City Post: Amman

Amman was not my favourite city. Actually, I would probably say it was my least favourite. I just wanted too get that out of the way up front.

I got into Amman decently late, around 8 p.m. or so. In December, that meant it was dark out. I didn't know if Uber worked in Amman or not, and I had some cash I needed to spend, so I decided to just grab a taxi to my hostel. I was staying in the city center, which was a pretty good ways away from the bus station. It cost more than a pretty penny to get there, more than it should have. That should have been an indicator of things to come.

My hostel had the most interesting setup so far. Instead of individual rooms, they had enclaves in one room, each of which held eight beds in four bunks. That mean there wasn't any place to store bags next to our beds, so bags lined the wall outside. We also weren't allowed to wear shoes in the enclave, so there were shoes haphazardly strewn about at its entrance. It was a clean place with decent WiFi; it was just set up strangely.

They also had a sign up at reception that clearly stated that so-called "Zionists" were not welcome, including any products from a long list of companies. The list included McDonald's and Starbucks. I was told that if I brought these products into the hostel, I would be told to leave. Like, leave leave. It seemed more than a bit extreme to me (buying coffee wasn't exactly my preferred way of making a political statement), but it was a simple enough rule to follow. This rule didn't bother me until my last day in Amman, when I had finally had it with the city and its absurdities.

My first day, I headed up to the Amman Citadel. This was on top of the hill in the middle of town, and was a moderately difficult walk to get to. Nonetheless, it was a really cool, albeit not expertly-maintained, site. It had shown continuous human occupation since 1800 BC, including the Umayyads, Byzantines, and Romans. The major sections of the site were divided into these three main districts depending on the archaeological record.

Despite Jordan being a Muslim-majority country for almost 1400 years, it was interesting to see the influence of Byzantine Christianity and Roman theology. To me, it was interesting that these were highlighted instead of minimised. Generally speaking, the early Muslim conquests, during which Jordan fell into Muslim hands, tended to disregard, denigrate, and suppress their Christian (and Jewish) subjects and history. Maybe there the long history of this citadel made it an exception. Or maybe Western tourism and academic dollars made it an exception.

In any case, it was a cool site to explore. There was a small museum on site which guided patrons through the archaeological eras and finds at the site. It was pretty full of relics and artifacts. Unfortunately, tours were forbidden inside, so, even if I had a tour, I wouldn't have been able to glean much more from the museum than simply just looking at the exhibits and reading the [sparse] descriptions.

Exploring this site and, later, the Roman theatre raised a months-long question in my mind: should I be walking here? There were very few roped off areas, and you could tell many visitors (especially local ones) didn't exactly have the highest regard for the site's preservation. There were a lot of people climbing up on columns and remnants of buildings to get photos. There were even wedding shoots going on doing the same. Maybe it was because I was a history major, but it wasn't exactly my favourite thing to see.

That said, what better way to explore the entire site? I was able to explore the full floorplan off Byzantine churches, long lost Mosques, and old fortifications, because I could wander the entire site. I actually messaged Tahli, my archaeology friend from Cairo, about this exact question for her professional opinion.

After lunch at the nearby cafe (and waving off overly-insistent taxi drivers), I headed down to the Roman Theatre. This was a huge complex that, I gathered, only foreigners had to pay to enter. Luckily, I had bought the Jordan Pass, which gave me unlimited access to many, many sites across the entire country (including my time at Petra), so I didn't have to pay to enter.

There was a large forum outside of the theatre where local kids played soccer (football for you non-US/Australian/New Zealander types). I had to show my Jordan Pass for a second time to actually enter the Roman Theatre (I had to show it just to enter the larger site, which included the forum, another theatre, a couple of small museums, and even public toilets.

This Roman Theatre was huge compared to any other Roman or Byzantine sites I had seen thus far. It had a great view of the Citadel, which I would imagine is why the site was chosen in the first place. The wings off to either side of the stage each housed a small museum related to the theatre's or Jordan's history. As I climbed up the steps (along with a whole lot of teenagers getting their Instagram snaps and TikTok reels), I couldn't help but wonder what it must have been like to see a production or concert at this theatre. I knew what it was like to watch bullfights from way up in the cheap seats after Pamplona and Madrid, but nothing else. Standing at the top of the theatre, I just imagined a play taking place before me as canon and sentries manned the hill overlooking the city.

That night, I had a date. Sure, we met on Tinder, but you gotta start somewhere. We hit it off on the app, and agreed to meet for a few drinks. She was a local, and suggested we meet in Abdoun, find a bar, and grab a drink. We did just that. Seemed well enough, and there was a bar nearby. That's when I learned she was Palestinian. That's not necessarily important for this story, but it will be for my follow-on reflections about Gaza.

And that's where the night took a turn.

It had a cover charge for the booth, and the drinks were really expensive. It was clearly an "upscale" place, so I didn't think too much of it. The drinks were also really expensive (15 JD for a bottle of beer), but, again, alcohol wasn't the norm here, so I figured what the hell.

The girl was drinking vodka tonics. A lot of them. In rapid succession. I initially thought this was going to end up with her wasted in a bar and I would have to take care of her. But she didn't. Eventually, I made a comment about it, and she told me that she had told them to only put enough alcohol in to take the edge off. Whatever. Didn't think too much of it.

The host guy came by and asked if I had cash in case my card didn't work. I told him no, but my card will work. I had been using it in Jordan for over a week. He told me sometimes they didn't, but I told him to rest assured, it would.

Then the bill came. It was a lot. A LOT A LOT. Like, an oppressive amount. But, hey, I had agreed to the date, even though I had only had one drink, and told him I'd pay with card. He again asked about cash, and I insisted on card. That's when I noticed he had to turn the card machine on to process the payment. It hit me then that something was up. In what was no surprise at this point, the card didn't work.

This was a scam.

I knew the card reader wasn't connected to the internet. I had intentionally not brought cash nor my debit card with me in case the girl herself was a scammer or thief. The guy oh so politely offered to escort me to the ATM to withdrawal cash, and I told him repeatedly I couldn't. He said all I had to do was log in on my phone to authorise it, but I didn't have access to my credit cards on my phone (by design, in part for this exact reason).

He didn't want to accept that, and was getting agitated when I told him if he wanted his money, he'd have to let me go back to my hostel to get it. I even told him that he could hold on to one of my ID cards to ensure my return, but he refused (because what scammer wants to be in physical possession of evidence of their crimes?).

He was kind enough to "hire" a taxi that was conveniently outside to take me back, and sent one of his guys with me to the hostel. Now, admittedly, while in on the scam, these two guys were pretty cool. They had all sorts of cool stories of their prior work with military contractors and the US embassy in Jordan. I had a decent conversation with them on the way to the hostel and back. Why make a bad situation worse?

I got the guy his money, and he even had the audacity to ask my how much change I wanted back. I remembered the bill, told him how much I wanted in the difference, and he was shocked. He had already tossed the bill, and had no idea how much I actually owed him. He then offered me a free drink, a free ride back to my hostel, and to waive the service charge on any of my future visits. How nice of him.

The girl actually waited for me at the bar the entire time. She tried to keep up with me afterwards, but I was far too burned. She was the "roper," the one who brings the mark into the scam. I'm sure she got a pretty decent cut of the money after I left (because she noticeably didn't leave at the same time as me).

When I got back to the hostel, I looked the place up, and it had a 1-star rating on Google as a dating app scam bar. Now, I could have gone to the tourism police at this point. They would have cracked down on them, in theory. They were generally pretty good about keeping Western tourism dollars happy in Jordan. The problem was the reviews indicated this was no use. To this day, I am sure they have them Tourism Police in their pocket.

I could have refused to pay as well. I could have made an ordeal of it all. That would have been risky. I was alone in Jordan, no one knew I was on this "date," and, quite honestly, I had enough money to pay my way out of this scam and back to my travels. So that's what I did.

The next day, I got up to go get coffee and breakfast. I knew my daily budget, and ordered about 5 JD worth of food for breakfast off the menu. When I got the bill, it was 13 JD. Of course it was in Arabic, so I couldn't argue the point with what I actually ordered. This was when I decided I'd had it with Amman. Literally everything in that city was a scam, right down to getting a simple breakfast meal. I decided I would go to Starbucks, enjoy a scam-free coffee, and then spend the rest of my time in the hostel. And that's what I did.

I was thoroughly annoyed and disappointed. Jordan was a beautiful country, and the people seemed beyond nice and welcoming in both Aqaba and Petra. I had met my hostel owner's friends, eaten at local restaurants who were ecstatic to have a customer during the slump, and had a really good time in the country. Until Amman. I swore I would never go back to Amman ever again.

Then came the airport. I ended up sharing an Uber with a lady who needed a ride. It cost something like 20 USD to get to the airport. Incredibly more reasonable than the ridiculous 60 I paid to get from the bus stop with a taxi.

Like every other airport in MENA, my baggage was screened multiple times. At the entrance, the security team made me pull apart my entire bag. I was pretty well used to this at this point in the trip, because I had a lot of electronics. The guy was even apologetic, because he could clearly see I was just a traveler (critically, with an American passport). He was supposed to repack my bag himself (just like in Ireland), but he let me do it, because it was packed tight.

Once through security and immigration, I found myself in the food court. It had a McDonald's and a Starbucks, both of which were full. Apparently a lot of Zionists fly through Amman airport. I got McDonald's just to spite it all. This was less a political statement on Gaza and more of a middle finger to Amman.

My next flight was to Iraq. After my experience in Amman, I couldn't wait to be there. At least there was something familiar about Iraq to me.

Where I Stayed: The Cabin Hostel

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