The night is not optimal: there is an Arab party outside . Rhythmic drums, low bases and shrill shouting wake me up several times, because our balcony door is open, to let in the pleasant warm night air.
 
In the end I give up, close the door and turn on the airco.
 
Nevertheless we wake up early, because Wadi Mujib is calling! It had been on our list, but I had given up hope to hike it, due to lack of time. However, when we checked into the hotel yesterday, we inquired and a shuttle bus is leaving at 8:30.
 
A quick breakfast, where we happen to just see Betty, Richard and the children as we are leaving and they are arriving, and we are on our way.
 
In the shuttle are 4 Americans, who are in Jordan to work at the bromide plant near Aqaba. They are young guys and one girl. One of them studied at Purdue University where I also studied.
 
They are fun and we stick together for the hike. This wadi is special, because it's water has cut a very sharp and deep canyon into the rock, on its way into the Dead Sea.
We get out at the visitor center, pay and are handed a life vest. Then with a ladder we descend into the wadi which is still wide at this point .
 
After a few hundred meters, the walls close in and the resulting canyon is not unlike the one in Petra. Beautiful and almost artificial colors are drawn by the pressure lines in the rocks.
At some points, where the water is deeper and the current strong, ropes are attached to the rocks to pull yourself up. We are getting wet, and I have my camera inside two ziplock bags, which makes for considerable fumbling at 'just the right moments.'
 
Our engineering friends have a water tight diving camera with GPS and built-in altimeter. That's okay. I have two ziplock bags.
 
Ahead of us is a group of extremely loud Jordanians, who enjoy shouting. I guess as general excitement and maybe to hear the echo.
 
When we pass them twice someone gently holds my shoulders to prevent falling. In both cases I notice how another with an eye movement warns the stumbler that I am not a local but a foreigner. The stumbler quickly lets go of me.
 
‌In fact, I don't mind at all. But it's interesting how they respect foreigners.
After an hour or so, we reach the end of the gorge where a thunderous waterfall in a narrow crack gushes down . The weather is warm, and some of us slide down the rocks into the cool water. Great fun.
 
Believe it or not, but at this point several locals are smoking a cigarette. How in the world did they keep them dry?
 
The way back is uneventful. Our American friends clean up nature by collecting all water bottles they find floating in the wadi. I believe the tally is some two dozen.
Back at the visitor center Betty and Richard pick us up. What a VIP treatment! Together we return to Amman (after the biblical Ammonites) where we enjoy a walk in the old center, a very local lunch with the locals in a half open market.
 
When we leave our cook wants to be in the picture with Sisi, and our waiter makes to girls laugh very loud. I can't figure out why, until someone translates that he wants 1 dinar to be in the picture with me. It's a joke. They have outgrown the stage where they ask money for pictures.
 
We go to the citadel where the remnants of a Roman temple dominate the summit. A little down is a very nicely preserved and restored Roman theater - larger than the two in Jerash, but without complete stele.
 
It's a nice antique atmosphere while overlooking the crowded hills around us.
With the kids I tell stories of quests for treasures in exotic countries, and they find plenty clues amidst these ruins.
 
After a Syrian supper we return home where we watch the slide show of our previous trip in central Asia.
 
But then the time has arrived to say goodbye. Did two weeks really pass already? It's hugs and goodbyes before Richard brings us to the Queen Amalia airport. They are really good friends.
 
I write this in the airplane. Waiting for take off. Stuffy. A baby crying. Soothing music. 02:10 am. Tired. But very satisfied. 
 
I don't have many friends. But those I have are true.
 
't Was a great trip. Tomorrow morning our son picks us up in Amsterdam. 
 
What a great life. Thanks be to God.