Touring Jordan

I haven't posted lately because my parents are visiting the country. We've spent the past week on a grand tour of Jordan, hitting major sights all across the country. I've been treating it as a vacation. No news, no blogs, no studying; just relaxed days strolling among the ruins of one great civilization after another, discussing Israeli-Jordanian-Palestinian issues with my parents, and playing with my kids.

I enjoy taking first-time visitors around this country. Most of them have no idea what to expect; I certainly didn't before I first arrived. I pictured a vast, flat, and mostly untamed desert with only the faintest traces of human civilization. I had no idea how varied Jordan's topography is, and how rich its cultural heritage. One civilization after another has left its mark here. In the space of a few days you can visit Biblical landmarks, the ancient Nabatean civilization of Petra, the largest Roman ruins outside of Italy, crusader castles, Arab castles belonging to Salah ad-Din, and the desert where the Arab tribes and T.E. Lawrence waged their campaign against the Turks. You can cross a desert on a camel, lounge on the shore of the Red Sea at a 5-star resort hotel, drive among the rolling green hills of the north, and smoke the nargila in a rooftop restaurant in Amman.

I enjoy one thing even more than showing off the country's rich geography and history: I enjoy introducing visitors to its people. Here, too, many Americans have no idea what to expect. We know deep down inside that Arabs and Muslims are ordinary people, just like us, but most Americans never have the opportunity to interact much with Arab or Muslim communities. Our perceptions are largely shaped by the news, Hollywood, and vicious hyper-partisan debates. For many people, Arabs and Muslims are still defined by their exotic "otherness." I love helping people break through these barriers and make genuine contact with others.

We had some wonderful opportunities to do that this week. My wife's and my Arabic ability has improved to the point that it's finally a great asset for meeting people. In the port city of Aqaba we made friends with a cheerful security guard who invited us to visit his home next time we're in town. On the way back to Amman, we needed a bathroom break so we stopped at one of the hundreds of tiny coffee/tea stands that line the highway. Our quick pit stop turned into an hour-long visit with the owner, Khalid. He wanted pictures with our son, showed us cell phone pictures of his own kids, and played a phone recording of his kids laughing. He invited us inside, where he and several of his friends were spending a relaxed afternoon discussing politics and religion. We pulled up chairs, drank tea, and talked at length about the presidencies of Bush and Obama, whether or not there would be war with Iran, and what the US was doing to alleviate the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. One particularly devout Muslim named Yousef talked about his deep respect for Christians and our universal brotherhood as members of revealed religion. When we finished, Khalid insisted over my protests that our tea was free. We received invitations to three different homes in three different towns, traded phone numbers, and went on our way.

My parents loved it. My father commented on how similar people are across the world, despite their very different cultures. We're all just ordinary people. It's a truism, but it's easy to forget. Even I forget it sometimes. These trips are always refreshing for me, because I spend way too much time in front of a computer, reading reports and op-eds about radical Islam and terrorism and Iran and everything else under the sun. Do that long enough, and that's all you see in the world... it's a hostile place where cutthroat fanatics lurk around every corner. I sometimes question myself, wondering if I'm being too soft or idealistic, wondering if all those far-right pundits who rail against the intrinsic evil of Islam are more right than I want to admit. But when I shut off the computer, jump in the car, and go travel around this country, I feel like I'm emerging from a cave. I squint into the bright sunshine and realize the world looks totally different from the news headlines and op-eds. There are deep problems in both Islam and the Arab world, to be sure, but they are far more nuanced and complex than the rhetoric usually suggests. Life in the Arab world is far more ordinary than most people realize.

Finally, I've enjoyed discussing local political issues with my parents, especially the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. At my recommendation, my mother is reading The Lemon Tree and my father is engrossed in Benny Morris' 1948 (he's sitting next to me with his Kindle as I write). He made an interesting comment yesterday: "You never have any idea how little you know about a subject until you start reading good history books." I had exactly the same thought when I read 1948 and other books on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I had always held opinions about the conflict, but I never realized how ignorant I was. Most people--be they American, Israeli, or Arab--are probably the same. We think we understand the conflict and have strong opinions about it, but most of us have only the foggiest idea of what we're talking about. I care deeply about the conflict, so it's always exciting to see people's understanding multiply.