At this stage of my travels I knew that I needed to bake in time to rest and excuse myself from any related guilt. If I pushed myself too hard, I would start to feel burnt out and fatigued, and didn’t find as much joy in each new place and activity. Having spent an action-packed eight days leading up to my stay in Amman, I was ready for a break. I wanted to see the city, but I also budgeted some time to sleep in, work out, lounge by the pool, and simply chill.

Getting to Amman

If you read my Petra post, then you know that I ended up in Amman a night earlier than I had originally planned. Having exhausted all of the activities in Petra, we decided to check out of the Marriott early and drive up to Amman. David would fly back to the U.S. the following day, and I would stay in Amman for three nights before continuing on to Beirut.

The drive from Petra to Amman was about three hours, and while it started out with stunning vistas over dramatic canyons, it quickly became one long, straight, monotonous drive through flat desert land. While David was doing his best to annoy me with his silly jokes, I’ll admit it was helpful to have someone to help keep me awake. Driving through Jordan continued to be an amusing experience as well; we saw people crossing the highway on foot, intentionally driving the wrong way on the shoulder, and making unauthorized U-turns or crossing to the other side of the highway over the desert sand when no road existed. As we got closer to Amman, we encountered roadwork that forced me to slow down nearly every minute.

We eventually made it into the city, and I managed to keep us alive in the bustling urban traffic despite David’s poor navigational guidance. After dropping off the car at Enterprise, the guy closing down the office offered to drive us to our hotel, the St. Regis Amman. Located in a part of the city that was seemingly undergoing massive development of numerous luxury hotels recently, the St. Regis had only been open for a few months. True to the St. Regis brand, the property felt luxurious and modern, and the hospitality was impeccable. Throughout my stay, the staff recognized me and were able to call me by name. I’ll admit it felt a little creepy; I suppose I also stood out as the solo blond guest as I didn’t see anyone else resembling me over the course of my three night stay.

Staying at the St. Regis

After checking in and getting settled in our respective rooms, David and I headed out for dinner. We opted for sushi at the (also new) Fairmont down the street. While the neighborhood didn’t appear to be the most-pedestrian friendly area, we had no problem walking the ten minutes to the Fairmont and crossing the large thoroughfare without assistance from a crosswalk or traffic lights. We just waited for an ebb in the oncoming onslaught of cars and ran across multiple lanes until we reached the other side of the road.

Dinner at Tsuki was fine. The Fairmont was a sprawling, luxurious property with numerous restaurants, bars, and a nightclub. We definitely weren’t in Petra anymore. Amman was known as one of the largest, modern Arab cities; at this point I had visited Marrakech and Cairo, but Amman felt more Westernized, which I had mixed feelings about. On one hand, it was nice to feel more comfortable as a visiting Westerner, but I knew that the “progress” had not come without a cost to the local people and traditions.

After a couple drinks and an assortment of sushi, we headed back to our hotel for a nightcap at the St. Regis Bar. As it was our last night together, David and I had to reflect on the previous week. While I had been nervous about the prospect of our friendship surviving the trip (and we definitely experienced some tense moments), we were both pleased with how we had made it through the week. We had banded together to stand up to our guide in Petra, we had made some friends, we had improvised and spontaneously changed our plans as necessary. After a final round of drinks, we bade each other farewell and I headed to my room for a solid night of sleep.

The next day was pretty boring from a blog-writing perspective. I slept in, I worked out, I hung out at the pool, I read, I planned future travel, and I ordered room service for dinner. Sorry, but I literally did not leave the St. Regis all day. See my excuse above in the opening paragraphs of this post.

Exploring Amman

After my day of rest, I was determined to see some of Amman before leaving Jordan until who knew when. My morning still started slow, but I had booked a city walking tour through Airbnb Experiences in the evening. Touted as an “alternative” downtown tour, the local guide, Anas, promised an authentic, non-touristic experience learning about the local community. Since the tour didn’t start until 4pm, I took an Uber to the Amman Citadel, a historic site atop one of the seven hills that originally made up the city (it had since expanded to include even more hills).

On the drive through the city, I noted a couple businesswomen walking around town with long, flowing hair and tight-fitting slacks (they did also wear loose, long-sleeved shirts to cover the upper half of their bodies). I had taken care to wear a loose midi dress with a jean jacket, but I was encouraged seeing local women dressed in modern attire, and hoped that I didn’t need to worry as much about dressing conservatively as I had in other Arab countries.

I would love to recount historic details and knowledge from my self-guided tour of the Citadel, but my visit was unfortunately thwarted. The site was large, and while there were many other tourists present, I of course tried to steer clear of the tour groups so I could explore on my own. Then a group of a few local boys found me. They were young kids who couldn’t have been more than ten years old.

“Hello!” they shouted at me, not unpleasantly. “English?” I just smiled casually and tried to continue on my way without prompting further engagement. The kids followed closely behind me. I pulled my crossbody bag to the front of my body so I could keep an eye on it and protect it with my hand. Wrong move.

BAM. One of the boys punched my butt, as the group dissolved into laughter. Despite my flowy attire, the kids were apparently more interested in my body than my wallet. Immediately galvanized, I glared at the boys. “LEAVE. ME. ALONE.” I said, steely-faced. I meant business. They ran away whooping and hollering as I walked away as quickly as possible. I had been emboldened walking around Amman on my own after seeing the businesswomen earlier, but I immediately realized that I had been naïve. While I didn’t feel seriously endangered by a few ten-year-old kids at a popular tourist site in the middle of the afternoon, I no longer felt like walking around the Citadel on my own, so I headed to the meeting point for my tour.

As I walked downhill to the Grand Husseini Mosque, I continued to draw unwanted attention – always from boys. All of the men that I walked by left me alone, but the kids yelled, “hello!” to me from the sidewalks, their houses, their balconies. Again, I didn’t feel like I was in any physical danger (the boys generally just seemed to be curious), but after a few minutes, I wrapped my scarf around my head. The shouts immediately stopped. Lesson learned.

I made it to Grand Husseini Mosque without further issues and eventually found Anas after awkwardly standing amidst the crowds. It had become apparent that as a solo blonde woman, I stuck out in Amman. Walking around on my own was a very different experience than walking around with David. Once convening with Anas I was surprised (but not displeased) to discover that we would be joined by a group of five other people. Based on the Airbnb app, I was expecting to be the only guest, but I knew that hosts often advertised their experiences through other platforms. I was glad to be able to meet some fellow travelers, and not have the burden of being the only guest.

We headed to the Souk al-Bukharia, one of the oldest markets in Amman, and I got to know my fellow “travelers.” It turned out that three of them were actually academics from U.S. universities visiting on Fulbright scholarships. Two of them had spent a significant amount of time in the Middle East and had published works on various topics specific to the region. I immediately felt insecure.

“Where are you from?” I asked the other two men on the tour. They looked at me with confusion. “We’re from here.” Huh? Apparently they were affiliated with a local university and had volunteered to help show their American counterparts around. I was the lone tourist in the group, and I quickly realized I’d be listening and learning on this tour amongst experts. The Fulbright scholars had been connected with Anas to get a modern perspective of the city from a young local.

After walking through the market, we slowly started walking up one of the many hills in the city as Anas told us stories about the neighborhood and the locals.

We ultimately ended up on the rooftop of a home overlooking the city, where we were served tea and introduced to a couple men who practiced the art of pigeon keeping (essentially collecting and training domesticated pigeons). Hmm. Living in New York, I was not a pigeon fan – the birds seemed like flying rats in my opinion – and I did not understand why anyone would want to own one pet pigeon, let alone dozens. We watched one of the men let the pigeons out to fly in a naturally orchestrated flock over the glowing Amman sunset. The birds swooped around in beautifully choreographed arcs before being called to return to their home. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, and I’ll admit, I started to gain a new appreciation for pigeons.

We ended the tour at a café/co-op that was a popular hangout place for Anas and his fellow university students. My tour-mates finally started to ask me questions and I felt like I won some points as I told them about my solo travels and my plans to visit Lebanon on my own next. One of the scholars was originally from Lebanon and offered me a list of restaurants to visit during my trip. They then invited me to have dinner with them at a famous casual falafel restaurant, but I regretfully declined. As much as I was curious to learn more about them and their research, the tour had already lasted an hour longer than expected, and I was craving some alone time before flying to Beirut the next day. I bade them farewell and headed back to the St. Regis for one more night of room service and relaxation.

My final thoughts of Amman? Honestly, I don’t think I saw enough to form a complete opinion. It seemed to be a city with a long history that was now trying hard to become a modern metropolis. I had become fascinated with the Middle East over the last week, and understood that Jordan held a relatively stable and diplomatic position in the region. Despite some awkward moments (getting punched in the butt by a little kid? seriously?), I had actually felt more comfortable in Amman than in other Arab cities I had visited to date.

We’ll see if I get the opportunity to visit again, but in the immediate future I needed to focus on the last destination of my first trip to the Middle East: Beirut.