, and mom explained that I don't drink coffee. She said, "Okay, juice then? Orange or raspberry?" I told her, again, that I was fine with my water as we walked behind her in the hallway toward the kitchen, as she repeated that she has juices to offer. Mom turned to me behind Hala's back, and with a stern look only a mom can give she mouthed, "ACCEPT IT." So I replied, "Uh... ok.... Raspberry?" That seemed to put Hala's mind at ease a bit as she reached the refrigerator pulled the juice out of the fridge, telling us to go sit because she'd be preparing some snacks for us and needed to warm the oven. Mom said, "No, Hala! That's not necessary!" Hala stressed that she'd be doing it, and we needed to go sit down.
So mom and I went and sat down in the sun room, while Hala prepared our juice and pastries in the kitchen. A few minutes later she emerged with our juices and sat down. Mom started the conversation, "So, Hala, do you always pick up strangers and bring them home?" Hala laughed so hard. Yes, she does! She told us that one time she picked up a group of 19 Pakistani male athletes, who were in Amman to play in a tournament (can't remember what sport), and she brought them all home and made them food. A friend of hers stopped by and was very confused by the big crowd in Hala's home. Hala explained that she had invited the men to her house for snacks. Her friend asked with surprise, "You invited them all here?!" Hala replied, "Of COURSE I invited them! Do you think they'd just wander here and come into my house if I didn't invite them?!!" She also opens her house to English-speaking students who want to learn Arabic.
She hopped up when it was time to take the pastries out of the oven. She returned with a tray of six pastries. There was a small pot, like a tea pot, on her coffee table. She asked if we'd like sweet syrup over the pastries. When we looked at each other and shrugged uncertainly she said "okay" and started pouring. Three of the pastries were full of cheese, and the other three were full of dates and walnuts. The syrup she poured over the top is made with water, sugar, a little rose water, and some lemon juice.
THEY WERE SO DELICIOUS!
I just found a recipe for Qatayef, the Ramadan pastries she served us. Here it is!
Mom got Hala's address, and I friended her on Facebook! She might be the friendliest person I ever met. If you'd like to spend some time in Jordan, she offers her place, and you won't be disappointed. Just be warned, she is unable to hear the word "No."
Hala selfie.
Once we had eaten three pastries each, because she was unable to hear us say "no" after the first and second pastries, we walked back to our hotel. We napped for a bit before our driver came to take us to the airport at midnight.
So ended Day 19.
