A day of travelling.

We leave Aqaba in the morning and will try to reach Israel today . It will be uite atrip, especialy because of the border crossing wich - according to well informed sourcces - will cost between two and five hours.

As becomes normal, we pick up two hitch hikers upon leaving Aqaba (one in uniform) and head north.The road is partially different from how we came, and large stretche of highway are of mediocre quality. As we gain the hghland, the heat is less than at the coast, but we are in a car with airco, so the ride is actually quite comfortable.

For the first time we are stopped by police - who are doing random checks continually along all roads in the country - but as soon as they see th uniform on the back seat we can continue.

Our passenger explains he is "civil defense' and apparently outranks or inspires enough confidence in the police. The man looks smartly, carries a grey moustache, but unfortunately has very bad teeth, which distract tremendously whenever he smiles . 

We drop them of halfway to Amman and continue north. At some point the road seems blocked by a traffic jam, and twenty cars or more are parked haphazardly net to the road. As we get closer and weave our way between the cars we see the site of a bad accident: a minivan has turned upside down. Broken glass, people on the ground in the heat. Many people helping. The professionals have arrived already: ambulance and fire truck. Heartwarming to see how everybody wants to help.

Finaly we make it to Amman, where we return our rental car and organize a taxi to the Allenby bridge - King Hussein border crossing.

It takes about an hour to get to the Jordanian terminal. Here we are dropped into a location of great confusion. It is unclear where we have to be. Busy officials walk all over the place but don't speak english. Sisi guards the luggage while I go explore.

A french lady explains to me where to start. "It says arrivals, but they do departures." I find forms and start to fill them out. Then I take the forms with our passports to the pigeon hole labeled "arrivals" and they take everything and mention I first have to pay tax.

Amidst the confusion is also an american boy, who crossed from Israel this morning, but did not arrange a Jordanian visa, so he is stuck at the Jordanian side of the Allenby bridge but cannot enter the country. Now his fear is that het will be stuck in this no-man's land between the two countries. .  

The place where I have to pay tax is an empty room, so I hang around with my twenty dinar bill, but I cannot pay. Further search and inquiry reveals that the official to receive my money is relaxing in a duty free store accross the street.
  
I find a kind old gentleman in military uniform shirt who carefully and gently tears two receipt coupons from a coupon booklet and hands them over to me as if I receive a present.

With it I return to the pigeon hole where they take it and tell me to wait for the shuttle bus. After some back and forth ('just wait here, the bus wil come' versus: 'That, over there, is the bus') we store our luggage in the back of the bus and wait until departure.

Not much later an official enters the bus to return our passports and we depart. The landscape outside is empty and hot. No trees, just hills with small shrubs and some grass.

We pass twenty or thirty buses parked along the road, drivers and people waiting outside and I feel we are making good progress. We see water. It must be part of the Jordan river, although I don's see a river. Later we cross the Allenby bridge, but the land under it seems dry. Then we are forced to stop with a number of buses ahead of us. 

 Time goes slowly. The engine keeps running to keep the airco alive. One hour passes, occasionally we roll forward one bus-length. Our driver, a slightly overweight jordanian, is unphased. He does this for a living and keeps smiling.

Another hour passes and finally we are let through and passengers and luggage are disorged. I am not sure if this is the palestinian authorities or not, but there is again much confusion. We are told to load our luggage on a conveyor belt into the building. the luggage disappears. then we have to wait for a while at a pigeon hole and show our passport. the lady gives us luggage labels. 
"Why?"
"To put them on your luggage, of course"
"Our luggage is already gone"
"Really? Which one is it?" She points at the luggage moving on the conveyor belt through her office.
"It's already through your office."

Panic. She runs our of her office to seach for the luggage. Impossible of course. Dozens of suitcases have been entered after ours. She returns and claims everything will be ok. 

More passport checks, personal checks. Finally we find our packs back in a central hall and go outside, We made it into Israel!

We take a bus to Jerusalem, and in an hour we enter the bustle of the old city. We are dropped off and find a kind taxi drver who brings us to a local car rental. With a flourising " Salaam Aleikum" we enter, and it's obvious we are among arab brothers. Big smiles, helpful suggestions, and soon we have a small car and a map, and we are on our way to Tel Aviv.

Afer some searching - it is already eveing and gettting dark - we reach our friends, and are welcomed with Jewish hospitality. Great to shower again and to relax.

We sleep with the sounds of crickets outside,