The Dead Sea

After Petra we headed back north, toward the far end of the Dead Sea, where we stayed for a day and half. The descent toward the highway that borders the Dead Sea was treacherous and as usual Daniela, who suffers from motion sickness, lost her cookies. The smell of overheated brakes and lack of road signs had me a bit worried, but as our ears popped we made it down to the planet's lowest elevation on land and then drove alongside the blue and turquoise-colored waters of the Dead Sea.

There's a small area at the very north end of the Dead Sea in Jordan where a few hotels and spas have been built. People from all over the world go there, as well as to the spas on the other side, to bathe in the waters and put mud on their bodies, but it was floating in its dense waters that attracted us.

We arrived in time for the kids to enjoy the pool facilities and us the view and then a beautiful sunset on the hills in the West Bank.

The next day we went floating in the Dead Sea, although not everybody liked it and some of us had to try twice before getting in the not-so-warm water. Dianny and I even put that gooey mud on our bodies and now, besides the wonderful exfoliation, we should never suffer from psoriasis, osteoarthritis, or rheumatoid diseases. After our salty dip we spent the rest of the day enjoying the sun in the pool area. It was really nice to feel warm again and the kids could not get enough of the pools.

Very early the next morning we headed back to the Amman airport, a bit less than an hour away, to catch our flight to Dubai. Our short time in Jordan was wonderful and in general people were friendly and seemed to genuinely try to make us feel welcome. But of course, we had our "tourist" moments—both of which, coincidentally, happened at gas stations.

Right after getting our Thrifty rental car at the airport, we had to stop for gas because the car had less than 1/4 tank of gas. After filling up, the attendant gave me a credit card receipt for 22.000 Dinars. I think it's normal to wonder if you're being taken to the cleaners when you're in a dark gas station at night in a new place where you don't speak the language and you're being charged what looks like thousands of Dinars. But the attendant must've thought I was being ridiculous when I asked if that was a receipt for twenty two thousand Dinars, when in fact it was just for twenty two Dinars. We didn't know at that time that the Jordanian Dinar is divided into 1000 units (called fils), not 100 like most of us are used to (there are 10, 25, 50, 100, 250 and 500 fils coins).

The other incident happened when we stopped for gas on the way out of Petra. The appearance of the gas station should have been enough warning not to stop there, but in Jordan many stations look old and run down. Besides, you never know where you'll be able to fill up again, and we had less than half a tank, so I didn't want to take any chances. Upon finding out we could only pay with cash, the guy started filling up the tank. When the attendant started topping off the tank I told him to stop. He pulled the nozzle out, told me it was 15 and some change, and immediately reset the pump to zeros, which for a nanosecond raised a little red flag in my head. I headed back to the driver's seat to get the cash from Dianny, and when I got back to the pump to pay I see the guy is filling my tank again. WHAT? This looks very strange and I rub my eyes and wonder if it's just a mirage and maybe he's filling another car that is somehow sitting in my spot. No, it's my car, and the guy seems to be topping off the tank again. He then pulls the nozzle out of the tank, shows me that the pump display now says 14 and change, and says that I owe him 28.

"Okay, here we go," I said to myself. At this point the guy seems to speak only two words in English, which is two more than I can speak in Arabic: 'twenty' and 'eight.' In utter disbelief, I asked why if he had just filled the tank for 15 he was now charging me 28. His only explanation was that he put 15 and change, as he had showed me, and now another 14 and change, which apparently in that remote part of the world equals 28. And he would cynically draw with his finger a 2 and an 8 in the dust on the gas pump. I considered just paying the total and driving away, but since this whole thing made absolutely no sense I insisted he had told me it was 15 and that nobody asked him to pump another 14. I also resorted to the mathematical Rule of Three, trying to explain that two days earlier I had paid 22 Dinars for 3/4 of a tank so how could it be 28 for 1/2 of a tank. I know gas prices are going up but even for someone who doesn't understand economics that seemed extreme. He went back to his explanation that first he put 15 and then another 14. Now more people are starting to gather at the pump, and they all try to explain to me that I owe 28 Dinars. I kept saying "No, no, it was 15," and when nothing else seemed to work I just said I only had 15 and handed it over. The attendant seemed to finally give up and motioned that I owed him some change, so I reached for whatever loose change I had in my pockets, gave it to him, walked back to the car and drove off, slowly but surely, with one eye on the road and the other on the rear-view mirror. After a few miles I was finally able to take the eye off the rear-view mirror and focus on the road ahead.

Sneaky Gas Station Attendant: 0, Me: 1, but it was a draining victory and every once in a while I imagined being stopped and arrested at the next road checkpoint.