If getting there is half the fun, I had more fun than should be legally permissible today.
Having read three travel guidebooks, WikiTravel, and two main Amman government websites, I made an itinerary for the day and set out. First, I would take a taxi to the Abdali bus station where I could catch a public bus to Salt. Then, walk around the town for the day before catching a bus back to the station, and from there taxi home. I took my map with me and felt fairly confident about the bus station location, having been there once before when getting the bus from the University.
I told my taxi driver (who didn’t speak any English) confidently that I wanted to go to Abdali bus station. He looked at me puzzled, and asked, “Abdali bus?” I told him yes. Off we went. We got to Abdali neighborhood and he asked me again where I wanted. I told him “Abdali bus station.” This wasn’t working. He asked where did I want to go from here? I told him from the bus station, I wanted to get a bus to Salt. He looked a little more enlightened, but that was where my Arabic stopped. He rattled off several sentences; at first, I thought he was offering to taxi me there. I told him I wanted a bus or a servees. He spoke again in Arabic – I understood he was saying something about a circle (roundabout), busses, taxis, and Salt. And that was it. We were in Abdali, right at the Souq Al Jumaa, and so at this point I decided I might as well get off there. I thought I remembered passing by the souq on the way to the bus station before; and from the driver’s motions, I didn’t think it would be far.
I walked around the Souq, taking pictures and buying a bunch of plump figs for lunch. I saw no servees or busses heading for Salt, and so, taking my Amman map, I pinpointed where the bus station should be.
On the map there were two main landmarks; I did my best to orient the map and figure out my directions. Thinking that I was heading in the correct direction (East on the map and East from where I was standing), I started walking. I walked. And walked. No bus station in sight. Oh, that’s okay. Sometimes distances seem farther on foot than they do on a map. I kept walking. I found Al-Quds, a famous restaurant in Amman, but little else. Finally finding another main road, along which were lined serviis, I decided to ask the policemen standing nearby if they knew where the station was. I approached and asked if they spoke English. They smiled and half nodded. “Shway?” I asked. They laughed. So, taking out my map, I pointed out the bus station and told them in English and Arabic that was where I wanted. I asked where are we now? I thought that if they could just point out the general direction to me, I could walk there. They were sorely puzzled by the map and my questions. They held a small conference; a police vehicle passing, they flagged it, because the driver could speak English. They took the map and conferred with the four or five police officers in the vehicle. The driver spoke to me, “You want to go to Salt?” “Yes,” I said. This produced more debate. Apparently there is a road very nearby called Salt and they couldn’t figure out why I needed direction or a bus to get to the road. I told him, no, the city Salt.
“By bus?” he asked.
I said yes. More rapid Arabic. He made me understand (in English) that I would take a taxi up to a certain circle where there should be busses waiting to go to Salt. Okay, I said dubiously – where was the Abdali bus station?!. He hailed a taxi for me, and (apparently) explained the situation for the driver. I thank the squadron of policemen and we set off (but not after the taxi driver stopped to get cigarettes; this is, after all, Jordan).
We drove past the Souq, heading north. I was skeptical. We came to the circle I believe everyone was referring to – not a bus in sight. The driver pointed and shrugged, “No bus,” and kept on driving. Finally, we reached the northern and westernmost part of Amman, Swelieh. I saw buses all around; he explained I would get on one of these and it would take me to Swelieh. I agreed.
I got into the white minibus and sat down, waiting for it to fill. A few moments later and we were off.
It was a beautiful drive, passing countryside and small houses. With the lovely weather, it seems many Jordanian families had the same idea I did: I saw several picnics spread around the rocky soil, under the olive trees, overlooking the mountains.
We arrived in Salt, and I set off on foot. (I’ll save the day’s adventures for another post.) Coming back was no problem: I took the bus from Salt to Swelieh. The driver, controller, and passengers were all very nice. The controller asked where I wanted to go, and I told him anyone of three neighborhoods. He explained that they didn’t go there (which I knew) and that there weren’t any servees or busses going there, but that I could get a taxi from Swelieh, where they dropped me off. One of the (male) passengers pointed out my money nearly falling from my pocket. I got another taxi, and arrived home in the evening with no problems.
One of the first things I did was pull out my map and pull up Google to find where in Amman could the Abdali bus station be hiding and what was the bus station I had gone to before? Was it a phantasmagoria? A figment of my imagination? A place like that city on the turtle’s back in the final Aladdin movie that moved to a new location every night?
After an hour of searching, I had the answers to my questions. The Abdali bus station was demolished and closed in 2007. Its buses were moved to Tariq, a neighborhood in the far north and east. The bus station I went to must have been either Raghadan in Jabal Amman or Wahadat, a little further south. No wonder the taxi drivers and policemen were confused by my adamant questions about the Abdali bus station! Of course, I did have it on the authority of three guidebooks (one of which I know was published in 2009) and two current Jordanian websites that the Abdali bus station had regular bus services to most of the north of Jordan. Oh, well. Ahlan wa Sahlan, welcome to Jordan!
On the other hand, it wasn’t a bad experience; I got to Salt an hour later (and 2 JD poorer) than I had planned, but I got the unexpected blessing of help from a lot of Amman’s nice policemen, taxi and minibus drivers. Props to them for being professional and helpful to a rather lost, confused, and behind the times American girl in Amman.
No comments:
Post a Comment