Jordan-Israel Border

We woke at 4 a.m. to catch a flight to the port city of Aqaba (where Jordan, Israel, Egypt, and Saudi Arabia meet) to cross into Israel so Terry could teach at 2 universities, a high school, and meet with administrators of the Arava Institute for Environmental Studies (offering university classes to Jordanians, Palestinians, and Israelis). We took a 10-minute taxi ride from the small Aqaba airport to the border. At the first checkpoint, while still in the taxi, an officer checked our passports. At the second checkpoint we were told to disembark ("no more taxis") and enter a pedestrian walkway where our passports were examined for proper (Jordan) visas (if not, a penalty is paid) then to another booth to pay the 10 JD exit fee. Our passports were checked at the final booth before entering "no man's land." The last thing we did was confirm we could return using our original visa. Imagine our panic when the officer said the law changed (the web site we read not yet updated) and we needed new visas from the Jordanian Embassy in Tel Aviv. Luckily, Terry had a great idea: We waited for tourists entering Jordan from Israel to ask about their visas. We heaved a (very big) sigh of relief when a young British couple told us about buying/printing visas from the "Jordanpass.jo" website. We passed through the turnstile and entered a 100-yard asphalt path surrounded by barbed wire (very different from our Nicosia, Cyprus experience). We walked alone (no one in sight) across no man's land and I took a picture of the "Welcome to Israel" banner hanging over the Israeli side next to their flag and "peace" written in Arabic, English, and Hebrew. We were greeted by a friendly young Israeli woman and a young man in civilian clothing carrying an Uzi (who cautioned me against taking more pictures). The building we entered was where the Jordan-Israel Peace Treaty was signed in 1994. Pictures of President Clinton (there to observe), King Hussein and Prime Minister Rabin lined the walls. Our passports were checked and we were handed a slip of paper explaining we would pass through 3 checkpoints: security, passport control, and customs. After our bag was X-rayed it was searched and then we went into an open-air courtyard with bars (essentially a cage) to passport control. It looked like a baseball stadium ticket booth, but tourists lined up outside, officers seated behind glass. Everyone was questioned individually. There was a young man ahead of us who was questioned about his religion, nationality, every stamp in his passport, and his college degrees. No question was left unasked but they eventually let him enter, unlike another youth who was detained for deportation. While waiting to be questioned a commotion occurred and suddenly soldiers (many) carrying Uzis ran past us and a young woman said, "everyone come with me." As quickly as the commotion started it ended and questioning resumed as though nothing occurred (it was a little unnerving). They eventually returned our (stamped) passports and we left by a heavily guarded turnstile into the taxi area (where we took a 10-minute ride to Eilat). (Note: Exit fee from Israel is 100 shekels, 25 USD, and can be paid by credit card.)

Despite being up since 4 a.m., Terry had meetings then lectured at the regional high school. The school administrators had requested a talk about Jordan students and the Israeli students were told this was very important. The administration, including the librarian and current and former principals, attended. My wife had purchased and brought Arab cookies for the students, who were mesmerized to learn Jordanian students rise early for prayers and female students often cover their heads ("hijab") and how Jordanian students are strong academically because there is no oil money and a scarcity of water so earning an education is significant for their futures. They commiserated with their Jordanian counterparts over 12th grade examinations, called "tojihi" in Jordan and "bagrut" in Israel; teens on each side of a border, minutes away but worlds apart. After she spoke my wife got her usual response (lots of hugs) and the principal presented her with a "thank you" gift of a school book and jeweled key chain (interestingly, the same "good luck" symbol I've seen in many Arab countries was on the key chain). A long day that ended with staying somewhere new (a "kibbutz") that I will describe in another post.